Altar of Cyrene Read online

  A Warhammer 40000 Short Story

  ALTAR OF CYRENE

  Lucien Soulban

  PLUMES OF DUST rained across Cyrene, the sky unable to shed tears any longer. A layer of fine debris filled the stratosphere and sent slow-drifting columns of suffocating ash down on the planet's surface. Occasionally, the storm thundered at the touch of orbital mass-driver rounds that rippled the cinder clouds and shattered the ground. The projectiles were fashioned to look like ten tonne metallic statues of the Emperor. Each bomb sent more dust and fire-borne ash into the heavens. Each bomb was an exclamation point in the litany against heresy and another hammer fall in the Exterminatus and destruction absolute of Cyrene's every living citizen. Chaos had a foothold, but the might of the Imperium was busy kicking it loose, and using the final death throes of the planet as an example for all who might falter.

  The black fleet of the Adeptus Astartes orbited Cyrene, raining down the will of the Ordo Malleus. No unsanctioned craft could pass through the debris cloud, although escape vessels occasionally breached the canopy of dust, before falling back under the blistering fire of the blockade. Hulls blackened and tongues of flame spat through ruptured seams as the ships careened back to the planet, adding to the confusion. Only the fleet's Thunderhawks and dropships earned free passage, ferrying the wounded and bringing fresh forces into the fray.

  And far below the stationary fleet, Cyrene rotated slowly, bringing city after city to bear under the attack.

  * * *

  THE THUNDER WAS still distant, but the ground shook with the erratic pulse of the fleet's pounding march across the face of the world. Cyrene quivered under the vengeful boot of the Ordo Malleus. If the white haired Captain Gabriel Angelos of the Blood Ravens felt the approaching doom, he ignored it for more pressing concerns. A door shattered under the heel of his thick boot. He could have stepped around the door, through a gaping hole in the house's wall, but Gabriel was in violent humour this early morning. He stepped though, his blood-hued armour and gold winged-skull crest turned a deep sanguine by the surrounding flames. The two silver service studs on his scalp glistened.

  'Where is he?' Gabriel roared in frustration.

  Librarian Isador Akios did not answer. He moved through the rubble with a grace that belied his bulky librarian's armour. Arcane banners fluttered lightly from his shoulder guard and his features were as broad as Gabriel's. But somehow, Isador seemed smaller than the Blood Raven captain, even though the crest-standard of a winged skull rode high above Isador's helmet. It was as though Gabriel's unwavering conviction added to his already impressive stature. And Isador wasn't easily cowed, as Gabriel knew. He was the most powerful librarian in service to the Blood Ravens; he was the most powerful one Gabriel knew. Yet, Gabriel still eclipsed him.

  'If he is not here,' Isador said, measuring his words carefully, 'then might I recommend we return to the task at hand?'

  Gabriel said nothing. He moved deeper into the house, bearing his shoulder against fallen beams blocking a door. The servos of his exo-gauntlet whined briefly before he shoved aside the heavy debris one-armed, and moved further into the darkness. Gabriel knew what to expect, but he wanted to see it with his own eyes. Nothing. The room was empty.

  'Captain?' Isador said.

  Gabriel remained silent. He wasn't in the mood to listen.

  'My friend,' Isador repeated finally. 'I sense no thoughts here. He's fled.'

  'No!' Gabriel spun around, slamming his fist into a wall, anchoring it wrist-deep in concrete. 'Esmond hasn't fled.' Gabriel pulled his hand from the wall and pushed past Isador. 'Mark my words.'

  'I hope he's worthy of such praise,' Isador said after Gabriel, following him outside. They stood among the ruins of buildings that bled a choking smoke into the night air. All around them, the sounds of bolt and plasma fire cut screams to the quick while deeper, within the heart of the city of Bastillius itself, explosions rattled the senses and sent debris raining down in the surrounding blocks. The captain heard little of it, however. This pandemonium was familiar to him, this war-song his serenade to the Emperor.

  'Gabriel,' Isador said. 'Look around you. We are here to bear witness to this. We are the last who will see this world alive. We should return to the Grey Knights before this quest of yours endangers the Blood Ravens.'

  Gabriel spun on his heel and walked up to Isador, staring him straight in his black eyes, piercing him with a nail-hammered gaze. 'Are you saying the Blood Ravens do not stand with me in this?'

  'We do stand with you,' Isador said. 'Through whatever hell you charge into, you'll find us at your side.'

  'But?'

  'But let the cause be just. We will follow you, but don't abuse our trust in you. What is one man's life in all this?' Isador said, spreading his arms to encompass the destruction around them. 'What is one man's fate compared to the will of the Emperor?'

  'Nothing,' Gabriel admitted through gritted teeth.

  Isador nodded. 'Nothing.'

  There were only ruins around them, Gabriel realised, blackened carapaces of hollowed buildings, the cries for help, the streaks of light that brought death in their wake. 'We'll return to the land speeder,' Gabriel said. 'Scout the area on behalf of our Grey Knight brethren. But on my word... on my word, I will do what I must if I see him.'

  'I-' Isador said, but Gabriel silenced him with a cautioning finger and stared at him until the librarian finally nodded. 'Very well,' he said with a sigh. 'I'll help. If only to save you from yourself.'

  Gabriel smiled. 'I knew you were good for something, brother.' He headed back to the land speeder which hovered a few inches from the ground in the empty street.

  'Captain,' Isador said.

  Gabriel turned to find Isador staring out into the ash-choked distance, where flashes danced through the haze and earth-rending shudders shook the ground.

  'Over there,' the librarian whispered. A flash of coruscating energy flashing across the open plates of his helm. 'Psykers do battle.'

  Gabriel recognised Isador's tone, it was his war voice that delighted in the anticipation of battle. Touching his ear module, Gabriel brought the silenced comm-net chatter back into focus.

  '...retinue. Inquisitor Lord Ca... fallen... encount... heavy psyker resis... Gregoriask Dist...,' a voice cried before a wail of static erupted over Gabriel's earpiece.

  Both men jumped into the speeder's seats, nimble despite their heavy armour. Isador gunned the throttle and sent the craft gliding through the debris-clogged streets.

  'All Blood Raven squads in the vicinity of Gregoriask,' Gabriel said. 'Converge on my signal.'

  They headed toward the thick curtain of smoke.

  * * *

  THE SURROUNDING buildings were phantoms in the swirling dust, the battle hidden in quick bursts of lightning and fractured screams. Isador steered the land speeder, reacting to obstacles before they appeared from the ashen mists mere metres away. Obstacles raced by Gabriel, but he was focused on what lay ahead of them. He half-stood in his chair, bracing one foot against the seat, ready to pounce from his perch.

  They shot past a ruined Rhino with its jagged metal petals blossomed open. Flashes ahead caught Gabriel's attention. The craft decelerated and Gabriel leaped from his seat, momentum carrying him forward through the fog. He landed in a run and jumped again, clearing several metres more with his quick stride.

  Ahead, in the fog, a cowled psyker appeared. Dark sigils covered his clothing and from him eminated the stench of darkness. Metal tubes snaked from the back of his skull, he bore a shark's smile and twin embers of hellish light for eyes. Energy coursed around him and he fired once into the darkness, trying to hit Isador. By the time he noticed Gabriel's charge, it was too late. The captain pressed the barrel of his bolt pistol in
to the psyker's temple and fired, rocking him off his feet and slamming him into the ground.

  Gabriel never slowed his pace.

  Running, he scanned the darkness for more targets. About him, screams and weapons discharges tore through the night, as did the whine of Isador's land speeder and the whump-whump of its mounted heavy bolter. Another shape appeared from the mists, this one bulky and laden with prosthetics. It swung around at Gabriel's approach. Gabriel could see that its arms had been replaced with melta cannons and a chain blade, its upper body crawling with preservation tubes and armour plates. One eye was gone, replaced by a large implant. It was an inquisitor's gun servitor, tracking movement with a servo-skull. The servitor nodded to Gabriel before opening fire into the darkness, screaming its holy fury at some invisible enemy.

  Gabriel swung wide and to the outside, following the servitor's superheated thermal discharges, but keeping his distance lest the blast's halo cook him instead. Something returned fire back at the servitor, the mist displaced by the scorching pressure wave of a raw psyblast. It tore up and blistered the ground in its passage, striking the gun servitor in its chest. It screamed, white-hot pyrokinetic flames engulfing it. Gabriel ran faster, knowing what would come next. The fire ignited the pyrum-petrol gases that still lingered in the servitor's fuel lines, back into his subder-mal reservoirs. The explosion spread the servitor's body across two dozen red metres.

  The shockwave threw Gabriel through the air. He landed, fell and was back on his feet again, his eyes scanning the turbulent mists for his opponent, as if nothing had happened.

  The psyker betrayed his position, cackling at the servitor's expense. Gabriel gritted his teeth and honed in on the psyker's voice. He charged into the darkness, surprise his best weapon. The mists parted, revealing a mutant, his neck twisted one-hundred-and eighty degrees and his bearded face stretched long. His four eyes blinked, offset from one another, and he stared straight at Gabriel with a malicious grin. Surprise did not belong to the captain.

  Before Gabriel could raise his bolter, the psyker unleashed another scorching psy-blast. Gabriel dodged to the side, avoiding the flare that ripped past him, but not the blast's superheated corona. Even through his armour, it blistered the skin on his neck and scalp. He fired at the psyker from the ground, punching large holes in his opponent's chest and skull; it fell to the ground.

  Gabriel raised himself to one knee as a third psyker entered his field of vision, electricity crackling about his body. Even the robes on this one couldn't conceal the misshapen bulk hiding beneath. With subtle grace, Gabriel touched his earpiece.

  'Die,' the creature hissed, raising his arm.

  'Only when the Emperor so instructs,' Gabriel responded.

  Before the psyker could react, Isador's land speeder burst forth from the mists. Isador caught the mutant in the face with the vehicles's front grill, decapitating him. Gabriel's earpiece erupted with new comm-net chatter and a squad of Grey Knights loomed out of the smoke. Their armour was of burnished silver and engraved runes glowed a subdued gold. They were impressive and would have brought any man to his knees in reverence, but Gabriel was not so easily cowed by these glorious servants. He stood and nodded. He would meet them as equals.

  * * *

  THE GREY KNIGHT apothecary sprayed the burns on Gabriel's neck. The wounds calcified into dead, hardened skin while the apothecary offered the Litany of Healing and peeled off the flakes. Gabriel didn't grimace at the large patches of skin being torn away. His thoughts rested elsewhere.

  'We sensed rogue pykers in the area and were on our way to cleanse them with fire. It seems you beat us to it,' the apothecary said.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel saw Sergeant Caine of the Blood Ravens standing by Isador's side. They waited for the apothecary to finish his healing rituals.

  'Are we done, good brother?' Gabriel asked the Grey Knight.

  'Almost,' he responded before jabbing the hypo-spike into Gabriel's neck. A burning liquid rushed into Gabriel's jugular, scouring infections from his system.

  Gabriel rubbed his neck and walked over to Caine and Isador. They waited for the apothecary to walk out of earshot.

  'We stayed off the comm-net channels as you requested,' Caine said to Gabriel.

  'Did you find him?' Gabriel asked.

  'We did, brother-captain. Brother Ulray and his squad sequestered Esmond in the St. Bellstus Bunker in New Carnith.'

  'We must hurry,' Isador said. 'The Grey Knights are moving through the area, eliminating all in their path. If they catch Brother Ulray harbouring a fugitive... well.'

  'Very well,' Gabriel replied. 'Thank you for your help, Brother Caine. Return to your sweep sector and avoid arousing the Inquisition's suspicions. Comply with their every demand. If they ask for me, do not lie for my benefit. I will not see anyone else dragged into this.'

  With a curt nod, Caine walked away, rejoining his squad.

  'We should hurry,' Isador said.

  Gabriel studied Isador for a moment, one eyebrow raised. 'I'm surprised,' he said. 'I thought you believed my actions misguided. Why encourage me to see Esmond?'

  'Because if you don't,' Isador said, 'then you'll always wonder. And if you wonder, then you'll be distracted, and distraction leads to dangerous places.'

  'You hope doing this will clear my thoughts.'

  'I wish you clarity, Gabriel. I know you. You are strongest when you remain a focused instrument of the Emperor's will. Your heart should have space for none other.'

  'Very well,' Gabriel said, then paused. 'I could order you to stay behind.'

  'You could,' Isador said, getting into the land speeder. He sat down in the driver's seat, looking straight ahead. 'But why force me to disobey an order?'

  A crooked smile tugged at the corner of Gabriel's lips. He sat in the passenger's seat and watched the ground fall away as they rose skyward.

  * * *

  A CLEAN WIND FROM the Canarrin Mountains swept over Bastillius, dragging away much of the ash fog, but doing nothing to improve the vista. The city burned and the fires spread with a rapacious hunger, forcing the land speeder to duck beneath the black canopy of smoke. The craft skimmed over cratered buildings and ruined hulks, buffeted from sudden drafts and hot columns.

  From his vantage point, Gabriel studied the streets below, the apocalypse of a world unfolding in hellish detail. Squads of Inquisitorial storm troopers, wearing red cloth and gun grey armour, moved through the streets. They directed their meltaguns against the adjoining building, through windows and holes, herding the hidden occupants out into the streets, where others waited to cut them down in a blistering hail of fire. Those who didn't escape the buildings died in the inferno.

  Further on, Grey Knight Terminators served as artillery units, firing gas grenades into fleeing crowds. Those caught in the noxious fumes screamed short-lived cries, before the acid clouds seared out their lungs. They fell to the ground convulsing, their skin sloughing off as the gas ate at the connective tissue anchoring flesh and muscle to bones. They died after several minutes of agony, skin draped loose over their own skeletons.

  Gabriel slammed his hand against the land speeder's door, his blow rocking the vehicle and leaving behind an appreciable dent. Isador didn't react, but Gabriel knew that his eyes darted in his direction.

  'They earned this fate, Gabriel,' Isador said.

  'I know,' Gabriel responded through clenched teeth. 'But this is my...' He trailed off. Isador already knew what this place meant to Gabriel.

  'I know these streets. I once lived here,' Gabriel said.

  Isador said nothing at first, and Gabriel knew he didn't appreciate the weight of that statement. The librarian was raised in a monastery, training to control his power, to resist the whispers of the warp. He had no home. Nothing to watch die.

  'Cyrene was your home centuries ago, my friend,' Isador said. 'Nearly everyone you know is dead and gone.'

  'But not their children, or the names I remember.'

 
; 'Do you doubt the wisdom of this?' Isador said, his brows furrowed.

  'No!' Gabriel replied, angry that Isador would suspect him of the most hateful of all sins: the sin of doubt. 'This action is just! Even if I was asked to end the life of every man, woman and child here, one bullet at a time, then I would do so. The planet was steeped in heresy, the taint of the warp in her very soil!'

  'Then why are you angry?' Isador asked.

  'Because they fell to heresy. My people, Isador, my entire world! It is corrupt enough to sanction the destruction of every last soul. They failed the Emperor, and for what? Tell me. They sacrificed their very salvation for what?'

  'I don't know, my friend. And for that, I am glad.'

  'And look at the Inquisition down there. Look at them, cackling at their duty. This is not sport. This is a just and holy cause, yet...' Gabriel said, trailing off, suddenly realising he felt spent.

  'Yet what?' Isador asked.

  Gabriel looked at the librarian and saw no suspicious glances, no sense of disgust, just concern for a friend.

  'And yet,' Gabriel said, 'the Inquisition acts like a plague of locusts.'

  'That is their role in this. Their duty. It is up to them to be the terrible plague, ridding the planet of this taint.'

  'I do not question their place in the Emperor's plan,' Gabriel said. 'Neither do I question the importance of all this. Let this diseased world be amputated, lest the scourge of heresy infect more worlds. I just wonder if there are none here who deserve a quick, quiet death. Not everyone here is corrupt. Surely not all deserve their burning fate, nor the renouncement of their names? Not all were so weak as to fall. I wish we could leave them their dignity in their final hours.'

  'Who are we to take that chance?' Isador asked. 'I would prefer a million innocent victims to die than to suffer one false martyr to the dark to escaped our notice. A hollow saint undermines, no, mocks, the sanctity of our faith. And remember, nobody here is innocent. The Inquisition deemed it so. The heresy was too widespread, too pervasive, for anyone to miss its presence. If they knew of the sacrilege, then they are guilty of doing nothing. And if they didn't notice so obvious a plague, then they must pay for their blindness. There is no innocence here, Gabriel. There is only heresy, and the duty to eradicate it.' Isador paused, obviously considering his next words. 'What is it St. Galantain said?'