Somewhere, Somewhen

*Presenting a teaser for an upcoming story Incantator Congressus*

"Please," came the thin voice, filled with pain and confusion, "Please we have done nothing wrong…" The plea was pathetic and filled him with disgust, the insipid bleating of one too weak to fight for themselves, the sort of soul who expected others to go out and die in their place. He had no use for such individuals, the human race would be better shorn of such weak links and he stayed not his hand as he lowered his Meson pistol to put a pencil-thin beam through the skull of the bleating priest. The body of the holy man dropped to the marble floor with a neat hole drilled through his head as Inquisitor Dago looked upon his works with pride.

He was standing in the main chapel of an abbey, an ancient priory where generations of wizened clerics lived out mediocre lives. Drab cloisters were set out in lines, bare stone floors and straw-stuffed beds guaranteeing days of discomfort and penury to focus minds on higher matters. Sub chapels and prayer rooms abounded, alongside kitchens and refectories and laundries. Libraries filled with dusty books dotted the facility and small hydroponic gardens grew basic tubers and root vegetables. This had been the Chantry of Saint Valies, another bleak Imperial abbey identical to a million others across the galaxy right down to the reinforced walls and servitor-gun turrets to hold off Heretics in times of calamity. Now it was rubble.

The walls were broken in many places and bodies filled the courtyards. Kitchens burned and dormitories collapsed into themselves as black-clad figures in faceless helmets stalked the ruins. Corpses lay under their feet, robed monks strewn wherever they had been running when they were shot. Flames cooked many bodies and the delicious smell of roasting meat mixed with the putrid stench of dead men voiding their bowels. The killers cared not, they had seen far worse things in their time, usually having been responsible for them and this slaughter barely registered.

In the largest chapel Inquisitor Dago turned his eyes from the flickering fires leaking through the tall windows and looked upon the images of the God-Emperor. The broad space was filled with icons of the God-Emperor as a scholar and philosopher, musing upon affairs of cosmic significance. Statues of Him in contemplative poses lined the walls and made Him seem wise and considerate. The sight made Dago grit his teeth, the disrespect shown to the Master of Mankind offensive. Dago knew the God-Emperor was no meek preacher but a warrior born, a general and commander demanding blood and sacrifice from His followers. A ruthless warlord willing and able to make the hard choices lesser men could not, selling the lives of billions so trillions more could live. Dago knew this to be true; he had seen the evidence with his own eyes.

Dago was a broad man, with a grizzled chin and a vicious scar over his nose while his arms were packed with corded muscle. He wore a carapace breastplate, battered and worn by frequent use and his boots were military issue. His legs were covered by fatigues but his arms were bare, revealing old scars that attested he had been a soldier long before the Inquisition recruited him. Everything about him spoke of a lifetime of conflict and war, right down to the tattooed emblems of the 68th Fodian Arquebuskers on his bicep. Indeed Dago had fought for everything he had ever had in life and would automatically distrust anything that came free.

Dago's inspection of the chapel was interrupted as one of his retinue approached, his face hidden behind a reflective helm. He wore a black bodysuit and had a hellgun-pack strapped to his back, connected to a rifle that he was pointing into the back of a weeping monk. Dago eyed the man with a practised eye, someone whose life of prayer and transcribing old tomes left him utterly unprepared for war. Yet in his eye was a fierce resolve, here was one who had seen his world burned down before his eyes and felt a hot rush of anger for the perpetrators. Yes, hate would make him defiant, determined to give away nothing yet this soul had information Dago needed and the Inquisitor was going to get it out of him one way or another.

Dago growled, "This is the abbot?"

"Yes sir," stated the Stormtrooper.

"Good man Tuhan," Dago said then addressed the priest, "You will answer my questions."

The abbot glared at him and snapped, "I will tell you nothing."

"I am an Inquisitor," Dago hissed, "You shall tell me everything."

"You are a Heretic and a blasphemer!" the Abbot spat, "You will pay for what you have done here!"

Dago snorted, "You delude yourself, no one is coming to save you, nobody will avenge you. Your order is nothing, a tiny friary in the hinterlands of Angle's Rest. Nobody will notice you are dead."

"The Ecclesiarchy will know!" the Abbot retorted, "For millennia we have devoted ourselves to praising the God-Emperor, contemplating His teachings and divine power. We are loyal and true to the Golden Throne. The Cardinal knows our name, he will avenge us!"

Dago glared at the man and then said, "What is your name?"

The Abbot blinked in surprise and said, "Gerab, Abbot Gerab."

Dago nodded as he informed him frankly, "Gerab, know that your life ends this day, there is no avoiding it. There will be no last minute reprieve, no rescue is coming. You cannot expect my mercy for I have none. The only choices before you are a quick and painless death or a drawn-out and excruciating ending. The difference between them is how willing you are to comply."

Gerab snorted, "You have destroyed all I hold dear, killed my friends and comrades. I shall say nothing and go to the God-Emperor knowing He will reward me for standing against vile sinners like you."

"Gerab," Dago sighed as he leaned upon a brass lectern in the shape of a two-headed eagle with spread wings, "The followers of Saint Valies have spent millennia contemplating the God-Emperor yet you understand nothing. He is no meek scholar or paternal father; He is a general and warlord. He is not forgiving nor kind, He won't reward you in the afterlife. You are weak and He rewards only the strong."

"Blasphemer!" Gerab spat.

Dago snorted, "Then why doesn't He strike me down with divine thunderbolts? I have burned one of His temples and killed scores of priests, surely I deserve His wrath. Yet He does not, because He cares nothing for worship or prayer. He wants soldiers not priests, warriors not clerics. He speaks to me not to you!"

"You know nothing," Gerab hissed in denial.

"I know the order of Saint Valies is not merely another group of insignificant scholars. Your humble appearance is a disguise. You were founded with a purpose. Your friary stands vigil over something, an artefact of immense value. You hide it from all eyes but you will tell me where it is."

Gerab was suddenly silent, his lips clamped shut so Dago sighed, "Tuhan, make him kneel."

A kick to the back of the legs sent the Abbot stumbling to the floor and Dago commented, "We have ways of making you talk."

Gerab snarled, "You killed good men and harmless scholars. Men I have called friends all my life. You are a murderer and a fool, blinded by your greed. There is nothing here for you!"

Dago snorted, "Even now you try to hide it from me, but I know it is here. My mentor, Inquisitor Zerban spent a lifetime looking for this place, he was so close to finding the relic but he died before completing his quest. Yet I completed his labours and I will claim the relic. Not for selfish reasons, as he would have, but for the service of the God-Emperor!"

Gerab's eyes glared denial at the Inquisitor as he spat, "You may well believe that but you remain a fool. Yes, we were entrusted to guard it long ago, but do you truly think we would be stupid enough to hide it here, where everyone would look?! It was buried centuries ago, on the other side of the planet and the records were burned. Planets are vast and I cannot tell you to start looking because I do not know!"

Dago paused then as he read the man's expression and mused, "A desperate man makes for a poor liar. You are afraid and spin tales as a final gambit. I am closer than I realise… You know it… You try to distract me with words because… because it's right under my nose… right under…"

Suddenly Dago turned and kicked the lectern over, sending it toppling to the floor. Brass wings struck the hard floor with a clang and broke off, tearing the eagle apart and revealing it to be hollow. The lectern had been nothing but a thin veneer of brass wrapped around a void. Contained in that space was a blade, silver and glittering in the flickering firelight. It was oddly shaped, the handle too wide and heavy for a mortal man to grasp and the blade was as long as a broadsword. Yet the ratios of the weapon were wrong, in proportion to the hilt the blade appeared a shortsword. One glance proclaimed it was a blade not meant for the hands of men but another order of being, one mightier in all respects, beyond human, beyond Transhuman. A Primarch's blade and the hilt bore the crest of a 'U'.

"The Gladius Incandor," Dago breathed, "Lost for millennia but found at last."

Angrily Gerab shouted, "You must not take it! Saint Valies warned disaster will befall the Imperium it ever leaves this place…"

His voice was cut off as Dago put a meson-beam through the skull of the abbot, leaving a dripping hole in the head. The abbot keeled over as the Stormtrooper approached and questioned, "Orders?"

"Have the retinue sweep and clear," Dago commanded, "Ensure there are no survivors then set charges to blow this place to bits. Leave no trace we were ever here. I will remain behind and meditate."

"Sir?" Tuhan asked warily.

"I must offer the God-Emperor due praise and thanks," Dago stated firmly.

"Very good," Tuhan said as he turned and strode out.

Dago waited for his lackey to depart then knelt in the flickering firelight and lowered his head. He slowly intoned, "God-Emperor your humble servant has done as you bid. The weapon has fallen to the hands of your most devoted servant and I seek your guidance in this hour."

The chapel was silent and still, save for the crackling of fires burning, but suddenly a deep voice came from nowhere, "You Have Done Well My Servant."

Dago's head lifted in awe as he saw one of the statues come to life. The play of firelight over the marble features of a God-Emperor making it appear as if it was moving. No, it was moving, stone lips parting as the head slowly turned to stare down at the kneeling Inquisitor. Dago's heart skipped a beat as he witnessed a miracle unfold, this vessel of marble brought to life by the divine power of the Master of Mankind, a conduit for Him to speak to the loyal-hearted and pass on His commands. Dago had seen this miracle before and his awe had only grown over time. That the Lord of Terra had chosen him of all souls in the Imperium to be His agent was a glory and burden beyond compare. Priests and cardinals and missionaries prayed daily for such a visitation but Dago knew he had been chosen because he understood that destiny only yielded to force. Violence made the galaxy spin, not prayer.

Dago lowered his eyes again and said, "I await your commands, my lord."

The God-Emperor's conduit sternly ordered, "Take This Weapon And Return It To Your Inquisitorial Fortress. Summon The Lords and Masters Of The Ordos. Gather them And Prepare."

"Prepare for what?" Dago asked.

"You Question Me?!" the God-Emperor thundered.

"No my lord," Dago grovelled, "I am your loyal soldier and a good soldier obeys without question. I trust your words and act as commanded."

The God-Emperor's chin rose as he stated, "All Will Be Revealed In Time. Now Go Forth And Await My Command."

Dago hurried to comply, taking up the Gladius Incandor in his arms. It required both his arms all his considerable strength to pick it up and he carried it with a wobble in his step as he left the chapel behind. He did not look back, knowing that he had his mission and trusting that his lord would reveal more in time. He did not need any more assurance than that. But if he had looked back he would have been surprised by what occurred next.

In the empty chapel the statue took on a sly grin, its stone features pulling back in a mocking smile. Dust began to cascade off it and its form wavered, like a reflection in a pond disturbed by the wind. The image of the God-Emperor shimmered, shattering apart to reveal another image entirely. In moments the veil of the Master of Mankind vanished, leaving a shorter man with a gaunt build. He was clad in overalls and appeared mundane in all respects save for a pair of antenna rising from his forehead and his unfathomable eyes. Eyes filled with darkness, a timeless abyss of perpetual night within which stars were born and died again in an eternal dance. Gone was the image of the God-Emperor and in His place stood Harbinger, Greater Daemon and Cupbearer of Tzeentch, clothed in flesh and made real in the Material universe.

Harbinger grinned as it surveyed its handiwork, the burned abbey and the dead bodies upon the floor. All was happening as it had planned and in the twisted contours of what passed for its mind laughter arose, the mocking scorn of the Changer of Ways for a universe that danced to its tune. Faith, devotion, loyalty, these were no defence against the machinations of Tzeentch, for the plots of the Architect of Fate made the strengths of the enemy into their greatest weaknesses.

Harbinger looked out of the door after the departing Inquisitor and laughed aloud, "Yes, go forth my servant and prepare the way for my coming. Soon the Thirteenth-weapon will die, the empire of the Corpse-god shall be brought down in flames and the galaxy shall finally be consumed by Chaos!"