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Allegiance – Extract

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Allegiance

Chris Wraight

Every day he would wake and think he was on Prospero again.

His chamber’s chime would sound at the start of each diurnal cycle, dragging him from sleep. For a moment then, lying in the dark, he would taste the crystal dust. He would look up, expecting to see the scud of charcoal clouds and the capillaries of lightning.

Then the chamber’s lumens would glow into life and he would see the painted walls, the weapon racks, the empty incense burners.

He never used those burners, even though menials provided him with fresh vials of oil at regular intervals. He wouldn’t have known how to do so properly.

The Swordstorm was the flagship of another Legion. Everything about it – its smells, sounds, the tang of its air and its myriad customs – was unfamiliar. He’d never been on a White Scars vessel before. He knew of no one who had.

His hosts had been solicitous. They seemed to know more of his Legion’s peculiarities than he did of theirs, which was a minor irritant.

He learned quickly, though. He studied them as closely as they studied him. When it didn’t feel invasive, or if he thought it would go unnoticed, he employed his cult discipline’s arts, gently prying open the paths of the past and the future. That helped him. He understood more.

Using those same arts on Prospero had been dangerous in the last days. The ghosts that remained there had been drawn to him, so he had learned to associate the exercise of gifts with peril. It was hard to let go of that association, especially when the dreams were still so vivid.

But as time passed, as the Swordstorm ran through the deep void and put more distance between him and the world of waking dreams, it became easier. Yesugei helped him. The Stormseer was a sympathetic guide. It came back, bit by bit, and with it the sense of pleasure in command.

He was returning to himself. Revuel Arvida, of the Fourth Fellowship, Corvidae, was remembering what he had been, and giving thought to what he might become.

At times, in his mind, he still trod the vitreous rubble of Tizca, searching for something – anything – amid the slumped heaps of ashes.

In the real world, though, he had escaped.

‘Did you know Ahriman?’ asked Yesugei.

Arvida shook his head. ‘We spoke, a few times.’

‘He was respected? I assume so.’

Arvida found the questions uncomfortable. The XV Legion was not one of the largest, but there had still been tens of thousands of warriors in the ranks. Yesugei seemed to expect him to know everything about every fellowship.

‘He had the primarch’s ear. Few others did.’

Yesugei sat facing him, dressed in white Stormseer’s robes. Candles were set about them in the modest chamber, and they burned brightly, illuminating long paper strips daubed with calligraphy.

Arvida could sense the quiet power cloistered within the warrior opposite him. It was not at all the same as his, but it was still potent. Warp gifts were like accents – the language was the same, but the treatment varied. Arvida guessed that Yesugei didn’t have the full range of command available to a Magister Templi, but there was no shame in that. The capabilities of the Stormseers felt somehow… shackled, as though self-imposed bonds had been placed around the action of drawing from the Great Ocean.

Strange, to limit oneself. Then again, in the light of events, perhaps just prudent.

‘I liked him,’ said Yesugei. ‘Had hoped that–’

‘That he’d been down there, rather than me?’

Yesugei returned a smile. Arvida could appreciate the benign temper of the V Legion. Yesugei, for all his evident deadliness, wore the mantle lightly.

‘Am glad one of you survived. That is gift.’

Again, Arvida felt a twinge of discomfort. What did Yesugei want from him? What did he expect now?

‘We have been divided,’ said the Stormseer. ‘Like all Legions. We purge spoiled blood from our ranks. We need new start. The Khan presides. We will be purified before we fight again.’

‘So I hear.’

Activity had been frenetic on the Swordstorm ever since leaving Prospero. Tribunals had been arranged. The word was that those who recanted their support for Horus would be offered some sort of absolution – the chance to serve on forward missions, taking the war directly to enemy-held targets.

They were near-suicidal strikes, many of them. Arvida guessed that was the point.

‘It occurs to me, when I think on this,’ said Yesugei. ‘Your Legion gone. You are all remains. We are wounded. If you wish to serve, you could. We take you.’

‘I am XV Legion,’ said Arvida. ‘I took vows.’

Yesugei nodded. ‘Understand. Do not wish to coerce you. But consider it – you are welcome here. Once, brotherhoods served with fellowships. Not so strange, doing again.’

Arvida looked away, and his gaze ran to the calligraphy strips. He could appreciate the artistry in the soot-ink swirls. No doubt Yesugei had made the devices himself, and no doubt they had some hidden meaning. Perhaps, if he concentrated, he could unearth it. There was a time when such a task would have been trivial. Now, still weak from his ordeal, he knew that it would not be so easy.

‘I knew I would not die on Prospero,’ he said, ‘but I had no visions of where fate would take me. I still feel blind. You know of Corvidae-sight? It is hard to lose.’

‘Will come back.’

‘Maybe. Until then, do not ask me to make choices.’

‘Of course. Work to do. But think on it, yes? We can speak again.’

‘We will.’ Arvida found himself wanting to change the subject. ‘So what of those coming before the tribunals? Will they all be pardoned?’

‘Is for the Khan to decide. He will rule. Some knew more than others. Hasik… I do not know. It is painful.’

Arvida could still sense the lingering bewilderment among the Khan’s warriors. They had prided themselves, as so many of them had told him, on harmony. It was bad enough to contemplate bringing bloodshed to other Legions. It was almost unconscionable that it should take place within the ordu.

‘What if they don’t recant?’ Arvida asked.

‘Some will not. They made tsusan garag. Blood oath. It binds them.’

‘They didn’t know what they were swearing.’

Yesugei gave him a wry look, as if to say you know what the warp thinks of pity.

‘Does not matter. Is done. They will be offered chance, but will not take it.’

‘Then what?’

‘The Khan will release them. That is all.’

Release them. The phrase was unusually euphemistic.

‘Seems a waste,’ said Arvida.

‘We bring these customs up into void,’ said Yesugei. ‘We carry weapons of Unity and wear badges of Imperium, but the plains still in our soul.’ He was thoughtful. ‘I think it will get worse. We will remember old savagery. There is bitterness running in brotherhoods, now.’

He looked back up at Arvida.

‘You could help us,’ Yesugei said. ‘I see Ahriman’s gifts in you.’

There it was again. The Stormseer was certainly insistent.

‘I’ll think about it,’ said Arvida, but didn’t meet his eyes.

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