My Life as A Death Guard
Chapter 397: Two Unlucky Souls—and Also the Lucky Ones
[Fidelitas Lex]
[At the moment the Iron Hands' first wave of drop pods deploys]
"You're being rather extreme."
Korklan slammed a hand down on the command dais. The table of controls rattled, and before the Archmagos, Argel Tal—who had just spoken—subtly stepped half a pace back.
"This is faith."
Korklan enunciated every word, his mechanical voice rigid and precise.
"Word Bearer, you must have felt His radiance as well, haven't you?"
Argel Tal paused. Memories of that moment surfaced, and the honest Word Bearer's lips tightened.
"But that is not a reason for you to attempt to alter the Word Bearers' doctrine. You've crossed the line."
He watched the indicator lights on Korklan's face flare angrily.
"Faith has power, I thought this was something that didn't need explaining to a Word Bearer."
Argel Tal tightened his grip on Lorgar's crozius and drew a deep breath.
"No. You're mistaken. Faith is a guiding light, but it does not grant us power. That was our former creed."
"You cannot rely on faith or on gods," Argel Tal said solemnly.
The Archmagos froze for a moment, then burst into a crackling, harsh electronic laugh.
"Is that your doctrine, Argel Tal?"
Argel Tal fell silent for a beat.
"It is mine," the Word Bearer said softly.
Korklan laughed loudly.
"I know. I've read 79.5% of the Word Bearers' writings. That idea does not appear in your collective thought."
"But I am telling you now: faith does have power, Argel Tal, and it will be the greatest weapon against these monsters. A war of ideas can only be armed with faith."
Korklan stepped forward. The Archmagos leaned in, almost as if initiating a face-to-face dance. He extended a primary limb, lifted Argel Tal's right hand, and pressed it against the Word Bearer's chest.
"Now say it with me. For Hades."
Korklan's voice was thick with persuasion. At the same time, the red robes behind him lifted. Argel Tal clearly saw the weapon mounts rising—the dark muzzles were… pointed straight at him.
Argel Tal took a deep breath.
"Fine. Just once."
He said it as a concession.
"For Hades."
Korklan released his hand in satisfaction. The Archmagos observed the violent tremor of Argel Tal's pupils, the tension in his muscles. Relaxed, the Archmagos stepped back, speaking as he did so:
"You're very lucky. He's close to us right now, so the response was fast."
Argel Tal looked away and replied honestly, "All I felt was weakness. That doesn't sound very… consistent with the idea of 'granting power to believers.'"
He saw Korklan fall into an awkward silence. The Archmagos seemed a little unsettled.
"Well," Korklan muttered, his auxiliary limbs twisting together nervously, "as much as I hate to admit it, the facts and experimental data show that prayers directed at the Lord of the Underworld do not yield power—and do indeed have certain effects on lifespan and bodily control…"
"…I tried switching the target to the Omnissiah, but the results were unsatisfactory."
Argel Tal let out a breath of relief. He spoke, dark memories resurfacing in his mind.
"By your logic, then—a god whose prayers bring only negative effects… proves devotion through self-mortifying asceticism?"
Korklan suddenly barked out a shout.
"That's because you haven't encountered them yet! I, Archmagos Korklan, swear this—if you face warp entities, those other false gods—then the Lord of the Underworld will be your only choice!"
Argel Tal steadied himself and looked calmly at Korklan.
"Then what about the Emperor?"
Korklan choked mid-thought. In the end, the Archmagos could only mutter a few unwilling words under his breath.
"I don't believe in… false gods."
Argel Tal chose to ignore that. He decided to end the topic by moving on to the next phase of the plan.
"Then," Argel Tal softened his tone.
"I'll speak with the Legion's chaplain brothers and have them restore the second edition of the litany, replacing the term Silent One with Hades. That's the greatest concession the Word Bearers can make."
He watched the Archmagos before him fall silent. Beneath the Mechanicum Archmagos's body, the deep, pitch-black metal exuded an ominous sheen. For an instant, Argel Tal caught a whiff of something terrifying from the Archmagos.
But in the next moment, the Archmagos returned to his familiar guise as a peddler of faith. He exaggeratedly lifted his robes and bowed deeply to Argel Tal.
"Nothing could be better… Given that a portion of the Word Bearers Legion has already turned to heresy, I hope this can be implemented as quickly as possible."
Korklan's electronic voice dropped into a cold, distorted register.
"At the very least, by the time the Word Bearers arrive at Cadia, this aspect of faith must be fully rooted within the Legion."
Korklan looked up, red light locking mercilessly onto Argel Tal. Anger churned in Argel Tal's chest—he knew exactly what the other meant.
Korklan did not trust the Word Bearers.
Argel Tal felt his teeth grinding.
Yet when his thoughts brushed against reality, the fire in his chest guttered out at once. Reality was what it was, they… they naturally would not trust the Word Bearers.
In fact, if their roles were reversed, Argel Tal himself would not have been as lenient as Korklan, allowing the Word Bearers to support Cadia merely by altering doctrine. Who could say whether, at their father's call, they might suddenly turn again?
Argel Tal drew another deep breath. Silently, he recited in his heart: for Lorgar, for the Emperor—and just as he was about to continue with for Hades, the surface of the crozius in his hand began to glow faintly.
Korklan shouted, "For—"
Argel Tal lunged forward, trying to cover the Archmagos's mouth. His hand fumbled uselessly over the metal face—this Archmagos spoke through a loudspeaker; he didn't have a mouth at all.
Argel Tal cried out in despair, "This is the Emperor's psychic power, you can't dispel it now!"
In truth, Argel Tal wasn't certain whether this was the psychic power of his father or of the Emperor. It was far more likely to be Lorgar's, but he would never tell Korklan that.
To avoid escalating the misunderstanding, Argel Tal did not press further. He clutched the crozius tightly, even as he allowed Korklan to keep all those weapons hidden beneath his robes trained on him.
"Give me a few minutes—just a few minutes!" Argel Tal shouted.
"Otherwise, the Silent Sisterhood will lose the Word Bearers' support!"
Korklan sneered, but the Archmagos did not advance. The two of them stared in silence at the crozius, which was now emitting a faint golden glow. Argel Tal began to regret having just prayed to the Lord of the Underworld.
A brief, silent, and awkward pause.
Argel Tal began to pray. In his heart he invoked the Emperor and Lorgar. This battle-worn warrior was certain he was praying with every ounce of his being—
His spirit was already overburdened: the departure and betrayal of his father, the mission laid upon him, that retreating figure from that day… that silhouette… that silhouette…
Argel Tal forced down his emotions. He compelled himself to breathe evenly and began to enter meditation, as the chaplains had taught him.
Korklan was struck dumb. The Archmagos stared at Argel Tal as the golden light grew brighter and brighter—
No, this wasn't the crozius glowing.
It was… Argel Tal's own armor?!
Within the command chamber, space itself began to warp slightly. Korklan watched in astonishment. The Archmagos wanted to call upon the Lord of the Underworld, yet the sensation these golden lights gave him told him that this radiance was not a malevolent presence.
Thick, oppressive fog rose up, accompanied by an ominous stench of blood. Korklan knew at once that this was the manifestation of sorcery. Argel Tal's silhouette began to fade within the mist. Without hesitation, Korklan raised his voice and began chanting prayers to the Lord of the Underworld.
The fog closed in around him. Korklan realized he had made a grave mistake. He fired a stun laser toward where Argel Tal had been, but the beam vanished into the mist.
"For Hades!"
"…Korklan?"
The Archmagos's body jerked to a halt.
He had heard the Lord of the Underworld's voice?!
There was no doubt about it. That weak, near-dying voice came from within the fog.
"Lord Hades! Where are you?!"
Korklan shouted. He was certain this was the true Lord of the Underworld, because that overwhelming sense of weakness was guiding him—pulling him toward the source of the voice.
He staggered forward, running headlong in that direction. He stepped over countless Space Marine corpses—Iron Hands, Iron Warriors, Word Bearers—as well as innumerable reeking chunks of greater daemons.
A sense of unease rose from Korklan's cogitation engines.
"Lord Hades?! Lord Hades?! Where are you?!"
Korklan burst into a sprint. At last, he saw that familiar figure—
"Lord Hades—!"
Korklan screamed himself hoarse. Through layers of mist, he saw that figure fighting beneath a blackstone pylon. Daemonic corpses lay piled like grain in a barn. He saw the Lord of the Underworld locked in combat with at least two towering figures.
He was about to die.
Korklan understood it instantly. He ran forward with all his strength.
Wait for me, Lord of the Underworld—wait for your faithful—
The Lord of the Underworld continued to slaughter, and those entangling him were clearly at the end of their strength. Finally, Korklan saw the Lord of the Underworld raise his scythe. A cold flash of light—
Perturabo's head spun through the air.
A surge of ecstatic signal-noise rose in Korklan's vox-speaker. But almost at the same moment, he heard the sound of an arrow being loosed—carrying the power to overturn the entire galaxy, carrying the mad joy of a god about to fall—
Bang!
The sound of metal striking deck plating rang out.
Korklan collapsed to his knees on the deck of the Fidelitas Lex. He wailed in agony, his mouth calling out the Lord of the Underworld's name in broken fragments. Nearby, Argel Tal knelt on the ground, tears streaming down his face, softly murmuring Lorgar's name.
"No… how am I supposed to stop all of this…"
Korklan said in a shattered voice.
"There's no hope… no… no hope… it shouldn't be like this… no…"
When a mortal glimpses fate, even for a fleeting instant, they understand how utterly powerless they are.
"This is a dead end… this is a dead end!"
Opposite him, the kneeling Argel Tal's eyes turned stiffly, then refocused on the sobbing Archmagos. His lips trembled before he spoke:
"We've seen it now… perhaps… there is still hope."
<+>
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