[Blood Angels 01]Deus Encarmine by James Swallow

Author:James Swallow
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction. warhammer 40000
ISBN: 9788448043841
Publisher: Timun Mas
Published: 2006-12-15T01:17:33+00:00

The grand chamber was dark now, each of the biolumes and braziers that had glowed with light during the remembrance ceremony were now dull and black. The only illumination came from infrequent clusters of candles dotted here and there inside the wrought-iron frames of devotional sub-shrines. Rafen savoured the smell of the hot wax as he passed them, the scent of the pungent Kolla tallow bringing sense-memory of valleys on Baal Primus to mind.

The thoughts fell away as he approached the head of the chamber, his boots tapping on the stone flooring. A knot of silent Marines parted to let him through, and there at the foot of the altar knelt his brother. Arkio completed the last few words of the prayer of the red grail, and then looked up at him. Rafen was struck by a sudden sense of distance in Arkio’s eyes.

“Brother,” he said. “You are still troubled.”

Rafen knelt alongside him and made the sign of the aquila. “By a great many things.”

“And am I one of them?” When Rafen hesitated, Arkio continued, “Do not be concerned, kinsman. I do not fear, and neither should you.”

“I… Saw something, a light, when you touched the holy lance…”

Arkio nodded, and turned his eyes up to the glass portrait of Sanguinius. “That was his blessing, Rafen. On me… On all of us. Do you recall the lessons when Koris told us of the Emperor’s divine weapons? Did we ever dare to dream we would one day see such a thing?”

Rafen gave a slow nod. The legendary armaments from the rise of the Imperium were spoken of in hushed reverence. Weapons like the Spear of Telesto and its cousins the Frostblade Mjalnar and the Soul Spear, the great Blade Encarmine and the Black Sword of the Templars, all of them forged in the fires of the Emperor’s righteous fury. Any one of the blades would elevate a man to glory, if he had the will to wield it.

Arkio’s elder brother struggled to find the right words, but every sentence that came to his lips felt clumsy. Emotion and thought churned inside Rafen. Where was the bright, dauntless young novice Marine that he remembered from their days of training on Baal? How had his sibling changed from that to a taciturn and introspective man, heavy with the weight of dogma? “This miracle,” he said carefully. “It has altered you…”

A rare smile escaped Arkio. “How could it not, Rafen? I felt him touch me, brother, I felt the primarch’s hand across my brow, and the bequest of his inheritance.” He looked away. “I am changed, of that there is no doubt. The boy who joined you at Angel’s Fall is gone now.”

Rafen suddenly felt alone. “And yet, I remember that time as if it were yesterday.”

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