‘Cast out this beast!’ Mathieu said again.
‘Cast out this beast!’ Clydeus said. They sang their words now, their voices matched in harmony, and a sense of purity grew around them, pushing out from the walls, of the chapel, passing through Clydeus so that he gasped at the touch. The light pressed down, containing the vileness pouring out of the boy, sealing it away, and driving it to extinction.
‘Cast out this…’
The boy’s struggles took on new levels of violence. The daemonhost ripped out one of the pins restraining his arm, punching Mathieu full in the face. The older priest fell back. Grent twisted around, and burst free from his remaining bonds. Small hands grabbed Clydeus’ habit, and with monstrous strength flung him aside.
Clydeus scrambled up in time to see the boy stand, and he was no longer a boy. His back was hunched. His spine rippled under his skin as his shoulders rose up, becoming huge and powerful. His legs grew, his feet warped, until he was stood upon elongated toes, like a canid balancing upon its hind legs. A muzzle pushed out from the face. His ears became huge and pointed, ribbed with nodules of bone. The gag burst into flame and the daemon wolfed down the ashes.
‘You are too late, priest,’ the beast said. ‘I am coming. I clothe myself in flesh. All souls here will be mine. Verily, shall I feast upon the sweetmeats of your spirits until I am sated, and I shall save yours for last.’
A part of Clydeus collapsed then inside. He had no courage, he had no confidence, and he was sure he would run, or fall to his knees and plead for his life.
He did neither of those things. He might have no courage, but he did have faith, and it armoured him, and lifted him up, so that he felt exultant. As parts of his mind fell away into darkness, they left his faith uncovered, a bright and shining pillar of adamantium, strong as a fortress, and he knew then who he was.
He was a servant of the Emperor, and he would suffer no daemon.
‘No!’ he said. ‘No! No! No!’ He drew out his icon from his habit, and advanced on the daemon. It had not yet consolidated its hold on the boy’s body, and the flesh moved uneasily between the new form and the old.
‘By the grace of the Emperor, who protects all men, I command you begone! Leave this child of Terra, back where you came!’ He was making it up as he went, shouting out whatever came into his mind. But the words were not important. His faith was. He felt the God-Emperor at his side. He felt His presence. He saw His light.
Mathieu got to his feet, and he spoke too. Together, they forced the daemon back, as light poured from the very stuff of the air about them. The daemon shrank. Its flesh ran, turning from diabolical beast back to small boy, until with a clap of thunder it was done. A black shape screamed up from Grent and passed out through the hull.
Grent collapsed. But the light did not go out.
Clydeus turned to Mathieu, and fell to his knees at what he saw.
‘Oh, my lord, oh, my Emperor!’ he said, burying his face in his hands, but still he could see.
An aura glowed silver all around Mathieu. A halo of gold surrounded his head. In his mind Clydeus saw a tumult of images, of war, and death, and victory.
He looked up, and had the impression of someone standing behind Mathieu. Clydeus could not see his face. He was a shape in the light. But he saw a hand rest briefly on Mathieu’s shoulder, and with a moan of holy ecstasy the older priest collapsed. Eyes looked from the light as it faded. Words that were not words growled through the fabric of the chapel, making the metal shake, and Clydeus knew what he must do.
With a great boom, the light went out, and Clydeus stood agape.
He heard a hue and cry far off down the halls. Alarms were raised, and voices. He did not have much time.
He went to Mathieu and shook him.
‘Get up, frater! Please wake, you must return the boy.’
‘The Master, the Master of Mankind,’ murmured Mathieu.
‘I pray it was He,’ said Clydeus. ‘Oh, how I hope! Please, master, you must get up.’
Clydeus helped the frater to his feet, then helped him gather up Grent, placing the unconscious child’s arms around Mathieu’s neck.
‘You must leave.’
‘Where are you going?’ said Mathieu.
Clydeus smiled. ‘Nowhere. They are coming.’ He looked down the gallery, to where lights danced in the dark, and the sound of armoured feet rang loudly from the deck.
‘Clydeus, they will kill you.’
‘I know, but you will be saved. Did you hear?’ said Clydeus. He was gripped by ecstasy. ‘Did you hear what He said? Did you hear what He wants you to do?’
The pair of them locked gazes. The approaching footsteps got louder. They were only a few hundred yards away now.
‘I heard what He said,’ said Mathieu. ‘You will die a martyr. I will honour you always. Emperor walk with you, Brother Clydeus.’
‘Oh, He does, Frater Mathieu, He does!’
Mathieu slipped away into the labyrinthine service ways. Clydeus sat down cross-legged in the centre of the chapel as the bobbing suit lights of the Heretic Astartes approached, and he gave thanks for his revelation.
They came for him, and they were cruel indeed. But nothing they could do to him before he died made him talk, nor did it wipe the beatific smile from his face.
Brother Clydeus had found his courage.
Mathieu passed down the hab-block corridor, dragging a chorus of whispered prayers behind him. People came to their doors, and on seeing the boy gave open voice to their faith, hidden for so many months now.
He knocked on the door of the boy’s mother. It opened into the wall and Lyasona let out a small cry at what she saw.
Grent stirred, and rubbed at his eyes. ‘Mama?’ he said. ‘What is happening?’
‘Take him,’ said Mathieu, passing the child to his mother. ‘He is well now. His sickness is gone. The Emperor has touched his soul. Cherish him.’
‘Thank you, frater!’ Lyasona said. ‘What can I do to repay you?’
‘Nothing,’ said Mathieu. ‘Service to the Emperor is its own reward.’
‘Then let me feed you at least.’
‘Another time perhaps,’ he said. He retrieved the relic box, put up his hood, and placed the strap around his forehead. ‘Rejoice, sister, our captivity is nearly done. Soon the Angels of the Emperor will come for the Macragge’s Honour and take it to be with the primarch. Then my real work shall begin. The Emperor has called upon me, and I have much to do.’
So saying, Mathieu returned to the dark, and to his service.
About the Author
Guy Haley is the author of the Siege of Terra novel The Lost and the Damned, as well as the Horus Heresy novels Titandeath, Wolfsbane and Pharos, and the Primarchs novels Konrad Curze: The Night Haunter, Corax: Lord of Shadows and Perturabo: The Hammer of Olympia. He has also written many Warhammer 40,000 novels, including Belisarius Cawclass="underline" The Great Work, Dark Imperium, Dark Imperium: Plague War, The Devastation of Baal, Dante, Darkness in the Blood, Baneblade and Shadowsword. His enthusiasm for all things greenskin has also led him to pen the eponymous Warhammer novel Skarsnik, as well as the End Times novel The Rise of the Horned Rat. He has also written stories set in the Age of Sigmar, included in War Storm,