‘The details are irrelevant and entirely dull,’ said Land archly, scratching his hairless head. ‘You’ll still need time to adapt to the new limbs, but you’ll be capable of a light training regime within the week.’
Zephon laughed. To most people it would be a musical sound, though it rang tunelessly against Land’s ears.
‘Do my words amuse you?’ the Martian asked, raising a bushy eyebrow.
‘Arkhan, you are granting me a second chance at life and giving me the only thing I have dreamed of for decades. I do not mock you, my friend. This is just… joy.’
‘Well. Yes. That makes sense,’ Land replied, in a tone that implied it didn’t matter whether it made sense or not. ‘Now will your Legion restore your captaincy?’
‘I do not know.’ Even the prospect of returning to his brethren as a rankless battle-brother didn’t diminish the Angel’s rapture. ‘I do not care. Fighting alongside my brothers once more will be enough.’
‘Hmm.’ Land clicked his tongue. ‘Then you’ll be reporting to the Ninth soon, won’t you?’
Zephon finally tore his gaze from his new hands and arms, meeting the scholar’s keen stare.
‘If the implants take–’
‘Of course they’ll take. Answer me, damn you.’
‘Then, yes, I will meet with my father. Lord Sanguinius will share my elation and welcome me back to the Legion, of that I have no doubt.’
‘So you will be in the presence of the Ninth very soon,’ Land pressed. ‘Yes?’
Zephon’s grin began to fade. The half-smile that remained on his sculpted features wasn’t without humour, but possessed none of the joy shown only moments before.
‘Ah,’ the Angel said softly.
Land narrowed his eyes. ‘“Ah”,’ he mimicked. ‘Have you just had a revelation?’
Zephon’s voice remained kind, but his eyes were colder. Angelic, always angelic, but they were eyes of an icier breed of angel.
‘Perhaps. You wish to meet with my father, then?’
There was a starvation in Land’s eyes. A deep, fierce need. ‘I want nothing more. You’ll take me to him, yes?’
Zephon looked at the beautiful silver bribe of his new hands. It took him a moment to speak, and his voice was coloured by a gentle hurt Land had never heard before.
‘You did not need to bribe me with this surgery, Arkhan. If you wished to speak with my father, I would have taken you to him regardless of your aid.’ The Angel hesitated. ‘I had thought we were something akin to friends.’
‘Yes, yes, we’re quite the wondrous pair, and chronicles of our adventures will be laid out in sacred texts to dazzle future generations.’ His eyes were fever-bright. ‘Will you please answer me? Will you get me into the Ninth primarch’s presence, or not?’
Zephon nodded and the smile faded for good. ‘I’ll do so at my father’s earliest convenience. But, Arkhan, I wish to warn you – Lord Sanguinius is unlikely to commit the Legion to retaking Mars.’
Land said nothing. His glare said it all, mixing raw hope and naked avarice into an ugly, ugly sneer.
‘Very well,’ Zephon relented. ‘Whatever you wish. And what should I say to my Legion’s Apothecaries if they ask about the process you performed?’
‘Tell them my methods are my own. I suggest you enjoy your rebirth, Blood Angel, instead of fretting over the hows, howevers, whys and wherefores.’
Zephon watched him in silence for a moment. ‘I will do that. And… thank you, Arkhan.’
The technoarchaeologist snorted. ‘I didn’t do this for your thanks.’
‘That,’ the Angel replied, ‘has been made perfectly clear.’
Nine days later, Arkhan Land stood before the great white wooden gates of the Aphelion Suites, dwarfed by the portal that was five times his height, and jostled by a continual stream of scribes, Army officers and Blood Angels that poured through the open doors in both directions. He even saw a Custodian in the crowd; it wasn’t Diocletian, however, and Land hadn’t bothered learning any of the others’ names. He considered approaching the Custodian and asking after Diocletian’s health, but he didn’t bother because he didn’t really care.
One of the gate guards singled him out of the teeming tide of humanity. The golden Blood Angel striding towards him wore a great winged jump pack, the iron pinions of which went some way to clearing space around the warrior. The purposeful stride and scale of the man did the rest.
‘Arkhan Land,’ the Blood Angel said. ‘Hold here.’
His helm was a death-mask of Terran antiquity, marked with red tears: rubies, fused to the golden cheek. His chest-plate was sculpted into a muscled reflection of masculine perfection, cast in the same gold as the rest of his armour. On any other world, the warrior would resemble a king. On Terra, among the Blood Angels elite, he was just a warrior.
‘I am expected,’ the Martian replied. ‘I–’
‘I am aware of your situation,’ the officer cut in. He didn’t remove his helm to converse. ‘You will proceed to the fourth Arclight Chamber within the Aphelion Suites. Lord Sanguinius awaits you there. You will have ten minutes of his time, no more.’
Land blinked. ‘Zephon?’
‘Do you understand the instructions I have given you?’
‘Yes, yes, of course I understand. I’m not an idiot. Zephon, is that you? So they let you rejoin the Legion, eh?’
The Blood Angels captain stepped back, allowing Land space to rejoin the busy thoroughfare.
‘You may enter,’ the officer allowed.
‘Zephon,’ said the technoarchaeologist. ‘I wanted to say–’
But the Blood Angel was already moving away, his gold-wrought winged form scattering the crowd in a slow tide before him. He rejoined his brethren at their posts by the white gates.
Land approached in a horde of supplicants and emissaries, making sure his path led him close to the warrior he’d spoken to. As he passed, Sapien leapt from his shoulder. The psyber-monkey landed sprightly on the Blood Angel’s golden pauldron, immediately and entirely comfortable in its new perch.
The winged warrior reached up to run a gold-gauntleted hand carefully through the artificimian’s fur.
Grinning to himself, Land entered the expansive, densely-populated suites, preparing himself to face one of the Omnissiah’s unpredictable, mutated, frequently irrational demigod sons.
About the Author
Aaron Dembski-Bowden is the author of the Horus Heresy novels The Master of Mankind, Betrayer and The First Heretic, as well as the novella Aurelian and the audio drama Butcher’s Nails, for the same series. He has also written the Warhammer 40,000 novel Spear of the Emperor, the popular Night Lords series, the Space Marine Battles book Armageddon, the novels The Talon of Horus and Black Legion, the Grey Knights novel The Emperor’s Gift and numerous short stories. He lives and works in Northern Ireland.