Scythes of the Emperor, page 27
‘You do yourself a disservice,’ Ezekiel said.
‘Do I? How are we having this conversation right now, Ezekiel?’
‘I am communicating with you via a telepathic projection of my physical form.’
‘Exactly. You are projecting, not I.’
‘But you are capable of the same feat, Grand Master,’ Ezekiel said, his inflection rising at the end of the sentence, almost as if he were posing a question. ‘It was you who taught me this skill.’
‘Yes, Ezekiel. I have psychically projected myself from one level of the Rock to another, or from my position on the battlefield to yours,’ Danatheum said, chuckling softly. ‘Tell me, where are you right now?’
Ezekiel sighed, knowing that Danatheum had entirely scuppered his argument.
‘I am in the Astropathic Chamber on board the Sword of Caliban.’
‘And what is the Sword of Caliban’s position?’
‘In Segmentum Pacificus, close to the border with Solar.’
‘You see? You are two segmentums away and your psychic projection is the exact duplicate of your physical form.’ Danatheum shook his head. ‘Even the latest recruit to our ranks outstrips me in terms of raw power.’
‘Turmiel? The boy shows promise but he is lacking in control and finesse.’
‘The things you taught him during your year convalescing on the Rock would have taken me a decade to drill into him, if I was capable of them at all. That is why I sent him with you. By the time you return to the fold of the Chapter that boy will be second only to you in terms of psychic ability, mark my words.’
‘But none of that means you are not worthy to sit at the head of the Librarius.’
‘I may carry this sword, I may be the custodian of the Book and Holder of the Keys, but I am only keeping them safe until the time comes for you to assume the mantle of guardian.’
‘That will not be any time soon,’ Ezekiel said. ‘You’ll outlive us all.’
Another sound joined the noise of battle, and the subterranean gloom began to lift as intense light spilled from an ornate tomb in the centre of the chamber. A heavy golden lid slowly slid aside as the occupant started to rouse from its slumber.
‘Looks like it’s time to take my leave,’ Ezekiel said.
Danatheum shifted his gaze from the sarcophagus to look the vision of Ezekiel square in the eyes.
‘Swear to me that I made the right decision, Ezekiel. What happened to you on Korsh was enough to change any man, even one blessed with the twin boons of the Lion’s genetic legacy and the gift of the warp.’
Ezekiel blinked. ‘I swear to you, Grand Master. I am the same now as I was before my encounter with the daemon.’
Danatheum looked the psychic projection up and down, appraising him. ‘Good enough for me,’ he said eventually. ‘The Lion be with you, Ezekiel.’ He raised his blade, ready to face and exterminate whatever rose from the tomb.
‘And you, Grand Master,’ Ezekiel said, exorcising his own psychic ghost.
‘Why did you lie to Grand Master Danatheum?’
Ezekiel opened his eyes with a start. He had not sensed Turmiel enter the chamber.
‘How long have you been in here?’ Ezekiel said. His robes were soaked through with sweat, which dripped to the cold floor as he rose to his feet and turned to face the Lexicanium.
‘Long enough to hear you tell the Chief Librarian that your battle with the daemon has left you unchanged.’ Turmiel’s expression was blank. Though he was looking directly at Ezekiel, he appeared to be staring at some unspecified point in the distance.
‘That was no lie,’ Ezekiel lied.
‘Really?’ Turmiel’s voice was as emotionless as his hooded face. ‘Then use your powers of foresight to tell me what I’m going to say next.’
Faster than the Lexicanium could react, Ezekiel lunged forwards, his forearm at Turmiel’s throat, pushing him back against the hoar frost-rimed wall of the chamber. The young psyker didn’t even flinch.
‘How long have you known, damn you?’ Spittle coated Ezekiel’s lips.
‘Since the Rock. I realised that while you had been training me, you had also been relying on me to provide you with divinations. The information you provided Lord Azrael regarding the awakening of Phaeron Sylphek came directly from me, as did your briefing to Chaplain Asmodai about Black Legion movements in the region of the Ghoul Stars.’ Ezekiel’s arm remained locked across Turmiel’s throat. ‘I mean you no ill will or malice by telling you this, brother. I may not have been a Dark Angel for long, but I too recognise the value of secrets.’
Ezekiel’s hold relaxed. Lacking as he was in his powers of foresight he could still tell when he was being lied to, and Turmiel was speaking the truth. ‘My ability to perform my role is undiminished. It is only my powers of divination that are impaired. All of my other psychic faculties are functioning perfectly.’
‘With the greatest of respect, brother, the Chapter relies upon you to sift through the firmament of time and read those possible futures that burn brightest. Without the ability to do that I believe your role is very much diminished.’
Ezekiel pushed hard with his forearm, lifting Turmiel from the floor. The Lexicanium remained unperturbed. ‘Is that what this is? Blind ambition? You see an opening for the pupil to assume the master’s role?’
‘On the contrary. I see an opportunity to help repay you for the guidance and tutelage you have given me this past year. I have nothing but gratitude and respect for you, Brother Ezekiel. Let me help you while your powers are recovering.’
Turmiel was still speaking the truth, of that Ezekiel was sure. The boy did not have a malevolent or manipulative bone in his body; there was no hidden agenda here. Ezekiel moved his arm away. Turmiel slid down the wall, his armoured feet hitting the floor with a metallic thud.
‘Forgive me, brother. I took leave of my senses momentarily. I harbour no malice towards you,’ Ezekiel said, turning away.
‘There is nothing to forgive. You are bound to feel… emotional. Losing one aspect of our psychic mastery is akin to one of our non-warp-gifted brothers losing a limb. The difference being, our powers will gradually return whereas limbs do not regrow.’
‘I’m not certain that my power of foresight will return,’ Ezekiel sighed. ‘There’s nothing there, not even a sliver of ability. My physical wounds may have healed but the gash in my psyche is still as fresh as the day it was gouged. When the daemon entered my mind it did not leave empty-handed.’
‘What was that like?’ Turmiel asked. For the first time since he had met him, Ezekiel could hear emotion creeping into the Epistolary’s voice. If he hadn’t known better he could have sworn it was fear. ‘To have another entity abroad in your mind, every aspect of your psyche exposed and opened up for exploitation…’
Ezekiel closed his eyes. ‘Please, brother…’
‘My apologies. I realise it must be difficult for you,’ Turmiel said. ‘I shall leave you in peace.’ He headed towards the chamber entrance.
‘Why did you come here, brother?’ Ezekiel asked just as Turmiel had reached the threshold. The question was as figurative as it was literal.
Turmiel stopped and turned back to face Ezekiel. ‘While you were in communion with Grand Master Danatheum I performed several rituals of divination, each one showing me the same vision of the future. That is why I came here, to tell you of the future.’
‘And what happens in the future, Turmiel?’
‘You die, Brother Ezekiel.’
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