THE OLD GODS OF COLCHIS

Sergeant Eliphas, of the Word Bearers 23rd Company, watched as the chaos of war spread around him. This backwater, a world called Kronus, was rife with the sounds of war and chaos, a melody of battle that Eliphas enjoyed somewhat. The Imperial Army was hard-pressed to conquer this world, and had called for the Word Bearers for assistance, as they could not do it without aid.

Eliphas grinned as his power-sword cut through the ranks of the enemy, hacking murderously through them. Around him Battle-Brothers were crying praises to Lorgar and the Emperor, but Eliphas was silent, preferring to keep his mind focussed on the carnage and slaughter around him. Ten thousand Orks poured against him, but he held fast, their feeble weapons bouncing off his armour, his power-sword hacking through them easily.

Death would come to them. For he was death.

+++

Chaplain Acheron would have grinned if he didn’t know the enormity of the Orkish threat. The whole of Deimos Peninsula was infested, and he wondered how the Imperial Army had survived against them. Below, his Word Bearers were driving into the thick of the foe, rivers of blood flowing down and marking the enormity of the slaughter. Mounds, hills of dead Orks had formed in the valley, and the Word Bearers were knee-deep in the red, thick blood.

Volcanic mountains unleashed their anger above him, like the Old Gods of Colchis he had heard of from the veterans, replaced by the worship of the God-Emperor. Acheron was from Terra himself, having seen the majesty of the Emperor first-hand during the Fall of Ursh. His glory...it was too much to describe, too glorious and majestic to behold without falling down in worship before the might and power of the God-Emperor of Man.

He had served the Emperor as faithfully as he could since then, as part of the Legiones Astartes, the XVII Legion, declared the Word Bearers by their glorious Primarch, Lorgar the Urizen. He remembered when they had been called the Illuminators, the reason why their symbol was a flame – the book had been added later.

He watched, as the battle continued.

+++

Farseer Arienal, protégé of Eldrad Ulthran, watched as the mon-keigh and Orks fought each other. Her visions told her the truth – the one known as Eliphas must fall. That or the one called Taldeer would die by his hand, ten thousand years later. The choice was simple. Ten thousand mon-keigh lives were inferior to one Eldar life, and if it was the life of a Farseer – well, then it simply had to be done.

Uldranesh, Lareanesh, Jerialle, all were there, the three Exarchs, masters of the art of death, leading their disciples in the Path of the Warrior. The Asurya, whom the mon-keigh knew as Phoenix Lords – they were not there. This was not a matter of life and death to the Eldar, the supreme race.

It was also a pity that the Avatar of Khaela Mensha Khaine could not be unleashed upon the pathetic mon-keigh, for Eldrad Ulthran had said that it was not needed. Who was she to doubt the Master-Seer?

‘Come,’ she said. ‘We shall teach the mon-keigh a lesson in humility.’

+++

Orks fell around him, dying in vast numbers. The blood ran up to his waist, bodies floating in the immense pool of gore. One Word Bearer could kill ten thousand Orks; a hundred of them could kill a million with pathetic ease. And there were thousands of Orks yet left. The Orks of Kronus had little in the way of technological sophistication, but plenty in the way of numbers. For years to come, this ground would be a swamp of blood. That was the essence of war. Blood, like the gods of Colchis demanded. Eliphas had fought with Lorgar and Kor Phaeron, seen the face of the glorious Primarch, and become a Space Marine of the Word Bearers. Acheron was a fool. Eliphas remembered the Old Gods – he did not. He remembered the blood-sacrifices in their name, which the Emperor had forbidden.

He remembered the Angels that visited him in his sleep, telling him of a higher destiny. Above all, he had not seen the Emperor’s face. Terra was weak – Colchis was strong.

That was when the shuriken-rounds began to bounce off his armour.

Eliphas leapt towards the Eldar that fired it, cutting off his head with a single blow. A hail of bolter fire came, blowing Eldar apart where they stood.

Blood poured down his face as he continued his brutal assault, hacking Eldar to pieces effortlessly, watching with joy as the gore flowed out and mingled with the blood already shed. Blood. Blood for the Blood God. That was one of the gods that Eliphas had worshipped in the pantheon of Colchis’ gods. The Eldar leader, a female wearing bone-black armour advanced to meet him, raising her spear to strike. Eliphas fired his melta-pistol. The whole upper body detonated, destroyed in an immense blast of energy that vaporised her head and most of her torso. What little was left rained down as burning fragments.

+++

‘The Emperor has betrayed us,’ Eliphas said.

‘I do not understand,’ Acheron declared. ‘Why would the Emperor betray us and the Eldar attack at the same time?’

‘Regardless,’ Eliphas said. ‘You are not fit to be Chaplain. We must purge ourselves of all weakness for the war against the Emperor. And you are weak.’

‘War?’ Acheron asked, confused. ‘Against the Emperor...but...that would be
blasphemy!’

‘And that is why you must die,’ Eliphas declared. ‘Captain Stygius, do you concur?’

‘Yes,’ Stygius replied. ‘Amphion and Zephis, are your divinations correct?’

‘Yes,’ they replied as one.

‘Then we must be on our guard against the Ultramarines, once Acheron is disposed
of.’

Eliphas raised his power-sword, and in a single blow, clove Acheron’s head from his shoulders. He was obviously dead. This was one skull Eliphas would keep, once the flesh was burned off the bone. For now, he could wait.

‘Death to the False Emperor!’ they declared as one.