Citizen-Defenders of Baal (1,148 words)

[ChapterMasterGodfrey]

Larus woke with a start and a boot in his gut. For the briefest, purest and most joyous moment, he was home in Angel’s Fall. He was in his own bed, the smell of his mother’s cooking wafting in gently from the refectory. It was probably Furian waking him, his other brothers were likely either playing or helping their father in the yard, probably lugging stone.

 

As he opened his eyes, his soft bed turned to cold stone. The smell of his mother’s salt-roasted fire scorpion left his nose and was replaced with the scent of pungent acids, heavy with sulphur and ammonia.

 

Sadness overwhelmed him as the expected sight of Furian in their bedroom, their prized painting of the Emperor Ascendent behind him, refocussed into Furian standing over him, battered and bloody.

 

The tears came unbidden to Larus once more as he realised his father was not in the yard moving stone, he was laying beside him, still and cold.

 

“Stop crying!” Furian hissed, “Stop it, now!” he added, dropping to his haunches and grabbing Larus by the shoulder.

 

“But- But father…” Larus managed, his tears now in full flow.

 

“He’s dead, Larus. I’m in charge now. I’m the eldest.” Furian declared.

 

Larus cried harder, knowing Furian was right.

 

Clarens Di Petra had gone with the Angels of the Blood from Angel’s Fall with his four sons. Now, on the final walls of the Arx Angelicum, he lay dead and cold, and so did two of his sons, Pellegrin and Guido.

 

Only Larus and Furian remained.

 

“Larus, shut up now! An Angel comes!” Furian shook Larus hard and pointed down the walkway to an approaching giant.

 

Though he did not stop crying all together, Larus’ eyes dried a degree and widened as he beheld the oncoming Angel. This one wore purest white, unbesmirched by damage or alien gore. The light from the flames that still burned around them on the wall caught on the perfect white plate so that the Angel looked as though he glowed.

 

As he approached, the Space Marine scanned corpses beneath his feet before stepping over them. A device on his wrist continually chimed angrily and illuminated red.

 

Larus could not take his eyes away from him. He had over the course of this nightmare, seen Space Marines. However, what had started as pure awe for them in their masterfully artificed red armour turned to sadness and fear as he had routinely and regularly seen them torn limb from limb on the ramparts.

 

Yet here was one unspoiled, and his awe returned ten-fold.

 

Finally, the Angel stopped before the two brothers and looked down at them. Wordlessly, the Space Marine reached past them and scanned their father and fallen brothers. Though they knew what the result would be, the harsh chime and red lumen stabbed at their hearts.

 

Satisfied he had codified the dead for this small section of wall, the Space Marine lowered his wrist and for the first time, regarded the two living boys.

 

“You have done well. You have done your duty to the Imperium, the Emperor and the home of the Great Angel, Baal.” The Space Marine intoned to them.

 

Once more the Angel raised his wrist, this time to Larus. Had a Space Marine made such a movement towards Larus even two weeks ago, back in Angel’s Fall, he would have folded in fear, and maybe even wet himself. Now though, he stood like stone; unflinching, unmoving, unbowed. He had seen true terror and he had survived it.

 

The device on the Angel’s wrist seemed to ponder for a moment before chiming a bright tone and illuminating green.

 

“How old are you, boy?” the Space Marine asked.

 

“One and ten, m’lord.” Larus replied and the Angel seemed to nod, his red lenses focussing on Larus.

 

“I’m older! I’m six and ten!” Furian spoke up energetically.

 

Slowly, the Space Marine’s passive helm turned to regard Furian. He raised his wrist once more, this time to Furian. The device didn’t seem to ponder for as long this time before lighting up red with a flat tone.

 

After looking at his wrist, the Space Marine looked back to the boys, “You are to be my brother.” Said the giant.

 

Furian practically leapt for joy before turning to Larus and punching him in the arm. “Larus, we’re to be angels!”

 

“He is.” The Angel clarified, pointing at Larus, “you are not.”

 

Furian was still once more, his mouth agape looking up at the Space Marine.

 

“What? How can that be?” he asked desperately.

 

“This one’s  genetic make-up is compatible with the chapter’s needs and he is of optimal age. Yours on the other hand is a near match but incompatible. Understand, this is not a decision I have made, it is simply genetics.” The Space Marine said calmly before turning back to Larus who up until now had been numb with shock.

 

“What is your name, boy?” the Angel asked.

 

“Lar-“ he tried but coughed, “Larus Di Petra, son of Clarens and Gabriella of Angel’s Fall.”

 

The Space Marine nodded, “And what is your Angel’s name?”

 

Larus looked at Furian who’s eyes were full of tears. He looked back at the Space Marine, “Arturo.”

 

“You will come with me, Aspirant Arturo.” The Space Marine then turned to Furian, “to you, citizen defender of Baal, I give you a choice: return to Angel’s Fall with honour or remain and serve the Chapter as a blood thrall.”

 

For a long moment, Furian said nothing. He just looked at the stone, blood-soaked floor.

 

“Furian,” Larus tried. “Furian!”

 

Finally, the elder brother looked at the younger, rage in his tear-filled eyes.

 

“Stay with me. Don’t go home alone.” Larus pleaded.

 

“And what? Empty your chamber pot? No, little brother, I think not. I will be the last Di Petra in Angel’s Fall. I will be the only son to honour our father’s legacy.”

 

The white angel half turned and gestured for Larus to walk beyond him.

 

“Remain here, citizen, someone will come for you.” The Space Marine said walking behind Larus with a heavy gauntleted hand placed gently on Larus’ shoulder, guiding him on.

 

“Furian!” Larus called back, tears once more coming to his eyes.

 

“Come now, Aspirant Arturo. He has made his choice.” Said the Angel.

 

As he was marched off the wall and deeper into the Arx Angelicum than he had ever been, grief and sadness overwhelmed Larus. His mother and father were dead. His brothers, Pellegrin and Guido, were dead. Furian he would never see again.

 

As they walked on, the white Angel spoke to Angels in red, ones who were equally unscared and majestic. What they spoke of Larus did not understand, but he heard once more the white Angel refer to him as “Aspirant Arturo”. Yet more sadness took him for he knew Larus Di Petra was now dead as well.