by Chris Dows
A series of explosions lit up the district ahead, throwing chunks of machines and bodies into the air. Even from this distance, the ground shook beneath Alecia’s feet with the destruction being unleashed on the ruined avenue before her. Salandraxis was such a beautiful planet, a real shining pearl of the Imperium. By the day’s end, it would be ugly and scarred, but she would never let it be corrupted by the forces of Chaos. Turning around, she looked to the High Temple, its magnificent columns and glass dome shining in the sunlight. For a second she considered going back on her commitment to Balacet and Gaul. She had sworn to face the enemy before they arrived at the citadel, but the temptation to take command of her cohort on its sacred ground was great. His Holiness had to be protected. If the heretics got inside the temple, the havoc they could wreak would be unthinkable.
No. It would not come to that. There was a significant garrison of Sisters left within and around its golden walls, and she had seen the power Lozepath could wield from his throne. Any attack would be short-lived. She must stay true to her word.
Alecia’s eye was drawn to a breakaway group of berzerkers moving swiftly to the left of her view. The group was relatively small, around forty armoured bodies, but they were moving fast and with purpose around the craters and between the burning buildings. They were approaching the main entrance to the city, at the end of the grand avenue. It was, of course, heavily defended, but based on the way the spearhead currently driving towards the Angels Eradicant had slashed through Balacet’s ranks, they needed to be cut off before they got there.
Alecia descended the open stone stairs leading to the courtyard and signalled for the portcullis to be opened. Raising her power sword, she scaled the angled forward section of her Immolator, took her place in the command seat and swung the blade forwards to signal their exit from the compound. Within five seconds she had rumbled through the columns supporting the broad canopy that ran the entire length of the wall, and within ten the break-off group of berzerkers had spotted them. Alecia ordered the lead vehicles to open fire, but with the road narrowing before them, they could only advance three abreast. A shadow flashed overhead, then another. The Rhino to her left exploded in a fireball, a wing of Thunderhawks booming across the ruined city in a wide turn. The attack force would be torn apart if they stayed in the open.
Alecia screamed into her vox for the column to break formation and all Sisters to get out of their transports. The rear of her Immolator was hit, and she pitched forwards onto her stomach with a sickening impact. Fire belched from the back of the machine and she heard frantic shouts from within. Jumping out, she hit the ground hard and turned to help free those Sisters trapped inside. At that moment, the berzerkers appeared, running at full speed towards the vehicles.
Turning from the Immolator and breaking into a sprint, Alecia headed straight for the nearest of her foes, a lumbering champion with a broken horn on his helmet. With a cry of praise to the Living Saint, Alecia leapt into the air as more Sisters swarmed past her to join the melee.
The blow from her sword should have taken the berzerker’s arm off at the shoulder, but despite his laboured gait, he angled his body just in time to deflect most of its power. Alecia kept on following the arc of her attack, the tip of her sword jarring across the rockcrete ground. Bringing her weapon in, she threw herself forwards just as the berzerker’s chainsword swept past the top of her head. Alecia felt the fur on her cloak tear away. Roaring in fury at the desecration, she raised her inferno pistol and pumped two super-heated blasts into the back of the attacker. The first dissipated on the surface of the armour, but the second penetrated the ceramite and created a satisfyingly large hole towards the base of his spine.
Alecia heard a howl of pain and flanked the abhorrence as it turned to attack her. She needed to move fast in order to finish the creature, and had just drawn the angle to fire another salvo when she felt a tearing sensation in her abdomen. Confusion overwhelmed her. The berzerker had turned before she could pull the trigger, that was obvious, but he was just standing there, watching her, without his weapon. Alecia tried to raise her sword, but something got in the way. Looking down, she saw the hilt and handle of a chainsword sticking out of her stomach. The chain was still spinning, throwing out gouts of flesh and innards as it chewed away at her body. With the realisation of what had happened came the pain, and with a bellow of rage she dropped her
own sword and tried to remove the churning weapon from
her body. As blood gushed from the gaping wound, she fell to her knees. The berzerker with the broken horn bore down on her, and she raised her pistol to fire. Whether she hit her target or not, she would never know.
Shells exploded and energy beams lanced around Khârn’s head from all directions. The Astra Militarum had been overrun, and thanks to the narrow swathe of destruction he had singlehandedly carved, berzerkers and defected Hounds of Abaddon were streaming through their broken ranks behind him. The Imperial forces still had some positions on their flanks, and Khârn heard several of the warband fall to shots in the back, but that did not stop their relentless charge towards the walls of the citadel and the towering gate set into the middle of the high fortification.
He had promised those who would follow him glory beyond measure, and they would start with taking the skulls of the Angels Eradicant on the ornate battlements. Several berzerkers had joined him on either side, firing their weapons wildly at the statue-like figures on the wall. Khârn knew they would not hold their position for much longer, such would be their desire to avenge their fallen battle-brothers.
To the extreme left and right of his vision, Khârn saw the loyalist defenders begin to drop from the wall in a wave of plunging bodies, leaping clear of the supports and decorative columns. Twenty, thirty, forty Space Marines fell to the smashed avenue and began running towards him, creating a pincer movement. Supporting fire erupted from the remaining Angels Eradicant, bringing down several exposed berzerkers with careful aim as they rushed to join combat with the charging Imperial forces. In seconds, half a dozen Space Marines were nearly upon Khârn, bolters blazing and chainswords raised high. Two were intercepted by berzerkers keen to claim their first major trophies of the day, and one was leapt upon by one of the Hounds of Abaddon, the impact of his attack smashing the Angel Eradicant into the hard ground. This left three for Khârn – not enough. A bolt hit his right vambrace and he rolled with the impact, whirling into a crouch and bringing Gorechild across in a wide, arcing blow. Its blade caught the greave of the closest Angel Eradicant’s left leg and cut through the armour to the bone, sending him crashing down. Khârn rolled out of the way to avoid the bolter fire from the second and third assailants, which thudded into the ground, sending chunks of rockcrete flying in all directions.
Khârn swept his left arm wide and threw Gorechild at the furthest attacker. Carving its way through the Space Marine’s bolter, the head of the chainaxe ate into his lower abdomen and kept on chewing until it became stuck in the groove it had carved for itself. Khârn threw out the chains attached to his arm, catching the closest Angel Eradicant’s bolter, and his shot buzzed past Khârn’s helmet. Khârn yanked on the chains, pulling himself to his feet and firing his plasma pistol point-blank into the warrior’s faceplate. Ducking to retrieve Gorechild from the fallen Space Marine, he avoided the volley of fire from the third and brought the chainaxe into the last Angel Eradicant’s flank. Two shots into his throat yielded a third trophy for the Blood God.
All around him, the battle raged. As Khârn turned to find more skulls to harvest, he felt a low rumble through his feet. Thinking it was additional Angels Eradicant dropping to the ground for another assault, he took several steps back and levelled Gorechild, ready to strike whoever might approach. The vibration came again, this time much stronger. On some unseen signal, the Angels Eradicant withdrew from their close-quarters combat on the killing field. Some of the berzerkers followed their combatants, only to be met by a hail of fire
from the ramparts. Something was not–
The world spun, then Khârn found himself lying on his side. His left arm was bleeding profusely, and his head was singing with concussion. Something had hit him so hard that he had been thrown away from his position at the foot of the gate. Dragging himself to his feet, he could see many of the warband trying to recover through the thick cloud of dust that was swirling around them. Their armour was dented and battered by the huge chunks of rock and masonry that now lay between them. Something had hit them in a devastating wave, smashing them to the ground in a barrage of blasts. The rumbling in the ground came once again, this time a rhythmic pounding, increasing in magnitude with every thump. Khârn turned to the gate.
It was open.
A thick blanket of dust was drifting out from it, and a shape formed through the cloud as it moved forwards into the daylight. It was a Dreadnought in the sand-and-black of the Angels Eradicant, stomping onto the avenue with holy parchments fluttering in the heat wash. Behind, outlines of heavy armoured vehicles flanked the lumbering figure, their guns trained on the gateway through which the machine had just marched. Anyone who tried to bypass it would be eviscerated in their defensive fire.
As the air cleared, Khârn saw the Dreadnought was tracking left to right in search of targets, its twin-linked heavy bolter following the path of its targeting reticules. Multiple flashes came from behind it, and Khârn threw himself to the ground as tank shells screamed overhead. The ground erupted behind him and showered him in stone and dismembered parts of bodies from those of the warband who had not moved quite fast enough to avoid the salvo. A heartbeat later, more explosions rocked the ground, galvanizing Khârn into action. Covering fire rained down from the Angels Eradicant on the top of the wall, laying down a deadly hail of shells, cutting down the berzerkers still in open space. Khârn knew he could not hope to match the Imperial firepower from such a range, and with his flanks cut off he was left with only one option.
Khârn charged towards the wall on his left, hoping the Dreadnought would not be fast enough to track his rapid progress in time to fire. Bolts from the Angels Eradicant exploded all around him, and the roar of the Dreadnought’s heavy bolter was matched by the oaths of his berzerkers as they returned fire. There were still enough of them on the field to pose a threat to the machine, and this gave Khârn just enough time to get behind a thick column and shelter from the withering fire. Throwing himself flat against the cylindrical stone support, he looked up to the decorative buttress above him. What little cover it promised was soon torn apart in concentrated fire from above, and debris rained down on Khârn. Without warning, he was lifted from the ground and crashed into the wall, bouncing off its unforgiving surface and crunching to the ground. A dark shadow fell over him as the Dreadnought stopped before him, gun arm trained directly at his head. Sharp hisses of steam escaped from its short, powerful legs, then a deep electronic voice scratched its way through the dusty air.
‘You dare to challenge the might of the Emperor, heretic? You dare to sully this hallowed world with your corruption and depravity?’
Khârn heard a series of clunks as fresh ammunition was chambered into the bolter hovering before his face.
‘For this, you will die.’
Chapter Seven
The Skulls of Salandraxis
Locq watched the tactical projection on the bridge of the Malevolent Shade with a deep sense of satisfaction. Some of the information flickering before him was incomplete or had a high degree of potential inaccuracy, but the picture was clear to see. Khârn was being overwhelmed and outmanoeuvred by the Imperial forces down on Salandraxis. The mortal defenders’ losses had been considerable, but their sheer numbers compared to the Khornate berzerkers looked very likely to be in Locq’s favour. The Sisters of Battle and Adeptus Astartes warriors were also directly engaged with Khârn’s warband, and with dozens of Locq’s Black Legion gunships speeding towards the planet’s capital, he would finally have his revenge.
‘Captain, we are receiving another warning from Khârn’s flagship. Shall I order the attack and destroy them?’
Locq considered Odervirk’s query. They had arrived to find the remains of the Angels Eradicant fleet and what was left of the Skulltaker, but Khârn’s flotilla had paid a high price in their battle to reach Salandraxis. The Black Legion ship that had once sailed with Locq floated lifelessly in high orbit, its drive section a sea of flames. While still operational, the former White Scars vessel had sustained heavy damage to its starboard side. The Malevolent Shade had taken a pounding within the asteroid field despite Odervirk’s best efforts, but it was in far better shape than the enemy – and his fleet outnumbered the Wings of the Eagle two to one. It would not take much effort to finish off the vessel and its treacherous crew. It was an appealing prospect; Locq would gladly see every one of those who had deserted Abaddon for the Chosen of Khorne die. Unfortunately, destroying the ship would take too much time. Locq had not expected the situation on their arrival at Salandraxis to be so much in his favour, and after his previous experience of Khârn he was going to press home any advantage without delay.
‘Do they have the capability to prevent us from making planetfall?’
He could not afford to commit all of his Hounds of Abaddon to their transports only to take heavy casualties before they reached the ground. Locq had learned too many bitter lessons over the last few weeks, and now that the gods smiled upon him once more he was not going to jeopardise his return to favour in the eyes of his Warmaster. The communication he had sent Abaddon days past had been acknowledged without response, which he had found disappointing if not surprising. Nothing had come through to him from his master Urkanthos. That was as expected, because Locq had forbidden all external communication from the Malevolent Shade the second they had left the Phelbic asteroid belt. Locq was convinced that the overwhelming majority of those warriors left on board would remain loyal, but he could not discount the possibility that the Lord Purgator still had spies among them that would report back to their master that he had lost half of his force to Khârn.
‘No, my lord. The hangar bays on both ships are either empty or open to space. I believe the enemy have committed their entire force to the planet. In their present condition, they pose no threat.’
Locq stared at the projection and watched the various runes and symbols move around in a pattern that belied the slaughter taking place. Despite trying, the bridge crew had been unable to isolate Khârn as a discrete signal. It looked as if a breakaway group of berzerkers were heavily engaged with an armoured column that was blocking their way to the High Temple of Salandraxis Municipalis. It was a reasonable tactical deployment and they had good air support, but it was not the one that caught his eye. Judging by the concentration of fire on the city’s rear wall and the numbers of berzerkers and treacherous Hound forces committed to the engagement, Khârn was most likely to be in the middle of that battle. It would take approximately eighteen minutes to arrive on Salandraxis, and that spearhead group would be Locq’s target.
‘Very well. Ready the drop-ships. Once we are dispatched, you may do as you wish in relation to the enemy vessel. One more wreck floating in orbit will make no difference to me.’
Locq gripped the handle of his chainsword and marched off the bridge. The time had finally come to bring Khârn before Abaddon – dead or alive.
Gaul stared down at the shimmering blade of Acritus, his reflection as distorted as his temperament. Around him, the transport shook and rattled at top speed. The last transmission to come from the Light of the Emperor had been fractured, but more than enough for him to realise the situation was grave. Shipmaster Mahal had eliminated one of the enemy vessels that had attacked in the wake of the Eradicant Ascending’s destruction, but the appearance of two additional warships shortly before communication had ceased left little doubt about the fate of the battle-barge or their adversaries’ identity.
Th
ey were facing an invasion force of one the original Traitor Legions, the blood-crazed World Eaters.
Outside of Municipalis, Colonel Balacet’s main defensive line had been torn asunder, and Gaul had not heard from Canoness Preceptor Alecia since she joined battle against a spearhead group of berzerkers heading for the central avenue. With Tentera and the bulk of the 2nd Company engaged at the rear wall of the citadel and a second wave of invaders on their way, Gaul was free to support Alecia’s counter-attack. They would also bolster the defences of the city and secure the biggest landing area close to its walls.
‘We will be touching down in thirty seconds. Stand by for deployment.’
Gaul held his relic blade up before him and saw a number of his brothers bow their heads at its appearance. Fury coursed through his veins at the loss of his fleet. His Chapter had sustained enormous losses, and his hatred for the forces of Chaos knew no bounds. He would take this rage and loathing, form it into a cold, hard blade more powerful than Acritus itself and plunge it into the soulless heart of the enemy. They would know the might of the Angels Eradicant. He would cleanse this world in the name of the Emperor.
The Thunderhawk’s weapons began hammering out a preparatory barrage, and the interior of the hold shook violently as the ship hit the ground. Within seconds the door was open and Gaul was on his feet, running out at the head of his phalanx. Behind him, two more gunships deployed in palls of smoke and fire.
