The Chapters Due

by Graham McNeill

  “Fight well, Severus,” he said.

  “That’s the only way I know how to fight, Marneus.”

  “Then let’s see this done.”

  They charged the Thrice Born with their honour guard at their flanks, plunging into the daemonic host with the last hope of Ultramar resting on their blades. Severus Agemman was a warrior almost without equal within the ranks of the Ultramarines, and he clove a path through his foes with strength and skill the envy of any warrior of legend. His blade sheared daemonic flesh and his gun blazed with the righteousness of his cause. Claws raked his armour, but he moved with the grace and speed of a warrior clad in thin vestments. There was no warrior Calgar would rather have at his side.

  Daemons surrounded Calgar, tearing at the enormous plates of armour encasing him. The Gauntlets of Ultramar pulverised any foe within reach, each punch like the hammer blow of a mighty god as he battered an ichor-spattered path towards the daemon lord.

  M’kar was just as eager for this reckoning and crushed its minions as it came towards him, its bulks swelling and billowing with a dark corona of poisonous energies. Black light swam around its monstrous form, the machine parts of Brother Altarion disappearing beneath the swell of unnatural flesh.

  A clawed arm snatched for him, but Calgar ducked, no mean feat in Terminator armour, and slammed his right fist into M’kar’s body. Where other daemons had simply exploded into their constituent parts at such an impact, the Thrice Born was unmoved. Calgar followed up with a thunderous jab, to similarly little effect, and lurched back as M’kar’s clawed arm swept down. Vorpal talons cut through the shoulder guard of his battle plate, tearing through the ceramite, armaplas and fibre-bundle musculature to gouge the flesh beneath.

  Calgar gritted his teeth against the fiery agony searing from the wound and unleashed a series of punishing blows against the daemon lord’s midriff.

  M’kar bellowed with laughter and a Shockwave of invisible energy pummelled Calgar’s body, slamming him down with irresistible force. The daemon’s horns curled out from its skull, arcing lightning leaping between their brazen, iron-sheathed tips. Its mouth yawned wide with the fire of destroyed suns shining behind its dagger-like fangs, and Calgar knew these were worlds it would end if he fell here.

  His honour guard rushed to protect their fallen lord. M’kar plucked one from the ground and his body vanished in a searing explosion. Another met the daemon lord’s gaze and his armour fell to the ground as the flesh within withered to dust in an instant. Three more died as its hammer arm swept out, crushing bodies and splintering limbs.

  Agemman appeared at his side and helped Calgar to his feet.

  “The keep is all but lost,” he said. “The upper floors are overrun!”

  Calgar nodded and flexed his fists once more. “Then we take as many of the bastards with us before we fall.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Agemman.

  Ultramarines were pouring into the lower hall of the keep, bolters firing in a near-constant barrage to keep the daemonic minions from spilling out into the rest of the keep. Though most of the civilian populace of Castra Tanagra had chosen to fight, there were hundreds of youngsters and ancients too young to take up arms. The Ultramarines would protect them as long as they could, even at the cost of their own lives.

  M’kar crashed through the warriors of the 1st Company, ending lives with slashes of its daemonic claws and slamming blows of its hammer. This was a monster they could only defeat together, and both Agemman and Calgar braced themselves for the fight of their lives.

  Agemman fell first.

  The First Captain’s armour split apart under a ferocious blow that smashed him to the ground with the force of a meteor strike. His head lolled back on his shoulders, and blood filled his eyes. Agemman tried to rise, but his body was broken into pieces and he had nothing left to give. His gaze locked with Calgar’s, and the Chapter Master saw the anguish of his failure.

  “Forgive me, my lord…” hissed Agemman as he rolled onto his back.

  Calgar threw himself at the daemon in a frenzy of grief and anger. The Gauntlets of Ultramar were blurs of blue ceramite, slamming into the body of the daemon like the thundering pistons of a mighty engine. Light bled from the daemon’s body with every blow, and Calgar knew this was his last and only chance to defeat M’kar.

  The daemon lord snatched Calgar from the ground, the touch of its claws like acid in his veins. The Armour of Antilochus burned beneath its foulness, scorch marks blistering its surface and reducing it to ashes around the daemon’s grip. Calgar felt the ancient armour’s anger and struggled to free himself.

  M’kar had him firm and the blazing light of murder in its eyes shone with triumphant vindication. Calgar saw his death in those soulless eyes, the death of all he held dear and the end of the last great bastion of humanity’s better angels. His strength was leeched from him with every passing second, and though it was futile, he drew back his arm for one last strike.

  Then the world was swept with cleansing fire that roared from the rear of the chamber and flooded out into the courtyard. It filled the keep with its living fury, roiling like a surge tide and howling like a maddened beast. Where it touched the Ultramarines it gave them strength, and where it touched the daemons it consumed them utterly. Red-scaled beasts with black swords vanished in howling gales of ash, and leaping beasts with fish-belly white bodies climbed the walls to avoid its touch, Nothing escaped. Nothing warp-borne could survive, and the tempestuous firestorm utterly obliterated every daemon within the keep.

  M’kar howled in fury, its body burning in the flames. Any hint of hue was seared away but no fire, no matter how powerful could end so exalted a daemon lord. Its grip spasmed, and Calgar’s fist struck its fanged mouth with every ounce of strength he could muster behind it.

  The daemon lord bellowed in pain and released its grip, turning and fleeing from the agony of the flames. It smashed through the walls of the keep and over the breach, its daemonic horde gathered around it as it drew on their power to sustain itself.

  Calgar dropped to the floor of the chamber as the fire died, unable to believe what had just happened. He turned to see what had saved him, and his heart leapt to see so magnificent a sight before him.

  Varro Tigurius stood at the far end of the chamber, gaunt and hollow-cheeked, with the pallor of a corpse, but still alive and still breathing. A dozen civilians held him upright between them, bearing the weight of his arms and body as the Chief Librarian of the Ultramarines swayed unsteadily on his feet.

  Maskia Volliant, Praefectus of Tarentum, held Tigurius’ staff though it was almost too heavy for him to bear. Calgar had never been so proud of his people than at that moment.

  “I have severed the link between the daemon lord and the Indomitable,” said Tigurius. “It will not be able to draw power from the warp rift anymore.”

  “Emperor’s grace, but you are a wonder to me, Varro,” said Calgar.

  “I had help,” said Tigurius modestly, looking around at the courageous civilians who held him upright. “The Thrice Born will be able to renew the connection to its power source soon. You do not have much time.”

  “I understand,” said Calgar. “Remain here and do what you can to keep that link closed.”

  “I will, my lord,” said Tigurius, his voice little more than a hoarse whisper. “Courage and honour.”

  “And to you, my friend,” replied Calgar, kneeling beside the body of Severus Agemman.

  The First Captain was alive, but he would fight no more this day. The survivors of the 1st Company gathered around their fallen captain, and Calgar sensed the iron resolve of their controlled fury. He counted forty-nine warriors, most bearing a grievous wound of some description. It was a force of warriors with which worlds could be conquered, rebellions brought to heel and battles won. It was a force of warriors that could now only be wielded in one way.

  “You all heard Varro’s words,” said Calgar. “The daemon is vulnerable, exposed, and w
e have one chance to end this. Right here and right now, the fate of Ultramar is in our hands. You are the best and bravest of your Chapter, and though we may die in these mountains, we will die in service to something greater than blood, something greater than land. We fight for what we know is right. I will lead you in that fight, and all I ask is that you fight like the heroes you are!”

  The Ultramarines cheered and Calgar turned towards the gaping hole torn in the keep.

  Though his body was near the end of its endurance, the pride in his warriors and the people they defended was a bottomless well of strength. The 1st Company formed up around him, and as they marched out into the courtyard and through the breach, every mortal capable of firing a rifle or wielding a sword was drawn towards them like iron filings towards a lode-stone.

  Unnatural darkness still held sway over the valley, but high above a bright light was burning through the clouds, and Calgar took solace in the symbolism of the sight.

  Ahead, the daemon horde massed before the crackling tear of light in the sky, and the blackened silhouette of M’kar towered over them all. Calgar quickened his march, clenching his fists and lowering his shoulders. All around him, warriors both mortal and Astartes matched his pace as they went into the last battle for Castra Tanagra.

  “For Ultramar!” shouted Calgar. “Charge!”

  TWENTY-FOUR

  THE ULTRAMARINES HIT the daemon horde, punching deep into the mass of scaled, slime-covered and rugose-fleshed beasts in an unstoppable mass of power armoured fury. A wordless shout of anger, loss and determination drove them on, their blades, bolters and fists wreaking a fearsome slaughter. And with M’kar’s link to the star fort denied him, there was no reservoir of power to renew them.

  Calgar’s fist slammed back and forth with relentless force, slaying a daemon with every blow. A tide of monsters threw themselves upon him, slashing with claws, swords and bladed appendages, each cutting through his armour and scoring his flesh. Blood spilled down the plates of his armour, yet the pain of his wounds was dulled, as though they bled from another’s body.

  The thin spear of defenders plunged into the body of the daemons, but like infectious cells within a body, they were quickly surrounded and attacked from all sides. The seething horde of daemonic monstrosities fell upon the last defenders of Castra Tanagra, cutting them down like flames attacking the last remnants of a defiant glacier.

  Calgar fought his way through the daemons towards M’kar, its midnight form utterly black and without shadow or feature. All that gave its form shape and proportion were the burning furnaces of its eyes and mouth. The air shimmered around it, a rippling heat haze of the material world trying to eject an unnatural presence in the warp and weft of its structure.

  M’kar did not belong here, and this was Calgar’s last chance to make good on his promise to destroy the Thrice Born.

  Daemon and Chapter Master met in a tremendous crash that shook the snow from the highest peaks and spread across the surface of the world like the mightiest peal of thunder. Calgar’s fists pummelled the daemon lord and in return its claws tore chunks from his armour and lacerated his flesh with butcher’s blows.

  All around him, screams and gunfire split the cold, morning air. The light from above grew brighter and Calgar felt a hot wind blowing over the high peaks. He smelled scorched metal and a powerful electric haze filled the air with crackling static. He couldn’t afford to pay the strange sensation any mind. Every facet of his concentration was focussed on the desperate fight for survival before him.

  He and M’kar traded blow for blow, killing each other by degrees and tearing at one another with the single-minded purity of purpose that only true hate can breed. Calgar knew he was weakening, his reflexes slowing and his strength fading with every blocked attack, every missed strike. He saw triumph in the daemon lord’s eyes and its mouth gaped wider in anticipation of devouring his soul.

  “No more life left to you,” hissed the daemon.

  Calgar didn’t reply. He had no energy for words. He raised a fist to block a downward sweep of the daemon’s claws, knowing as he did so that he was too slow. The claws ripped into his chest, tearing the breastplate from his body and exposing his bare flesh. A sweep of the daemon’s hammer arm smashed Calgar to the ground, and he rolled onto his side as the fiery agony of his shattered ribcage threatened to plunge him into unconsciousness.

  The sky was a shimmering vault of purple, red and gold, the heavens alive with colour as something broke through the clouds in a fiery wash of unimaginably bright light. He blinked at the sight, unable to process what he was seeing. It was too awesome, too unbelievable and too magnificent to be real.

  Yet it was real.

  It was real and it was the most wondrous thing imaginable.

  Two Ultramarines strike cruisers falling from the heavens like fire-wreathed comets.

  Streamers of fire and molten metal trailed from the enormous vessels as they plunged headlong through the lower atmosphere. Their shields and hulls screamed in protest as forces they were never designed to endure threatened to tear them apart. It was the most reckless, gloriously insane piece of flying Calgar had ever seen.

  Flocks of Thunderhawk gunships erupted from the cruisers’ launch bays, and for one beautiful moment, the fighting in the valley ceased. Calgar’s face lit up with renewed hope as he recognised the blocky, angular shapes of these mighty vessels.

  Valin’s Revenge of the 2nd, and the Vae Victus of the 4th.

  HOT, METAL-TASTING air roared through the troop compartment of the Thunderhawk as the assault ramp opened, and Uriel gripped the crew rail as he stepped towards the brink. Far below, the ring of Ultramarines fought the daemonic horde. This was their chance to end this once and for all.

  He saw a loathsome wound in the world and the towering form of the Thrice Born before it. Marneus Calgar lay at the daemon lord’s mercy, and the words Varro Tigurius had spoken upon Uriel’s return to Macragge echoed within his mind.

  The Sentinel of the Tower will fight alongside us when the Thrice Born is clad in flesh once more.

  Leodegarius of the Grey Knights had named him the Sentinel of the Tower, a warrior who could overthrow existing ways of life for good or ill. Uriel had not known what that meant until this moment. To use the knowledge he possessed for evil purposes would destroy everything he held dear. What Uriel had learned from the revenant of Captain Ventanus was a potent weapon with which he could save all that he loved from destruction.

  “Ready?” said Captain Shaan, stepping onto the ready line next to him. Like Uriel, Shaan wore a bulky jump pack across his shoulders. Behind him were Pasanius and Learchus, also bearing jump packs, though they looked less than thrilled at the idea of this jump. Filling out the rest of the troop compartment of the Thunderhawk were the Guardians and the restored Firebrands. The Swords of Calth were there too, renewed and healed after the high-speed run from the defeat of the Bloodborn on Calth.

  “Ready,” confirmed Uriel, and leapt from the belly of the Thunderhawk.

  AFTER THE DESTRUCTION of the Tomb of Ventanus, Uriel and his companions returned to Four Valleys Gorge, expecting to find a raging battlefield. To their surprise, they had found it much as they had left it. Since the destruction of the Black Basilica, the Bloodborn had hunkered down behind their fortress wall and kept their heads down. Only later did it become clear that without Honsou or whatever commanders had made their lair within the leviathan Captain Shaan’s Raven Guard had destroyed, the Bloodborn were utterly leaderless.

  The Imperial defenders had been debating how to take advantage of the enemy’s lethargy when the decision was made for them. Attacking from the surface, Learchus had led a ragtag column of armoured vehicles and rallied Defence Auxilia through Guilliman’s Gate to attack the rear of the Bloodborn army.

  Caught between the hammer of Learchus and the anvil of the gorge’s defenders, the Bloodborn were doomed. What had begun as a battle ended in slaughter as the Bloodborn were crushed without mercy.
Resurgent Imperial forces pushed out onto the surface of Calth and recaptured Highside City, driving the scattered Bloodborn forces before them.

  Magos Locard reclaimed the orbital defences, purging their systems of the scrapcode and returning them to Imperial control. With methodical, mathematical precision, he turned the formidable geostationary batteries and missile silos upon the enemy fleet at high anchor, destroying a dozen vessels in under an hour.

  Led by the Vae Victus, the Imperial fleet that had rallied at Ultima Six-Eight surged back into the fight, and at the end of a six-hour battle, only a single enemy vessel escaped the carnage. No sooner was the battle for Calth won, than Uriel gathered his forces and set a course for Talassar, encountering Valin’s Revenge en route.

  Captain Sicarius brought word of the great victory he had won on Espandor, together with news of the hard-won triumph on Quintarn, where the 5th and 6th Companies had eventually broken the back of the Bloodborn invasion. The battle-barges Octavius and Severian were already approaching Talassar, and the synchronicity of their arrival was lost on no one.

  Even as Uriel and the warriors of the 4th and 2nd Company dropped out of the skies above Talassar, the two Ultramarines battle-barges were battering down the Indomitable’s defences.

  If this was to be the battle to save Ultramar, it would be won by the entire Chapter.

  IT HAD BEEN a long time since Uriel had deployed from a flying Thunderhawk, yet he moved smoothly into the optimal drop position: head down, arms tucked in and legs straight out behind him. The valley rushed up to meet him, a patchwork of grey and brown with the last of the 1st Company painted a vivid blue at its centre. All around him, armoured warriors fell from the sky the combined might of the 2nd and 4th Companies. It was a sight to lift the hearts of all who saw it, and Uriel could not recall a time when two battle companies had gone into the fires of combat quite like this.