The Ultramarines Omnibus

by Graham McNeill

  Uriel rejoiced in the bloodshed and his senses flooded with the urge to kill and destroy. He roared with primal rage, picturing the slaughter of hundreds, thousands of enemies, seeing their split-open corpses, flies and carrion feasting on their butchered flesh. Prisoners butchered and their blood drunk as a fine wine was his only desire and—

  Uriel fell suddenly to his knees, dropping his pistol and sword as the horrific images continued to pour into his mind. He roared in anger, fighting against the torrent of filth that washed over him with all the mental discipline his training had granted him.

  Gradually, he forced the images of death and murder from his mind, straining to keep the walls around his thoughts impenetrable. He could see his men fighting the same mental battle and shouted, ‘Courage and honour! You are Ultramarines! Stand firm! These things you see are not your own. They belong to the creature we have come to slay! Fight them!’

  One by one, the Ultramarines picked themselves up, dazed and repulsed by the horrifying visions that assailed them.

  He voxed a swift acknowledgement to Barzano on the surface and watched the controls for the lift wink to life as the elevator began its rapid descent.

  Pasanius’s and Dardino’s warriors moved to secure the perimeter while Squad Venasus checked the bodies of the fallen to ensure there were no survivors, though Uriel could see that this was unnecessary. The fury of their attack had been fuelled by unnatural alien desires and the men they had killed were little more than chunks of bloody meat. Uriel felt shame at the mindless violence they had unleashed, and not even the knowledge that their actions had been swayed by an alien power made it easier to bear the knowledge that the capacity for such wanton slaughter existed deep within them all.

  He shook his head, whispering a mantra of steadfastness.

  Now that he had time to determine the properties of their position, Uriel’s enhanced senses could detect the rising levels of combustible fumes. Gunfire and explosions had shattered the venting mechanism here and the build-up of fumes, while non-lethal to a Space Marine, would eventually reach dangerous levels for ordinary humans.

  Four passages radiated in the direction of the compass points. Palpable waves of horror emanated from the entrance to the eastern tunnel. Uriel could taste it on the air and within his bones, but kept the feeling at bay.

  His thoughts still echoed with images of violence and death, torture and mutilation. Even if Barzano had not told him about the being that slept below these mountains, Uriel would have known immediately that this was the route they must take.

  Uriel stood in the tunnel mouth, forcing the images of burned bodies, severed limbs and destroyed civilisations from his mind. They were not his thoughts. The taint of them in his head sickened him, but they steeled him to face the foe that lay ahead.

  Uriel turned to face his men, pride burning through the hateful images in his head.

  ‘Warriors of Ultramar, you have proven yourselves men of valour and strength, and we will soon face an enemy the likes of which has not been seen for uncounted years in the Emperor’s realm. You can feel its presence clawing at your mind even now. But you must be strong: resist the impulses it creates within you. Remember that you are Space Marines, holy warriors of the Emperor, and that it is our duty to Him and our primarch that gives us our strength, courage and faith. This fight is not yet won. We must steel ourselves for the final test, where each of us must look within and discover the true limit of courage. Never forget that every man is important: every man can make a difference.’

  Uriel raised his sword, its blooded edge reflecting the light of the glow-globes. ‘Are you ready to be those men?’

  The Ultramarines roared in affirmation.

  The high-speed elevator whined to halt at the base of the mineshaft and Uriel lowered his sword as Barzano stepped out. The inquisitor stumbled, raising his hands to his forehead. Uriel could scarce imagine what a terrible place this must be for the empathic inquisitor.

  Barzano walked stiffly towards Uriel, his face lined with the strain of holding the horrific visions at bay.

  ‘By the Emperor, can you feel its power?’ whispered Barzano.

  Uriel nodded. ‘I feel it. The quicker we can be gone from this place the better.’

  ‘My sentiments exactly, my friend,’ replied Barzano, staring in revulsion down the eastern tunnel. He pressed the activation stud of the power knife and drew his pistol.

  ‘Time to finish this, eh, Uriel?’

  ‘Yes. Time indeed.’

  Fighting the sickening power that pressed against their minds, the Ultramarines set off towards the tomb of the Nightbringer.

  BLACKENED FINGERS SLID over the edge of the sarcophagus, long, dirt encrusted nails and shroud wrapped arms following as the Nightbringer arose from its tomb. Kasimir de Valtos climbed to his feet, smiling as the thoughts within his head shrieked with horrors he had not dreamed existed. Blood, death, suffering, mutilation and torment unknown for millions of years filled his skull: it felt so good.

  The PDF soldiers fell to the ground scrabbling at their eyes, their pitiful screams rending the air as they sought to pluck out the horrific things in their heads. Vendare Taloun fainted dead away and even the loathsome eldar appeared to be in awe of the magnificent creature that was slowly revealing itself.

  Kesharq gripped Kasimir’s arm, his alien face enraptured.

  ‘It’s wondrous,’ he breathed.

  Kasimir nodded as the Nightbringer gripped the side of the sarcophagus and pulled itself upwards. Slowly its massive head cleared the edge of its tomb and Kasimir de Valtos stared into the face of death.

  URIEL FOUGHT AGAINST the pulsing waves of violence that crashed against his mind, gripping his chainsword tight. From up ahead he could hear the screaming of the damned and he steeled himself for the coming confrontation. Barzano ran beside him, pale and drawn.

  The tunnel dipped downwards, the rock giving way to sloping walls of smooth black obsidian. The wailing screams from ahead tore at Uriel’s mind, feeding the evil that pounded relentlessly on his thoughts.

  He entered a square room with two empty alcoves on either side. He could feel that the chamber beyond was the source of the evil in his head and a miasma of gritty darkness filled the air within.

  There was nothing to be gained by stealth at this point: fast, lethal force was what was needed now.

  Uriel charged into the pyramid-chamber of the Nightbringer, to find a scene of utter bedlam.

  PDF troopers convulsed on the chamber’s floor, faces bloody where nails and fingers had ripped eyes from heads. Those men still conscious beat themselves bloody with broken fists, mewling in terror at nightmares only they could see.

  A ring of metallic skeletal beings advanced implacably towards a central block of dissolving black stone where a group of heavily armed eldar surrounded a jade-armoured warrior, the same one he had fought on the eldar space ship over Caernus IV. Kasimir de Valtos and a dark haired alien female sheltered in their midst.

  He spared this scene but a cursory glance as he saw the huge creature pulling itself free of its stone prison. Swathed in rotted robes, it rose up from its tomb, the solid stone unravelling atom by atom and reshaping itself in a swirling black shroud.

  More and more of the black stone disintegrated to form the concealing darkness of the creature. Soon all that was left was the slab of the tomb with the final piece of the metal burning brightly in its surface.

  Uriel had a barely perceived vision of a gaunt, mouldering face with twin pits of yellow glowing weakly from within. There was insanity and a raging, unquenchable thirst for suffering in those eyes. A cloak of ghostly darkness hid its true form, a pair of rotted, bandage-swathed arms reaching from its nebulous outline. One limb ended in long, grave-dirt encrusted talons, the other in what appeared to be a huge blade of unnatural darkness, angled like a vast scythe.

  As the creature rose to its full height, Uriel saw that it towered above the mortals beneath it: swirling eddies of darkn
ess at its base snaking around the bodies of those not quick enough to escape its grasp.

  The cloak of darkness swept two of the alien warriors up. The scythe arm flashed, passing through their armour and bodies with ease, and their withered corpses dropped, no more than shrivelled sacks of bone.

  The aliens scattered as another of their number was engulfed by the vast alien. The alabaster figures with the copper staffs took their place at their master’s side, their perfect faces devoid of life and animation.

  ‘De Valtos!’ yelled Barzano. ‘By the Emperor’s soul, do you know what you’ve done?’

  Kasimir de Valtos screamed in triumph as the Nightbringer bloated the chamber with dark energies, filling his mind with the most wondrous things imaginable. The eldar warriors fell back towards the Ultramarines, ready to fight their way clear of this nightmare they found themselves within.

  But the Nightbringer was hungry for soul morsels, the darkness around its form swelling and billowing as though plucked by invisible winds. A deep throbbing beat filled the chamber as the metallic skeleton warriors turned their attention to the interlopers within their master’s chambers.

  Uriel shuddered in revulsion as the skeletal creatures marched towards him, raising their strange weapons in perfect unison. He dived out of the way, rolling and lashing out at the nearest warrior, the chainsword hacking through its legs and toppling it. He sprang to his feet as the metallic warriors opened fire.

  Uriel watched with horror as Sergeant Venasus shuddered under an invisible impact, the fabric of his armour peeling away in flayed layers, his flesh following with horrifying rapidity. The sergeant dropped to his knees as his musculature was revealed then stripped away until nothing but his crouching skeleton remained.

  Another Ultramarine died in agony as his body was stripped, layer by layer, by the skull-faced warriors’ Weapons. Clawed hands grasped at Uriel, tearing at his armour, and he spun to face the metal skeleton he had just felled, the metal of its body re-knitting even as he watched.

  He lashed out with his sword and put a bolt round through its ribcage. The warrior fell once more, but Uriel pounded the machine to fragments beneath his boot lest it somehow manage to regenerate once more. All around him was chaos.

  Space Marines grappled with the metallic skeletons and were, for the most part winning, smashing them to the ground and blasting them apart with bolter fire. Sergeant Learchus tore one apart with his bare hands, smashing its skull to destruction against the floor.

  But many of the deathly creatures simply picked themselves up once more, untroubled by wounds that would have killed a man twice over. Barzano fought beside Uriel, his glowing knife cutting a swathe through the enemy. His face was ashen and his movements slowing as the agony of his wounds began overcoming the pain balms.

  The eldar fought alongside them and as Uriel kicked out at another foe, he kept a close eye on the aliens, ready to turn on them the second the machine warriors had been despatched. Their jade-armoured leader fought and killed with a deadly grace, his axe lashing out in a dizzying spiral of death. Wherever he struck a machine collapsed and each blow struck brought a screeching cry from the swirling darkness at the chamber’s centre. But to Uriel it sounded more like a sound of amusement rather than displeasure.

  The excrents snapped and bit, bearing their master’s foes to the ground by sheer weight of numbers. The hideous alien weapons stripped great swathes of flesh from their deformed frames, but they fought on, oblivious to the rain of their anatomy, until there was little left save scraps of torn, convulsing body parts.

  Uriel fought like he had never fought before, cutting, shooting and killing with a skill he had not known he possessed. His reflexes were honed to perfection. He dodged killing thrusts and lethal blows with preternatural speed, deflecting clawed hands and shattering metal skulls with dazzling skill.

  The last of the metal warriors were smashed to ruins, their gleaming limbs and bodies scattered in pieces across the chamber’s floor. Uriel heaved a painful breath, his side burning where an alien rifle had stripped away a portion of his armour and flesh. Clotted blood caked his head and armour where grasping hands had ripped into him.

  A strange calm settled as Space Marines and eldar faced one another across the chamber. The Nightbringer stood unmoving beside the slab of what had been the top of its tomb, the cruciform shaped piece of metal still glowing with eldritch fire.

  Barzano joined Uriel, his breathing ragged and uneven. Uriel saw the wound on his arm had reopened, blood leaking through the synthflesh bandage.

  Kasimir de Valtos stood in the undulating shadow of the Nightbringer, his features twisted in savage glee.

  He raised a finger to point at the Ultramarines and screamed, ‘Destroy them! I command you!’

  Whether the words were aimed at the eldar or the vast alien and its bodyguards, Uriel did not know, but it was the eldar who leapt forwards. Their leader made straight for him, his war-axe raised high.

  The Ultramarines roared and charged to meet them, the chamber ringing with the clash of arms as battle was joined once more.

  Uriel blocked a cut and stepped in to hammer his fist into the side of the alien’s helmet. His foe ducked, slamming the

  barbed haft of his axe into Uriel’s belly, ripping a long gash in his armour.

  Uriel gasped in pain, powering the hilt of his sword into Kesharq’s back, slamming the alien to the floor. He reversed the grip on his sword and spun, hammering the roaring chain blade downwards.

  His opponent was no longer there, but somersaulting to his feet and spinning his axe at Uriel’s head. A burst of flaring light exploded as Barzano’s knife intercepted the blow and Uriel took advantage of the alien’s momentary distraction to smash his sword into his head.

  Kesharq saw it coming and twisted his neck, robbing the blow of much of its power. The whirring teeth ripped off his helmet, the dented metal catching on the loose skin of his face and tearing it free in a wash of blood.

  Kesharq screamed in pain, his fleshless face hideously revealed. He staggered back, regaining his balance and blocked Barzano’s reverse cut, deflecting the blade away from him and hammering his axe into the inquisitor’s chest.

  Bones shattered as the axe clove downwards through Barzano’s ribcage, exiting in a bloody spray above his hip. Barzano fell, the power knife dropping from his hand.

  Uriel screamed a denial, slashing at the alien leader’s back. Kesharq spun away from the blow, trapping Uriel’s sword in the jagged barbs of the axe blade and snapping it with a flick of his wrist. Before he could reverse the stroke, Uriel dived forwards, over Barzano’s body, and swept up the fallen inquisitor’s blade in time to deflect a sweep meant to remove his head.

  Kesharq came at him again. The axe swept round and Uriel blocked it with the glowing weapon he had taken from Barzano.

  Kesharq advanced more cautiously now, the red mask of his bloody features a truly repulsive sight, the twitching of glistening facial muscles clearly visible. He spat a mouthful of blood and charged, axe raised to smash down.

  Rather than step back, Uriel ducked low and caught the haft of the axe on his forearm, feeling the force of impact crack his armour open. He roared, spinning inside the eldar’s guard and gripped his arms, slamming his body into the alien and pulling.

  The momentum of Kesharq’s charge carried him sailing over Uriel’s shoulder and he smashed into the ground on his back. Uriel spun the power knife and drove it with all his strength through Kesharq’s breastplate and into his heart. The alien leader spasmed, dark blood bursting from his throat as Uriel twisted the knife in the wound and plunged it home again and again.

  Yells and war-cries echoed around him, but all Uriel could see was the ecstatic form of Kasimir de Valtos at the chamber’s centre.

  He wrenched the knife clear of Kesharq’s corpse and stumbled towards the man who had set these events in motion.

  KASIMIR DE VALTOS watched the furious battle raging around him with unabashed pleas
ure. To see so much blood spilt was pleasing to him, and the terrible things swarming through his head were a revelation. So much slaughter filled his mind! His entire being felt elevated as he savoured the thought that the things he was seeing and feeling were but the tiniest morsel of the bloodshed the Nightbringer could unleash.

  It was still weak, its substance not yet fully formed, but incredibly powerful. Whether it was simply his nearness to the creature that empowered him with such knowledge or some deeper link he did not know. Perhaps it recognised in him a kindred spirit. Certainly it displayed none of the lethal hostility to him that it had to the eldar in its first moments of awakening.

  The alien woman of Kesharq’s stood behind him. He could feel the fear radiating from her in waves and it felt wonderful to drink in that emotion. She collapsed to her knees, her skin blistering and cracking as every shred of her life force was leeched from her body. She was able to scream once before the last vestiges of her existence was swallowed by the Nightbringer. Was this the beginning of his transformation into an immortal, wondered de Valtos? Was this the first of the new powers he was soon to manifest?

  The violence around him felt truly intoxicating. He could feel the combined hatred and aggression of the enemies flaring bright and succulent, filling him, making him stronger. So pleasing to have such things to feast upon rather than the cold, tasteless energies that had sustained its form these millions of years.

  Kasimir de Valtos blinked in puzzlement. Millions of years? Where had that thought come from? Suddenly he realised that the sensations flooding through him, the fear, the anger, the terror were not his own, but borrowed from the alien creature before him. Anger filled him as he realised he had been nothing more than a conduit for emotions that this being had forgotten over the passage of aeons it had spent locked away from the sight of man.