Iron Warriors - The Omnibus

by Graham McNeill

  The smoke parted and the high-pitched blasts of Vulcan bolter fire ripped up the esplanade in a line towards the gate. Three Vindicators exploded and a Dreadnought toppled, thrashing its arms in frenzy as it tried to right itself.

  Forrix charged across the courtyard as he caught sight of the Warhound he had marked for himself earlier. The beast darted through the smoke, pausing only long enough to draw a bead on the charging Iron Warriors. But in the open, its gunfire was nowhere near as effective as it had been in the breach.

  'Spread out!' yelled Forrix as he gathered his Terminators to him and set off towards the Warhounds.

  'You escaped me once, beast, but this time I have you,' he promised his prey.

  'MARK YOUR TARGETS!' yelled Leonid as volleys of las-fire lashed the Iron Warriors charging from burning building to burning building. Smoke filled every street. None of their attackers were falling, and Leonid knew they must make every shot count. The Warhound Defensor Fidei walked backwards behind his men as they fell back from this assault, firing into the mass of the enemy as they pursued the Jourans.

  Through gaps in the smoke pouring from shelled buildings, he could see massive chunks of rockcrete being torn from the wall by the Titan siege towers, and knew they had only minutes until these gargantuan war machines joined the battle. Tanks and grotesque, multi-limbed constructs, with turrets adorned with hateful runes, poured through the smashed gate, and fear was visible in every bloodied face.

  Brother-Captain Eshara had regrouped the survivors of his company, thirty Space Marines, and fought alongside him, firing his bolter with every grudging step backwards.

  Suddenly, a dozen of the Iron Warriors' damnable red clad soldiery charged through the smoke to their side. Shots from crude rifles felled five of his men before they could react. Leonid knelt, jamming his rifle to his shoulder and opening up on full auto, spraying the smoke-filled street with bright lasbolts. Three enemy soldiers dropped and Eshara killed another four with deadly accurate bolter fire. The remainder drew a bead on Leonid, but before they could shoot, the ground rocked and a massive adamantium foot slammed down, crushing them to death.

  The Jure Divinu sprayed the building across from Leonid with turbo laser fire and he saw six enemy soldiers tumble from it, burning debris crashing down as its already unstable structure finally gave way.

  From the smoke, Leonid saw a warrior in Terminator armour charging straight for the Jure Divinu, bright hunger etched on his face. His dead features spoke of ancient malice and bitter hatred.

  Leonid had no time to think. Eshara grabbed his arm and hustled him back through the burning ruins towards the northern wall of the citadel. Space Marines ran alongside them, the men of the Guard having already passed through the Valedictor Gate and descended into the caverns.

  Built flush against the flank of the mountain with two armoured blockhouses to either side of it, the Valedictor Gate was intended to bar the route into the underground caverns, but with Naicin's betrayal in the Machine Temple, it remained treacherously open.

  Explosions ripped through the buildings behind Leonid and smashed him to the ground.

  Eshara dragged him to his feet as the thirty Imperial Fists formed a semi-circle around the Valedictor Gate, facing outwards.

  The Space Marine captain lowered his dented and blackened helm level with Leonid's and said, 'Castellan, you must get below and destroy the gene-seed.'

  'How?' gasped Leonid breathlessly. 'The Machine Temple's gone, there's no way to do it.'

  Eshara gripped his arm tighter. 'Do what you must, find flamer units, plasma gunners, anything, but do not let even a scrap of gene-seed fall into the enemy's hands. It is better that it all be destroyed than have the foe claim it. Do you understand?'

  'We will need time to destroy it all, my friend. Can you hold them here for long enough?' asked Leonid, fully aware of the price that time would be bought with.

  The two warriors locked eyes then shook hands in the warrior's grip, wrist to wrist.

  'We will hold them for long enough,' nodded Eshara as he dropped his empty bolter and drew both his power swords.

  Leonid said, 'Good luck, Brother-Captain Eshara.'

  'And to you, Castellan Leonid.'

  Without another word, Leonid turned and sprinted through the Valedictor Gate.

  FORRIX WATCHED THE beast stagger as a shell from a Vindicator burst against its leg. The Warhound lurched, its weapon mount shearing off as it slammed into a ruined building. They had it now, backed into a corner and stripped of its protection.

  There was another Warhound nearby, but the billowing smoke and thump of explosions obscured its whereabouts.

  'It is time for a reckoning, beast!' he yelled as he crashed forward. More gunfire hammered the armoured carapace of the Warhound, its legs buckling under the weight of fire. The pilot's compartment swung low to the ground, the green of its eyes locking with Forrix and he laughed, knowing that the beast's life was forfeit. He had it now.

  He and his Terminators closed on the struggling machine, power fists raised to deliver the killing blow. Forrix clambered onto its massive foot and hammered his power fist into the ankle joint of the Warhound's leg again and again.

  The war machine lifted its leg, realising the danger and stepped backwards, swaying drunkenly and smashing into the building across the street, causing it to collapse.

  Forrix held on for dear life as the Warhound sought to dislodge him, hammering his fist against its ankle. The Titan's leg swept round, slamming down on a jagged section of rubble. Forrix was thrown clear as the full weight of the Warhound came down awkwardly on its pulverised ankle.

  The joint sheared off in an explosion of flame and the Warhound toppled, smashing backwards through the burning building and slamming into the ground in a cascade of rockcrete blocks. The pilot's compartment cracked open under the impact and Forrix scrambled across the flaming wreckage to finish the beast.

  Shadowed forms struggled weakly within as Forrix emptied his combi-bolter into the Warhound's bridge, slaughtering its crew in a storm of bolts.

  Forrix laughed as he slew the crew of the Jure Divinu, racking the arming slide of his underslung melta gun.

  The wall behind the slain beast collapsed, showering him with rock and smoke, momentarily obscuring his vision.

  As it cleared he felt his pleasure at the kill drain from him as he found himself staring into the baleful eyes of the second Warhound.

  'No!' hissed Forrix.

  Its weapons whined, building power to fire.

  Forrix raised his weapon and pulled the trigger as both the turbo lasers and Vulcan bolters fired.

  Forrix had the briefest sensation of pain and frustration before the Defensor Fidei's guns utterly destroyed him.

  HONSOU JOGGED THROUGH the fallen citadel, elated beyond words at the slaughter around him. The warriors of both his and Forrix's company followed him through the streets of their enemy's fastness, cheering his name to the dark gods.

  Loud gunfire roared from somewhere to his left and he angled his advance towards it, rounding a corner in time to see a wrecked Warhound topple to the ground and Forrix charging towards the war machine's head.

  Honsou saw the wall before Forrix collapse and the furious form of the Warhound's twin emerge from the smoke. He saw it raise its weapons and blast Forrix from the ruins in an explosion of blood and mechanised body parts.

  As he watched Forrix die, Honsou felt nothing but triumph. Kroeger had vanished and Forrix was dead: truly the gods of Chaos favoured him this night.

  The Warhound's victory was short-lived as the might of the Pater Mortis, its crashing footsteps collapsing buildings all around them, emerged from behind Honsou and fired its weapons. The Scout Titan vanished in a flurry of bright explosions, its few void shields and light armour no match for the power of the Warlord Titan.

  It reeled under the impacts and, for an incredible moment, Honsou believed it had survived, but a massive explosion engulfed its head and the Warh
ound fell, its crew compartment a blazing rain.

  Honsou snarled in satisfaction and set off once more.

  Everywhere the enemy was defeated, broken and fleeing before them.

  He emerged into a wide square, at the far end of which he saw a pitiful ring of the Imperial Fists. They stood, swords bared at the entrance to caverns gouged into the mountains, their faces proud and defiant.

  Honsou laughed as he marched at the head of his company, the Warsmith descending from the hot darkness above him. The master of the Iron Warriors landed hard, the cobbles hissing molten with his step, as though the ground itself rebelled against the chaos writhing within him. His body rippled with change, as though a million forms sought to be birthed from his unquiet anatomy. The black wings at his back quivered and his armour was becoming glossier, more organic looking, like the carapace of an insect.

  The Warsmith nodded to Honsou, a gesture of respect between warriors.

  'It is time we finished this,' rasped the Warsmith, his voice thickened and coarse.

  'Aye,' agreed Honsou, marching towards the Imperial Fists as the Iron Warriors spread out to surround them, weapons raised.

  A stillness fell as the ancient foes faced one another in the glare of the burning citadel and a massive shadow fell across the square as the Pater Mortis strode from the ruins.

  A warrior stepped from the ring of Space Marines and removed his helmet. Honsou could feel the hatred this warrior had for him as he spat, 'I am Brother-Captain Eshara of the Imperial Fists, proud son of Rogal Dorn, soldier of the Emperor and scourge of deviants. Face me and die, traitor.'

  The Warsmith faced Eshara and Honsou grinned as he saw the effect his presence had upon the Space Marine. As the captain's face twisted in sudden pain, the Warsmith leapt forward, his mighty axe sweeping down to cleave Eshara in two.

  Eshara crossed his swords above his head, blocking the blow, the impact driving him to his knees. He grunted and spun low, slashing a blade across the Warsmith's flank. Black blood gouted from the wound. The Warsmith smashed his fist against Eshara's chest, cracking his breastplate open.

  As Eshara fell, the Imperial Fists charged, the name of Rogal Dorn on their lips.

  Gunfire erupted from the Iron Warriors, cutting them down as battle was joined.

  But it was an unequal struggle and though the Imperial Fists fought hard, the outcome was never in doubt.

  Honsou drove his sword through an Imperial Fist, watching in amazement as Eshara groggily rose to his feet, coughing thick wads of blood. The Warsmith roared and hammered his axe down upon Eshara's shoulder guard, cleaving him from collarbone to pelvis, the blade shearing through his armour like paper.

  Eshara crumpled, but weakly raised his head as the Warsmith sheathed his massive axe and stooped to lift him from the ground.

  'Know this, son of Dorn,' hissed the Warsmith. 'I will gorge myself on your gene-seed and I shall make you and all your kind extinct.'

  The Warsmith lifted Eshara's dying body to his head where there was a monstrous cracking, sucking noise. Blood splashed the steaming ground at the Warsmith's feet and he bellowed in orgiastic pleasure, dropping Eshara's mutilated corpse.

  Even Honsou was shocked as he saw the Space Marine's entire chest cavity had been bitten through, the organs within sucked from his body and devoured by the Warsmith.

  Honsou dismissed the incident from his mind and set off after the Warsmith as he charged through the gateway that led into the mountains and their ultimate goal.

  LEONID HAMMERED HIS rifle butt through the glass of an incubation tank and stood back as the amniotic fluid spilled out along with its foetal cargo. He used brute force because his lasgun's power cell had long since drained. He moved onto the next capsule, staring in awed wonder at the sheer scale of the cavern stretching before him. Its end was lost in shadows, the vastness broken up by wide avenues of incubation capsules. Thousands of tanks ran in ordered lines into the darkness, their clear surfaces frosted and cold to the touch.

  Now Leonid understood the danger inherent in this place. If what Naicin had told them was even partly true, there was enough genetic material stored here to create untold thousands of twisted warriors of Chaos. The very thought of such creations being birthed from here was truly horrifying.

  Worker-servitors with shoulder-mounted illuminators were spots of light in the darkness, moving silently through the echoing cavern as they tended to their biological charges. Hundreds of his soldiers rampaged through the cavern, shooting, burning and smashing everything they could. But Leonid knew it was a hopeless task, the sheer scale of the facility here would defeat them. There was no way they could destroy it all before the Iron Warriors came to kill them.

  But they would try. It was all they had left.

  HONSOU AND THE Iron Warriors followed the Warsmith as he sped down through the corridors beneath the mountains. There was a desperate hunger to the Warsmith now, like a fleshhound with the scent of blood in its jaws. His body pulsed like a heart in the throes of a massive seizure, as though containing a whirlwind of potentiality that strained to be born.

  Ahead, Honsou heard sounds of destruction and knew they were approaching the prize the citadel had jealously guarded. As the passageway widened and levelled out, he saw a massive set of gold doors, green lightning dancing across their surfaces, and a cavern beyond.

  Shouts and the sound of shattering glass quickly turned to cries of alarm as the humans saw the charging Iron Warriors. A few brave souls attempted to stand before the Warsmith, but quickly crumpled as he neared them, screaming and spasming in agony.

  The Iron Warriors plunged into the cavern, gunfire echoing from the walls as they slaughtered the last defenders of the citadel.

  The Warsmith halted beside a shattered incubation capsule and dragged out a limp rag of pink flesh, sodden and only vaguely humanoid. The Warsmith feasted upon the genetic host matter, feeding on the soft, boneless tissue and Honsou felt his skin crawl as though a powerful electric charge was building.

  The Warsmith moved to the next capsule and fed once more. He turned to Honsou and rasped, 'Finish them all.'

  LEONID WORKED HISs way back to the cavern's entrance, his power sword gripped tightly and his face set with grim resolve. There was no more they could do here to make a difference and he felt their failure as a bitter weight in the pit of his stomach. If this was to be their end, they would meet it head on, not hiding. His men had no ammunition left and the sounds of battle around him were brutal and short lived.

  He and perhaps fifty soldiers followed a revolting sucking, guzzling noise, determined to sell their lives as dearly as possible now that the end was inevitable.

  Leonid rounded a corner of dripping capsules and recoiled at the sight before him.

  THE WARSMITH CAST his arms to the cavern roof as he felt the power of the gene-seed coursing through him, though he realised that its power was largely symbolic. He had succeeded and the power of the dark gods poured into their chosen vessel, ripping him from his mortal flesh and gifting him with the boon of immortality.

  His armour sloughed from his body, its material form no longer appropriate for such a magnificent creature of Chaos. A spiralling vortex of dark energy surrounded him, cracks exploding in the rockcrete floor as power flared from his limbs.

  As the psychic energy built up, the Warsmith swelled, roaring as he felt his power magnifying.

  His chest hiked convulsively as the might of Chaos poured through him. He was aware of his warriors and the Imperial soldiers, but he needed all his concentration to direct the incomprehensible energies that remoulded his new daemonic flesh.

  The Warsmith roared in ecstasy and agony as unprecedented power engulfed him. His body swelled hugely, bloated by the maelstrom of energy that cycloned within.

  A ridged horn burst from his forehead in a welter of blood and tissue. The mottled spike writhed like a living thing, swelling and wrapping itself around his head. His skin darkened, taking on a loathsome scaled texture
. His spine cracked and he screamed as it elongated and thickened, roaring as the shadows at his back solidified and the dark wings spread wide and flapped powerfully.

  The newly elevated Daemon Prince was lifted from the ground, hanging suspended before the horrified witnesses to its birth as the last of the psychic energy drained from its body in an explosive wash of power.

  THOUGH HE KNEW it meant death, Leonid raced towards the floating daemon, his sword raised to strike it down.

  The winged daemon turned its gaze upon him and he dropped to his knees as the sickening aura of the creature overcame him. Its monstrous form was utterly black, the nightmare depths of its form glittering with far-off galaxies and stars. He felt revolted just looking at the beast and rolled onto his side as debilitating cramps seized him.

  He vomited, feeling his guts contract again and dry-heaved, having nothing more to expel. He vainly tried to push himself to his feet, but the pain was too great, like a red-hot knife twisting in his belly. His men were also on the floor, their bodily functions rebelling in the presence of such horrific power.

  Leonid wept in pain, hearing the terrible, booming laughter of the daemon prince above him, the discordant noise sending jagged bolts of pain down his spine.

  He felt unconsciousness rising to claim him and tried to fight it.

  But he could not resist its balm and slipped into darkness.

  THE FIRES STILL burned throughout the citadel as the first rays of morning crested the mountains and columns of tracked tankers rumbled through the molten remains of the Destiny Gate. Each tanker had been specially built for this moment, insulated and rigged with blast freezing mechanisms to preserve the precious gene-seed on its journey through the immaterium towards the Eye of Terror and Abaddon the Despoiler.

  The fallen Iron Warriors were already aboard the ships in orbit, the Chirumeks dissecting them even now to harvest their organs for implantation into the next generation of Iron Warriors.