On the Warmonger came, roaring incoherently as it pounded forward, a ten-tonne behemoth of metal and brutality.
The Undying One ducked neatly beneath the Dreadnought’s swinging talons, its double-bladed staff slicing out, striking across the Warmonger’s armoured chassis amid an explosion of sparks and the agonising scream of rending metal.
The Warmonger struggled to arrest its forward momentum, which took it past the Undying One. The Dreadnought’s damaged chassis was rotating before it had yet ground to a halt, dragging its heavy bolters around. The heavy weapons roared, belching an impenetrable curtain of high-calibre shells around in a wide arc, chasing its elusive foe. The Undying One was too swift, always a fraction of a second in front of the devastating salvo.
Hefting its double-bladed staff like a spear, the Undying One glided forward, heavy bolter rounds ripping at its shadow-cloak. With inhuman strength and speed, the Undying One rammed its weapon into the heart of the Dreadnought’s chassis. The glowing energy blade slid effortlessly through the Warmonger’s thick armour plates, impaling it.
Marduk roared in outrage and denial but was helpless as the Undying One ripped the glowing energy blade free, tearing it out sideways in a disembowelling stroke that ripped open the Dreadnought’s sarcophagus. Stinking amniotic fluids gushed from this fatal wound, and Marduk caught a glimpse of the Warmonger’s corpse within, shrunken, pallid and foetal.
It was hard to believe that once this had been one of the Legion’s proudest warriors, a Dark Apostle no less. It now looked like an exhumed cadaver, a half-rotten corpse cruelly kept lingering in some horrific unlife. Wires, cables and tubes connected this lifeless, drowned thing to the Dreadnought’s nervous system. It was only this spider web tangle that kept it from flopping out onto the ground. It was little more than a wasted torso, upon which a skeletal head hung loosely.
Most of its skull was gone, either from the extent of the injuries that had seen it interred or surgically removed, and the exposed brain matter – a horrible colour, like rotten fruit – was pierced with dozens of needle-tipped wires. It was missing its lower jaw. Only its visible fused ribcage and the gigantism of its skeleton revealed that this had once been a proud Astartes warrior.
The Warmonger’s mechanised Dreadnought body shuddered and twitched, sparks bursting from damaged wiring and cabling.
Marduk hooked his sacred crozius at his waist and dropped to one knee, prying the archaic combi-bolter from his own dead hand. He fired at the back of the Undying One’s head as he rose, snarling in hatred.
Displaying unnatural prescience, the Undying One swayed aside from the burst of bolter fire, twirling its energy scythe around its hands as it turned.
It was unable to avoid the Warmonger, however.
The Dreadnought was not yet finished and as the Undying One turned away, the Warmonger lashed out, clamping its immense power talons around the body of its adversary. The necron lord struggled, its double-bladed staff flailing, but it could not escape. It was completely enclosed within the Warmonger’s grasp.
‘Death to the False Emperor!’ the Dreadnought roared, clenching its fist.
The Undying One’s humanoid form splintered, exploding into a million scarabs. In the centre of the buzzing cloud of metallic insects hovered the Nexus Arrangement.
Sparks and sickly black smoke rose from the Warmonger as the Dreadnought twitched spasmodically. The Undying One’s bodyguard stepped forward, war-scythes flashing as they tore into the Warmonger’s armoured flanks.
Marduk roared in anger, stamping forwards, combi-bolter roaring in his hand. Kol Badar smashed a pair of Immortals and stepped into the midst of the scarab swarm, swatting at the robotic insects.
He only registered the Coryphaus when his power talons closed around the Nexus Arrangement, plucking it out of the air. As the hulking warlord’s bladed fingers closed around the spinning orb the device once more took on its prior form, that of an inert, solid sphere.
Reality shuddered, and Marduk gasped as he felt the blessed touch of the æther crash in upon him once more. The Dark Apostle whispered a prayer of thanks to the gods that he sensed around him.
Kol Badar held the Nexus Arrangement within his power talons, gunning down a pair of necrons with his combi-bolter. The blood around the hole in his chest was already scabbed and dry, the Larraman cells in his bloodstream having sealed the wound.
The angry buzzing of the scarab cloud became more insistent, and Marduk saw it begin to coalesce into a tight, dense swarm once more, forming the unmistakeable outline of the Undying One.
‘We need to leave. Now,’ said Marduk, firing his combi-bolter on full auto, blasting holes in the reforming necron lord. Even as he did so, he knew it was futile – the Undying One was reforming, and no matter what he did, nothing would halt its progress.
‘Ashkanez,’ said Kol Badar. ‘Initiate teleport return. Now!’
‘Do it,’ said First Acolyte Ashkanez, nodding his head towards Burias. All around them, the ship was repowering, coming back to unholy life as the daemons that had for so long been infused with it returned.
‘Why not just leave them?’ growled the hulking figure of the champion Khalaxis. ‘Let the xenos finish this for us?’
Burias’s hand hovered over the activation rune upon the teleporter’s control panel, waiting for the First Acolyte’s response.
‘Don’t be a fool,’ snapped Ashkanez. ‘They have the device. And besides, the Anointed are ours. Do it.’
Burias slammed his fist down onto the glowing rune.
Like droplets of molten metal coming together, a million tiny scarabs gave up their individual form as they combined, until once more the Undying One hovered in the air before Marduk, gleaming, untarnished, perfect. Pinpricks of light began to glow malevolently within darkened eye sockets. The necron lord turned its head from side to side, as if stretching its neck, before its inscrutable gaze locked onto Marduk. The air shimmered as the immortal being spun its deadly, twin-bladed staff, and it began to glide towards the Dark Apostle.
‘Any time now, Ashkanez,’ hissed Marduk, backing away, still firing with his archaic combi-bolter. His twin-sickle clip ran dry and he holstered the revered old weapon, drawing his crozius once more.
Then there was a sudden feeling of vertigo, and a bright light obscured his vision.
When it cleared, Marduk was standing upon a dimly lit sub deck of the Infidus Diabolus, staring down the barrel of a melta gun.
‘Welcome back, Apostle,’ growled First Acolyte Ashkanez.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
First Acolyte Ashkanez stood five metres away, the melta gun in his hands levelled squarely at Marduk. The weapon was designed as an anti-tank weapon. At such range, even Terminator armour would offer little protection.
Without making any threatening or sudden moves, Marduk turned his head to glance around him, careful to keep the First Acolyte within his frame of vision. Kol Badar stood at his shoulder, but of the other brethren of the Anointed there was no sign. The five of them were alone.
‘You dare draw a weapon against your Dark Apostle?’ snarled Marduk, his voice quivering with barely contained fury. ‘What is this?’
‘This is your hour of judgement, Apostle,’ replied Ashkanez.
The First Acolyte’s face was hidden in the shadow of his hood. In the gloom behind Ashkanez stood Burias and Khalaxis. Both were hooded, but easily recognisable.
‘You seek to pass judgement upon me? You arrogant whoreson. Look at you,’ said Marduk, his voice thick with scorn, ‘unwilling even to show your faces. You are cowards, worthless cowards who bring nothing but shame upon XVII Legion.’
The towering form of Khalaxis stiffened, his hands clenching tightly around the haft of his huge chainaxe. Burias pulled away his hood angrily.
‘You brought this upon yourself, master,’ the Icon Bearer snarled.
‘You have always been a treacherous dog, Burias,’ retorted Marduk. ‘I should have put you down long ago.’
‘I have it,’ said Kol Badar.
‘Good,’ said Ashkanez. ‘Remove your helmet, Apostle. I want to see your eyes as you die.’
Marduk glanced down at the stump of his left arm, then at his sacred crozius still clasped in his right hand, then back up at Ashkanez.
‘I might need a little help. Would you care to step closer and take my crozius from me, Acolyte?’ he said. ‘It is clear that you intend to claim it anyway, why not now?’
‘I think not,’ said Ashkanez, clearly having no intention on closing the distance between himself and the huge figure of the Dark Apostle, ensconced in the Warmonger’s ancient Terminator armour.
‘Coward,’ mocked Marduk.
‘Prudent,’ corrected Ashkanez. ‘Your helmet, Apostle.’
Marduk hooked his crozius onto his barbed chain belt and reached up to remove his skull-faced helmet. It came loose with a hiss of pressurised air. The malignant red glow of his helmet’s lenses faded as he hooked his helm at his waist. The Dark Apostle’s eyes simmered with hatred.
‘Happy?’ he snarled.
The First Acolyte nodded.
‘Where are my Anointed brothers?’ growled Kol Badar.
‘Does their blood stain your hands as well, Acolyte?’ said Marduk.
‘Their deaths would serve no purpose. They have been teleported back safely,’ said Ashkanez. ‘I did not feel it necessary for them to witness any of this.’
Marduk licked his lips, and glanced between the three warriors ranged against him.
Ashkanez still had the melta gun levelled squarely at Marduk.
‘You rate yourself rather highly, First Acolyte,’ he said. ‘Do you really think that the three of you can take us both?’
‘No,’ said Ashkanez. ‘I do not.’
Marduk opened his mouth to speak, then shut it as Kol Badar stepped away from him.
‘You bastard,’ he snarled as the Coryphaus bowed his head in deference to the First Acolyte. His eyes were murderous as he watched Kol Badar take a position alongside the others, a step behind the treacherous First Acolyte.
‘This day has been a long time coming, Marduk,’ said Kol Badar.
‘They have all turned against you, Apostle,’ said Ashkanez, unable to keep the smirk from his voice. ‘All your most trusted captains.’
‘Not all. Sabtec would never turn,’ said Marduk.
‘True,’ said Ashkanez. ‘I believe the fool would maintain his deluded loyalty to you to the end. A shame. He is a fine warrior. But in this war, sacrifices must be made. He will die soon enough. You are all alone, Apostle.’
‘No,’ said Marduk. ‘The gods of Chaos are with me. And hell’s torments shall be as paradise to the pains that I shall unleash upon you. I’ll see you all burn for this outrage.’
‘No,’ said Ashkanez, ‘you won’t.’
‘You are a traitor and a whoreson, Ashkanez. How long will it be before he turns on you, Burias? Or you, Khalaxis?’ said Marduk. ‘Once he has control over the Host, your usefulness will be over.’
‘I’ve heard enough,’ growled Khalaxis. ‘Let’s kill him now and finish this.’
‘The Council will see through this petty mutiny,’ said Marduk. ‘They will never endorse you as Dark Apostle of the Host, Ashkanez.’
‘Traitors?’ said Ashkanez. ‘No, you are mistaken, Apostle. We are not traitors; we represent the future. The Legion has stagnated under the Council’s rulership, its ideals have corrupted. Only a fool could fail to see how Erebus has twisted the Legion’s ideals to his own end, corrupting the Council to his will. We represent a new order, one that will cast down Erebus’s grip upon the Council.’
‘Ekodas has been filling your head with lies,’ said Marduk. ‘His little uprising will go nowhere. You will be hunted down like the traitorous dogs you are.’
‘You are wrong, Marduk. This is no petty uprising. We are the Brotherhood. The time of the Third Cleansing draws in.’
‘The Brotherhood?’ said Marduk, in surprise. ‘The Brotherhood is a relic of the past. It died out ten millennia ago.’
‘And now it is reborn, under a new High Priest.’
Marduk laughed.
‘You are more deluded that I had thought,’ he said. ‘Ekodas thinks he can rebuild the Brotherhood in some petty grab for power? Does he truly think he could ever pose any sort of risk to the Council? That he could ever be a threat to Erebus and Kor Phaeron?’
‘It is you who is deluded,’ said Ashkanez, grinning. ‘This goes far beyond Ekodas.’
‘I find that hard to believe.’
‘That is of no consequence to me. But before you die, know that the Keeper of the Faith, Kor Phaeron himself, is the one that has raised the Brotherhood once more.’
‘Impossible,’ hissed Marduk, though his blood ran cold at his First Acoylte’s words.
‘More than twenty Hosts have sworn their allegiance to the Brotherhood,’ said Ashkanez. ‘Dozens more will join before Erebus has any idea of the danger he is in.’
‘It will never work,’ said Marduk.
‘Erebus’s perversion of the Council draws to an end. Under Kor Phaeron’s leadership, the Legion shall be guided back to Lorgar’s true teachings.’
‘The Keeper of the Faith would drag the Legion into civil war?’ said Marduk. ‘He would cause a schism within our ranks merely to overthrow his brother? Such a path is madness!’
Ashkanez smiled.
‘Too long has Erebus manipulated our Legion from the shadows. His time has come to an end.’
‘Enough of your poison, traitor,’ snapped Marduk, lifting his head high. Without fear, he stared into Ashkanez’s eyes. ‘It is as Khalaxis says: it is time to finish this. Would you not agree, Kol Badar?’
‘Yes,’ said the hulking warlord, standing at Ashkanez’s back. ‘I would.’
Before anyone could react, the Coryphaus stepped forward and rammed the electrified lengths of his power talons into Ashkanez’s back.
Ashkanez was lifted up into the air. The tips of Kol Badar’s power talons burst from his chest, hot blood dancing off the blades. The melta gun in Ashkanez’s hand fired, and Marduk hurled himself to the side to avoid its searing blast. Curse papers affixed to his shoulder plate burst into flame as the shot glanced him, melting a furrow across his armour as if it were butter.
Dark energy flickered across the barbed spikes at the head of Marduk’s holy crozius as his hand closed around its hilt, thumbing its activation rune.
Burias was the first of Ashkanez’s conspirators to react. The change came over him instantly, his features blurring with those of the daemon within. With a dismissive flick, Kol Badar sent Ashkanez crashing into the Icon Bearer, momentarily taking him out of the fight. The melta gun in the First Acolyte’s hand went flying.
The dimly lit chamber suddenly resounded with the deafening roar of Khalaxis’s chainaxe. The towering champion launched himself at Marduk, his face twisted in berserk fury.
Marduk met the murderous, double-handed blow with one of his own, dark crozius and chainaxe coming together with awesome force. Marduk’s strength was augmented by the tightly knit servo-bundles of his newly donned Terminator armour, yet even so his arm was forced back as Khalaxis exerted his strength. The teeth of the chainaxe tore at the crozius, and sparks flew.
Khalaxis’s face was close to Marduk’s, flushed with hatred and battle fury. His teeth were bared.
‘I’m going to rip you apart, master,’ growled the towering, dreadlocked aspiring champion, spittle and foam glistening at the edges of his mouth.
‘In your dreams,’ spat Marduk, stepping forward and slamming his forehead into Khalaxis’s face, breaking his nose with a sharp crack and splatter of blood.
The berserker snarled in fury and reeled backwards, letting go of the haft of his axe with one hand. Marduk stepped forward to crush his skull, but walked straight into a thundering backhand. Khalaxis’s spiked gauntlet hammere
d into the side of his face, snapping his head around, and he tasted blood in his mouth.
Stepping backwards, Marduk brought his crozius up instinctively, blocking the madly whirring chainaxe slashing towards his neck. With impressive speed, Khalaxis turned, spinning on his heel and bringing the axe cutting around to strike from a different angle. Still recovering from the previous blow, Marduk had no hope of getting his weapon in the path of the new attack, and so turned his shoulder into the chainaxe. It hacked deep into his armour plating, ripping and tearing furiously, but did not penetrate to the skin.
Marduk slammed his crozius into Khalaxis’s side, the bladed points punching through his armour with a sharp discharge of energy that hurled him backwards. The stink of burnt flesh rose from the wound, but the champion leapt forwards once more, pain merely adding fuel to his rage.
As the chainaxe roared, scything through the air towards Marduk, the Dark Apostle brought his crozius down hard, smashing it down onto one of Khalaxis’s arms. Bone and armour were splintered, knocking his strike aside, and stepping back to give himself more space, Marduk swung his weapon around in a brutal arc that connected solidly with the side of Khalaxis’s head.
The bladed spikes penetrated the champion’s skull, which crumpled inwards as the heavy head of the mace slammed home. Blood splattered across Marduk’s face and Khalaxis staggered drunkenly. He looked strange, his features caved inwards, like wax melting under a hot sun. The dreadlocked champion swayed on his feet for a second, then fell in a crumpled heap at Marduk’s feet, dead.
Ashkanez’s power maul smashed into Marduk from behind, battering him to his knees. A second blow, delivered with malice, crashed down onto his arm and he lost his grip on his sacred crozius. Moving faster than Marduk, bedecked as he was in hulking Terminator armour, the First Acolyte stepped swiftly forward and kicked the holy weapon across the floor.
Marduk regained his feet and rounded on Ashkanez, his expression furious.
‘You don’t know when to stay down, do you?’ he hissed.
The First Acolyte’s face was pale from blood loss, and red foam bubbled at the corners of his mouth. The four terrible bloody wounds in his chest were leaking his lifeblood, but they would close soon enough. Still, Marduk was surprised that the Icon Bearer was still alive, let alone fighting on.
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