With a roar, bloody spittle spraying from his mouth, the First Acolyte stepped forward and brought his power maul crashing down towards Marduk’s crown.
The Dark Apostle caught the blow in his gauntleted hand, holding the crackling weapon at bay. Electricity ran up and down the length of his arm, but still he held on. The veins in the First Acolyte’s neck bulged as he exerted all his considerable force to bring the maul down upon Marduk’s, but his strength was fading, and they both knew it.
Marduk slammed a heavy kick into the side of one of Ashkanez’s knees, snapping tendons and ligaments, and the First Acolyte fell to the ground, snarling in agony. The Dark Apostle stepped forward and kicked him hard in the side, lifting him off the floor. The First Acolyte crashed into a nearby control panel, which crumpled beneath his weight.
The melta gun that Ashkanez had been holding was lying on the ground nearby, and Marduk stooped to retrieve the deadly anti-tank weapon. Ashkanez pulled himself from the crumpled wreckage of the control panel, struggling to rise. His shattered knee would not support his weight, however, and he was forced to cling to the control panel merely to keep upright. Marduk grinned evilly as he hefted the melta gun one in his hand and stalked towards him. He came to a halt within a few steps of the First Acolyte.
‘Whether I live or die, it won’t affect the days to come,’ Ashkanez snarled up at him, blood foaming from his lips. ‘The Brotherhood is already moving. You cannot do anything to stop it.’
Marduk levelled the melta gun at Ashkanez’s intact knee and squeezed the trigger. The heat from the weapon was staggering, making the air shimmer with haze. Marduk kept his finger depressed on the trigger for a good two seconds, cutting his First Acolyte’s leg off neatly above the joint and searing the wound shut. Marduk chuckled in good humour.
Ashkanez refused to scream out, even as the searing blast turned his armour and flesh molten, his bones to ash. He collapsed, gritting his teeth in pain.
‘With or without the 34th Host, the Brotherhood will cleanse the ranks of our Legion,’ hissed Ashkanez from the deck floor. The stink of burnt flesh was heavy in the air. ‘This changes nothing.’
Marduk snorted, and turned away to witness the outcome of the conflict between Burias and Kol Badar. Ever since Burias’s rise to the station of Icon Bearer, so long ago, the pair had been needling each other. Now they let a millennia of hatred spill out.
Burias-Drak’shal was crouched on all fours, his shoulders and arms swollen out of proportion with his body. Ridged horns curved backwards from his forehead, and his needle-like teeth were bared in an animalistic snarl. His armour was hanging off him in bloody tatters. Deep gouges were carved across his chest, but even as Marduk watched, they began to heal, his flesh closing up as his warp-spawned flesh regenerated itself.
With a snarl, the Icon Bearer leapt sidewards as Kol Badar brought his combi-bolter up, twin barrels roaring. Burias-Drak’shal leapt onto the nearby wall, his neck bent at an unnatural angle to keep his hellish, altered eyes locked on the Coryphaus. His claws had hardly touched the wall before he had sprung off again, leaping directly at the Coryphaus. Kol Badar tried to follow the possessed warrior’s movement with his combi-bolter, tearing chunks out of the metal walls and smashing delicate display screens, but he was too slow.
The three middle fingers of each of Burias-Drak’shal’s hands had fused into thick talons, and with his arms at full extension he struck the Coryphaus in his wounded chest, punching the daemonic claws deep. The force of his attack knocked Kol Badar back a step, but the Terminator-armoured warlord did not fall. Burias’s clawed feet sank into Kol Badar’s chest, and he squatted there like a hellish primate. With one clawed hand holding him in place, he punched several holes in the Coryphaus’s chest with his free hand before Kol Badar sent him flying, swatting him off with a backhand blow of his power talons.
Burias-Drak’shal spun in the air then landed hard, snarling, his powerful leg muscles bunched beneath him. With an explosive movement, he sprang back at the Coryphaus, but Kol Badar’s combi-bolter was raised, and he was slammed back down into the floor as a heavy burst of fire impacted with his chest and face.
Bloody craters were blown in his armour and flesh, exposing muscle and bone, and Burias-Drak’shal shook his head in anger and pain. Part of his jaw was ripped away, exposing shark-like teeth and glistening flesh. As he tried to rise to his feet, another burst of fire sent him reeling back again, mass reactive-tipped bolts ripping into him. The Coryphaus’s weapon jammed suddenly, falling silent in his hands, smoke seeping from its twin barrels.
A vicious grin split Burias-Drak’shal’s brutally damaged face, and his flesh began to reform. He spat a gobbet of flesh and blood to the ground as Kol Badar hurled aside his daemon-mawed combi-bolter in disgust.
‘Now you’re in some trouble,’ said Burias-Drak’shal, forming the words with difficulty as thick tusks began to emerge from his lower jaw.
Kol Badar scoffed derisively. ‘I’ve waited a long time for this,’ he said, flexing his power talons.
Both warriors were bloody, their armour compromised in a dozen places, yet while Burias’s wounds continued to heal even as he sustained them, the Coryphaus was starting to slow.
With a sigh, Marduk turned the melta gun in his hand on Burias-Drak’shal. Without ceremony, he fired a searing blast that hit the Icon Bearer in the lower back.
The shot melted through his plate armour and deep into his flesh. It knocked the Icon Bearer forwards a step, and off-balance, he stumbled straight into Kol Badar’s power talons. The half-metre blades impaled Burias-Drak’shal through the throat. They sank in deep, almost to Kol Badar’s fist, and their tips emerged from the back of his neck.
‘Who’s in trouble now?’ snarled Kol Badar.
Blood bubbled up around the energised lengths of his talon, and Burias-Drak’shal stood there transfixed upon them. Kol Badar’s combi-bolter barked deafeningly, and Burias-Drak’shal was hurled backwards, his chest cavity exploding from within.
‘The Council will be overthrown,’ gasped Ashkanez through clenched teeth, and Marduk turned to regard the pitiful creature once more. ‘It is just a matter of time. Erebus will be brought to justice.’
‘You fool,’ said Marduk. ‘Do you really think that Erebus could be so duped? He knows all about this pathetic uprising within our Legion’s ranks. All he needed was for it to expose itself, and learn how deep it ran. All the Hosts will unite against the Keeper of the Faith once the full extent of his treachery is known.’
Ashkanez’s eyes narrowed, and Marduk laughed.
‘Did you never question why the Council appointed me to accompany this crusade? It was to draw out the serpents within the Legion, to bring their treachery to light. I knew what you were doing from the start.’
‘You’ll never get word back to Sicarus,’ he said.
‘Enough talk. I grow weary of your presence. Goodbye, First Acolyte.’
Marduk fired the meltagun, killing Ashkanez instantly. The stink of burnt flesh rose from his corpse.
Kol Badar had Burias-Drak’shal pinned to the ground beneath one knee, and had encircled the Icon Bearer’s skull with his power talons. With one squeeze, Burias would be no more – not even his prodigious regenerative qualities could save him from such an injury. As if knowing that its host body was about to perish, the daemon Drak’shal abandoned the Icon Bearer, and his flesh seemed to shrink as he took on his natural form. His injuries were many, and blood pooled beneath him. His chest was splayed open, and while his primary heart was nothing but a pulp, his secondary heart still beat weakly.
‘You… you used me,’ snarled Burias, looking up at Marduk. Blood was leaking from his swollen lips, and one of his eyes was filled with blood and rolling blindly in its socket. ‘You knew about the Brotherhood all along.’
‘I knew about the Brotherhood, yes,’ said Marduk, kneeling down besides the broken Icon Bearer. ‘But I did not drive you into its arms. You made your decision. Nevertheless, y
ou have done me a great service, brother. For that, I thank you. You played your role to perfection.’
‘I was your… blood-brother,’ spat Burias. ‘I would have followed you… anywhere.’
‘But instead you chose to stand against me, all because you could not stand to accept your limitations,’ said Marduk.
‘Kill me then,’ snarled Burias. ‘Finish it.’
‘Oh no, my dear Icon Bearer,’ said Marduk, grinning evilly. ‘Your pain is only just beginning. An eternity of suffering awaits you for this treachery, have no fear of that.’
Burias spat into Marduk’s face, his eyes blazing.
Marduk smiled, wiping the bloody, stinging sputum from his cheek, and rose to his feet.
‘You know, for a moment there,’ he said to Kol Badar, ‘I thought you were going to forget our little pact.’
‘For a moment there, I almost did,’ said Kol Badar, heaving himself to his full height with a groan.
For the first time, Marduk thought the warlord looked old. He kept Burias pinned to the ground beneath one heavy foot, but he needn’t have bothered. The Icon Bearer was a broken figure, exposed and ruptured organs pulsing within his blasted chest cavity.
‘What stopped you?’ said Marduk.
‘You are a devious whoreson, Dark Apostle,’ said Kol Badar. ‘And one day I will kill you.’
Marduk snorted.
‘That does not answer my question.’
‘Let me just say that I’d rather follow a devious bastard than a dog like that,’ he said, gesturing towards the body of Ashkanez, sprawled upon the floor. ‘At least you are of the 34th.’
‘We must get word to Erebus of Kor Phaeron’s place in this rebellion,’ said Marduk. ‘This runs deeper than even the First Chaplain could have expected. Contact the bridge. Ekodas will soon know that Ashkanez is dead. I want to put as much distance between us and the Crucius Maledictus as possible.’
‘We will have a reckoning one day, you and I,’ growled Kol Badar as he rose to his feet, dragging the broken body of Burias up with him. Hatred simmered in his eyes as he stared down at Marduk.
‘We will,’ said Marduk. ‘And that will be an interesting day indeed.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The Infidus Diabolus ploughed through the vastness of space away from Boros Prime, plasma engines burning with hellish white-hot ferocity as every iota of power was eked out of them.
‘We are being hailed,’ said Sabtec. The champion was standing to the fore of the Chaos strike cruiser’s darkly shadowed bridge. ‘It is the Crucius Maledictus.’
‘Bring it up on screen,’ growled Marduk.
The glowering visage of Dark Apostle Ekodas appeared, filling the curved vid-screen. Intermittent static and blaring white noise interrupted the visual feed before it came into full focus.
‘Apostle Marduk,’ said Ekodas. He covered it well, but Marduk could tell that Ekodas was surprised to see him.
‘You expected someone else, Apostle?’ said Marduk, mildly.
‘The retribution is not yet complete,’ snarled the broad-faced Grand Apostle, ignoring Marduk’s question. ‘Our job is yet not done. Once we bring the xenos down, the pacification of the Boros Gate shall be re-commenced. Move the Infidus Diabolus back into formation, now, or I will not hesitate to target you.’
‘It cannot be destroyed,’ said Marduk. ‘Stay and fight if you will. It will be the death of you all.’
‘Coward!’ hissed Ekodas. ‘You would flee before foul xenos?’
Marduk cast his gaze towards the slowly spinning three-dimensional display showing the relative positions of the Chaos battlefleet. He paid particular attention to the blinking icon that represented the massive xenos vessel. For now, at least, it remained stationary. Already, the Chaos battleships had begun pummelling its sheer hide with torpedoes and ordnance, but they had thus far elicited no response; nor had they caused any noticeable effect.
Marduk returned his focus back onto the glowering face filling the vid-screen before him.
‘It’s over, Ekodas,’ he snarled. ‘The attack on Boros has failed. You have failed. And your worm, Ashkanez, has failed.’
Marduk lifted his First Acolyte’s head aloft for Ekodas to see.
‘Where do you think you can run, Marduk?’ said Ekodas, his face looming threateningly upon the vid-screen. ‘The wormholes remain inactive. This system is still cut-off. You cannot escape.’
‘You and all of your conspirators will burn,’ hissed Marduk. The Dark Apostle of the 34th could already feel Ekodas worming his way into his mind, breaking down his defences. ‘Once the Council learns of your treachery, the Brotherhood will burn.’
‘And how, may I ask, will the Council learn of its existence? From you? I think not.’
The psychic pressure that Ekodas exerted was building, and Marduk could feel dark tendrils plundering the depths of his mind, writhing like razor-worms.
‘Enough,’ said Marduk, struggling to maintain his control. ‘Good-bye, Ekodas. See you in hell.’
Marduk cut visual feed and stood clutching at his command podium as the barbed claws of Ekodas’s mind were forced to retract. He breathed deeply as he recovered his composure, wiping a bead of blood from his nostrils.
‘The Crucius Maledictus is coming around,’ warned Sabtec. ‘Correction: the entire fleet is redeploying to take up the pursuit. I think you might have displeased him, my lord.’
‘Good,’ said Marduk. ‘We continue as planned. All power to the rearward thrusters. I don’t want them overtaking us before I am ready.’
Kol Badar stood stock-still, his eyes clouded.
‘What?’ snapped Marduk.
‘If this does not work, then you have damned us all,’ said the Coryphaus.
‘Wondering if you made the right decision after all?’ said Marduk.
‘Too late now,’ said Kol Badar.
‘Keep a watch on the xenos vessel,’ said Marduk as he swung away. ‘Inform me the moment it moves.’
‘What now?’ said Kol Badar.
‘I want the names of every damned warrior brother that is part of the Brotherhood. Now is the time of their reckoning.’
‘Out,’ said Coadjutor Aquilius, hurling his spent bolt pistol aside and drawing his broad-bladed combat knife, determined to fight to the very end.
The young White Consul was bleeding from a score of wounds that even the blessed Larraman cells within his bloodstream could not seal. He knew that death was coming for him, yet still he held the Chapter banner tightly in his grasp.
Only two other battle-brothers remained alive at his side, Brother Severus Naevius and Brother Lucius Castus. Both were Sternguard veterans of 1st Company, and figures that Aquilius held in awe. Together, the trio fought back to back, facing out in all directions. The number of necrons assailing them was beyond counting, and it was only a matter of seconds before they were overwhelmed.
The darkness within the Temple of the Gloriatus was alleviated in sudden flashes as weapons discharged, sending shadows fleeing to the hidden corners of the temple. Brother Castus blasted a necron warrior to liquid with his plasma gun, before hurling the weapon aside, its core emptied.
The 1st Company veteran unsheathed a humming power sword smoothly from its scabbard at his waist.
‘Ammunition one per cent,’ said Naevius. His ornate bolter kicked in his hands, and after two final short bursts of fire, he too discarded the sacred weapon in favour of a revving chainsword that he clasped in both hands.
The three White Consuls stood together facing outwards as the circle of deathless robotic constructs closed in around them.
The necrons closest to the trio lowered the barrels of their weapons as they stepped forward. Green lightning flickered along their lengths, reflected across the xenos’s gleaming skeletons.
‘It has been an honour, brothers,’ said Aquilius, lifting his head high. A dry wind rasped through the open doorway of the temple, ruffling the banner clasped tightly in his left hand.
Aquilius stood a little taller for the praise.
Abruptly, every necron warrior halted mid-step. Aquilius tensed, eyes darting between the array of enemies before him, and his fingers flexed on the hilt of his knife, waiting for the necrons to unleash the barrage of destruction that would flay the White Consuls apart molecule by molecule.
It never came.
As one, the necrons lifted the barrels of their weapons skyward, the movement performed by every one of them simultaneously.
They turned in an abrupt about face, and commenced marching uniformly from the temple, filing out in ordered ranks.
‘What is this?’ said Brother Castus.
Veteran Brother Naevius shook his head in wonder. ‘The Emperor protects,’ he breathed.
Moving warily, unwilling yet to allow hope to lodge itself within them, the three White Consuls followed the departing necron warriors out of the grand golden doors of the temple, keeping their distance.
As they ventured out onto the mighty stairs leading to the temple’s face, they could see the ordered echelons of necron warriors in the square below filing back into the black-slabbed monoliths, marching in unhurried, ordered lines. One by one, the monoliths began to fade, and Aquilius had to blink his eyes several times to make sure that he was not imagining it. But no, the monoliths were fading out, each in turn, until they had all disappeared, like mirages fading into nothingness. Nothing but corpses remained on the square. Even the skeletal warriors that had fallen had now faded, disappearing without a trace.
Silence descended over the city like a shroud.
Unmoving and exhausted, the trio of White Consuls stood and watched the xenos depart Sirenus Principal. Only when the immense crescent-shaped vessel hanging threateningly overhead began to lift away did it sink in to Aquilius that he had survived. His sudden euphoria was short lived as he reflected on the full horror of the war; almost five full companies of the Chapter had fallen, along with one of its hallowed Chapter Masters. It would be centuries before the Chapter recovered.
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