Nothing could penetrate the thick, noxious smog cloud, not even the Thunderhawk's sensitive, daemon infused sensor arrays. Marduk knew that the Gehemehnet was creating a wide cone of warp interference that spewed out through the atmosphere and beyond. This interference would effectively make the entire side of the planet all but invisible to the enemy. Just as he thought of this, the Thunderhawk's pict-screen flickered and degenerated to static. The power of the Gehemehnet was indiscriminate in whose equipment it affected. The gunship was still around two hundred kilometres from Shinar, but had clearly entered the wide cone of disruption. The Thunderhawk had no need for concern - it did not rely upon technical arrays and its witch sight saw all the more clearly within the warp field.
Marduk felt the field close over him and his twin hearts palpitated erratically for a moment, his breath catching in his chest. It was joyous to feel the power of the Immaterium wash over him. He heard the whispers of daemons in the air. He felt his sacred bond to the warp strengthen and his power with it. The Dark Apostle was wielding some powerful faith to have created a warp field of such potency.
Movement flickered at the corner of his eyes and he felt presences brush past him. The barriers between the realms of Chaos and the material plane were thin. He could almost make out the daemonic entities straining from beyond to cross the thin walls and enter the physical world. Soon, he whispered to them. Soon the barriers would be stripped away like flesh from bone and then they would be able to take corporeal form and bring hell to this world.
He felt a certain amount of apprehension as he approached Shinar and the Dark Apostle. To wield such power! Never had he been witness to such a feat of strength from the holy leader as this. He had not imagined that Jarulek would have been able to create such a powerful Gehemehnet. He had believed that the Dark Apostle had long reached the apex of his rise and that his own rise would eclipse Jarulek's power over the next millennia. Could he have underestimated him?
An uncomfortable and uncharacteristic flicker of doubt squirmed within him. Could he wield such power? He knew that he could not, not yet, but he was certain that his powers would treble once he passed the full indoctrinations required to become a true Dark Apostle. He would take up that mantle and soon, no matter what the cost or sacrifice required. Long had he waited for his moment to arise and he would be damned before he saw his opportunity splutter and die out like a blood-wick before it had even begun to blaze.
He was rocked as strong winds buffeted the Thunderhawk. The engines screamed as they fought against being sucked into the swirling morass rotating around the Gehemehnet. The speed of the wind whipping around the tower must have been immense. Pushing these thoughts from his mind, he closed his eyes and let his spirit break free of his earthly body.
Invisible and formless, he soared from the Thunderhawk, passing through its thick, armoured hull and out into the atmosphere beyond. The powerful winds touched him not at all, and with a thought he hurtled across the sky towards the rising Gehemehnet, faster than any crude mechanical aircraft ever could. This was the way of the spirit and with his insubstantial warp-touched eyes he saw the world in a different light.
The material world around him was shadowy and dim, a pale and dull land. With his sight he saw not the light of the sun, nor the colours of the mundane world, all was but shades of grey, lifeless and monotone. There was movement all around, the movement of daemons separated from the mundane world by only a micro-thin layer of reality. He flew somewhere in between the two worlds, neither truly in the real nor the Ether, but he could perceive both.
He heard nothing but the scraping, garbled cacophony of noise that was the sound of Chaos. A million scrambled, screaming voices mixed with the roars and whispers of daemons. It was to Marduk a comforting, neutral sound in the back of his mind. It was too easy for the unwary or uninitiated to be forever lost in the sound. If you listened too closely, it would draw you into it and never let you have peace.
Marduk willed himself on, drawn towards the massive Gehemehnet tower that rose in both the material world and the warp. It existed in both planes and it was not a monotone shadow like the rest of the world he passed over. Far from it, for the Gehemehnet tower was ablaze with light and colour. Deep red and purple shades blurred across its surface amid flashes of metallic sheen, like those created by oil on water.
Tiny pinpricks of light, countless thousands of them, marked the soul fires of the mortal worker slaves who toiled over the physical construct of the Gehemehnet. They were like tiny burning suns. Some burnt bright and fierce, their spirits strong, while others grew pale and faltering. Carrion daemons of the warp clustered around each burning soul fire, along with an endless myriad of daemons of other bizarre and horrific forms. They clumped around the souls of the living like cold children around a campfire in winter, straggling against each other to be the closest to the blaze. The mortals were completely unaware of the attention that they received, save perhaps for an occasional feeling of coldness, or a flicker of movement in the corner of the eye.
The kathartes were there, clustered around the bright soul lights, and they raised their beautiful, pristine and predatory feminine faces at his approach. They kicked away from their vigils and soared towards him upon glowing feathered wings. In the Ether they were angelic and alluring - it was only when they breached the material plane that they became twisted hag furies.
As he drew nearer the pulsating Gehemehnet, he saw the soul fire of one of the slaves flicker and dim as the man gave up his hold on his mortal body. Instantly, the pale light of the spirit was set upon by the daemons huddled around it and its light was hidden amongst the dense ball of daemons that were wild in their ravenous feeding frenzy as they consumed the unfortunate soul.
The soul fire of one slave drew his attention, for it was different from the others. It was bright and fierce, with a grand cluster of over a thousand ethereal denizens of the warp around it, and Marduk could feel their expectation. This one was favoured indeed, he thought.
A sudden tug upon his spirit pulled at Marduk and he allowed himself to be drawn towards the calling. In an instant he had passed through the walls of the shattered palace of Shinar and hovered before the Dark Apostle. He was infused with light, a strong presence in the warp as in reality. He turned his earthly eyes to look at Marduk and smiled.
'Welcome, my First Acolyte. I thought I felt your questing spirit lurking nearby.'
I wished to see the glory of your Gehemehnet with more than the limited faculties of my mortal being, my lord.
'Of course. Its power waxes strong.'
It does, my lord. It is nearing completion?
'It is close, but I need your strength, First Acolyte, to complete the rituals of binding. This is why I recalled you from battle.'
The battle fares poorly. It is shaming.
'I would sacrifice the entire Host in order to fulfill the will of the Dark Council, if such was needed.'
And the warrior-brothers of the Legion will lay their lives down if that is what is required of them.
'Yet you struggle, First Acolyte. Why is that?'
The Coryphaus must be punished for his failures.
'Must? You would make demands of me, First Acolyte?'
No, my lord.
'I have faith in my Coryphaus, First Acolyte. To doubt his abilities is a reflection of your doubt of me, for he is my chosen representative in all matters of war. You would insult me in such a way, dear Marduk?'
No, my lord.
'Do not defy me, young one. You are no Dark Apostle yet, and I hold the key to your future within my hand. I can destroy you at my will.'
It will be as you will it, Dark Apostle, said Marduk, and took his leave. His spirit soared high into the upper atmosphere. Hundreds of daemons were drawn to him, feeding upon the hot emotions of hate and anger flowing from his spirit.
The tent flap was thrown open and Havorn stooped to enter the shelter. The air was heavy and cloying with the stale smell of sweat. It took
a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom before he could make out the three medicae officers standing over the cot in the corner. One of them approached him, saluting, and he recognised the man as Michelac, the chief surgeon of the 133rd. His black rimmed eyes were tired.
'It's not good, sir,' he said.
'What the hell happened?' asked Havorn.
'Astropath Klistorman collapsed late yesterday afternoon, as you know. He was ranting and was suffering severe convulsions, and he was bleeding from the nose. I suspected an internal haemorrhage within his brain: such a thing could have been building there for months. But he seemed to regain his strength this morning and he seemed to have suffered no ill effects.
'This afternoon, however, he has had a series of episodes. He is sleeping now, but they are getting worse.'
'There are other astropaths with the fleet. This is war, medic, and people die. Why did you call me down here?'
The medicae officer licked his dry, cracked lips.
'His ranting has disturbed me. He has spoken of things that chill my soul.'
'You fear possession?' asked Havorn sharply, his hand falling to his holstered weapon.
'No sir, not that, thankfully,' said the man hurriedly. 'But… I know that astropaths are powerful psykers, sir. I am no expert in such things, but I am of the understanding that they are able to see things that humble men like I cannot. In my opinion, that is not a blessing but a curse.'
'So what has he been speaking of?'
'When his words are decipherable, he has been speaking of some construction of the enemy. It will erupt with power when the "Red orb waxes strongest" I believe were his words. Given that there is a damned big red planet hanging in the sky, I thought that you might wish to know what he said.'
Havorn walked to the side of the cot and looked down upon his astropath. The man was skeletally thin, his skin ashen. He wore a metallic, domed helmet over his head and his eyes were concealed beneath it, though there were no eye slits or visor. Pipes and wiring protruded from the back of the helmet, disappearing beneath his high-necked, sweat soaked robes. He was bound with leather straps, holding him firmly upon the cot.
'I didn't want to remove any of his accoutrements. I feared that I might harm him, or me,' muttered the medic. 'I ordered him restrained so that he did not harm himself if he had another seizure.'
Havorn nodded.
'Did he say what would happen when this power he talked about was unleashed?' he asked.
'He was not particularly lucid, sir. Most of his words were gibberish. He did, however, talk of hell being unleashed and of this world being turned inside out.'
The astropath coughed suddenly, blood and phlegm on his lips, and then he began to go into severe convulsions. The muscles in his neck strained as his entire body went rigid and shook, and the medic pushed a piece of leather between his teeth to stop him from biting though his own tongue. He twitched spasmodically for thirty seconds before going limp, his breathing heavy and ragged. He spat the leather from his mouth and turned his sightless gaze towards Brigadier-General Havorn.
'It draws near!' he said in a coarse whisper, flecks of foam spitting from his mouth. 'As the red orb waxes strong, it will erupt! Damnation! It will awaken Damnation! Destroy it before the time comes. It is…' The man's words dissolved into unintelligible gargles as another fit took hold of him.
'See to him as best you can,' said Havorn and he took his leave. Walking out of the tent, he raised his gaze to the giant red planet Korsis looming overhead. He had been told that it would be at its closest to Tanakreg in five days time.
Five days to wipe the enemy clear of the planet before whatever it was that the astropath had seen would occur. He wished that he could discount the man's fevered words as those of a diseased mind, but he felt that there was something in them.
Damn it, was he getting superstitious in his old age?
His gaze turned towards the insane construction that rose like a needle into the atmosphere. It was hard to believe it was over a thousand kilometres away.
It had to be destroyed. Five days, he thought.
'I am withdrawing the Host back to the defensive earthworks and bunkers outside the ruins of the city, my lord,' growled Kol Badar. He squeezed the trigger of his combi-bolter and ragged fire ripped apart the chest of yet another enemy trooper. There were thousands of them advancing all along the battle front and the Coryphaus's armour was slick with gore and the foul, milky, nutrient-rich blood of the Skitarii.
'I cannot hold them at the mountains with the valleys destroyed and our numbers are too few to halt them on the salt plains,' he said as he gunned down more soldiers advancing relentlessly into the Word Bearers' fire. The ground was liberally littered with the dead, yet the enemy continued to advance, stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Others were crushed beneath the rolling tracks of battle tanks and mechanised crawlers. Earth and bodies exploded around him as shells from battle cannons pounded the line. Searing lascannons silenced a Leman Russ tank, blowing its turret clear of its chassis and Kol Badar heard the roars of the Warmonger nearby as the revered ancient one relived some long past battle as it killed.
The voice of his master, the Dark Apostle, throbbed in his head.
The time of the Gehemehnet's awakening draws near. Allow it to be interrupted and your pain shall know no bounds, my Coryphaus.
'I would gladly give my life in sacrifice for my failures, my lord,' said Kol Badar as he stepped slowly backwards, snapping off sharp bursts of fire left and right.
'Seventh and eighteenth coterie, close ranks and give covering fire,' he ordered, switching his comm-channel briefly. 'Twenty-first and eleventh, disengage and back off.'
You have a duty to perform, Kol Badar, and you will have no such release while it remains unfulfilled.
'Burias, ensure they do not encircle us with their light vehicles. Engage and destroy them,' he ordered before closing the comm once again.
'My lord is merciful.'
No, I am not. Your failure will not go unpunished, nor will it be forgotten. Allow none to assail the Gehemehnet. Sacrifice every last warrior-brother before you allow a single enemy to launch an attack against it. Do this and the Dark Council will be pleased. Fail again and eternal torment will be yours.
'I will fight them every step of the way, my lord,' swore Kol Badar. 'I have ordered Bokkar and the reserve to strengthen the defences, preparing for the arrival of the Host. We will hold.'
Succeed in this, my Coryphaus, and I will give you what you most desire. I will give you the First Acolyte, and you can finish what you once started.
Kol Badar blinked his eyes in surprise. He clenched his power claw tightly, the talons of the mighty weapon crackling with energy as he slew another pair of enemy soldiers, his fire cutting through their midsections. He chuckled in anticipation and felt a savage joy fire within him.
'I will not fail, my lord. I swear it before all the great gods of Chaos. I will not fail.'
BOOK THREE:
ASCENSION
'With victories over others, we conquer. But with victories over ourselves, we are exalted. There must always be contests, and you must always win.'
- Kor Phaeron - Master of the Faith
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Imperial Dictator class cruiser Vigilance moved soundlessly through the void of space as it rounded the war-torn planet, dropping into close orbit. The calculations had to be absolutely precise and the logic engines housed within the bridge had been working constantly to provide the complex algorithms calculating the exact moment for the barrage to be unleashed.
The area of jammed communications was broad: to risk the Vigilance entering the field was testament to the severity of the threat. All sensory equipment was rendered useless as soon as they entered the zone. Even the astropaths were unable to pierce the gloom projected up from the planet's surface. Once within the field, the Vigilance was utterly cut off from the outside world. The only guiding light was that of the
Astronomican, which Navigators could still thankfully perceive.
Nevertheless, to launch an orbital bombardment essentially blind was highly unorthodox and the risks were high. However, the Admiral had been insistent and the cogitators had been consulted to predict the exact mathematics required to plan such an endeavour.
The approach of the cruiser was painstakingly enacted. If it were but a fraction of a degree off its angle of approach, if its speed was slightly out and the tip of the massive cruiser off by the smallest fraction then the bombardment would miss the planet altogether, or would fall far from the target. Worse, it could fall upon the Imperial Guard on the planet's surface far below.
With its holo-screens blank and its sensor arrays rendered inoperative, the Dictator cruiser advanced into position. Muttering prayers to the Emperor that the algorithms he had been provided with were accurate and that his team of logisticians had coordinated them exactly, the ship's flag-captain breathed out slowly as the gunnery master initiated the launch sequence. The port battery, housing hundreds of massive weapons that could cripple a battle cruiser, were activated. Thousands of indentured workers slaved to match the exact range and trajectory initiated by the gunnery crew as they readied to fire. The gunnery captain prayed that his barrage would fall against the target.
His worry was in vain, for the Vigilance never had a chance to unleash its orbital bombardment.
A surge of warp energy from the infant Gehemehnet surged from the tower, creating an opening to the Ether for the smallest fraction of a second. In that brief flicker, the darkness of space was replaced with the roiling, red netherworld, a place of horror where the natural laws of the universe held no sway, and the nightmares of those of the material plane were given form. It was filled with screams and roars and the deafening, maddening blare of Chaos. It lasted but the blink of an eye, but when it passed, the Vigilance had gone with it, dragged into the realm of the Chaos gods.
Dark Apostle (word bearers) Page 20
