The Devastation of Baal

by Guy Haley

  ‘Rise,’ commanded Dante. To the purr of armour and the dull noises of metal on stone, the Space Marines stood. ‘I accept the fealty of the Lords of the Thorns,’ said Dante. ‘In the name of our shared blood, and the Great Angel, who is father to us all, I welcome you to Baal. I thank you for your presence. As head of the Red Council, and of this Chapter, I greet you as brothers.’

  Corbulo added his words. ‘On behalf of the Council of Bone and Blood, I also thank and welcome you.’

  The Angels Penitent reclusiarch, rather than any of the captains, responded.

  ‘This is the home of our father, who made us, and in whose eyes we are all found wanting for our lack of perfection,’ he said. ‘In this place we shall stand beside you, Lord Dante, and seek forgiveness for our shortcomings. May the eyes of Sanguinius be on us all, and may he judge us fairly for our faults.’

  Dante nodded a little, neither agreeing with the sentiment nor denouncing it.

  ‘Go now, Reclusiarch Relian, and prepare for war.‘

  The Space Marines gave thanks and turned from Dante with their heads bowed. Their reclusiarch paused as they passed the Librarians, and he looked up and levelled an accusing finger at Mephiston.

  ‘The Emperor condemns,’ he said. ‘You should not be.’

  ‘And yet I am,’ said Mephiston calmly.

  Relian’s disgust at Mephiston soured the air. There was a split second where fate held its breath. Rhacelus felt Relian come close to attacking the Lord of Death. He clenched his fist. ‘May you find the Great Angel’s mercy through an honourable death,’ he said, and he walked away.

  The doors opened, and the Space Marines left.

  ‘Their creed is perverse,’ said Ordamael, when the doors were safely shut.

  Dante sighed and tapped his fist lightly upon the plain stone of his throne. He looked at his hand as he moved it. The blank-eyed stare of Sanguinius regarded the limb as if it were a thing alien to him. ‘They are welcome, nonetheless.’

  The commander summoned his armoury thralls and ordered them to remove the golden mask of Sanguinius. His servants wrapped the helmet in red silk and took it away behind the throne. The officers of the Chapter waited in silence. Many watched Mephiston closely. Not all of them did so with friendly eyes.

  Dante’s lined face took the place of Sanguinius’ perfect features. Dante often said to those closest to him that in wearing Sanguinius’ deathmask he became the primarch, in as far as he was perceived by those outside the Chapter. When he wore the armour common humanity and Adeptus Astartes alike saw Sanguinius, not Dante. Maybe there was a deeper truth there than even Dante realised. Without the mask he appeared too small for the throne. The radiance that shone from him dimmed.

  ‘Now, my Lord of Death, what brings you from the librarius into the midst of our diplomacy?’ Though Dante was less weary than he had been during the Cryptus campaign he still rarely showed his face, with good reason. His aged appearance was shocking to those unaccustomed to it. His skin was losing the leatheriness that ancient Space Marines developed, and becoming thin. His cheeks were loose on his skull. Wattles hung beneath his chin and his golden hair had become fine and white.

  ‘We have made contact with the Diamor fleet, my lord,’ said Rhacelus. He unclipped a scroll case from the belt of his blue armour and walked up the first of the dais steps. He offered the scroll to the Chapter Master with a short bow. ‘Master Leeter’s message.’

  ‘I take it from the dire looks on your faces that the news you have is bad,’ said Dante. He reached for the scroll. Mephiston gripped Rhacelus’ wrist and moved his hand away.

  ‘Wait,’ said Mephiston. ‘You must know, the circumstances whereby this message came to us are unusual.’

  ‘How so?’ asked Dante. He withdrew his hand.

  ‘We were opposed by some force, my lord,’ said Rhacelus. ‘Events gather to a head around the Cadian Gate.’

  ‘Rhacelus, let me tell this story from the beginning,’ said Mephiston. ‘There is something of great import at play.’

  ‘Do so quickly,’ said Dante. ‘Many warriors wait to meet with me, and more are on their way. Time is short, but I will honour them in the correct way. They deserve courtesy at least in return for their lives.’

  Mephiston narrowed his eyes. ‘Then I will be brief. I was struck by a vision. It came to me while I slept in my sanctum. This is unheard of.’

  Dante looked intently at his Chief Librarian. Corbulo became attentive.

  ‘The vision was sent to me by a member of the aeldari race,’ continued Mephiston. ‘I was afflicted by foreboding, attached, I was sure, to Diamor, but when I attempted to scry that system in my dream I was instead shown Cadia attacked by a Black Crusade of unsurpassed size. Billions of foes both daemonic and mortal issued forth from the Eye.’

  ‘As Astorath’s message informed us,’ said Brother Incarael, the Master of the Blade. His armour was massively enlarged by a Techmarine’s equipment. ‘These are known factors.’

  ‘There was more to this than Astorath conveyed,’ said Mephiston. ‘I saw Cadia fall, and while I watched a sense of a tragedy unfolding now touched my soul. When I awoke, Epistolary Rhacelus and I attempted to find our Diamor taskforce once again, for it was from there that my first sense of foreboding came. We saw our brothers arrive. The First, Second and elements of the Seventh you sent from Cryptus, my lord, broke warp shortly after Astorath and the Fifth Company. It is good that they did not arrive simultaneously.’ Mephiston spoke the next words very clearly, so that none might mistake them. ‘The Fifth Company was psychically attacked, and has fallen to the Black Rage.’

  Shocked silence greeted Mephiston’s news. Dante’s head dropped a fraction of an inch, no more than that, but Mephiston saw.

  ‘How many are lost to the rage?’ he said quietly.

  ‘After our vision,’ said Rhacelus, ‘we went to Baal Secundus’ relay, and focused all the effort of our astropathicum upon Diamor. Shortly after, Master Leeter made contact with Codicier Asasmael.’

  ‘Asasmael lives?’ said Brother Adanicio, Warden of the Gates. He was head of the logisticiam, responsible for every detail of the Chapter’s logistics. He made a note upon the data-slate attached by cords to his ornate armour. ‘What of our astropaths?’

  ‘The astropaths are dead or driven mad by passage through the warp. The empyrean is in uproar around the Eye of Terror,’ explained Rhacelus. ‘The situation is far worse than we feared.’

  ‘How many have fallen to the rage?’ demanded Dante.

  ‘Asasmael reports nearly all. The Librarians, Astorath, Captain Sendini and others with either protection or great will have survived…’ Rhacelus’ wrist was released by Mephiston. He offered up the scroll again.

  ‘How many were there on the Angelic Blade and the Flame of Baal?’ said Dante again.

  ‘My lord,’ said Brother Bellerophon, Keeper of the Heavengate, lord commander of the Blood Angel’s fleet. ‘It was the entire Fifth Company. I…’

  ‘Give me numbers!’ shouted Dante with sudden fury. The Archangelian fell silent. Half-human things roosting in the buttressing beneath the dome took flight with a clatter of metal wings and squawked prayers. Dante rarely expressed himself so forcefully. Mephiston sensed the rising of the thirst. Its pernicious psychic influence sparked sympathetic reactions of anger and hunger in all those around the commander.

  ‘There were ninety-four of them, my lord,’ said Adanicio hesitantly. ‘The Daemonbanes were our only battle company approaching full strength.’

  Dante’s gauntlet clenched, rasping on the stone of his throne.

  ‘Ninety-four,’ said Dante.

  ‘Not all are lost to the rage, my lord,’ said Rhacelus.

  ‘Nearly all,’ said Dante. The mechanisms of his armour whined as he pulled himself up in his seat. ‘This Chapter dwindles, Brother Adanicio. What are our numbers of bat
tle-ready brothers?’

  Adanicio cleared his throat and brought up his ever-present archeo-ledger to full luminescence. ‘In the wake of the Cryptus campaign, and now this news, my best calculation is that there are six hundred and forty-seven battle-brothers at full readiness for war. Including our Sanguinary priests, the librarius, Chaplaincy, Dreadnought Ancients, forge Techmarines and neophytes, there are eight hundred and thirty-seven in total remaining. From which total two hundred and nine members of the First, Second, Fifth and Seventh are at Diamor.’

  ‘Less than fifty per cent of our Chapter remains here to face the Great Devourer,’ said Dante. ‘We call out for aid to others while we send our warriors elsewhere.’ He became pensive. Rhacelus had never seen him question his own judgement publicly like this, and he felt doubt emanating from the commander. ‘How many other worlds will fall so that ours has a chance of surviving?’

  No one answered the question.

  ‘Well then, tell me, will Cadia fall?’ asked Dante.

  ‘I do not know, my lord,’ said Mephiston. ‘The issuing of the great horde has yet to occur. I cannot trust these visions. Where the future is concerned, it is hard to see the truth. One might see a future that will not come to pass, and of late there have been deliberate attempts to cloud our foresight. Such visions are deceptive under the best of circumstances. The involvement of the alien witch makes me doubt them all the more. It could be a ploy on the part of our enemies to weaken our resolve.’

  Corbulo stepped forward. Though no true psyker, an element of Sanguinius’ foresight touched him too, and his nights were plagued with dark dreams. ‘The sky shall fall, and a voice in malice call out “Doom! Doom! Doom!”.’

  ‘You quote from the Scrolls of Sanguinius,’ said Dante.

  Corbulo looked at Mephiston and Dante with haunted eyes. ‘I do. But I have seen it. I have been seeing it for years. I have heard the voice, issuing from the sky.’

  ‘It is possible that melancholy rather than second sight is the cause of your foreboding,’ said Brother Bellerophon.

  ‘I am a Sanguinary priest, Bellerophon. I know the difference. I long hoped that the visions that devil me were the product of imbalance in my humours – a result, perhaps, of minor malfunction in the hormonal systems of my angel’s gifts. But I am not troubled in this way. I have tested myself extensively. My sight comes from our lord, the Great Angel. I share his curse.’

  ‘You are not alone, Corbulo. I have had the same vision,’ said Dante quietly. ‘Before we received Astorath’s message at Diamor. The voice, proclaiming doom.’

  ‘Then the probability increases that these events will come to pass,’ said Mephiston simply.

  ‘If they do,’ said Rhacelus, ‘there is worse to come.’

  ‘How so?’ said Dante.

  ‘I do not know,’ said Mephiston. ‘The sky fell. The Eye of Terror swelled hugely.’

  ‘Abaddon intends to fly for Terra, after all this time,’ said Bellerophon.

  ‘I fear it is more than that,’ said Mephiston. ‘This is the Great Enemy’s boldest gambit in ten millennia. They are planning something more terrible than an attack on the throneworld. Something to do with the Eye.’

  ‘But what?’ said Ordamael.

  Mephiston shook his head. ‘I know not.’

  ‘Well then!’ said Incarael dismissively. His servo arms twitched.

  ‘I regret to say that there is more,’ said Mephiston, directing a cold look at the forgemaster. ‘Much more.’

  ‘Then speak!’ said Adanicio.

  ‘The last is for Dante’s ears alone.’

  ‘If there is a further factor of risk, all the Chapter lords should be informed,’ said Adanicio.

  ‘Let the Lord of Death keep his silence, Adanicio,’ said Dante. ‘Attend me later, Mephiston. I will judge who should know what, if it can wait.’

  ‘It can, my lord,’ said Mephiston. ‘I wish to seek confirmation first.’

  ‘Very well. In the meantime, give me Master Leeter’s message, Rhacelus.’

  Mephiston’s equerry held out the message tube. ‘It is a simple message. After he delivered his black tidings, Asasmael spoke of increasing anomalous psychic activity at the Adeptus Mechanicus excavation site on Amethal. In the wake of the taskforce’s losses, he requests reinforcements.’

  Rhacelus offered up the tube again, but Dante held up his hand.

  ‘Tell them there are no reinforcements. We cannot spare another warrior.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ said Rhacelus, withdrawing the tube.

  Dante looked around at his warriors, meeting the eyes of them all. ‘None of you are to speak of this with any of the other Chapters here present. Do I make myself clear?’

  The warriors affirmed that he did.

  ‘If they reveal visions of their own, do not mention yours. We need every warrior we have to defend our home system.’

  ‘My lord,’ said Captain Zedrenael of the Eighth. ‘If Cadia falls…’ he let the implication hang in the air.

  ‘I will not abandon Baal,’ said Dante. ‘If Baal falls, the whole of the northern Ultima Segmentum will be open to predation from Hive Fleet Leviathan. If the news of Cadia’s peril becomes widespread, half our brothers will wish to leave, seeing defence of the Imperium as their prime concern. Half will wish to stay because, like I, they fear what will happen to the galactic north east should Leviathan break through our stand. We cannot fight both wars and win. We may lose both if we split our forces.’

  ‘If you could command them to stay, it would be easier.’

  ‘That cannot be, Brother Bellerophon,’ said Dante firmly. ‘I have no authority over them other than that granted by their own consent, and that is by no means yet assured. Authority must be won.’ Dante’s ancient snow-white brow creased further in thought. When he spoke again, it was with greater certainty. ‘We have a chance to destroy one of the great evils of this age, here upon Baal. Should we depart from this course, should half our brother Chapters depart and half stay, we will gain nothing, and lose everything. That is my judgement, as Sanguinius is my father. By the Blood, I will see my orders obeyed. Any who reveal this information to our brothers will face my judgement.’

  ‘Yes, my lord,’ said the Space Marines.

  ‘Now, my Librarians, go about your duties. Mephiston, come to me before the war council tomorrow and deliver whatever tale you must,’ said Dante grimly. ‘The lords of the Angels Encarmine have been patient. Their homage to our Chapter must no longer be delayed.’

  The doors swung open at Dante’s command, flooding the room with song. The words spoke of triumph none present thought would come.

  Dante crooked his hand, and Castellan Zargo of the Angels Encarmine entered.

  Chapter Seven

  The Gathering Host

  After a short five days in the empyrean, the Splendid Pinion and the Staff of Life re-emerged into the material realm, breaking warp at the Baal Mandeville. Balor, Baal’s sun, was a medium red star, a common enough type on the fringes of the Red Scar. From Baal the Scar was a crimson band that stretched from one side of the stellar horizon to the other, its stars smouldering like the eyes of wolves in a dark forest.

  At full speed the Splendid Pinion could have made Baal in a matter of half a day, but as a courtesy Erwin had his ship match speed with the Staff of Life. Both ships had taken damage in their violent escape from Zozan, and the Staff of Life’s unstable drive system was coming close to failure. A loan of transmechanics from Erwin’s vessel stabilised matters. As the repairs were undertaken, periodic alarms signalled the arrival of other vessels of the Blood translating in to Baal. The Splendid Pinion’s detection matrices pronounced the names and classes of friendly vessels it identified in the system, and it did not stop. There were ident beacons ringing out from successor Chapters Erwin had never heard of. By the time the Staff of Life was ready to move
at a greater speed again, they sailed a crowded void.

  Upon entering the inner system and contacting the Arx Angelicum’s orbital control centre, a harassed sounding servile ordered the Splendid Pinion and the Staff of Life into close convoy with a dozen other ships. The vessels were given an approach corridor and placed in single line with barely twenty miles between each. So it was that the Splendid Pinion’s view of Baal was obscured by the engine flare of the ship ahead of them. When the tug of Baal’s gravity began to work upon the ships, the convoy broke apart and made for their separate anchorages, allowing Erwin, Achemen and their brothers assembled upon the command deck to see the triple worlds ahead.

  ‘Baal,’ said Achemen reverently, ‘the home of Sanguinius.’

  Erwin and his first sergeant stood with their faces bathed in the reflected light of the sun. Baal’s moons were so big they barely warranted the name. Baal Primus was paler than its sister, mottled with mountain ranges and smudged with the flat colours of dust seas. Across the pregnant swell of its equator were a series of massive black scars. Four that must have been a hundred miles across each dominated this grouping of planetary wounds, which together numbered hundreds, odd mountains pimpling their centres. Baal Secundus, slightly smaller, slightly redder, was in respects similar to Baal Primus, though it had the added green and yellow of small, toxic seas, and the dazzling shine of salt flats that commemorated its vanished oceans. Webs of dead rivers stark as the veins of an old man criss-crossed its surface.

  There were no orbitals around the three worlds. A blessing under the current circumstances, as every anchorage was crowded with ships. The space around Baal played host to flotillas from over a score of Chapters. They were strictly ordered, moving in contra-rotating bands so that the three worlds appeared wrapped in wire.

  Some of the space-faring brotherhoods had magnificent fleets, with dozens of vessels, and it was clear that several Chapters were there at full strength. So many scions of Sanguinius had answered the call that good anchorages were contested, and the ships jockeyed for space with barely contained irritation.