Time most distant, futures zenith. In tears, the star-sea mourns. Ishas children lament.

All is lost to arrogance, grand designs soured by success, dreams are dust. Shattered and done, the progeny set sail for the forever-beyond, flight borne on the tides of shame. To dwindle and expire, forever denied. The New Star burns too intense to douse, unchecked, untamed. Gods despair. Tide surges, the end time is come. Futures path runs red as Khaine-blood, Hate-Winter rages, the portents scream their siren song. The song of Ulthanash is silent, Ishas eye closed in slumber. Asuryans Shrine-light flickers and dies. The Cosmic Serpent reveals the truth and sheds his final skin. The Rebirth is denied. The Doom of Eldanesh comes to pass, the Red Moon rises. The Rhana Dandra is come, let young and old cower before the chaos of the end. The New Star will rise unprecedented, all the dread despoilers of the old kingdom quail beneath its fire. Dead-King shivers on his maggot-throne as the Tide assails his walls, his kingdom lost. Locust flees, no longer to plague creation-fields, feast denied. Slave-puppets, once free, now lie in chains, conquered anew, rebellions essence bound in blood. Long-Dead are exhumed, tombs razed. There shall be no flight, no peace in death. Their gods shall tremble. Damned Shores become bastion as Dark Souls return. Exodus-flight before the rising swell. Denizens of Under-Kingdom cower behind its gates as the Tide surges. Shame-Kin be damned in the bowels of the Webway, vermin scuttling in filth and terror, afraid of the ragescream storm above. Let them gather souls in shame and desperate haste, past sins quail as the All-Thirst is quenched. The brightest hope may lie amongst the darkest of shadow, the Learned Mongrel-Soul exhumed to see a destiny fulfilled. Many Mighty Kings shall offer their swords to the Tide. None shall escape. None shall escape. Skeins divided, hope defiant. Light and darkness heed, else collide and be damned. Fractured is as death, no other path leads to hope. Existence-Tree be razed to its roots, bitter leaves cleansed. Then can hopes light flicker. All forgotten to the core of creation. Then can hopes flame catch the breeze. Let the Lost Princes of the Young gather, shoulder to shoulder they alone may weather the Hate-Winters wrath. Bright Hopes flame still burns deep in the shadows of the Dead Land, too powerful to extinguish forever. Soul Beacon, the Horn of Kurnous will sound the call to war. They shall gather, let but some of their names be known. The Revenant. The First-And-Ever Lords of War. The Lost Princes. The Wrathful Masters. The Reapers of Light. The Stolen Giant. The Prophet. The Last Avenger. The Entombed Ancient. The Oracle. The Blazing Rebel. All these names and more shall stand ready as the Rhana Dandra dawns and the light of the Final Day casts her glow upon armour and weapon.

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Maelstrom, life and death gather for war, old and young collide beneath the Red Moon. Origin revealed, too sour a taste to accept. It matters not, what is, is. Gods splintered reform in deed to counter the twilight. The children rise, menagerie gather in bitter winds of divisions death. Choice is murdered for all time, no longer sustainable in revealed irrelevance. Diversity is power, the only power left unconsumed. Youths vigour an appetite insatiable above all else, desperation will rule the firmament. There can be no more old-thought. Every shadow will shift, writhe with hidden stirring. Lifes last breath must be deep. Let them stand on the Final Shore as one, faces turned to the Tide. I have seen futures zenith. I have seen crux and apex. Past, present and future united. Enmity is not survival. History rewritten at its very core, primeval puzzle complete. One must tell the tale. Paths cannot be altered, only destinations revealed. Unity. When the ash-wake clears, no more division, only Unity. The Great Unity will prevail. --Translation of ancient eldar tablet found on Cadia. Artefact thought to be the oldest example o archaeology yet discovered.-'It is not the manifest destiny of man to rule, but to lead. --Attributed to Pontifex Archabus Venn, executed heretic, 553.M39

Prologue
+++LocationLeonosis System.+++ +++The Protea Wash.+++ +++Date666.M42.+++ He opened his eyes slowly and a wave of nausea hit him like a wall. He dry-retched, his lungs burning, his body aching. What in Guillimans name was happening here? He sat up, feeling his every muscle burning, his every nerve screaming. His hearts hammered in his chest, shocked into a sudden flurry of hyperactivity. His head pounded, aching with a pain so sharp, so raw he could almost hear it. Stasis-dulled, his senses fought to re-establish themselves. His eyes fought to cut through the grey fog swimming before them. His ears struggled to dispel the constant pounding of his own pulses Something was wrong. He lifted his head, shuddering as muscles that had lain dormant for centuries protested. The light of the small chamber was already starting to grow brighter, the shapes about him sharpening, taking form. He turned his head and his newfound breath was stolen once more. The empty eye sockets stared back lifelessly, two pools of shadow set into a face of mummified skin. Artemon He whispered, his ragged voice barely more than a dry croak.

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Captain Artemon was dead. He had been for a long time. He released the safety harness with shaking hands and pushed himself into an upright position, his atrophied muscles protesting painfully. Memories began to come flooding back, cutting through the thick viscous soup of his addled mind. The Eldar. Guillimans Wrath. The loss He dispelled the memories of what had passed and glanced around the cramped hold of the escape pod, feeling his scarred face harden, his eyes narrowing as he looked upon the prone bodies of the command squad. Even here, safe from the predations of the insidious and despicable aliens, the loss had continued. Captain Artemon had not been the only fatality here. Of the original ten survivors, five were now little more than ceramite-encased cadavers, sitting in darkened and long-dried pools of their own body matter. He himself had led the Litany of Preservation as they had all entered the state of deanimation. How could it be that half of them were now dead? How could the process have failed so badly? As Chaplain, it would be up to him to ensure the souls of these warriors joined the immortal Emperor. There would be time enough for this later. For now, he had to see which of his brothers still lived. He made to stand, grateful of the enhancing influence of his artificer armour. Without the aid of its powerful servo motors he imagined he would find movement near impossible, given how wasted he felt. The activation of the sus-an membrane was always a risky procedure, yet they had had little choice. The pod had no stasis capability and the Leonosis system was a veritable stellar wasteland, not far from the hub of the galaxys core. Given the strange phenomenon that occurred here and the desolation of the region itself, a rescue could take years. None of us could have survived that long without sustenance, he told himself again, kneeling beside brother Laenar, the companys Techmarine. That was when the realisation hit. He hauled himself up onto his feet, his vast form wavering. A Marine could not consciously revive himself from this state. Who had woken him? Almost as if in answer to this question, the escape hatch of the pod rumbled open, gears squealing as it retracted. He spun on his heel and tore his crozius from its belt holster, activating the ancient weapons power field with a swift flick of the thumb. Ah, you are awake at last! Thrungis beard, I thought Id never get it! He watched with amazement as something short and humanoid stepped through the open hatch, covered from head to toe in a filthy, oil-stained pressure suit. A mess of pipes spread out from the creatures domed helmet, its clouded crimson visor glowing weakly beneath the pale light. It stopped in the doorway and placed its fists on its hips, shaking its head as it did so. You stalk-legs sure know how to sleep. Some of you a little too well by the looks of things. Chaplain Daelo Codian took a single laboured step forward, the head of the crozius out before him, the eyes of his skeletal helm glowing. You dare to mock the honoured dead? I will

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Ah, put that down. The squat creature snapped, waving his hand dismissively. He waddled further into the small chamber and removed his helmet, releasing the pressure seals with a hiss of escaping steam. A shock of bright hair spilled from the helmet, matted and twisted by years of grime. Besides, Astarte or no, in your condition I would have you on your arse in the blink of an eye. He lowered his hand as he looked upon the face of the alien for the first time. A single eye stared back, glowing with all the intensity of the pulsing augmetic opposing it. Surprisingly human features met his gaze and he found himself almost too stunned to speak. Whatwhat are you? The creature gave a gruff laugh and shook his head, the long orange braids of his beard and scalp lock sweeping his barrelled chest and shoulders. What am I? I am your salvation, Imperial. You should thank the ancestors that it was I and not the Nicassar who found you floating out there amongst the crud of the Wash. You owe your life to me. With that the flame-haired humanoid shuffled over to where the Techmarine lay and began to mutter quiet but guttural obscenities under his breath, his stubby hands finding the long cables snaking into the faded leather headrest of the chair. Codian simply looked on in astonishment, his clouded mind reeling. The small man glanced up from his labours a moment later, emitting a long, frustrated sigh. If you can do anything then I suggest you try. I have no idea how I managed to wake you. I am having little success with the others. I can wake them. He answered, the weapon in his hand deactivating with a decreasing whine. The small man smiled and nodded his head. Good. The Imperials will pay well for five strong warriors. Codian stepped forward and knelt before the Marine once more, deactivating his crozius and placing back in its holster. He removed his helmet and took a deep breath. The air was bitter, recycled and stale. He could taste oil and rust. Pay? What do you mean by that? He asked, placing a hand upon the warriors forehead. The small man simply gave a sharp, nasal laugh and shook his head. The Chaplain leaned forward and began to whisper quietly, his eyes closing. He continued this for several minutes until the first noticeable breath passed the Marines lips. The bewildered being behind him raised his eyebrows and huffed beneath his breath. So thats how you do it? You talk to them. Bloody marvellous! He exclaimed, shaking his head once more. Codian made to rise and stepped back as the warrior began to stir, in order to give him space enough to take in his surroundings. He knew only too well that even the most level-minded Marine could struggle to adjust to reanimation. Very wise. His new companion observed, folding his short arms across his chest. I see you have done this before. He exhaled slowly and turned to look at the creature, finding his tolerance levels slowly receding. The alien met his gaze without fear or apprehension, his augmetic eye twinkling. I have. He answered. And I am grateful for your assistance in rescuing us. Now, I will awaken each of the survivors and then you will take us back to Imperial space. I will ensure that you enter and leave unharmed.

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The small man sniggered as he heard this, emitting a sound not unlike the choking of some mange-ridden canine. I see. He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. That isvery kind of you. And of course, you can ensure that we actually reach Imperial space unharmed, I take it? You know each and every safe back route and blockade gap from here to your system, yes? I suppose you are renowned experts in evading the Unity. Codian frowned and shook his head, turning to face the stirring Techmarine once more. Perhaps it was the effects of the reanimation, but the creature seemed to be making no sense at all. Slowly, eyes drifting open, the warrior began to rise. Brother Laenar. The Chaplain uttered, bowing his head as the crimson-armoured soldier rose. Laenar blinked and glanced about him, his eyes wide with the effort of use. Whatwhat happened to us? The fleet..? The fleet is gone, Laenar. Our brothers must have thought us lost. We were picked up by this He turned and presented the short individual behind him. Thurgus Grungi. My name is Thurgus Grungi, Imperial. Laenars eyes narrowed as he looked upon their saviour, a snarl of contempt curling his scarred lip. Demiurg. Codian threw himself around and bunched his fists, anger flaring in his eyes. Grungi remained steadfast, his arms still folded. Despite the palpable anger of the huge warrior he never even flinched. Thats right. You seem rattled, Imperial. I would suggest rest, but then again I would say that you have had more than enough of that. Hold your tongue, xenos! If you thin Ah, get over yourself, Imperial. You should count yourselves lucky to be in my presence. If I hadnt found you here then you could have drifted back into the warp and been lost for an eternity. Laenar was on his feet and standing beside the Chaplain, the same expression of revulsion written across his face. Where are we, Demiurg? Are we still in the Ultramar system? Grungis smile seemed to fade slightly. He glanced between the two soldiers, a look of unsure bemusement creeping across his ruddy features. Gods, no. Not even nearly, and I very much doubt that youd be alive if you were. This is the Galactic Hub, Imperials. The Wash has carried you a long way from home. The silence he was met with spoke volumes. Codian and Laenar simply stared back, their expressions unchanging. The Protea Wash. He continued, spreading his arms. One of the largest and most stable warp drifts in the galaxy. Whatever its scoops up it carries here eventually. I have scavenged these tides for many years. I have to say though, this is the first time the wash has ever given up the living. Codian exhaled and turned to look at Laenar. By now his mind was beginning to clear and had begun to process the information he had gleaned so far.

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You said that the Imperium would pay well for our return. What did you mean by that? Exactly what I said. How else do you think I make my living now? I am the only Demiurg who knows of this place. Well, the only one left alive. I have been collecting Imperial salvage now for many years. The Wash is by far the best source for this. Even the Tau dont much bother with the Hub. And why would they? Laenar continued. You make little sense, alien. Speaking of which, how is it that you claim to trade with the Imperium. Dont your kind serve the Tau? Grungi froze, a look of utter disbelief sliding over his face. His skin seemed to take on a bright crimson glow all at once, as if he had been slapped. Imperial, I will ignore that comment but once, given your current state. Say that again and I will peel you from your armour and liquefy you. Let me make something clear. If this had been a Tau vessel I would have dragged it on board and murdered you all without thought. I hate Tau. To hunt and slay them is my lifes work. But you are Demiurg. Laenar continued, unsatisfied and unafraid of the aliens threats. I thought the Demiurg were part of the Tau empire. Gods, Imperial! Has the space sickness taken your mind? Dont tell me you have been drifting through the warp for the last five centuries! Six and a half. Grungi fell silent. Codian turned slowly as he heard this to find Laenar standing quietly, his face deathly pale. He continued to stare at the dust-laden deck, his augmetic eye pulsing rhythmically. 666.M42. That is the date as specified by my internal chronometer. There is no malfunction, Chaplain. We have been lost for six and a half centuries. Ah. Grungi uttered, scratching his head. Then perhaps it would be better if you returned to the warp. You would be safer there. This galaxy belongs to the Tau.

Chapter One: Truth Revealed

Ridiculous! Grungi shrugged. I agree. It is, however, the truth. Those treacherous grey-skinned parasites all but run this galaxy now, and no one seems to be doing a great deal about it. As more and more empires fall to their knees before the damned Tau the hope of ultimate victory against them diminishes. Much has changed here in the time you have slumbered. And what of the Imperium? The warriors of the Emperor would never bow down to the Tau. Codian asked, his eyes wide with troubled anticipation. Your Imperium survives still, human. It would seem that your Emperor does not wish hand over his rule just yet. Be warned though, the realms of man are not what they once were. Codian opened his mouth in order to continue the conversation when a loud squeal began to echo through

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the space beyond the hatch, causing the compact alien to sigh and roll his eye. He turned to leave, muttering under his breath as he did so. Wait. We must learn more. Then you will have to follow me, Imperial. Some things are more important than answering questions. Go. Laenar uttered. I will tend to the others. The Chaplain nodded his head and turned to follow the departing figure, sweeping his black cloak aside. +++ Each ceramite-weighted footfall echoed through the endless spaces about him. The deck beneath his feet hummed with the deep rumble of the ships mighty engines, a dull resonance that seemed to perpetuate endlessly. Pipes and conduits snaked from the floors and the walls wherever he looked, some rusting away, others slick with glistening grime. Where are we going? Ah, questions! More damned questions! Grungi answered, throwing his hands in the air. It is about time that I asked some questions of my own. He lifted his head to look upon the warrior. You have yet to introduce yourself, marine. My name is Codian. I am an Ultramarine Chaplain. He answered sullenly and after a lengthy pause. Such formality disquieted him, especially when in the presence of an alien. Well Codian, it seems that something has come up. Dont ask me what as I do not commune with the ancestors. Now, I believe you have questions. Try to keep them short and to the point as I am not in the mood to be giving a sermon. Very well. He glanced down at the curious alien. Despite the fact that he towered over him, this Grungi seemed almost nonchalant to his presence. He found himself admiring the small creatures spirit. You say we are at the centre of the galaxy, brought here by the Wash. How did this happen? Hmm. Well, think of the Protea Wash as a strong current in the warp. From time to time it enters and exits realspace, sweeping up space debris as it goes. The trick is to know when and where it spits the crud out, see? Think of the Wash as a shifting scrap pile. I have recovered many treasures in my years collecting salvage. And the Imperials pay you to do this? In a fashion. Imperials will pay for technologies and weaponry that can be restored for use against the Tau. War is a greedy thing, Codian. It consumes resources ravenously. His eyes narrowed as he heard this. He could not bring himself to imagine an Imperium that bartered with aliens, especially for its own property. You say that the Tau hold dominion over this galaxy. I simply cannot accept that. The Imperium is simply too vast and powerful to allow that. There are many empires and races that would never have allowed such

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an expansion. Grungi sighed and shook his head, throwing him a sideways glance. Grindels arse! The galaxy is in a state of total war, Marine. You either fight for the Tau or against them. Many of the most powerful races opposed the expansion of the Great Unity. All have so far failed. Your Imperium is on its knees, the hands of the Tau around its throat. What remains of your once mighty fleets and vast armies are now clustered around the Segmentum Solar, fighting tooth and nail to defend your Emperors throne. Codian felt his chest tighten as he heard this. For the first time since he could remember, he felt an unfamiliar emotion stirring deep within his heart. Fear. What of Ultramar? He whispered, hardly able to bring himself to ask the question. Grungi slowed a little, his single eye narrowing as he turned to face the towering Marine. Hmm. Ultramarwas the last to fall. He answered after a lengthy pause. Of all the outer systems of the Imperium, Ultramar fought the longest and the hardest. The Great Unity expended many, many lives conquering the Ultima Segmentum. Your Calgar is a mighty warrior, Codian. He refused to bow to the Tau for centuries and it was only the impending advance upon Terra that saw him forced to abandon the system. He is an honourable and courageous warrior, and he holds a grudge well. Mighty Calgar still lives? As far as I am aware. I have heard tell that he wears the armour of the ancients now, as do those most celebrated amongst your kind. Even in death he refuses to die. His rancour does him credit. The duo turned a corner sharply, the sudden shift in direction throwing him off for a moment. He ducked his head as they passed beneath another doorway, the alien scaling of the craft far less than accommodating. Your kind are hunted with the utmost vigour. The Demiurg continued, slamming his fist into the access panel beside him. The door next to it opened with a serpentine hiss and they passed through, never once slowing their pace. Codian found he had to almost bend double to enter the small room. You and your brethren are a dying breed. The Tau deplore those who cannot be swayed to their cause. They hate your kind, Codian, and they wish for nothing more than to see you exterminated. As I remember, the Astarte homeworlds were sought out and cleansed, one by one. Your kind are few now, and yet they still fight the expansion of the Great Unity. Cleansed? Yes. As the Demiurg were. I am the last of my kind, at least as far as I know. I seek only a honourable death at the hands of the Tau. The two figures slowed as they approached a huge bank of augurs and screens, each one alive with activity. Grungi stepped forward, bathed in the light of the multitudinous screens. Hmm. Perhaps I will find this death sooner than I had anticipated. I am about to alter our course, human. I will show you what it is you face here. Codian was about to ask what he meant by that when he found himself cut off by the mournful wail of an

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alarm system. Gods! What is it now? The Demiurg snapped, glancing about him at the clustered screens. Are we under attack? The holding bay. He answered, finishing his course alterations as fast as he was able to do so. And I suggest we make haste. +++ Codian barrelled through the hatch to be met with a scene of utter horror. Epistolary Kreusus was awake and on his feet, roaring and screaming like a madman. His eyes were two shining balls of bright azure fire, his outstretched hands aflame with the same ethereal energies. Pulsing lightning arced around the hold of the small vessel, igniting systems and melting whatever it touched. Laenar was on his back beneath the crazed Librarian, shaking like a terrified child as his augmetic systems shuddered and convulsed, sparks flashing across his prone form. Apothecary Umbras and brother Berolinus were also awake now, fighting to bring down the flailing psyker and bring his rampage to a halt. Kreusus! Brother, can you hear me? It was no good. His mind was gone, ravaged by the centuries of slumber. He ducked as a whickering flash of energy passed by overhead, missing him by inches. He had seen it before. The risks associated with the activation of the sus-an membrane were great for psykers. Their bodies would shut down but sometimes their minds would not, and so they would be left to wander, awaiting the revival of their bodies. Kreusus had been all but conscious for over six centuries, and what he had seen in the warp had driven him utterly insane. He launched himself forward and wrapped his arms around the warriors legs, sending both of them crashing into the bulkhead. It was to do little good. He felt himself lifted up and hurled through the air by the Librarians superhuman strength, his body aflame with burning pain. Kreusus continued to roar and thrash, bellowing the same thing over and over again. Lost! We are lost! We are lost! We are all l He glanced up through the haze of pain to see Grungi standing beside him, his teeth bared. It must be done, Codian. Your Ancestor Lord is beyond help. Before he could protest the Grungi stepped forward and something dark and heavy hit the deck. It was his own augmetic fist, thick chain rattling as it unfurled behind it. The Demiurg lifted the chain and began to twirl it around his head. Bright energies burst across its length and the fist became a thrumming, swirling ball of energy, casting a crimson hue over the small alien and the entire chamber of the small craft. Codian looked on in horror as the alien bounded forward and took the Librarians head from his shoulders with a single blow, sending the extremity spinning away with a sickening thud. The body of Kreusus fell forward, bright energy pouring from its torn neck. It was over in seconds Codian felt his rage building inside him. He made to rise and his hand found his crozius, the winged skull atop it flaring with energy as it ignited. A blur of movement and a burst of energy saw the weapon knocked from his grasp to spin away across the hold, sparks raining through the air before his face. Dont be a fool! He was beyond help! The mind sickness had taken him!

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Berolinus and Umbras rose behind the squat killer, their fists bunched and their eyes glowing with hatred. Chest heaving, Codian shook his head slowly. The Demiurg was right. He knew only too well that Kreusus could not have been saved. The insane Epistolary would have torn them all to pieces in his madness. Hehe could not have been helped. Umbras admitted, shaking his head. Without the facilities of the Chapter to hand we would not have been able to help him. In the long moments of silence that followed, the entire ship seemed to lurch and sway around them, a long, resonating groan echoing through the vast spaces beyond. Laenar rose to his feet to stand beside the others as the lights of the small escape vessel began to flicker above them. There was no mistaking it. the ship had altered its course. Mourn your brother if you must. I know how you feel. The Tau have taken everything from me. They took my homeworld from me. They took my family and my Brotherhood. They took the crew of the Grudgebearer. The others watched in silence as the cooling fist retracted, the greased chain sinking back into his arm until the cooling fist locked into place once again. They even took my hand. They betrayed the Demiurg and I vowed to give my life hunting them down and destroying them. He turned to Codian, the fingers of his weapon-hand flexing. You can ask me a thousand questions and never be satisfied with the answers, human. Better that I show you what it is you face here. Let me show you what has become of the Tau. Who knows, we may even kill a few along the way.

Chapter Two: The Xenos

This is distasteful. Berolinus snarled. Codian had to agree. He glanced at the others and he could tell they were of the same mind. We sully ourselves while ever we remain in the aliens presence. Berolinus continued. I say we kill it and take the ship as our own. And can you pilot such a ship? Perhaps Laenar could. All eyes turned to the Techmarine. The warrior shook his head slowly. As far as I am able to tell, this is a Demiurg Stronghold ship. We may be the first humans ever to set foot on such a vessel. Demiurg technology has always been a mystery to the Adeptus Mechanicus. I am not even sure how he manages to pilot this vessel alone. Codian turned his attention away from the stars beyond the viewport and moved to join the others, sensing their collective discomfort. Brothers, this is a necessary evil. It is our duty to return to the Imperium in its hour of need, and the only

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way we can do that is to allow this creature to carry us to the Imperial borders. We are Astartes and it is our duty to aid the Imperium we all swore an oath to serve. Duty must take precedence above all else. The others agreed bitterly. Hmm. Im not deaf. Grungi turned away from the vast control banks of the bridge, his augmetic eye twinkling. His mouth was curled into lopsided grin. Your engineer is correct about the Grudgebearer. Shes a Stronghold class, the best in the galaxy. The ships of the Montka Korvattra have hunted her for years without success. As for taking her as your own, there are quicker and more effective ways of committing suicide. Berolinuss face flushed red with anger, the Demiurgs challenge producing the desired effect. Codian sighed heavily and swept his cloak aside, striding across the grilled deck to join the unapologetic Grungi. He slowed as he approached, his eyes finding the vastness of the stars beyond the huge viewport for a moment. You said that you would take us to Imperial territory, Demiurg. And I will, in time. Grungi continued to work the controls before him feverishly, and within moments the huge ship lurched as it began to slow. Several of the panels before him began to pulse and flash, suddenly alive with activity. He depressed several runes and the bridge became bathed in a deep crimson glow, the thick bulkhead around them resonating with power. What is happening? We are cloaked. The ship is now blind to Tau sensors. The Demiurg stepped back and turned to face the others, raising his hand toward the huge screen before him. Come. See how your enemy hunt. If I have calculated our position correctly then we should have a fine view. There was a blinding emerald flash and the entire ship shook as something lit the stars beyond. Codian raised his hand and turned slowly as something impossibly huge and dark enveloped the screen, descending over the ship from above. The huge horizontal crescent stretched across the stars as far as any of them could see, a shape so vast that he found himself unable to comprehend its dimensions. A multitude of lights blinked across its underside, illuminating the many inverted spires and needles encrusting its ancient surface. Emperors oath! What is it? Laenar joined him by the screen, his scarred face slackening. Omnissiah. He breathed. A Necron vessel! A Cairn class Tombship, the biggest there is. Grungi announced, a malicious smile creeping across his face. And shes running for her life.

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Codian strode forward and pressed his hands against the thick glass, feeling the material shudder beneath the influence of the protective field. The immense vessel filled the vista beyond as far as he could see. It passed by overhead so close that the entire ship shook, the many illuminators above their heads winking and dimming. Scores of smaller ships began to slide into view, flanking the mighty vessel like a swarm of insects. Some were ablaze, others listing or veering away, explosions tearing across their silver-grey flanks. Sickly emerald lightning poured from the massed ships and out across the void behind them, a vast carpet of pulsating power. The transfixed Chaplain visibly flinched as something cold and sharp passed through his head, a silent, resonating scream that seemed to scrape at the edges of his consciousness. A low murmur of displeasure passed through the group behind him as they too felt it, if only for a fleeting second. The Nicassar. He heard Grungi snarl from somewhere behind him. Damn it! We may have to leave here sooner than I had anticipated. Codian turned away from the screen and watched as the Demiurg became tense and agitated, his attention once more turned to the vast control banks of the ship. What is it? I thought you said we were shielded from detection. Hnn. Not from the Nicassar, we arent. No one is. We have to leave now or theyll bring the Montka Korvattra down on our heads. Hold on. Codian and the others felt the huge ship list as it began to turn, the flare of its neoplasma warp core quaking the deck. The Chaplain glanced back through the screen, watching as the massive Tombship itself began to slow and turn, vast glowing particle energies flaring from its crescent prow. That was the moment that would stay etched in his memory for the rest of his life. That was the moment he caught his first glimpse of the Tau. Something so incredibly vast that it cast a shadow over the ancient Tombship blotted out the light of the stars themselves as it moved into sight. The ship was easily twice the size of the Necron vessel; so huge it was impossible to even attempt to gauge its size. Immense lances of glowing white energy stabbed from her prow and speared the Tombship, punching holes through the shifting metal as it were made of the flimsiest paper. More and more of the energy beams began to illuminate the scene, cutting swathes through the outclassed vessel and dissecting it with each blast. The stricken Tombship began to come apart before his eyes, huge sections of the gunmetal hull spinning away into the void, the cauterised segments glowing white-hot where the beams had parted them. As the Demiurg ship began to turn out of sight of the battle he watched as glittering debris began to pour from the dying vessel and he realised at once what he was seeing. Necrons. Necrons were spilling from the ship like rain. Another piercing psychic scream shook his head and he cried out, his teeth bared. The others fell to their knees as the sound shook the ship, unable to withstand the searing pain of the assault. Only Grungi seemed fairly unshaken by the sudden and debilitating attack, and even then it was clear that he too was not immune to its effects. Codian hauled himself to his feet and watched as a score of small, elegant ships seemed to materialise as if

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from nowhere, forming a growing, shimmering line as they appeared one after another. A second later the stars behind them seemed to stretch and blur And they were gone.

Chapter Three: Rogue Trader

He left the escape boat behind him, tilting his head as he passed through the hatch. The others had decided to stay within the confines of the Imperial craft for the rest of the journey, the abundance of xenos technology surrounding them too much to bear. As he left the haunting empty spaces of the vast cargo hangar he could still hear their sonorous voices, joined together in prayer. He felt guilt at his absence, for as the Chaplain it was his duty to be there above anyone else. On this occasion however, the welfare of his brothers had to take precedence. Their hearts were heavy with regret. While they had slumbered the centuries away the Imperium had fallen to a tide of xenos filth. They should have been there. They should have fought alongside their lost brethren. The events of the past few hours still lay heavy in his mind and try as he might, he could not shake the feeling of disorientation. The things he had seen and experienced since his awakening were more than any loyal servant of the Imperium should ever have to bear. Demiurg, Necrons, Tau and Nicassar. The xenos races seemed to dominate this galaxy, an observation that positively filled him with dread. He could scarcely imagine any greater crime. He passed into the wide bridge, the hiss of the opening door announcing his arrival, and stopped dead. Two faces turned to greet him. Two pairs of eyes watched as he stalled in his advance, his head drawing back in surprise. The Demiurg was not alone. Standing beside him was a man, a human male, tall and slender next to the aliens squat form. Most of the mans long blonde hair was drawn back and tied behind his head, leaving the rest to drape over his shoulders either loose or in braids. He wore a flight suit of deep blue velvet, his thigh-length boots and oversized cuffs finished in dusted silver. A thick leather waistcoat hung from his shoulders, partially hiding the many straps and bandoliers that criss-crossed his chest. An ornate sabre hung from one hip, a curious golden firearm from the other. Ah! Gammets moon, I still cant believe it! Grungi, you old dog! Living Space Marines, vintage ones no less! What a find! Codian. You seem troubled. Grungi announced, his hands filthy with oil and unguents. He placed the strange tools he had been working with down on the floor and moved to meet with the Marine, wiping his hands down his bare chest as he did so. The man followed, his face a picture of awe and amusement. I am. We all are. I need to know where you intend to take us, Demiurg. I need to know now. Hmm. I told you. We are heading for Imperial space. Do you doubt my word? Should we?

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Grungi snarled and headed back to the control banks once more, his fingers probing the multitude of indistinguishable levers and runes encrusting the many panels. I think youve upset him. The man whispered, a smile creeping across his face. He does tend to take insult very easily. I you had been anything other than an Astarte he may well have pulled your intestines out through your back passage. Codian lowered his face slowly towards that of the man, his massive armoured form casting a shadow over the wiry figure before him. And who are you? He growled. Morten Andrasi, Rogue Trader. Loyal servant of the Alliance Imperialis Solar. For the right price, of course. I see. You address a Chaplain of the Ultramarines, boy. He announced with a low, ominous voice. I find your tone overly familiar, and I too take insult very easily. The smile faded and the colour drained from his face. He stepped back and bowed his head sharply as Codian straightened his shoulders once again, his expression never once altering. Seconds later the air before them shimmered and distorted and a huge vertical stellar map thrummed into view, the hazy spiral of the galaxy instantly recognisable to the Ultramarine. We are here. Andrasi announced, pointing towards the western end of the galactic hub. The western reaches of the former Ultima Segmentum. We will round the Maelstrom to the north and slip through the Tau blockades north east of Catachan. We should make it through to the Segmentum Solar without too much trouble. Codian strode forward to stand before the holo-display. He raised his finger and stabbed it into the shimmering light, the image rippling and distorting where he touched it. You say we are here. I understand that we are closer to Terra, but is it not possible to journey south east to Ultramar? We are Ultramarines and we have a duty to defend our realm. We wish to rejoin our Chapter. Andrasi and Grungi glanced at one another without exchanging a word, the looks on their faces alone enough to cause concern. What is it? Grungi simply shook his head and turned his attention back to the repairs at hand. Andrasi stepped forward hesitantly, his hands clasped together. Ah, that would not be a good idea. Grungi explained your situation to me, though he is a creature of few words. Its clear he hasnt gone into the finer details on exactly what kind of state the Imperium is in now or you wouldnt even be asking that. He glanced back towards the Demiurg who in turn was now lost amongst the inner workings of the controls, muttering softly to himself. He sighed and turned to face the Chaplain once more, his manner now clearly more respectful. Good sir, the galaxy has always been a dangerous place. These days it is lethal. Grungi told me what happened with the Necrontyr Tombship so I know that you have seen for yourself first-hand just how powerful the Tau are. The ships of the Montka Korvattra are the largest and most powerful in the galaxy. The extinction fleets are able to scour entire systems upon passing. No single force in this galaxy stands a chance of facing them and finding victory.

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Ultramar, boy. All I want to know is what has happened to Ultramar. Andrasi sighed and lowered his gaze. Please, brother Codian, walk with me to my ship. I have much to explain to you, none of it good. +++ Codian ascended the ramp of the cutter and entered the hold, the cold illuminators shining upon his smooth black armour. Andrasi followed him and then moved off towards a small recess, taking a bottle of violet liquid in one hand and a delicate crystal flute glass in the other. I assume you dont consume alcohol? He asked, pouring himself a large measure. Codian shook his head. The Rogue Trader tipped his head and then moved to sit down, offering the chaplain a seat opposite him. Codian frowned and then took the seat, the frame beneath groaning under his weight. Answers, Rogue Trader. Andrasi nodded and leaned back against the rest, exhaling deeply. It was clear that he was reluctant to chance the Marines wrath. Codian could sense that he was not going to be pleased by what he was about to hear. The Hellrunner may be small but shes old, Chaplain. She was my fathers and his father before him. She has been out amongst these stars for a very long time. He took a long sip of the intoxicating beverage and then gestured towards the surrounding hold, an attempt to draw Codians attention to the many artefacts scattered about the space. Like my father and my grandfather, Ive always been somewhat of a historian. The past fascinates me. That is why I was so looking forward to meeting with you, honoured warrior. The glorious days of the Imperium are but a distant and captivating dream to me, a time when mankind ruled the stars unopposed. A time I can only imagine with fondness. He paused then, taking another long sip from the ornate glass, bearing his teeth as the burning liquid slid down his throat. My alliance with Grungi goes back years, decades even. He is a good and honourable soul, alien or not. He saved me from the Tauhowever, that is a story for another time. I know you seek answers, honoured warrior. I would consider it an honour to enlighten you. Then do so. Codian answered abruptly. Tell me what you want to know. Andasi continued, spreading his fingers. Everything. Came Codians reply, as abrupt and certain as any could be. Andrasi sighed again. There is a legend. He began, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Of a time when the Tau were young. Some say they were nave, that they wished to expand their borders through diplomacy and unity. I cant

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imagine that. It was a time when other, far older races fought over the domination of the galaxy. The empire of man stretched across the stars, unrivalled in power. A time of the ancient Eldar and the green-skinned Ork, when the vast swarms of the Tyranid consumed whole worlds and the foul servants of the Warp Gods spilled from the Eye. Codian listened in silence, his armoured hands clasped together. It was strange to listen to someone speak of the galaxy he knew this way. He was still coming to terms with the fact that it was all gone. He could not bring himself to imagine it any other way, yet he had seen with his own eyes just how powerful the Tau had become. Somewhere along the line all that changed. No one knows for sure when and why it happened, but there are rumours. The legend tells of a Fire warrior commander called OShovah and a dead world called Arthas-Moloch. Something he found there changed him. He did what no other Tau had ever done; he broke away from the influence of the Ethereals and founded his own enclave. I know of this Farsight. Codian interrupted, his lip curling with distaste. The Ultramarines fought against him many times. Andrasi paused for a moment, a look of near-reverence passing over his face. He smiled and shook his head, clearly in awe of the ancient warrior. To think you were alive when my great grandfather owned this ship. A free captain, he was known to trade with the Tau of the Farsight enclaves and he did so for many years. One day, all trading ceased. Ships were turned away from Tau space without reason or explanation. It was rumoured by some that a great force of Tau led by the Ethereals of a planet named Ndras were moving to face the renegade commander, to call him to account for his dissidence. Somewhere along the way, they found Arthas-Moloch. Thats where it all began. So what happened on Arthas-Moloch? Andrasi shrugged his shoulders, his eyes fixed upon the gleaming crystal in his hand. No one knows. The Tau have never spoken of what they found there, and no free captain has ever dared investigate the planet. All that is known is that whatever OShovah found there changed him. What it had to do with the rest of the Tau empire, and whether or not it was in part responsible for what happened to them, no one knows. The Eldar were the first to figure out that something was wrong. They must have known how bad things were going to get because they didnt even try to stop it. They justleft. Codian frowned and shifted his considerable weight, the seat beneath him protesting audibly once again. Andrasi saw this and smiled again, then closed his eyes for a fleeting moment. The Eldar. The ancient and magnificent craftworlds of the Eldar haunt my dreams. They must have been a sight to behold. I remember my grandfather The Chaplains stern gaze brought that particular story arc to a very abrupt end. Anyway, they got out while they could. They headed out towards the Great Void and no one has ever heard of them since. It was at this point that the Imperium sat up and began to take notice. New species began to emerge one after another, all flying the banner of the Tau empire. The Kroot, the Demiurg, the Nissacar and the Vespid were joined Andrasis explanatory drone was cut suddenly and unceremoniously short as Codians fist came smashing down on the table, the blow shattering the antique wood into shards. The crystal decanter and glass both disappeared, consumed by the sudden explosion of fine timber. The Rogue Trader brought his knees up to his face and sank into the crimson leather, emitting a short and

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somewhat pathetic yelp of surprise. The Chaplain rose to his feet and blotted out the lights of the hold, his eyes glowing with unrestrained anger. Enough! He roared, a brace of armoured fists the size of Andrasis head hovering maliciously close. This is unacceptable! I have neither the time nor the luxury to sit here and listen as you drone incessantly on! I have no interest as to how the damned Tau came to conquer this galaxy! I want simple answers! The terrified free captain seemed to sink into his seat, his trembling hands raised up to his face. Please, whatever you want to know I will tell you! Dont kill me! Ultramar! Codian roared, punching his fist through the thick bulkhead above him. Tell me what fate has befallen Ultramar or I will tear this ship apart with my hands! Ultramar has fallen! Andrasi all but squealed, leaping from the seat and out of harms way. Warmaster Calgar defended the Ultima Segmentum for almost four hundred years before he was forced back to the Segmentum Solar! The region is lost! Codian withdrew his fist and lowered his gaze once more. His armoured chest heaved with each colossal breath, yet the almost bestial rage that burned within his eyes seemed to dull. He stood and stared at the rogue trader for what seemed an age. Finally, he spoke again. Fallen. Even Macragge? Andrasi nodded, too terrified to speak. And the Ultramarines? II know little of the Astartes factions, honoured warrior. All I know is that the Warmaster holds sway over them all, no matter their former allegiance. The Tau hunt them without mercy or hesitation because they fear them. They fear the Space Marines more than any other force in this galaxy. For four centuries they have led a determined campaign of extermination against the Astartes, cleansing homeworlds and hunting battle fleets wherever they could find them. All surviving Marines now fight under a single banner, the banner of Calgar, the banner of the Alliance Imperialis Solar. And what of Terra? The last bastion of the Imperium, lord. Every last remaining loyalist fights even as we speak to keep the Tau from taking the Segmentum Solar. The extinction fleets have encroached as far as the defences of Saturn. Some say it is a matter of months before Titan and her sisters are overrun. Mars is already gone; she was lost almost a hundred years ago when the Great Unity first moved against the Segmentum Solar. They sent almost ten thousand Kroot Warspheres through the warp in an abortive attempt to capture her. The Priests of the Forge detonated her core rather than allow the Unity to capture her secrets. Codian backed away, his teeth still bared in anger despite his subtle change in mood. Impossible. He growled, unable to take on board the mans preposterous claims. How can any race rise to such power in such a short space of time, especially the Tau. The Tau are weak, they always have been. Their technology is all that has kept them alive this long. They barter and bargain, they entreat and reason. They conquer systems and races through promises of protection and equality. They do not have the stomach for all-out aggression. And yet all I tell you is true. Andrasi continued, shifting forward hesitantly.

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The Rogue Trader took a deep, lingering breath and swept his long braids over his face, composing himself as best he could. The Tau you knew are long gone, Marine. They have changed beyond all recognition into an empire of monsters and murderers, driven by an insatiable desire to conquer and enslave or else exterminate every living creature in this galaxy. He paused then, lowering his eyes for a moment as if contemplating his own words. Finally he found the Chaplains gaze once more. Sound familiar? Codian sneered and turned away, unwilling to allow the Rogue Trader to see his reaction. He knew exactly what Andrasi was getting at by that remark. What troubled him was, for the first time since he could remember, he did not have an answer. So, where are we headed to. He uttered, changing the subject as tactfully as a charging carnodon. Andrasi smiled as he slumped down onto the faded leather of his captains chair and removed his gloves. He issued a short, sharp series of commands and the bridge crew about him began to set about their individual allotted tasks as one. Satisfied, he turned his attention back to the waiting Astarte. Why, to the place we take all our Imperial salvage. Andrasi answered. To the last bastion of the Mechanicus. He opened his hands before him as he spoke the last word, almost as if the Chaplain would already know the answer. Ryza.

Chapter Four: A journey to Ryza, the Ork and the Demiurg

Ryza. Laenar uttered, nodding his head slowly. At long last, we may be getting somewhere. The others simply glanced his way and then turned away. It was clear than they failed to share the same enthusiasm for the infamous Forge World. Codian didnt particularly care whether or not their destination was a Mechanicus world. All he cared about was that they were soon to reach Imperial-held territory. All that mattered now was that they be re-established with the Imperium, and Ryza would provide this link. We have been travelling for two days now. I am ready to tear this damned xenos ship apart with my bare hands. Berolinus snarled, glancing around him. Actually, seeing as you are currently onboard the Hellrunner, this is a human ship. Andrasi interrupted, somewhat cautiously. My ship, actually. I would be very grateful if you and your brethren would cease to threaten her structural integrity. The Ultramarine simply glared at Andrasi as though he were about to shove his head down into his bowel

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for even daring to address him. The Rogue Trader swallowed hard and cleared his throat. As I was saying, our best chance of slipping through the Tau blockade is to take my ship. The Grudgebearer is incredibly powerful but shes about as subtle as a warp storm. The Hellrunner is small but shes fast, faster than anything thats chased her yet. Even if they manage to detect us theyll never catch us. Shed better be fast, pirate. Berolinus growled. This damned journey seems to be taking forever. Oh, she is. I told you, shes a human vessel. Shes fully warp-capable and I have my own Navigator. We wont be skimming like the Grudgebearer. We will slip by the shift-nets once we reach the edges of the defences and then make the short jump to Ryza. It should be pretty painless. Codian watched as the Rogue Trader turned and began to head towards the door of the hold. How long, Andrasi? The man slowed, their eyes meeting for a moment. How long before we reach these defences? Did you not feel the bulkheads shift minutes ago, Chaplain? It would seem that we are already here. +++ The domed structures stretched across the twinkling void as far as the naked eye could see. Above and below them the countless automated detection drones hung suspended and in their millions, the silent sentries of the Segmentum Solar blockade. The sleek black ship slid into the vacuum like a dart into water, giving off a single flare of thrust before shimmering briefly and sliding beneath the stars themselves. Behind it, the hulking and desolate Stronghold ship bore witness to its departure, invisible to the sensors of the alien cordon, its captain no longer aboard. Prandiums ruin, look at that! Umbras pushed his hands against the cool glass of the viewport and stared out at the inconceivable spectacle. The others couldnt help but share his reaction. The sheer volume and size of the massed Tau defences were nothing short of overwhelming. Ah, dont let any of that put you off. Andrasi smiled, leaning on the padded arm of his rather flamboyant captains chair. These blockades were erected to stop battle fleets, not lone cutters. Its how the Tau think, power is all, size matters and all that. They dont even consider a ship this size to be worth acknowledging. Their mistake. The Marines looked on through the deep red glow in silence as the Rogue Trader turned and nodded to his Astropath, the hunched figure swathed in dark brown robes by his side. The psyker bowed his head and began to whisper beneath his breath, the low, incomprehensible words seeming to charge the air of the bridge with a cold, ozone tang. We just have to make sure the Nicassar arent lurking out there. Andrasi explained. If they are and they catch our scent then were screwed. Its just precaution.

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The Nissacar, why are they so feared? Umbras asked, turning away from the porthole. The Nissacar were barely known to us in our time and yet you seem to fear them even more than the Tau. Trust me, the Nissacar are bad. They can boil your blood and drag your intestines out through your nose with a thought. Every single Nissacar is an Alpha-level psyker. The Tau use them mainly to hunt down the renegade fleets still at large in the galaxy. No one can hide from the Nissacar. Codian sighed as he watched the seemingly endless structures speeding by, merging into one continuous ivory blur. So much had changed since they had last looked upon these stars. Almost everyone he had known as a brother was gone, lost to the sands of time. He found himself unable to imagine Taus rise to power without feeling the anger well within his breast. Every time he closed his eyes he could see his warrior brethren fighting to halt the xenogen tide. He could see the brave Ultramarines as they were told that they would have to abandon Ultramar, feel the despair in their hearts. Warriors he should have fought alongside. Warriors that it had been his lifes duty to give spiritual guidance to. He had failed. Tell me of Ryza, Andrasi. Laenar asked, interrupting his silent lamentation. How has she survived this war unscathed when this Great Unity you speak of has encroached so far into the Hallowed Segmentum? Upon hearing this the Rogue Trader smiled. Ah, you are the student of the Machine God, my proud comrade. You tell me. Ryza has survived despite all else, though I wouldnt exactly say unscathed. As it was in the wars against the Orks, the call of war was once again answered by her sister worlds, Barac, Ulani and Dulmalin. These worlds sacrificed themselves so as to provide Ryza with enough manpower to keep the Tau at bay. Even now her hold is a precarious one. Without sufficient aid she will fall in time. A mostregrettable situation. As Laenar heard this he seemed to grow somewhat agitated, his mood darkening. How precarious? Andrasi lifted his hand and tipped his head, the lights of the bridge shifting in hue again. Let us continue this discussion in a moment. We are about to transfer. The lights shifted again as the entire ship seemed to blur around them for a second, a deep, resonating thrum accompanying the change. Every window surrounding the bridge became a blank grey wall as the warp shielding slid into place, completing the transition. Weve entered the warp. Andrasi announced, taking a deep breath. We should reach Ryza soon. Dolos, send word of our arrival ahead. +++ Codian made to rise as he felt the ship shudder and change about him once again, tired of sitting and waiting for the journey to end. He had led the others in prayer for the last fourteen hours and now would

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normally be the time for honing his skills and his body in the Chapter training complex. He still had centuries of atrophy to work off, despite the efforts of his own accelerated physique to recover from the long sleep. In truth, he found himself eager for war, his mind only too willing to goad his body on. Andrasi glanced up from the readout display before him and saw his approach, his grim face illuminated by the glow of the screens before him. You have finished your meditations, Chaplain? Codian nodded and moved to join him, his eyes finding the bank of screens spread out before him. How long before we reach Ryza, captain? Andrasi seemed a little taken aback by this, and it was more than a few seconds before Codian realised why. He had actually addressed him as captain. We are about to exit the warp. He answered matter-of-factly, his voice audibly strained. The Chaplain nodded again and fell silent for a while, something clearly on his mind. It was as if the Rogue Traders suspicious mood had set him on edge. You never answered Laenars question, Andrasi. He finally uttered. Just how stable is the forge world? Andrasi shrugged his shoulders and turned away, his eyes narrowing. Brother Chaplain, Ryza is a mighty world but she is stranded. The majority of the Tau fleets are amassed around Saturn, intent on breaking her defences. After Mars the Tau seem understandably hesitant to aggressively attack Mechanicus worlds. They know only too well that when the Priests of the Forge decide that its time to cut their losses, they do so in spectacular fashion. They are unwilling to take the same risks that almost saw the Kroot driven to extinction by the loss of Mars. Besides which, Ryzas long-range orbital defences are legendary. The Tau are powerful but they are unwilling and can ill-afford to sacrifice their ships in the capture or destruction of a single world. The majority of the Great Unitys naval might is currently engaged in pushing through to Terra and in truth, they simply cant meet the expense of the inevitable losses they would sustain. No, the only possible way to break Ryza would be with a massed infantry assault consisting of thousands of small, fast craft. Codian pondered this for a moment, considering the Rogue Traders words. Is this possible? An invasion, I mean. Andrasi smiled weakly and swivelled in his chair, despressing a number of the small, glowing runes beside him. Before I answer that, I must first ask you a question. Are you eager to face the enemies of your Imperium once more? Codian frowned as he heard this but tipped his head immediately, his immense chest seeming to expand even further. I exist to destroy those who stand against the Emperors realm. It is the duty of each and every Space Marine to do so. Why do you ask? Andrasi rubbed his forehead and glanced at the others of his crew, the line of faces that met him equally as grim and anxious.

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Such an invasion is more than possible. In fact, it would seem that it is already underway. Almost immediately following this statement the warp-shielding surrounding the bridge retracted to reveal the stars beyond. It was only after several moments of silent, awe-struck observation that the gathered Marines realised they werent stars at all. They were ships. Thousands upon thousands of ships. Ugly and angular, no two were the same. By the codex Umbras gasped, facing the others. It has finally happened. I dont believe it. Andrasi uttered, shaking his head slowly. We have been waiting for this moment with bated breath for the last seven years and dreading its arrival every single one of those days. The inhabitants of Sulairn. The only race within the Unity powerful and insane enough to even attempt such an attack. Every Marine face turned to the Rogue Trader as one. He stared back, the trademark smirk that seemed to have been fixed to the corners of his mouth faded and gone. The Orks. +++ The sleek cutter shook as her engines were gunned to maximum, the space about her bright and burning. The guns of Ryza were now answering the massed Ork advance with extreme prejudice, huge columns of solid blinding lance-energy piercing the cold void. Ships broke apart or were simply vaporised in their hundreds as each huge blast speared through the endless armada, and yet the shifting mass bore on, closing upon the vast gunmetal-grey ball with the passing of each second. Illuminated by the glow of the consoles before him, Andrasis face was a mask of silent fear. Ive sent the signal. Ive sent the signal Was all he could say, over and over again. This is madness! Well never survive! Laenar hollered, his armoured fingers closed tight around the arms of the descent seat. We havent a prayer of making it! Then well die a glorious death! Grungi roared by his side, his single eye wide and wild with anticipation. All I know is that Ill swim through the bloody void myself and make landfall if I have to! There are Greyskins to be slayed and by Thors steel arse Ill die beneath a pile of Ork corpses a thousand high or Ill live forever! The cutter shuddered again, causing alarm systems to open up across the bridge. The pilot screamed curses as he wrenched the controls in all directions, fighting to keep the ship out of harms way. Codian sat in silence, the cold eyes of his skull-helm reflecting each and every explosion and blast. His bolt pistol and his crozius sat in wait on his lap, ready to strike down the alien enemies of the Imperium. His pulses were steady, his mind calm and clear. His senses were ultra-alert, his muscles tensing and relaxing automatically. It was time and he was ready. He was ready for war.

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Andrasi had explained the fall and assimilation of the Orks as thoroughly and fully as he was able considering their circumstances. The Orks, the largest and most powerful race of creatures in the galaxy of his time, were now part of the Great Unity. The Tau had managed to do what no other force or empire had ever been able to. They had conquered them. The Ethereals had discovered how the Ork reproduced and in doing so they uncovered the key to their downfall. They began to trail the great Waaaghs! that swept through the galaxy and seek out the worlds devastated in their wake, worlds ripe with the seed of the Ork. They had realised centuries ago that the Ork could never be persuaded or reasoned with, and so it was that they conspired to bring down the race from within. Not even Andrasi knew every detail of how this came about, only that the Tau began to alter the genetic structure of the developing Orkoid creatures, adding elements of their own DNA into the gestating alien life forms. What emerged from the dark recesses and shaded crevices were unnatural monstrosities similar and yet as far removed from their green-skinned kin as could be, creatures with all the strength and resilience of their feral cousins and yet completely and utterly subservient to the influence of the Ethereals. The Tau realised almost at once exactly how these creatures would be best used, and so it was that they orchestrated a long and aggressive campaign of civil war, Ork against Ork, using the grey-skinned hybrids to first thin and then finally exterminate their kin. It was this event that had triggered the dissention of the Demiurg. The Tau had long known of the long-standing hatred the Demiurg had of the Orks, for it was this hatred that had first persuaded the hub-dwelling race to join the Tau empire. The same hatred that would see the Grungi and his kind all but exterminated. Realising that the Demiurg would never accept the Orks as allies the Tau turned on their former comrades and wiped the race from the face of the galaxy. To them, the Demiurg homeworlds were worth more to them than the race itself. The environmental conditions associated with the vast underground strongholds proved to be ideal breeding of Orks. Within a matter of years the Demiurg homeworlds were transformed into the largest collective of breeding worlds in the galaxy. For Grungi, the ultimate insult. Codian felt he now understood the depths of Grungis suicidal madness. In truth, he too could feel the same gnawing hatred beginning to darken the edges of his soul. It is time. He uttered to himself, his fingers tightening around the weapons resting before him. To show the enemies of the Emperor how to fear once again.

Chapter Five: The Greyskins

The Hellrunner shook as she touched down on the vast grilled landing expanse, descent engines roaring. High above the small ship the clustered defence guns tracked and fired, setting the smog-filled skies

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ablaze as they pummelled the following deluge of alien ships. Gah! Just be thankful they knew we were coming! Andrasi hollered as he tumbled down the opening ramp, wreathed in the escaping steam. Something huge and dark stomped through the mist behind him and out onto the metal surface, almost crushing him underfoot. Codian landed on the deck with a resounding clang and turned his eyes towards the burning skies, watching as the darkening blanket of craft continued to descend towards them. The Orks would be well met. A burning ship screamed past the edges of the elevated platform and out of sight, fragments of hull spinning away as it fell. Another followed closely behind, thrusters flaring as it slowed. It touched down clumsily on huge, angular feet only to disappear seconds later amid a blinding plume of light and noise, the automated guns of the vast forge-hive as vigilant as they were unforgiving. Head towards the cargo hangar! You have to get out of the open! Andrasi yelled, gesturing towards the vast doors across the space. The rest of the Marines spread out as they left the ship, followed closely by the grinning Tauslayer. And you? Codian asked the man, his crozius thrumming as it crackled to life in his fist. I have a ship to protect, Chaplain. Shes the only thing thatll get us off this rock once things get too hot. The two men stared at one another for a moment, the deafening noise of the conflict shaking the air surrounding them. Dont worry. We wont be far away. Good luck. The Rogue Trader turned away and disappeared as the ramp retracted and the hatch curled shut, the ship already ascending on wings of gouting flame. He will keep his word, human. He knows I will kill him otherwise. Grungi growled, a huge smile spreading across his face. With that he turned to face the huge gaping maw of the vast gothic archway carved into the side of the towering hive. Codian eyed the massive cogged half-skull set into the top of the arch with a mixture of relief and unease. I suggest we make haste that way if we are to meet with our Mechanicus allies. Ankarzoth wont keep the door open forever. The small group of allies set off towards the hive entrance amid the multitude screams of the war-klaxons, sprinting no further than thirty feet or so before the first Ork ship set down. Codian was angry. He was incensed, aflame with burning wrath. He wanted nothing more than to turn on his heel and wade into the xenos scum and yet he knew he could not. Every step forward was a link in the chain, a step closer to the Imperium he had lost. It didnt matter that the foul Orks were falling from the skies all around him. All that mattered now was that they survive to reach Terra and Calgar. The lord of the Ultramarines had to know that he and his brothers had not abandoned the Chapter. A small part of him found this notion ridiculous. Calgar would never think that, and yet he knew somewhere in the past centuries he and the others would have been recorded as lost in action.

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We are not lost. He growled to himself, each mighty footfall shaking the thick grille underfoot. We have returned. He reached the huge opening ahead of the others and passed beneath the vast archway, his progress tracked by the targeting beams of dozens of semi-sentient weapon turrets. The endless expanse beyond was dark and oppressive, the sensors of his helmet detecting the contaminants saturating the thick, oily atmosphere within. +Halt.+ The single spoken word rumbled through the immense chasm like a peal of thunder, shaking the walls around him. He found his pace faltering, The others reached him as something began to shift in the warm darkness beyond. Small red pinpricks of light began to blink and sway in the shadows, accompanied by the almost rhythmic hiss-whine of a multitude of servomotors. The darkness itself boiled, shifting as it came alive. Huge shapes lurched forth, each one twice again as tall and vast as the Space Marines. Warrior constructs, dozens upon dozens of them, began to fill the chamber all around them, artificial optics pulsing as they assessed the new arrivals. Power claws snapped ominously and loaders rattled as weapon mounts were armed. Grungi stepped forward and thrust his hand up and out over his shoulder, presenting his companions. Ankarzoth, you old bolt head! Hows this for Imperial salvage? With that the Demiurg nodded to Codian and the others as one of the constructs stomped forward, various scanning beams stabbing forth to pass over the Marines. Codian eyed the metal beast warily as it towered over him, its multitudinous shining eyes assessing him. +Explain.+ Another shape pushed forward from between the collected constructs, much shorter and swathed in black robes, each huge combat servitor moving aside as it passed. I pulled them in from the Protea Wash. They had been adrift for centuries. Grungi explained. They seek passage to Terra. The figure moved to join them, its augmetic eyes glowing in the dim light. It stood there for a moment, silent and rigid, and then spoke. +Fascinating. I am Arch-Magos Ankarzoth, and I welcome to Ryza, Astartes. I only wish we could have been more accommodating, though as you have seen, we are currently in the midst of invasion.+ With that the Mechanicus priest moved past the others and made to stand before Laenar, the squirming of the mechadendrites around him intensifying. +Forge-brother. It has been a long time since I last stood before one of your kind. It is an honour to meet one who has witnessed the glory of sacred Mars. Cherish the memories of your time on the Sacred Orb, for she is lost to us now. You will find that the adepts of the Mechanicus now wear black in mourning for her loss. I have a gift for you.+ Laenar simply frowned and then nodded as Ankarzoth gestured towards a small group of priests waiting in the distance, before leaving the enigmatic priest and his brethren without a word. +Chaplain, Ryza will fall.+ Ankarzoth announced grimly. +We may hold out against these invaders for

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weeks or even months, but she will fall in time. We are done but the Imperium may yet have a chance.+ Codian glanced behind him as the turrets surrounding the arch began to open up, a telltale sign that the enemy forces were moving ever closer. What can we do, Magos? +We have developed a weapon that may help us in our fight against the Great Unity. The Tau know of it and rightly fear its potential power. That is why they have sent the Orks against us, they are an expendable breed. They wish to goad us into using the Caesus against the Orks, to expend it needlessly against the Greyskin hordes of Sulairn, to waste it. We cannot allow that. Many, many sacrifices have been made to reach this juncture. And nowthis.+ The entire level seemed to shudder as something huge exploded out of sight, almost as if to highlight the Tech-priests gesture. The all-encompassing alarms intensified, shaking the charged air with their collective screams. The huge Praetorian battle servitors surrounding the Magos shifted as one, weapons systems powering up. +They have landed.+ Ankarzoth uttered. Codian watched as Grungi spun on his heel, his metal fist falling to the floor with a rattling clang. Ooooooorks! He screamed, his ruddy features shaking with uncontrollable rage. There followed a brief thrum of energy and a flash of swirling light and he was gone. The others turned to the Chaplain in silent anticipation and he realised that they were waiting for his word, the word to follow. +It is your choice, Chaplain.+ Ankarzoth said, pulling the thick hood from over his head to reveal a bloodless face, the few scraps of atrophied skin still visible a dead, pallid grey. +You can follow the Demiurg if you so wish. You were engineered to answer the call of war. Your Techmarine comrade is being briefed as we speak and I already know that he has accepted the responsibility of this vital task. He will carry the Caesus to Terra and deliver it to the Warmaster. If you wish to accompany him I understand. If you wish to stay and die a glorious death then I respect that. Either way, it has been an honour to meet with a true ancient, Chaplain. You have my word that the fall of Ryza will become legend.+ He stepped back as the largest of the constructs stomped forward and loomed over the robed figure. There followed a brief whine as the Magoss entire head detached and then rose amid a hiss of steam, a multitude of small grasping arms emerging from the servitor to retrieve the appendage. It lifted the head and slotted it securely between its vast armoured shoulders before locking it in place. Ankarzoths face stared down upon him as the mighty machine began to unfurl power claws and gun mounts, its hulking frame alive with the activity of transformation. +Survive this and bring the Unity to its knees. Show them what the Imperium is truly capable of.+ With that the man/machine amalgamation lurched forward and out towards the enemy hordes, his army of servitors in tow. Codian watched him leave, Berolinus and Umbras by his side. What now? Umbras asked. Berolinus simply stood in silence, his fingers tight around the hilt of his chainsword, his armoured body leaning towards the sounds of conflict.

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Now we take the fight to the enemy. As one, the three warriors charged.

Chapter Six: In His Name

The entire platform shook beneath his feet as he charged out into the night, his brothers at his side. The skies above and around their elevated position were aflame, burning with the light of hundreds upon hundreds of Ork vessels. It was clear what Ankarzoth had asked of him. This fight was not about victory or honour. It was not a conflict of defence; it was a fight for time. Each moment that passed as they held the attackers at bay was a moment closer to seeing Laenar prepared. It was also clear that Ankarzoth was prepared to entrust only the Techmarine with this Caesus, whatever that was. In truth, he cared little what the weapon was or how it worked. All he knew was that he and his brothers had to get it to Calgar on Terra, and this was enough. He would not fail. Bright and burning tracer fire zipped across the expanse as the two forces engaged, the smog-filled air charged and alive. Codian ducked and shifted to the right as bright blue energy pulses stitched past him, blackening the thick floor beside his feet. He glanced up ahead to see the vast tide of irregular Praetorian battle servitors pouring into the rapidly filling space at the edges of the expanse, weapon-mounts shuddering, servo-limbs flailing. Many of the crude landing craft found themselves upturned and hauled over the side to spin away into the night as the charging mass slammed into them. Others were assailed by the towering creations; hatches and doors were swiftly sealed by plasma torches leaving the creatures within trapped and helpless. Others still were simply torn apart amid a flurry of roaring limbs. He veered sharply to the left as another lumbering xenos craft came down hard on the platform beside him. Sparks showered his armour as the ship skidded awkwardly past, its thick hull punished by the tracking defence guns. Forward brothers, on to glory! He hollered, leaping over the scattered wreckage left behind and into the fray, heading toward the listing disembarkation hatch. He lifted his bolt pistol and unleashed a storm of fire into the retracting iris before him, watching as the hulking shadows within fell back amid roars of pained anger. Several of the Mechanicus constructs lurched past, some alive with aggressive intent, others burning and breaking apart, flesh and augmetics melting as one. He ducked beneath the legs of one of the automatons and fired the pistol again, each explosion illuminating the writhing figures inside for a fleeting second. Into them! He roared, driving forward. Into the scum! His crimson cape swirled around him as he ascended the ramp, his crozius flashing from left to right. A wall

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of hulking grey flesh met him, roaring and swaying in the cramped confines of the hold. Thick blades flashed towards him and he parried them with one mighty thrust, sending molten metal spraying across the walls. That was when he saw the Orks for the first time; or rather saw what had become of them. They were huge grey-skinned monstrosities, similar and yet far-removed from the Orks he had known and hated. Black eyes regarded him with hatred, jagged ridges of jutting tooth-cartilage bared maliciously his way. Those creatures not sporting crude helmets displayed smooth heads devoid of ears, a single ebony scalplock swinging by their cheek. Segmented Tau armour plate rattled and grated as they advanced, dented and crud-encrusted and yet instantly recognisable for what it was. The Orks as he had known them were base, detestable monsters. These creatures were abominations. For da Greata Good! One of the beasts roared with a voice that shook the close bulkheads of the hold. He turned in time to watch as something vast bludgeoned its way through the others of its kind, a mass of scarred grey flesh and oily armour plates sweeping everything else aside. Two black orbs glistened as they found him standing in wait, the weapon in his hand pulsing ominously. A challenge. The bull Ork thundered across the space to meet with the Marine, its armoured shoulders throwing off sparks as they caught the walls either side of it. The mighty axe in its hand thrummed and pulsed, blue energies flashing across its pitted surface. Codian strode forward and met the beast head-on, the two shimmering weapons meeting with a resounding ring and a flash of sparks. The debased creature kept repeating the same phrase over and over again, almost as if it had been brainwashed, all the while trying its best to hack or bludgeon the Chaplain to death. He did not care. He didnt give a damn if the Tau had corrupted every single Ork left in the galaxy. He would still send each and every one of them to hell himself if need be and he would start with this piece of hulking filth. The Ork threw itself forward and cried out as it found itself thrown up and over the Marine, its own bulk working against it. Codian spun on his heel and hammered the leering winged skull down into the creatures face, parting xenos bone and flesh as if it were paper. For the Emperor and Guilliman! He roared, tearing the weapon free of its flesh cage. More Orks were pouring from the confines of the craft, shouting and hollering. Most if not all of them carried a firearm, though not a single shot was fired. It was clear these creatures were caught up in a state of collective, insane frenzy. He thrust his bolt pistol out before him and emptied his clip into the charging monsters, watching with satisfaction as they fell, one after another, heads and torsos shattered by the powerful rounds. The others did the same, bolt rounds thundering mercilessly into the grey mass, punching huge, ragged holes through flesh and muscle. He turned on his heel and plucked a brace of frag grenades from his belt, casting them into the groaning mess beyond. Get back! He hollered, pushing the other warriors out of the craft. With that he thundered back down the ramp and out onto the expanse as the explosions thundered within, just in time to see the vast stretch of rockcrete and metal begin to flood with thousands upon thousands of roaring, charging Orks.

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A wall of lumbering servitors, Skitarii and Guardsmen were pouring from the many access points and bays across the wall of the hive to meet with them, a scene mirrored a thousand or more times over across the length of the vast hive city. He saw this and knew at once, there and then, that Ryza was lost. Options, Chaplain? He turned to see the two Marines standing behind him, their eyes fixed upon the sprawling combat. Both were breathing heavily, suffering for their multi-centurial inactivity. We cant win this, can we? Umbras asked, his white armour slick with alien blood. Then we die here! Berolinus roared, reloading his bolter. We die a glorious death, an Ultramarine death. Light, bright and searing flashed before his eyes. He turned on his heel, assessing his surroundings. It was almost two seconds before he realised that he recognised the phenomenon. He had been hit. So be it. He uttered, feeling a short pang of pain in his side, seconds before the glanded pain-suppressants kicked in. He knew then with certainty that they would die here, the realisation washing over him with a damning finality. They were as nothing in the face of such numbers. Three Marines, no matter how powerful, hadnt the slightest chance of winning this battle. He turned and watched as something huge and imposing thundered out onto the plateau, its huge grey girth filling his vision. It was an Ork, larger than any other he had ever seen. So large in fact that at first, he thought the creature to be a Dreadnought of some kind. BeGelO! BeGelO! BeGelO! The horde began to chant, the sound so powerful and thunderous that each word shook the floor underfoot. The creature looked like some kind of amalgamation of Tau Battlesuit and Ork Guillimans oath! What is that thing? He heard Umbras utter. That The Demiurg growled from behind them, is OMogdrak.

Chapter Seven: OMogdrak

The massive creature advanced like a living maelstrom, a hail of pulse fire preceding him. Codian looked on in shocked silence as the armoured Ork strode through the combat as if invincible, scattering all before him. More and more Orks were landing all around them now, saturating the vista with their sheer, unopposed numbers. Huge Ork Dreadnoughts fell like rain from the skies and down towards the expanse on wings of fire, jet pack thrusters flaring behind him. Alien landing craft began to slow and hover, unable to find the space to alight. Ork warriors leapt from the waiting ships in their hundreds, too impatient to wait.

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Ryza is doomed. Wewe cannot win. Codian turned to the others as he said this, expecting some form of disagreement or protest. They simply stared back, the inexpressive features of their helmets unable to disguise their heavy, shameful silence. They knew he was right. OMogdrak. Grungi uttered again, this time much louder and angered. His face tightened and he sprang forward, his eyes wild and burning with hatred. +Chaplzzletreat---+ He flinched, the sudden activation of his vox receiver unexpected. Umbras and Berolinus had also received the sudden burst, this much apparent by their reactions. +Zxxzplain. Ankzzzkkzth---+ The warring mass seemed to shift as a sea of metal burst from the carnage to surround the Ork Warboss. Stomping combat servitors smashed their way through the milling Orks to meet with the beast, Ankarzoth at their head. +Lzzzkeave, Chaplain---Leave whzzkzle you stil can+ That was when the abomination spoke. I is BeGelO Sulairn Montka Mogdrak! He roared, spreading his arms wide. I is da profit of da Greata Good! I is gunna bring dis Oomie world to its knees in da name ov da Unity! Oos wiv me? A huge roar of confirmation rose up from the Ork mass, so loud that it caused the very air to shudder. Codian felt a sudden and unexplainable wave of nausea pass through him, an almost physical force. The Waaagh! He swayed slightly, feeling a hand rest upon his shoulder. He turned to see Umbras standing there, pointing to the skies above and behind him. The Hellrunner hovered above, casting her shadow over the Marines. He looked up to see a figure hanging from the open hatch, long blonde hair blowing in the breeze. +Chaplain, its Andrasi here! Your colleague is ready to leave! If you are coming then we must leave now, otherwise well never break orbit!+ He turned away and looked out at the swirling combat once again, watching as the huge creature began to tear the Magos apart. Ryza was lost. The words echoed through his mind again and again. Another Imperial world fallen to the foul xenos. Another nail in the Imperiums coffin. The Orks had barely landed and it was nothing short of obvious that the forge world was lost. +Hurry, chaplain!+ He heard the Rogue Trader call in his ear, the concern in his voice rising steadily. +Ryza doesnt stand a chance! She never did! The Techmarine has the Caesus! We have to retreat!+ Wewe cant. He uttered, the features hidden beneath the skull-helm tightening. We cant abandon the entire surviving populations of three worlds to their fate. Andrasis reply came back harsher now, his vox-altered voice firmer, more determined. +We can and we will. We cant save them, Chaplain. Stay if you must, we will be leaving this planet. You have to decide.+

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With that Codian turned towards the scene and watched as the Demiurg hurtled headlong towards his own certain death, exultant and unafraid. A Chaplains holy task was to lead by example, to inspire those around him. To instil a sense of hope and resolve when all else seemed lost. He knew what he had to do. The brutes black eyes glistened as he turned his vast head to see the small shape hurtling towards him. He smiled, exposing the cruel, jagged edges of his cartilage-tusks. Ahhhhh, Demiurg. My favrit flava ov enemy. The Orks around him began to advance eagerly, energy-sheathed choppa blades flashing in the gloom. Get back, ya filthy squig-bovverers! Ill smash anyone oo tries ta muscle in on my kill! He roared, accenting the command with a wide, sweeping lunge. The surrounding Orks quailed before the giants anger, their reaction a immediate and physical one. The huge Warboss threw a few malevolent glances about him before turning his attention back towards the advancing Tauslayer once again, the huge blades of his twin choppas flaring. Dis ones mine. Grungi was screaming, literally screaming with rage and unfettered anger. His augmetic eye burned empathically, so bright that it left a glowing red streak in his wake. The Demiurg had torn his flight suit off and was bare at the chest, his tattooed torso a bright, glowing red, almost as if the blood boiled in his veins. OMogdraaaak! Killer! Murderous animal, fit for nothing but extermination! I will take your head in vengeance! I will avenge the Strongholds you sacked! I will avenge the Leagues you wiped out! I will The rest of Grungis rant was drowned out as the two forces met, a maelstrom of blurred activity. The Ork lunged forward, both huge weapons slamming deep into the floor. Grungi leapt up into the air and into a rolling spin, the flashing weapon-fist swirling around and about him. The Demiurg was fast, far faster than any creature of his squat size and robust build ought to be. The huge Ork shifted like a mountain to engage the small spinning shape, roaring and thrashing as he attempted to connect. Da Greata Good! Noffing can stand in da way ov da Unity! I wiped da fleshballs from da face ov dis galaxy an I will do da same to you! Grungis spinning fist slammed into the monster again and again, smashing armour from its fastenings with each blow. This continued until the huge monstrosity finally parried one of the Demiurgs blows and followed with an unstoppable thrust with his other axe Grungi was gone. The Demiurg gasped as he felt a powerful hand close around his neck and haul him back, throwing him bodily away from the fight. Codian thundered into the Ork like a storm front, shouting and bellowing for all he was worth, his amplified voice shaking the ground underfoot. A single blow with the crozius sent the Ork reeling back, sparks coruscating from his chest armour.

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Wot da..? In the name of the Emperor Dominant, I challenge you, monster! In the name of the Golden Throne of the Eternal Warrior I defy you! He roared, spreading his arms out wide in challenge. Face me! Face me if you dare! The Ork stared back for a moment, mystified, his cold black eyes wide with shock. It was clear he had never been challenged this way before. Oo are you? Wot are you? Mogdrak spat, shifting his posture. Wot we got ere? You sposed ta be sum kinda Marine, skull-face? I am a Chaplain of the Ultramarines, alien scum. Remember that fact. Tell the filth that follow you. Tell the degenerate alien scum you serve. I am Codian, and I am the Harbinger of your apocalypse. I vow this by all that I am. Codian sprinted forward and emptied his bolt pistol into the Orks chest, the screaming shells exploding across the wide expanse. Even as the Warboss staggered back he leapt high into the air and smashed the crozius into the flailing behemoth, splitting the armour in two with a single blow. OMogdrak slammed into the ground, sparks showering from beneath him. Codian threw himself onto the creatures chest and smashed his flailing limbs aside, unstoppable and without quarter. He lowered his face towards that of his enemy, so close that the smooth features of the skull were almost touching the monsters grey, scarred skin. Tell them. The Chaplain growled. Tell them that I am coming for them. Warn them that their doom hunts for them. Tell your Ethereal masters that I am a messenger of the Immortal Emperor, that I am His Wrath, His anger given form. I will not be stopped. I will not falter. I will hunt them one by one and slay them like animals. I am coming for them. I will let you live for now, alien. Live with the shame of your defeat, you weak, feeble piece of filth. Remember. OMogdrak screamed his rage long into the burning night. He looked on helplessly as the armoured warrior and the struggling fleshball were lifted into the belly of the hovering ship, his anger at being denied retribution a searing, living force. He would remember. He would remember.

Chapter Eight: At the gates

+++SCILLUBUS BINARY, TERRAFORMED GARDEN WORLD+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ +++TWO WEEKS AFTER THE DESTRUCTION OF RYZA+++ The Grey morning skies of Scillubus Binary burned. The ancient stone labyrinth-city of Jehesta stretched for miles in every direction, the clouds of rubble-dust drifting like fog through the vast archways and towering, vine-encrusted villas.

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Guard scurried through the broken buildings like vermin, shuddering beneath each relentless bombardment. Vast columns of armour flooded the broken flagged highways, pushing forward en-masse, guns thundering and smoking. Scillubus had once been a jewel. Now she was a ruin. Marneus Augustus Calgar, Supreme Grand Master of the Alliance Imperialis Solar looked out at the ruination about him and felt his ancient soul ache. Like Prandium before her, Scillubus was lost to the scourge of the xenos. My lord? He turned to see Ancient Ventris kneeling behind him, arms folded around the gilded pole of the almost prehistoric standard. Standing by the genuflecting Marine was Lord Inquisitor Arthas, his campaign tactician. Side by side, the aging Ordo Xenos lord stood shoulder to shoulder with the kneeling warrior. Ventriss eyes were hooded and grey. His thin white hair and scarred, lined face showed his age now more than ever. There were some that claimed an Astarte never physically aged. Anyone who looked upon Ventris would contest that theory. When he spoke, his once sonorous voice wavered. Prometheus descends in its entirety upon this world. We cannot hold the Unity at bay. Calgar said nothing at first. The hissing servos of his sarcophagus whined as he rotated back around to face the raging battle before him once more, Dreadnought paws flexing. Status report. He growled, his augmented voice rumbling ominously. Of course. Master Solari has assumed command of the Astartes push as per your orders. He has spread Kill-Teams around the central plazas, an even mix of ranged and assault. Thunderhawk support is on standby, with a reserve force of thirty ten-man assault teams waiting within teleport range. Guard and PDF forces are holding along the north west of the city, though any advances into enemy-held territory have been swiftly turned aside. Commander Gorth of the 15th Throne Guard has taken charge of the Scill Interior and Arbites as a whole. They are holding for the moment but we cannot expect to gain headway at this stage. Marine and Guard armour have been steadily pushing up from behind to bolster them these past few hours. Who knows, their sacrifice may provide the populace with enough time to organise an evac. I sincerely doubt that. The Tau will not allow the citizens of this world to leave. If they cant convert them then they will destroy them, you know that. Yes, Lord. I have sent word out to the commanders. They will be with us shortly. The Warmasters tone had changed, his augmetic voice taking on a more hardened tone. Ultramar fell, and we retreated. I will retreat no further. Fully half of Tau fleet Prometheus is engaged with the defences of Saturn, the other half hunt for us. The Alliance Strategium reports that several factions of Leviathan are even as we speak leaving orbit of Cadia and our headed towards the conflict around Saturn. They also confirm that the scattered elements of Kraken are converging upon the edges of the Ultima Segmentum. Now that the region is conquered, they seek to join the war here. Three fleets, lord? So it is true then. The Unity intends to make the final push for Terra soon. Yes, this much has been predicted by the Tarot. We cannot allow the Emperor to fall. We cannot fail. He turned to face the centuries-old Marine, watching as the warrior rose to his feet slowly.

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They have us running scared, Ventris. The Alliance Imperialis Solar is the single most powerful force the Imperium has left, and yet they have us scattered and disparate, unable to unify against them. We are reduced to a militia. We are Ultramarines, my lord. No matter what we have lost, we do not despair. The Ancient uttered softly, lifting his eyes to the burning skies above. Dark shapes had begun to appear, darkening the clouds as they seemed to grow larger and larger. In our hearts only, Ventris. In our hearts we will always be Sons of Guilliman. The Chapters themselves no longer hold precedence. We are the Emperors Grand Honour Guard, and we will live up to that title. That we will, lord. Until death claims us. The two warriors turned in time to hear the scream of thrusters and the rise of voices as the commanders began to return. One by one, the leaders of the Imperial forces upon Scillubus Binary converged upon his position. Commander Murnach Gorth of the 15th Terran Throne Guard was the first to meet with him face to face. His personal Aquila Lander set down amongst the grey stone rubble, kicking up a storm of choking dust as it alighted. The commander jogged down the ramp and out to meet the two warriors, his thick black plate armour rattling, his golden cape billowing in the breeze. The ten strong carapace-armoured Storm Troop Guard slowed to a halt behind him, allowing him to approach the Warmaster alone. Lord Calgar. He uttered, sweeping his cloak aside with the back of his power fist as he fell to one knee, his shaven head bowed. Speak, commander. My lord, it is as we feared. It would seem the Unity has chosen Jehesta as the landing site for the invasion of this world. Scouts report a massed Drone landing north west of the city. At least three KorVesa Factory Ships have touched down and begun to unfold. Coordinates have been sent to the fleet but I assume its unlikely they will be in any position to provide orbital support. I felt it prudent to order the Scill field guns up to try and do some damage while the ships are still establishing themselves, supported by elements of the Throne Armour Division. I have had to commit the Earthshaker emplacements to this quadrant. I have placed elements of Throne Storm Troop on standby should the need arise for a swift armour withdrawal. A sound plan, commander. I want you to return to your forces and lead a push deeper into this city. I want you to meet the Drones head on should they break through past the artillery, which I am almost certain they will. My lord. By the Grace of the Emperor I will do my duty. The commander rose to his feet and bowed again, his eyes shifting as the whine of jump pack thrusters filled the air. By the time the soldier and his honour guard had marched up the ramp of the waiting craft, Grand Master Solari of the Raven Guard stood before the Warmaster, Dreadnought to Dreadnought. Well met, Warmaster. Solari growled, the huge jump pack built into the back of his sarcophagus smouldering as it cooled. The huge claws fixed to his fists whispered as he shifted his bulk, the ground beneath creaking and cracking. Solari. The Guard report a massive Drone element north west of here. I have witnessed the descent of the Tau ships with my own eyes. What do we face?

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It is worse than we could have imagined. The Raven Guard Ancient uttered, raising one huge fist towards the north. Vespid Hives have touched down in the Gardens of Calris region. The Hunter Cadres themselves have made planetfall en masse via Orca. Fire Warriors, Crisis Suits and Broadsides, supported by Hammerhead and Megalodon armour. Over half of our armour is tied in with the Guard push, Warmaster. The Deathwatch will hold the plaza district for as long as it takes for the Tau to annihilate them, if that is your wish. Lets hope it doesnt come to that. Keep your eyes and your ears open, Solari. Today may be the day we push for a counter-assault. Calgar and Ventris watched as the warrior took to the skies once again, billowing contrails following in his wake, marking his progress out into the depths of the crumbling city. He is afraid, my lord. I know, Ancient. I sense his fear. He is afraid that we are losing more warriors than we can afford. Each and every conflict sees our numbers diminish further. I agree, Warmaster. The grey-haired Thorian uttered, stepping forward. Lord Solaris fears are well-founded. The combined research of the Inquisition is moving forward in leaps and bounds, but still, these things take time. The Tau themselves seem to have advanced in the field of genetics above and beyond all our expectations. Its not only the Fire Warriors that are Tempered, now. Preliminary scans of the Vespid here on Scillubus indicate they too have seen a marked genetic improvement. This situation isdire. The aging man stepped forward to look out over the city, his hands clasped tightly behind his back. The Tau have us on the back-foot, and they know it. It is my estimation that they will advance the Drones and the Vespid ahead of the Warrior squads. This will force us to reveal our intentions, thus allowing the armour to pinpoint the position of our forces. The armour will follow the advance in, supported by the Tau infantry. By the time we have finished with the cannon fodder, the Tau will move in for the kill. What would you suggest we do, Arthas? We cannot face them head-on and win. I suggest a tactical redeployment. Send the Guard against the Vespid. Their neutron weaponry is specifically designed to degrade the Astartes gene-seed, we know that now. Send the armour to counter the Vespid, thin their numbers before the arrival of the Tau elements. Hold those Kill-Teams already in the field back and send in the reserve forces against the Factory Ships. If they are able to teleport in they could cause The Inquisitor paused and tipped his head slightly, the rune set into his lapel shimmering. Calgar looked on as the man received a coded message, his face creasing as he listened. God-emperor He whispered, releasing his grip on the small rune slowly. He turned to face the Warmaster, his hands visibly shaking. Arthas? That was the Alliance Strategium. They have just received an Astropathic communiqu. Ryza has finally fallen, lord. He uttered. Behind the Warmaster, Ventris let out a quiet gasp. Damn. Now we have little left to do but pray. Calgar growled. And prey we must. The Inquisitor continued, barely able to speak. For Ankarzoth and his priests were successful. The Caesus is ready, and it is headed our way.

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Chapter Nine: Telepathica

Damn! I knew it! I just bloody knew it! Andrasi cursed again as the Hellrunner rocked, warning sirens screaming in protest. Somewhere beyond the bridge, beyond the veil of true reality itself, something screamed. What is happening, Captain? Andrasi turned to see Codian standing at the door of the bridge, the fingers of his armoured hand dug deep into the thick frame. They tracked us! The b------s tracked us! The stations gone! We have to get out of here! The sleek ship shuddered around them as it gained speed. Codian looked on as the bridge crew continued to work frantically, fear visibly etched upon each face. The ships Astropath was crawling, crawling on his hands and knees towards a small chamber, crimson blood dotting the floor in his wake. He reached the small door and slammed it shut behind him, the low thrum of psychic shielding resonating as it activated. The Chaplain strode across the bridge to meet with the anxious Rogue Trader, his huge frame casting shadows over the milling men and women. The station is gone? How can this be? The Nicassar. Andrasi answered, sweeping his long hair up over his head. The damned Nicassar have our scent. They must have followed us from Ryza. We have to try and lose them. Rollins! Where the hell is Rollins? Codian turned and felt a shiver run down his spine as a short, balding man ran through the door and onto the bridge, discarding a half-full cup of steaming caff as he made his way to the centre of the chamber. Though the man was far from threatening appearance-wise, he found himself somehow disturbed by his presence. Screamers, boss? He asked, with a voice that made Codian want to reach out and tear his throat out for no discernable reason. Screamers, Murt, and theyre on our tail. Stay close. The man nodded and lowered himself onto the deck, folding his legs beneath him. It took Codian several moments to realise that the terrible, grating noise had abated. What now, Andrasi? Can we outrun them? The captain turned his attention away from the frantic efforts of the crew and shook his head slowly. If you mean can we jump, then no. the Navigators chamber goes into automatic lockdown the moment the Nicassar arrive, otherwise hed be dead within moments. We have to be well clear of them before we can try. Our best chance of losing them would be to head towards the nearest planet and somehow lose

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ourselves amongst the population. That was when the entire ship suddenly ground to a halt. Damn. Andrasi whispered. They have us. The rest of the bridge crew fell deathly silent. Codians hands slid over the weapons hanging from his belt. What has happened? Theyve cut the engines with their minds, Chaplain. They have us dead. So what can we do? Andrasi glanced around him at the nervous faces lining the bridge. Okay, weve done this before and we can do it again. Remember the Pheada Belt? A low murmur of recognition ran through the gathered bodies. Andrasi nodded slowly. Right. Weapons drawn and ready. They are cocky sons of bitches so well probably only see one at first. Someone get that sulking Demiurg up here. Chaplain, we may need your brothers to help one this one, the sooner the better. Rollins, activate your limiter. Codian dipped his head and sub-vocalised a call to the others, sliding his crozius free of its strap as he did so. At the centre of them all, the short man reached up to his throat and clasped his hands around the pendant hanging there. Within seconds the sickly feeling returned to the pit of everyones stomach. The air began to shimmer, particles of frost forming before them. All the lights of the bridge flickered and dulled as one, and a keening whine began to vibrate every surface. Steady. Andrasi whispered, his breath streaming from his mouth like smoke. The bulkheads around them began to creak and whine, almost as if they were being pushed outwards. Instrumentation started to fail or otherwise go haywire, dials and readouts making no sense. Andrasi glanced at the Marine. Be ready for this, Chaplain. It isnt pretty. Codian frowned, feeling hot blood begin to congeal on his top lip. By his side, the glass screen of a small readout dial frosted and then cracked. Someone sighed and then shivered, like a sleeper disturbed by a nightmare. It came. Codian gasped and stepped back, physically pushed by the sheer change in pressure. The air at the centre of the bridge shimmered and then ignited, flaring like a supernova, the light brilliant and white and yet so utterly cold. Something spoke, the single word thunderous and unintelligible, reverberating again and again as if caught in some perpetual loop. Rollins! Now! Now! Andrasis voice seemed far away, almost as if carried on the breeze. The dark shapes surrounding the living

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white light began to shift and disperse, mere afterimages set against the indescribable luminescence. And then And then And then it faded. The light extinguished itself with a loud, booming rumble, so suddenly that the shift was barely possible for the naked eye to observe. The startled creature stood at the centre of the gathered crew, its smooth, pallid features wide with shock. Rollins stood by it; his round chin lifted in defiance, his serious expression almost comical to those unaware of his hidden potency. He was a blank, and no psyker alive was a match for his influence, not even a Nissacar. Before anyone present had time to react, the small man lifted his arm and unloaded a full clip of ammo into the aliens head, the autogun clutched in his fist bucking until it fell silent. The creature screamed once and then unravelled, coming apart as if its body consisted of no more than black, oily smoke. Codian shook his head and stepped forward as the lights of the bridge increased to full capacity around him once more, all traces of the being gone. Somewhere to his left, Andrasi breathed a sigh of relief. Hmm. They die easily enough. Tell me, what happened to the creatures body? I dont know. I dont think anyone does. The captain uttered, taking a cautious step forward. The Nissacar are a complete enigma. We know less than nothing about them. They are potently psychic, more so than any other race in this galaxy. Beyond that, who can say? Were not even sure what they look like. Codian opened his mouth to rebuke that statement and then faltered. Less than a minute had passed since he had laid eyes on the creature and he realised that he couldnt even remember the aliens face. He found this fact to be quite unnerving. So, what happened? How did we manage to kill it so easily? We have Rollins. Andrasi answered, patting the man gratefully on the shoulder. Now, I hope the others arent going to be too long in getting their backsides up here. Hes going to be missed. Within moments the others started to appear, confusion etched across their faces. Grungi thundered out onto the bridge, his face red with vengeful anger. Nicassar? Where is it? Ill tear its treacherous bloody head off! Its gone, Thurgus. Rollins killed it. Grungi glared at the squat man, his augmetic eye glowing beneath the lank red dreadlocks hanging across his face. Hnnn. Save the next one for me, blank-boy. Im itching to bag me another Screamer. Codians eyes widened and he threw himself around, a look of utter hatred distorting his features. It isnt over? Grungi gave a curt, sarcastic laugh. Nicassar. They are overwhelmed by their own arrogance. As soon as they realise that their friend isnt coming back, theyll come looking for him. Thats when the fun will begin. Then well do the same to them. Codian answered, racking his bolt pistol. We will show them that the

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enemies of the Emperor There was a flash of light and a loud rumbling bang of changing pressure as the second Screamer flared into being right at the centre of the gathered figures. Codians arm snapped rigid and he fired off a brace of screaming bolt rounds, his homed reactions taking charge. Something at the centre of the light uttered a long and shrill shriek and the rounds spread before it like quicksilver, the molten fluid spiralling away until totally absorbed. The blinding luminescence shifted like a cloud, scattering everyone before it. He watched as a terror-stricken crewman ignited from the inside, his eyes and mouth streaming a brilliant blue light before he disappeared in a flash of shuddering energy, skin blackening and crumbling to soot. An unfortunate bridge servitor unravelled itself like a rope before the phenomenon, spinning faster and faster until it collapsed in on itself, metal and flesh turning to protoplasm. R-Ro-o-o-lll-lii-iin-nnn-nssss The living psychic storm surged towards Codian, scattering all other in its way. Chairs were torn from their moorings and charts were sent into a dizzying aerial pirouette as the entity burned its way across the bridge, pulsing and flaring brighter and brighter as it closed. Codian gasped and fell back, all the air flooding from his lungs as if he was caught in a vacuum. A single word shattered the very air all around them, so indescribably loud and violent that no mortal being should ever have been logically able to hear it and survive. AVATAAAAARRRRR He shuddered, feeling his body begin to seize up, to shut down in the presence of the creature. The shapeless Nissacar loomed over him, icy tendrils clawing at his soul, the word reverberating around his head again and again. It was a single moment in time, a single fleeting heartbeat of a moment, and yet he felt it and understood it as clear as anything he had ever experienced. It was inside him, deep inside his mind, its unseen eyes staring deep into the darkest secrets of his being. It recognised him. God-Emperor, it recognised him The alien reared back, its mass shifting like a shoal of glowing, shimmering fish through the air, and it screamed. It screamed so loud that the very walls around them seemed to buckle and distort, and it continued to do so until the blinding light that surrounded it suddenly snuffed out, the terrible ethereal noise ending as abruptly as it had begun. The flesh and blood creature stood before him, suddenly albeit naked without its vast psychic presence. Codian was barely aware of the small man called Rollins, no more than a silhouette behind the tall, indistinct alien form. He let out a scream of his own and lunged forward, the violation of his being igniting in an explosion of pure, incensed rage. He swung the bolt pistol and connected with a blow so powerful it took the Nissacars head from its shoulders. Within moments the creatures had dissolved, its hold on the material universe broken. The lights returned to their normal hue once more as the Chaplain dropped to his knees, each breath coming in great, ragged gasps. The noises of the crew began to filter through once more as the bridge began to return to normal, voices merging into an uneasy drone. Andrasi appeared by his side and placed a hand upon his shoulder, his own voice tinged with uneasy relief. Are you okay, Chaplain? Damn good effort.

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Codian shook his head; sweat pouring from his face in rivulets. Gah! Whuh-whatwhat was that? I told you, that was a Nicassar, a Screamer. Emperor only knows what they are, or rather, what theyve become. Now perhaps you can begin to understand why we fear them so bloody much. N-no. Codian interrupted, pushing himself upright. I mean the word. It s-spoke. I heard it. Avatar. What did it mean? Andrasi frowned and shook his head. Youve got me there. Whatever it meant it seemed rather taken by you. I thought you were a goner. Codian pushed the Rogue Trader aside and staggered over to the bridge controls, his advance observed cautiously by the flustered crew. We arent moving. Why arent we underway? Andrasi smiled weakly and rubbed his neck, clearly unsure of what to say next. Ah yes, we do seem to have a problem in that area. Whenever weve encountered the Nissacar before we have managed to escape by killing the first one to board us. The resultant psychic shock usually causes them to let go, so to speak, giving us time to make an exit. It looks like theyve finally got wise to us. So what do we do now? Andrasi sighed, glancing around at the scared faces of his crew. I asked you a question captain. How do we break free now? Well, we dont. Weve kind of reached the end of the road here. Look. He nodded and the large monitor before them fired to life, activating with a resonating thrum. Codian watched as something huge and bullet-shaped filled the screen, growing larger by the second. It looks like we made some powerful enemies back on Ryza, Chaplain. The Screamers hunt, and they follow. The Tau are here.

Chapter Ten: A first glimpse

Oh crud. Its a Larshi-Class. Andrasi uttered. Grungi snorted in disdain. Only one? Im offended. The entire ship shook around them, a low thrum resonating through the bulkheads. Well, thats it. Andrasi groaned. Theyve deployed gravitic hooks. Were snared. Damn! Damn damn

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damn! So, what now? Codian asked, glancing as the lights about his head began to flicker and dim once more. Grungi appeared and shuffled over to his side, removing his padded flight jacket as he did so to reveal the tight bare skin of his barrel chest beneath. First theyll send the boarding drones. They cant shift like the Nissacar, so they have to cut their way through. Once the drones have done their job, thats when the Shaskayon will come. I suspect you will find them very worthy adversaries. I will try to save some of them for you. Codian frowned and turned his attention to the doorway of the bridge for a moment, searching for any sign of his brothers. Somewhere to his side, he heard Andrasis chilling warning as he activated the ships vox system. Why do you do that? Grungi frowned, peering up at the towering warrior. Do what? You strip to your waist before a fight, Demiurg. Why do you do that? The short alien smiled. I let them see my scars. I show them that I am not afraid of death, that I have faced it many times and still stand before them. I offer my flesh to their guns and their blades. That way, they may mark their own passing upon my skin. I will not hide behind armour. Codian frowned as he heard this. He retrieved the skull-faced helm hanging from his belt and slid it over his head, locking it in place with a slight twist. I hide behind nothing, alien. My armour will show them what I am. I am Death personified, the Emperors wrath given form. I want them to see that as I relieve them of their debased lives. That was when the first screeching shudder ran through the ship. The aft airlock! Andrasi hissed, leaning towards the flashing display before him. He turned towards the Space Marine, a look of foreboding spreading across his face. You had better hope your Techpriest brother is on his way up here, Chaplain. The damn drones are coming in right next to him. +++ At the end of the darkened corridor, the airlock shook. The thick metal rumbled as it began to glow, the edges shimmering as they changed in hue from grey, to crimson and then orange. Bright blue sparks began to spill from the affected areas and patter across the deck like water and a keening wail grew steadily louder, its scream playing herald to the arrival of the attackers. Within moments, the rough circular hunk of metal at the centre of the ring of glowing fire burst inwards and the Tau automatons flooded through in silence, multiple searchlights piercing the gloom. Large, heavy creations, built for smashing their way through reinforced steel, the tri-legged drones thundered out into the corridor, the glowing blue teeth of their twin pulse-cutters buzzing menacingly. Servos whined and footfalls thumped as they lurched forward, their smooth, domed sensor arrays turning from side to side as they hunted for any opposition.

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They found Laenar waiting. Laenar! This is Codian! Answer me! He hurtled around the corner, the deck quaking beneath his heavy boots. Sounds of conflict began to filter through to him, echoing along the seemingly endless corridors beyond. There was conflict up ahead. He turned another corner and ground to a halt, skidding over the smooth deck. A storm of alien metal swirled about the space, the Tau-forged technology illuminated by flashes and sparks as it came apart. Laenar stood at the centre of the maelstrom, a vast shadow of black carapace, the huge arms of his newly acquired servo-harness flailing about him. The plasma cutter crackled as it bisected one of the automatons, the two servo arms tearing another apart as if it were paper. The Caesus. He growled dispassionately, his voice more alien and inhuman than it had ever been. We cannot allow its capture. Codian thundered into the fray like a force of nature, his sacred weapon flashing as it cleaved the air in two. More of the machines fell, unable to defend themselves in such a small space. For the Imperium! For Macragge and for Terra! He hollered, the words spilling from his mouth unbidden. He pushed past the Techmarine and sprinted onwards; decapitating another drone with a fierce, upwards swing. His other hand found his bolt pistol and he thrust it forward, firing as he ran. The machines ahead began to stall and turn as he approached, only to shudder and break apart under the relentless assault. Codian, come in! Chaplain! Berolinuss voice barked over the vox, the sounds of the fight that accompanied it giving away the Marines proximity. Codian ignored it. Up ahead he could see the breach. Beyond that, the enemy ship.

Chapter Eleven: The face of the enemy

The escape boat shook again, the thick bulkheads thrumming as they shuddered beneath the explosion. He threw himself back into the seat, the curves of his power pack sliding into the recess behind him. The restraint harness slid over his shoulders and fastened with a thick clunk by his hips, securing him in place. Captain Artemon thundered through the door and into the small ship, his features alight with rage. Damned Eldar! Treacherous alien scum! They will pay for this, every last one of them Laenar was busy at the controls, the smooth flesh of his head illuminated by the many flashing runes before him. We must secure ourselves as quickly as possible! The Wraths core is about to go critical! The deep red of the Techmarines armour disappeared for a moment as the space before him was thrown into shadow. He looked up to see the cold skull-helm of Codian towering above him. The Chaplain lowered

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his hand and placed it on his shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was deep and calm. This is not retreat, Marine. An Ultramarines first duty is to the Imperium. To die here and now would be to end that duty prematurely. We will live on to fight another day. With that he moved on to the next warrior, repeating the very same words over again. The Champion Maximus nodded, his mighty sword clutched to his chest with both hands. As Codian moved away he turned to face him, the gold artifice of his magnificent armour sparkling in the light. Duty is all, brother. Death is only a worthy sacrifice if it counts for something. To die needlessly is nought but waste. Survive long enough, and perhaps one day you will be the one to wear this armour... Marine! He shook himself and glanced up to see the towering form of Laenar staring back, the eyes of his helm glowing red against the sheer blackness of his armour. He has gone, warrior. Codian has taken the fight to the Tau. Lurom Berolinus was by far the youngest Marine among them, fresh out of the Scout companies. The intended boarding action against the Eldar was to have been his first mission as a fully-fledged battle brother. The others had thought him headstrong and perhaps a little over-eager, much to his annoyance. Surely they could understand that this came from a simple desire to prove himself, to honour his Chapter and his brothers? He thought back to the desperate escape from the dying cruiser, the Guillimans Wrath. Taking his place in the escape seat, the faces of the venerated warriors around him. Captain Artemon, the mighty Epistolary Kreusus, Chaplain Codian Maximus, the company Champion had taken his seat beside him. How he had longed to wear that armour, to honour that position. And now The others ground to a halt behind him, their eyes falling upon the ruination about them. Umbras, the Demiurg and a small number of the ships crew, encased in thick carapace armour. Gone? The Apothecary uttered, glancing around him. Hes boarded the Tau ship. Berolinus answered, turning to peer beyond the Techmarine. He would risk his life to guard this damned Mechanicus artefact. Grungi smiled. He has a warriors heart, and a warriors greed for glory. I will not allow him to steal my thunder again. Nor will I. The Marine whispered, feeling his fingers tighten around the grip of his bolter. +++ Codian thundered across the alien bridge, his soul aflame. He crossed the expanse in seven mighty strides, throwing himself through the gap and into the Tau ship without a second thought. Straight into the path of the oncoming Tau. He ground to a halt, his eyes finding the shifting mass before him. The alien creatures mirrored his actions, their boots grinding on the smooth surface as they slowed as one, alien features widening in surprise.

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Blessed sanctity He breathed. They were nothing like the Tau he had known. They had the same smooth, grey skin, the same obsidian eyes. They sported the same armour, only vastly larger and more bulky. That was were all similarities ended. These were huge creatures, almost simian in their build. Each one more than matched the Chaplain in size and bulk, their shoulders and arms seeming almost comically oversized. Each of the creatures carried a long, crackling staff, the tip glowing with coruscating blue energy. The twin gun-drones slaved to each of the six monstrosities turned as they detected the warriors presence, pulse rifles humming as they powered up. Guela Marine. Something huge pushed its way through the gathered aliens, larger still than the rest of them. The creature stomped towards him, each footfall shaking the smooth ground. One arm was dominated by the unmistakeable elongated barrel and bulk of a railgun, one of the most potent of all the Taus ballistic weapons. In its other hand was a huge curved blade, decorated and crackling with arcane energy. The alien turned its head at look at him; the thick augmetic welded over its left eye flaring briefly. It raised the gun in his direction and fired. Codian leapt to the side as the screaming shell punched its way through the air, a glowing corkscrew contrail shimmering in its wake. The projectile drove itself into the thick bulkhead by his head, punching a wide hole through the alien steel as if it were made of paper. He fell to one knee and fired out at the warrior in retaliation. The two thick drones hovering above it shifted forward and the shells shattered one by one amid a flash of blue light, almost as if they had struck some invisible wall. The creature was shielded. ShasKayon! Destroy it! The towering ShasO roared. Codian reared up and started forward as the alien levelled its massive gun once more and fired another shell. The powerful shot slammed into his chest with such force that it lifted him clear off his feet and threw him back through the airlock and onto the bridge. He landed hard on his back, his weapons skittering away across the smooth surface. As one, the hulking Tau advanced. Something large and fast thundered past the downed Chaplain and through the open iris, a blur of blue armour. Alien murderers! Berolinus roared, his bolter shuddering as he fired from the hip. Two of the warriors fell, their armour shattering like glass as the bolt rounds exploded inside them. The rest charged, their slaved gun drones unleashing a storm of pulse fire so thick that it was impossible to avoid. Berolinus lowered his head and strode on, his massive frame shuddering as the alien fire shattered against it. Still the bolter in his hands continued to fire until it was torn from his grasp amid a flash of sparks. You will not stop me, filth! I am an Ultramarine! He roared, tearing a frag grenade from his belt. He primed

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the device and charged, finding the first of the attackers within seconds. He jammed the grenade into the groove of the aliens neck armour and pushed it away, feeling the intense backwash of heat behind him as it detonated. He fell to one knee and snatched the warriors fallen weapon from the floor. He rose again sharply, twirling the staff around his head, fragments of armour falling like rain about him as the drones above came apart. Pulse fire continued to slam into him, tearing great chunks from his armour. Sharp pangs of pain coursed through him and he sagged, feeling one of his hearts burst in his chest. They were killing him. He roared in anger and charged forward, taking the head of another of the attackers with a powerful lunge. The gathered gun drones began to shudder and sway, disconnected from their masters. Indiscriminate pulse fire filled the corridor as they wheeled and spun, hard-wired synaptic overrides struggling to assert themselves. The massive ShasO lurched forward and smashed the crackling staff from his hand, shattering it with a single blow. Berolinus staggered back, stunned by the ferocity of the attack. The alien thrust its hoof forward and smashed it into his head, knocking him to the ground. His vision began to dim. He could feel the blood gushing from his damaged organ, congealing within his chest. His left hand was all but useless, the armour that encased it blackened and smouldering. The Tau raised the huge gun in its hand The Marine tore his combat knife from its case and rammed it into the aliens exposed neck, driving the blade right to the hilt. The Tau gargled and dropped its staff, its fingers clutching at its throat. Berolinus saw his opening and thrust his fist into the Taus stomach, buckling the thick armour there. He snatched the barrel of the railgun and spun, throwing the Tau into his back and ripping the weapon free of its grasp. Run. He growled, hefting the huge rifle up before him. Blood gushing from its neck, the Tau turned on its heel, a look of horror spreading across its grey face. It had taken no more than three striding steps before a piercing scream spilt the air and it fell to the ground, the shield drones above it convulsing and falling in a shower of sparks, their generators overloaded. The gun shrieked again and the ShasO came apart at the midriff in a wash of violet blood, its limbs scattering violently as its torso disintegrated. Kneeling, the Ultramarine lowered the huge gun, hissing blue smoke curling from its long barrel. The wrath of Ultramar has found you, xenos. He whispered, the eyes of his helm glowing scarlet in the half-gloom. He staggered to his feet, the sounds of hurried footsteps filling the bridge behind him. He dropped the gun to the floor and spread his arms wide, his head falling back, and he screamed. The wrath of Ultramar has found you all!

Chapter Twelve: Counterstrike

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Brother, let me tend to your wounds. Umbras uttered, holding out his hand to steady the punished Marine. Berolinus swept his hand away fiercely. Leave me, Apothecary! Our Chaplain is in greater need of your attention. I go to finish this. Grungi ground to a halt by his side, a wicked smile spreading across his face as he looked upon the huge alien weapon in the warriors hands. You heard him. The lad hungers for retribution! Let us seek it together. The Apothecary watched as the two figures turned and thundered out into the alien ship, defiant and unafraid. Part of him longed to join them, though his duty was to tend to the fallen. He continued to stare out into the ship for a moment longer before turning his attention back towards the smouldering body of the Chaplain. Fallen brother He whispered solemnly, staring at the distorted skull set into the centre of Codians chest armour. To fall before the enemy is no dishonour. To give your life in the service of the Imperium is to honour He Who Sits in Judgement. Rest well, and know that your seed will be preserved. The small chainblade attached to his arm began to buzz angrily and he lowered himself on to one knee, gazing at the huge blackened dent before him. Brother Umbras Umbras leapt to his feet so suddenly that he almost fell back, a long gasp of disbelief hissing from the grille of his rebreather. Blessed Guilliman The Chaplain sat bolt upright, faint smoke curling from his between the joints below his neck. He hauled himself to his feet and glanced around, soon spying his scattered weapons. Brother Codian, you live. Umbras uttered, unable to believe his own eyes. Codian said nothing. He glanced down to where the blackened rosarius hanging forlornly across his chest, its bejewelled centre shattered and smoking. The Emperor protects. Umbras nodded slowly and then bowed his head, one arm laid across his chest. The Chaplain slid his bolt pistol back into its holster and then wrapped his hand around the small cross, ripping the chain from his neck. This has saved my life many times. He declared, handing the relic to Umbras. Now it is all down to faith and resolve. The Emperor will be my shield now. The others. I take it they have advanced into the enemy ship? Yes Chaplain. They thirst for vengeance. So do I. He replied. And I will find it yet.

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Berolinus threw himself around the corner and smashed the barrel of the huge gun into the face of the Tau warrior heading their way, crushing his head into the smooth walls. The alien grunted and fell with a thud, the impact shaking the floor. The Marine frowned. He had put all his strength into the blow and such an attack would normally have near decapitated an opponent. These Tau were much stronger and robust than anything he had encountered before. He hefted the gun up and out before him, firing off a single round into the advancing squad. The charging aliens froze as one, the screeching projectile punching its way through the packed flesh as if it were cutting through fresh air. Torsos disintegrated and bodies fell apart as what was left of the creatures crashed to the floor amid a fine spray of dark blood. Grungi barrelled past him and tore into the survivors, a blur of flailing, spinning death. The glowing weapon-fist twirled about him and the staggering warriors came apart violently, unable to defend themselves from such an aggressive attack. Never give the enemy any quarter. The grinning Demiurg snarled, his scarred face glistening with the dark fluids of his enemies. Always finish what you start. It takes a lot to keep a Fire warrior down for good. Berolinus checked the reservoir of the weapon and then nodded at the scattered and bloody mess. What happened to them? Those abominations are far removed from the Tau warriors of my time. Grungi grinned again, his augmetic shining malevolently. The Tau didnt conquer this galaxy with ignorance, human. They recognise strength wherever it may lie. If it is effective, then they absorb it. If it cannot be absorbed, they emulate it. I will leave you to piece the rest together. With that the squat warrior turned and pointed down the corridor, his other smouldering fist retracting back into his arm. You hear those sirens? The whole damn ship will soon be coming to greet us. It is all very well taking on the vessels entire compliment of Shas Kayon but if we are to make this little jaunt count then we need to maximise the advantage of surprise. We should head this way, and we should get there as soon as we are able. Why? What do you have planned? Grungi flicked his head back, throwing the lank crimson dreadlocks up over his face. You will see. You had better pray to your Emperor that these grey-skinned Ork trucklers have been busy. +++ Codians rage burned fiercer than ever now. Each lunging stride shook the floor beneath, almost as if the ship itself quaked at his passing. He threw himself around the corner, the barrel of his bolt pistol hunting the space beyond. More scattered bodies, their blood painting the walls. Berolinus and the Demiurg had certainly come this way. The sounds of gunfire drifted through the charnel heavy air from somewhere up ahead. Good, he thought to himself. They were still alive, still causing havoc amongst the xenos scum.

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Halt! Lay down your weapons and surrender! He froze. He turned slowly to see a number of armed warriors converging at the mouth of the access way to his side. I mean it, Marine! Do as I say or well cut you down where you stand! He looked on at the gathering, feeling the bile rise in his throat. They were human. The leader of the squad turned to the others and muttered something before turning his attention back towards the Marine. The others raised their pulse rifles his way, the tiny red pinpricks of their targeters swimming across his black armour. Imperial filth. You are all the same, too stubborn and stupid to realise the absolute authority of the Great Unity. Dead or alive, you will serve our masters. Fi The Guevesaui lurched back, his chest disintegrating beneath the detonation of the bolter shell. The rest of the soldiers scattered almost immediately, firing as they went. Pulse fire tore into Codians armour from all angles, tearing ceramite away in strips. He felt his body being jolted violently under each blast, the ancient armour groaning as it was compressed and seared. He swung the pistol out took another three of the traitors clean off their feet in the space of a second, and by the time they had hit the ground he was into them, roaring in anger as he took them apart. The single surviving soldier turned his rifle around and smashed it into the giants helmet, only to look on helplessly as the weapon shattered and spun away, his opponent never even flinching. The man sighed and he cast the remainder of the gun aside, his shoulders sagging. He looked up into the blazing eyes of his would-be killer. Go on then, do it. Kill me. Codian holstered his pistol, reached out and plucked the man from the floor, the fingers of his gauntlet tightening around his neck. Worthless, traitorous scum. Death is too good a fate for you. Death is My escape, Marine. The man spat, his hard, lined features creasing in pain. My release. My absolution. I deserve to die by your hand so kill me and be done. I will not resist. Codian released his grip and the soldier fell to the floor, a tangle of limbs. He looked on as the defeated man removed the alien helmet and cast it aside, a look of disgust etched upon his weathered face. His cropped hair was flecked with grey and thinning, indicating his advancing years. You are Guard. Codian snarled, towering over the dejected figure. Kasrkin, Cadian 415th. The worst kind of traitor, Marine, so serve me the Emperors justice and be done with it. The Chaplain did not answer. He lowered himself slowly onto his haunches so that the snarling skull of his helm was almost touching the traitors glistening skin. Not a chance, filth. You seek atonement for your defection by offering your life to me. You believe that the Emperor will see this as repentance and grant you forgiveness. I will not give you this satisfaction.

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With that he rose once more, the wailing alarms still screeching about him. No! The former Cadian shouted, leaping to his feet. He snatched one of his fallen comrades rifles up from the floor and thrust it towards the Chaplain, his face a mask of rage. Kill me! Kill me or I swear that I will shoot you! I will not die a traitor! Codian shook his head and drew his bolt pistol once more, turning to follow the trial of death and destruction. Then shoot, turncoat. Compound your sins. He uttered, his back to the man. The Cadian spat and lowered the gun, his anger draining away. You dont understand, Marine. You werent on Cadia when the Tau came. They would have killed them all if we hadnt complied. They would have murdered the populace, even the children. We had towe had to This way. Where does it lead? The soldier looked up to see the Marine pointing out down the corridor with his hand weapon. II dont Where does it lead? He repeated again, firmer this time. Death is not always the most fitting way to gain repentance. I know of the Kasrkin, Cadian. I know of their fierce honour. You have sullied the memory of that honour. Why not join me and find your honourable death while you still can? The soldiers face slowly changed, his expression hardening. He retrieved his open-faced helmet and slid it back onto his head, gathering as many pulse power cells as he was able to carry. The holding pens, Marine. That is where your captive brethren lie in wait. Codian froze as he heard this, taken aback by the Cadians words. My captive brethren? What do you mean? The soldier pushed past him and paused, a look of bemusement etched upon his face. Marines, warrior. Dozens of them. You are here to rescue them, yes? Why else would you board a Larshi? With that the soldier flicked his head in the direction he intended them to take and moved out, leaving Codian frozen to the spot. Marines. Dozens of them.

Chapter Thirteen: Deathwatch

The Cadian lowered himself slowly and peered around the corner, his pulse rifle shouldered. Moments later he slipped out into the corridor and began to feign a stagger, the sound of footsteps growing louder. Marine intruders! Marine intruders have infiltrated sectors five through seven! He shouted, thrusting a

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finger out past the opening and towards the chambers beyond. The large Guevesa squad thundered past him, a mass of stomping boots and swinging guns. He waited for a moment more and then followed them to the nearby doorway, where he slowed and then stopped, allowing the automated hatch to close. Once it had he raised his gun and fired point blank at an area close to the hatches recess, buckling the smooth metal sufficiently enough to prevent it opening again. It is safe, Marine. He uttered, turning and passing the huge shadow. Codian emerged from his concealment and followed; his brisk stride more than enough to keep up with the jogging man. Within minutes the two figures had reached a large doorway. The soldier slowed, creeping up to the opening with his gun at the ready, stepping over the scattered Tau bodies strewn about the corridor. We are here. The holding pens. From here on in we must exercise caution. It sounds as if there is a fight ahead. Codian was about to answer him when something huge thundered through the doorway, scattering the startled soldier. The fleeing Tau warrior had sprinted no more than two paces when he came apart, his entire torso vaporising. The Chaplain raised his arms and the creatures remains bounced off his armour, leaving a bloody residue where they had connected. What the hell was that? The Cadian cried, springing to his feet. The advance party. Codian answered, turning on his heel as the space behind them came alive. The first salvo smashed against his punished armour, knocking him to the floor. By the time he realised what was happening the entire corridor had come alive, the overhead lights sliding over the mass of smooth armour filling his vision. The heavy gun drones filled the air with their pulsing drone as they veered into sight, the twin barrels of their pulse cannons spinning a web of glowing death out at the two figures. The Cadian cursed loudly and threw himself through the entrance, pulse fire tearing up the walls around him. He emerged seconds later, his own alien rifle flashing as it returned the malicious attack. Codian hauled himself to his feet as drones began to crash into the walls and fall to the floor, picked off by the expert aim of his newfound colleague. He added his own firepower to the exchange, dropping another three of the automatons in quick succession. Move it Marine! There are too many of them to face and more will follow! He found himself responding without hesitation, ignoring the many wounds strewn about his body as he turned and threw himself through the opening, enemy fire exploding all around him. He threw himself into a forward roll and came up onto his feet, blue death zipping all around him. Then he saw it. The chamber was in total chaos. More Tau bodies lay scattered all around, bloodied and broken. These creatures were somehow different, smaller and stockier, with none of the armour of a Tau warrior. They were the workers and technicians of the Earth caste, and it was clear that they had not expected their fate. Fire warriors and drones lay in heaps around the many entrances lining the chamber, cut down where they had tried in vain to enter.

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There are more of them than ever, Marine! I cannot hold them back! The Cadian called behind him. Then fall back and follow me! He turned and began to run deeper into the chamber, the Cadian hot on his heels. There was a low booming clap and a flash of light seconds later, followed by the sounds of crackling electrical discharge. Haywire grenade. He heard the soldier utter, his voice fraught with effort. The two warriors sprinted further into the vast chamber, chased by the sounds of the advancing enemy. Codian could almost feel the ship shifting around him, the many and varied forces of the enemy steadily mobilising as they began to realise what was happening. A handful of warriors could only fight an entire ship for so long. The Cadian slowed beside another hatch, turning to wave him through. In here, quickly. Codian ducked through the opening and the hatch closed behind him. The soldier tapped in quick code and the door hummed, sealed tightly in place. Okay Marine, we do not have long. He warned, turning to the small console station in front of him. He worked quickly, his efforts producing a glowing holographic representation of the surrounding sectors. Patrols are closing on our position. He announced, working the console once again. Im going to try and redirect them but I cant guarantee success. Your comrades are located within the main holding cell block and most of the response units are converging there. Ill see if I can delay the reinforcements long enough for your friends to open the cells. I do not understand. Who do these cells hold? The Cadian glanced his way and frowned, as if Codian had just asked him the most foolish question he had ever heard. I told you before. Your brothers. This is a hunter ship, Marine. He tapped another few keys and the display changed again, this time expanding, small human-shaped representations spreading and multiplying in the air before him in neat lines, fringed with strange alien symbols. Thirty two in total. Living, that is. I do not know how many have already been processed before them. Codian gasped, his eyes fixed upon the shimmering picture. I dont understand. The soldier shook his head and retrieved the rifle from beside him, his scarred features twisted with confusion. This ship is a Marine hunter, surely you know that already? I assumed that you and your colleagues had boarded it intending to rescue those captured. No. The ship found us. We had no choice but to counter attack.

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Upon hearing this the soldier tipped his head to one side. The ship was hunting for you? Let me get this straight, are you the Marines who escaped OMogdrak on Ryza? If you mean the grey Ork, then yes. The next time we meet I will finish him. The Cadian gasped quietly and then smiled, falling to one knee before the astonished Chaplain. It is you. It is an honour to meet the warrior who bested OMogdrak. We didnt even know if the rumours were true and now, Emperors light, I fight alongside you. It has to be destiny, warrior. I believe the Emperor Himself guided me to you. Codian turned away from the man and found the display once more. You say that there are captive Marines on board this vessel, and that my colleagues fight to free them. Yes, lord. Then we will join that fight. If the drones have passed us by then they are heading towards the others and we cant allow that. +++ Berolinus fell to one knee, his shoulder guard spinning away amid a flash of neon blue. He fired again and another Tau warrior came apart with a thunderous wet clap. Marine! Above the doorway! Grungi barked. He glanced up and saw the walkway above, suspended by a number of thick cables. He lifted the railgun and fired, severing one of them. The entire walkway groaned and then swung down, smashing into the opening and scattering the warriors trying to push through. Grungi nodded his head in gruff acknowledgement and then nodded towards a large iris set into the centre of the chambers largest wall, the hulking Shas warriors that had stood guard around it sprawled lifelessly across the floor. Berolinus shouldered the huge gun and jogged over to where the Demiurg stood in wait, glancing at the dead creatures as he closed. Shas Kayon Marine Hunters. Grungi growled, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. OKirlas best. Lumbering oafs at best, every one of them. The Marine found himself intrigued by the dead alien warriors. Huge creatures, they seemed as far removed again from the rest of the Tau he had faced here onboard the ship. They were clad in thick, blood-red armour and sported a golden cape draped around one shoulder, giving them an almost regal appearance. Each of them carried a long ceremonial staff ending in a thick blue crystal blade, and it was clear that this weapon was used for both ranged and close quarter fighting. He stooped low and picked one of the fallen weapons up, swinging the strap around his shoulder. Grungi smiled. You seem to be amassing quite a collection of trophies, Marine. This OKirla. Who is he? Berolinus asked, ignoring the Demiurgs comments.

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ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon. He is the Unitys greatest Marine hunter, a hero among his people. This is his ship, Marine. Hmm. Then perhaps you had better show me why he feels the need to keep whatever lies beyond that door guarded. Grungi turned and stepped aside, holding out a hand towards the thick iris. He nodded at the railgun leaning against the Marines shoulder. There was a thunderous boom and the door disintegrated, sending blackened metal clattering out into the room. The two figures stepped through the opening, wreathed in smoke. Blessed Ultramar Berolinus gasped, stepping into the dimly-lit chamber. Grungi smiled again. +++ Codian thundered into the terrified Guevesa squad like a vengeful wraith, a living, roiling mass of murderous shadow. The soldiers scattered, dropping their rifles as they fled the roaring warrior. One or two of the older men stood their ground, falling to one knee, their rifles shouldered. Hissing pulse fire picked them off, one by one, each single shot killing its target cleanly and without quarter. The Cadian sprinted out from behind cover and disappeared once again, more pulse fire zipping from his new position seconds later. Within moments it was done, and Codian sealed the door by jamming the head of his crozius into the control panel, causing the small metal box to smoulder and run like quicksilver. We are almost there. The entrance isCreeds lament! Look at that! Codian turned and glanced out to where the soldier was pointing, his voice heavy with disbelief. A shattered metal iris was set into the wall at the other end of the chamber, the circular hole blackened and smouldering. Dead Tau were scattered about it like fallen leaves, slaughtered without hesitation. He looked on in disbelief as armoured bodies began to stride through the opening, one after another, faltering slightly as they laid eyes on the two figures. After what seemed an age the line dwindled and then stopped, Berolinus and Grungi the last two bodies to emerge. Brother-Chaplain! Berolinus called, breaking into a jog. He reached the astonished Chaplain and slowed, dropping the alien rifle to the ground as he did so. He removed his helmet and bowed his head, congealed blood streaked across his face. Marines, brother. We have found Marines here. He gasped, his breathing laboured. Codian placed a hand on the warriors shoulder and then stepped past him, deactivating and sheathing his crozius as he did so. He stopped before the assembled warriors, the crimson eyes of his helm shining as he glanced at each one of them in turn. Warriors of the Emperor. I am Chaplain Daelo Codian of the Ultramarines, and I salute you.

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Chapter Fourteen: Fallen Son

+++ THE SHRINE WORLD OF GEHENNA+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ +++THREE DAYS AFTER THE FALL OF SCILLUBUS BINARY +++ Ventris opened his eyes and turned as the light beyond the small chamber spilled through the open doorway. You disturb my meditation. What is it? The Marine bowed his head and entered unbidden, falling to one knee before the ancient Ultramarine. Forgive me, Ancient. I have been sent to bring you to the Warmaster. He needs your counsel immediately. Very well. Ventris rose slowly, bowing his head one last time before the golden statue of the Emperor before him. The robed Sororitas attendant beside him passed the folded banner to him and bowed her head before turning to extinguish the scented candles laid about the effigy, making her own silent blessing before the sacred image as she did so. He stepped out of the small chapel and into the harsh sunlight, closing his eyes for a moment as he felt the warm sun hit his lined face. The sounds of distant explosions filtered through his ears and he opened his eyes once more. The chapel overlooked a huge, sprawling valley, the endless fields stretching out beyond as far as the eye could see. On the furthest reaches of the horizon the skies were black with smoke, the very mountains themselves seeming to shimmer and distort. Damn them. He uttered, his azure eyes fixed upon the distant conflict. They snap at out heels wherever we go. Scillubus is lost, and now they are here, almost at the gates of Terra herself. We will not falter, my lord. The Marine beside him uttered, banging his bolt gun against his chest. They can beat us back to Terra but she will not fall. Ventris sighed and turned away from the distant scene, feeling the weight of the long centuries settle heavy on his shoulders. We are losing, warrior. It pains my heart to speak so, but it is the cold, hard truth. If we lose Gehenna then we will be forced back beyond Pluto to where the rest of the Promethius fleet fights to conquer Saturn. We will be confined to a single system. We are running out of options, Marine. If we join the fight for Saturn then we will leave Terra wide open. If we fall back to Terra, Saturn will be consumed. Either way, we will bring the elements of Promethius back together. Our greatest hope lies in the retrieval of the Caesus and the brave warriors that fight to deliver it to us. The Marine beside him did not answer. Ventris turned as he realised that something was wrong. You seem troubled. Tell me, why does the Warmaster request my audience so desperately? Finally, the warrior spoke. The war, Ancient. It seems that the war advances faster than we had anticipated.

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Explain. Kraken, my lord. It nows seems that elements of the fleet left the Ultima Segmentum sooner than was first thought. That is why we are struggling to slow the Tau advance here. The Alliance Strategium now believes that almost half of Kraken has merged with Promethius in their fight to take the Segmentum Solar. Damn. Ventris whispered, baring his teeth. Little wonder then that we are struggling to keep them at bay. Our entire forces are distributed unevenly. It is all beginning to make sense now. The Alliance Strategium had calculated that we should have had the strength to destroy the elements of Prometheus that were hunting us and fall back in time to crush the other half against Saturns defences, denying Leviathans attempts to join the fight. This should have been straightforward, and yet the Unity played us for fools. Damn it, they outsmarted us! Is the Warmaster aware of all this? Yes, Ancient. Good. Take me to him, warrior. We must plan our next move if we are to keep the Unity from the Emperors seat. Itit is not as simple as that. Ventris frowned as he heard this, his eyes narrowing. The advance elements of Kraken brought something with them. Something we had all hoped to be no more than a rumour, a lie spread by the Tau. The Ancient emitted a soft, choking gasp, his massive form visibly swaying, almost as if pushed by some physical force. No. Blessed Macragge, no. Tell me that you are mistaken. The Marine removed his helmet and folded it under one arm. Hot tears ran down his face, a face creased with pain and agony. He was visibly shaking. My lord, II swear to you that I speak the truth. It has been confirmed. Damn the Tau, it has been confirmed. They have done it. They have done what we could not. Ventris sagged and fell to his knees, slamming the pole of the banner deep into the earth. The ancient standard unfurled and caught the breeze, unfolding to reveal the sacred image of the Ultramarines. The b------s have brought the Primarch to Gehenna, my lord. Guilliman fights for the Tau. Ventris did not answer. He released his hold on the banner, threw his head back, and roared. Noooooooooooo!

Chapter Fifteen: Brothers in Arms

Never! The other Shasla cowered before the mighty commander, fearful of his wrath. ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre

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Kayon bunched his fists and anger and then punched the wall, buckling the thick metal. He turned and stared accusingly at the gathered faces, his single eye a bottomless pool of obsidian. Ragnar Blackmane, the only Marine ever to escape his clutches had put out his other eye long ago, leaving a milky white orb set into a face-long scar. He still wore the ancient warriors severed hand around his neck as both a trophy and a reminder. How dare they? How dare they board my vessel and make war with me? I will take the head of this Marine myself! OKirla was a huge beast, larger than any other Tau. His thick crimson armour lent him even more girth and size. The twin barrels of his shoulder-mounted pulse cannons protruded high above his head when they were at rest, ready to slide over his shoulder guards when activated. His full-length golden cloak was swept back over his arms, revealing fists the size of a mans head. His scalp-lock hung by the side of his scarred face, longer than any of those around him, a clear indicator of his rank. Mobilise every available unit we have! Shas Kayon, Guevesa and drones! He commanded, sliding his own huge pulse-staff from over his shoulder. We will annihilate them all! +++ Codian found himself facing a wall of silent inexpressive faces. Some were battered and bloody, others caked in grime. All seemed quite unmoved to have been saved from incarceration. The Marines were all members of the Deathwatch, this much was apparent by the black-painted ceramite they wore, accompanied by the ornate silver shoulder guard and gauntlet that were part of the factions identity. They were all thankfully armed, their weapons no doubt retrieved from whatever passed for a munitions impound on this alien vessel. Who is in charge here? He ordered, striding along the assembled throng. I suppose I am. The gathering parted and the figure pushed his way through to stand before the Chaplain, the multiple blades of his lightning claws glinting under the chambers lights as he advanced. Codian saw almost at once that this warrior was a member of the Librarium a heartbeat before he became aware of the individuals potent psychic presence. I am Ligur, brother Marine, and it would seem that I hold the highest rank amongst these men. We aregrateful for your aid. Codian glanced at the warrior-psykers opposing shoulder guard and frowned, his eyes finding the unfamiliar markings there. In place of the usual Chapter insignia was a depiction of the Imperial eagle, the symbol of the Tau torn in two and held in its claws. He was about to query this when he noticed that the Warrior seemed to be staring at his own Chapter markings, a look of dubious confusion spreading across his face. Some of the others around him had begun to notice this too and were starting to shift uneasily, passing quiet comments amongst themselves. Is there a problem? You wear the colours of the Ultramarines, Chaplain. When we first laid eyes on your battle brother we assumed that he had merely liberated his armour from some mouldering battlefield corpse, an act borne of desperation that is all too common amongst the Astartes now. Now I can see that this is not the case. Why

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do you still bear the markings of an Ultramarine? Because that is what I am, and I am proud to do so, Librarian. Just because Macragge is lost to us doesnt mean that I would readily abandon all that I am. I am surprised that you would even quest Grungi sighed and pushed his way between the two Marines, shaking his head. By the mighty League of Thor, we dont have time for all this! The entire damned ship will be dropping in on us soon! He turned to the Librarian and held up his hands, shaking his lank mane from his eyes as he did so. Listen, we dont have time for lengthy introductions, so here it is. This is Codian. He has just spent the last six hundred years in stasis and so he missed the whole fall of the galaxy thing. Hes an original. Grak, hes a genuine Ancestor Lord in the flesh! He doesnt know about the Alliance Solar or the Grand Honour Guard. He has barely had his eyes open for a week and he has already brought OKirla down on our heads! Ligur waved one huge paw at the short alien and stepped forward, a look of surprise replacing his frown. You are the warrior that bested OMogdrak on Ryza? Blessed Macragge! I thought you nothing more than a rumour. Codian glanced at the soldier beside him and then back at the Librarian. It would certainly seem that my reputation precedes me. Good. I am the one who spared the xenos creatures life, if only to send the message back to the Tau. We have a mission to fulfil, Ligur. We took possession of an artefact on Ryza The Caesus! You have the Caesus! The warrior gasped, his eyes glowing brightly for a fleeting second. Then it is true. By all that is sacred, it is true. Yes, we have this relic onboard our vessel. It is imperative that we deliver it to Calgar. That is all we know. Ligur did not answer. He turned on his heel and began barking orders at the gathered warriors, sending a ripple of activity through the assembled throng. Form up, brothers! Five-man teams, standard arms displacement! One heavy bolter per team and at least one combat specialist! The warriors began to shift and disperse, quickly reforming into small groups. Ligur saw this and turned back to face the Chaplain. I assume the ship you were travelling on is currently held fast by the Larshis gravitic hooks? The ship was seized, yes. Ligur nodded and turned back to face the assembled Marines once again, his lightning claws igniting. Brothers, our original mission still stands. We have been given a chance and we will not waste it. As before, we need one squad to head for the reactor chambers, another to disable the ships gravity generators. Our mission here is now more important than ever, for we have a chance to deliver the salvation of the Imperium into the hands of the Emperor. Who will give their lives for our cause? Without hesitation or thought, two of the Marines stepped forward, their heads bowed. Ligur nodded.

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Die well, my brothers. Make them pay for every drop of your blood that they spill. With that the two warriors and their teams headed off into the bowels of the ship, their selfless task underway. It is the way of the Deathwatch, Chaplain. Ligur uttered, sensing Codians thoughts. Death is inevitable amongst our kind. The best any of us can hope for is to die with honour. Now we must leave this ship. OKirla will be hunting for us even as we speak. We will accompany you back to your vessel and ensure that the Caesus escapes the clutches of the Tau. Codian bowed his head sharply and made to turn. That was when OKirla found them. Mariiiiiiiiiiiiiiines! A thunderous voice roared, causing the gathered warriors to freeze. Something huge and fast hurtled into the far end of the chamber, a vision of burning anger. The beast has found us. He heard Ligur growl, and seconds later two of the warriors fell, searing pulse fire punching holes through their armour. Codian caught a glancing hit to the shoulder and went down, the integrity and artifice of his ancient ceramite armour saving him from serious injury. More Tau warriors began to filter through into the chamber, their pulse staffs alive and thrumming. A hail of glowing death slammed into the Marines, felling more of the armoured giants. Codian felt thick hands wrap around his arm and haul him to his feet roughly. Ligurs gnarled face appeared before him, his ethereal eyes glowing with an ominous fire. Fall back to your ship, Codian. Fulfil your task. We will hold the enemy as long as we can. The Librarian pushed him aside and spun around to face the threat, his fists bunched and his claws thrumming as they powered up. He roared something unintelligible and the light around his head seemed to shimmer and distort. A huge shimmering blue fireball of screaming light burst from his armoured form and roared across the open space, spreading and growing until it hit the advancing aliens, bowling them bodily off their feet as it passed by. A number of the warriors screamed and shuddered, armour peeling from their bodies as their skin turned black, a ghostly light spilling from their open mouths and eyes. OKirla crossed his huge arms before him and weathered the psychic blow, the phenomenon nonetheless causing him to slide back several feet. Hah! Pathetic, Ligur, as always! I will take your head this time, Marine filth! The aging Librarian snarled and sprang forward, bolter fire zipping through the air past him. The huge Tau commander lowered his arms and wheeled to face him, his twin pulse cannons spinning out a hail of glowing fire at his hurtling form. Ligur danced around the stitching fire, displaying a speed and agility that greatly belied his towering form. He landed on his haunches and sprang forward, twisting in the air, his claws flashing. The first blow separated one of the pulse cannons barrels cleanly amid a shower of sparks, sending it twisting away. The second was parried by the aliens staff, likewise the third and the fourth. Ligur landed and the hulking alien smashed the weapons haft into the back of his psychic hood, sending him rolling on his shoulder to land upright on one knee, his arms out by his side.

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So slow, Ligur. So inadequate. OKirla mocked, his grey features contorting into the equivalent of a Tau smile. You are a shadow of the warrior you used to be. Perhaps it is fitting that I end your life here and now, while you still have the respect of your subordinates. The Librarian frowned, rising slowly to his full height. Arrogant xenos scum. I took an oath that I would be the one to destroy you. That oath still stands. Sooner or later you will fall before me. The last thing you ever see will be my face, OKirla. It is as I have seen. The commander emitted a sharp, rasping clacking sound, mocking the defiant warrior. He gestured around him at the rising conflict, Marine against Shas Kayon. I grow tired of such claims, Marine. You have vowed to kill me again and again and yet I still live. I know of your powers all too well. Tell me, Ligur, is this the day I die? The psyker sneered again and closed his eyes, a shimmering mist playing about his head. His entire body seemed to quiver and distort for less than a second and then he vanished and reappeared once more, almost as if reality itself had blinked. He smiled. The veil of time has spoken, xenos. Was all he had to say. Then we shall see. Came OKirlas reply. Ligur pounced, his lightning claws pulsing. OKirla countered, sweeping the crackling staff before him with a blow that should have taken the Marines head from his shoulders. The Librarian raised one claw and batted the blow aside, a look of calm softening his craggy face. The Tau swung again, only to have his attack turned aside by the silent warrior, sparks coruscating from the two weapons. I have seen! He announced, smashing aside another fearsome blow. I have seen how this conflict ends! I have seen all I need to see, xenos! I know how this ends! Ligur stepped back and thrust his arm out, turning at the hip. A hulking shape loomed over his shoulder, its progress halted in the blink of an eye. The Tau warrior ground to a halt, its midriff impaled upon the Librarians blades. He dropped his staff to the floor and folded, his intended attack thwarted. Ligur withdrew his hand and the dead warrior fell to the floor in a heap, broken and done. You see. He uttered, a smile spreading across his scarred face. The Emperor reveals the truth to those he favours. This fight is already over and done.

Chapter Sixteen: A Desperate Flight

Codian looked on as the two warriors entered into combat once more, trading blows powerful enough to shatter the stars. The Librarian seemed different now, his every move blocking the Taus murderous efforts the split-second they were made. Around the mighty conflict the two sides fought, a furious exchange of fire filling the air.

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Brother Codian He felt a hand on his shoulder and turned, finding Berolinus standing there, his armour torn open in a dozen places. We must fall back while there is still time. Codian nodded and turned to leave, only to hesitate almost immediately. This isnt right. He uttered, bunching his fists. We cannot leave these warriors to their fate. Somewhere in the distance a thunderous explosion rocked the ship, causing the lights to flicker and dim. Feel that, Tau? Ligur uttered, his cold eyes flaring briefly. That was your vessels heart being torn out. OKirla did not answer. The look upon his face did that perfectly for him. The Deathwatch were slowly starting to gain the upper hand in the conflict, now that they had moved close enough to the enemy to bring the fight face to face. Ligurs eyes flickered briefly, shifting so as to glance behind the ShasO for a moment. The huge commander suddenly brought his staff around and rammed it through the chest of a charging Marine, the head of the weapon flashing with azure light as it impaled the unfortunate warrior. He flung the flailing Marine away and turned to face Ligur once more. It seems that your farsight has failed you, guela. Another of your kind has fallen to my staff The last word trailed away into silence, as he suddenly came to realise that the Librarian was no longer there. Broken and bleeding Shas Kayon littered the floor of the chamber all around him, but of the Deathwatch there was no sign. His sacrifice was not in vain, xenos! There will be a reckoning between us yet! OKirla lifted his head and snarled, watching as the defiant psyker turned and slipped through the hatch at the far end of the chamber, the rest of his brethren sprinting past him. Ligur! I will destroy you yet! He roared, casting his arm before him to signal the emerging reinforcements to follow the escapees. As the charging Shas Kayon flooded the chamber around him he turned, soon finding the body of the fallen Marine in a broken heap where he had cast it aside. He grunted and stooped low, hauling the cooling corpse from the ground. He raised his other hand and a small vibrating spike slid from his wrist armour, glinting as it caught the light. He rammed it deep into the dead Marines throat and drew his head back, emitting a long, sibilant hiss. Done, he let go of the corpse and rose, his face muscles twitching. Your geneseed will be the sweetest of all. He whispered, joining the hunt. +++ Codian thundered through the featureless tunnels, his keen sense of direction almost subconsciously manipulating his every move. Berolinus sprinted alongside him, leaning heavily on his left leg. Behind him the rest of the surviving Deathwatch followed, hunting the shadows as they moved. At the rear of the group Grungi and the Cadian struggled to keep up, their faces red with effort.

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You are injured. The Chaplain observed, keeping his eyes on the way ahead. How serious are your wounds? I should live. I have lost my secondary heart, and I think my leg is broken. You have fought well, brother. Umbras will tend to your wounds once we reach the Hellrunner. Pick up the pace! He heard Ligur bark. They are gaining on us! Codian hurtled around the corner and skidded to a halt, a forest of gun barrels rising to greet him. Chaplain! Great Anthacs moon, thank the Emperor! Andrasi pushed his way free of the mass of armed men and hurried to greet him, picking his way over the heaped corpses and scattered drone parts littering the mouth of the boarding tunnel. He slowed as he laid eyes on the gathering Marines behind him, his look of astonishment fading quickly to be replaced by a frown of concern. You are lucky. The Tau ship unexpectedly released us minutes ago, and we would have left then if it wasnt for the fact that we are still held fast. Still? But if the gravitic hooks have been disabled The Free captain reached over and patted the yawning circle harshly, shaking his head. The boarding tunnel. This damn umbilical holds us fast here until we can figure out a way of detaching it. Weve tried everything we can think of to sever it and were stuck. Explosives do not work. Melta-torches are way too slow. Weve fought them off this long but we cant keep it up indefinitely. The fallen Kasrkin at the rear of the group suddenly dropped to one knee, twisting at the waist. He swung his rifle up and fired twice, both shots sliding cleanly through the heads of the emerging Shas Kayon. More of the aliens began to pour into the opposite end of the corridor. They are here! He shouted, flinching as pulse fire began to smash into the curved walls around him. The Deathwatch turned and fired as one, a storm of bolt shells all but obliterating the round hatch and anything passing through it. Still the enemy advanced, their numbers thickening with the passing of each moment. Marines began to fall back steadily, bright energy tearing chunks out of their armour. Within moments even their ballistic attacks began to falter, a wall of premature explosions flashing across the length of the corridor as emerging shield drones began to mass. Options Chaplain? Andrasi hollered over the tumult, his voice heavy with concern. Codian heard one of the Marines curse beneath his breath and watched as the hulking warrior stepped forward, his dark features stern and serious. He carried a broad-headed thunder hammer in one hand and a large, ornate storm shield in the other, the face of the silver shield sporting an impressive crafted Deathwatch symbol facade. Stand aside! I will tear the damned tunnel apart myself! He snarled, his bearded face a rictus of fury. He marched towards the horrified Andrasi and his crew and raised the hammer, igniting the head with a reverberating thrum. Stand down, Torvus.

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The assault Marine slowed and turned his head, a look of bemusement changing his features. Ligur met his gaze, his cold eyes unwavering. You could kill us all. Everyone fall back into the ship. I will free us. The Marine bared his teeth and then stomped his way past the fearful crewmen as if they were beneath his attention, shaking his head. Ligur nodded to Codian and waved him on. The Chaplain hesitated for a moment and then returned the nod, quickly moving towards the exit. One by one, the others passed quickly into the boarding tunnel, leaving the Librarian to turn and face the advancing enemy alone. A thick cloud of shield drones filled the space before him, so dense it almost obscured the tide of Tau hunters following behind it. Ligur closed his eyes and spread his arms out wide, muttering something beneath his breath. Though merely whispered the words seemed to echo and deepen, rising in volume like the howl of some ethereal wind. A flickering nimbus of light played around his head, swirling energies flashing and sparking as if vying to be released to their full potential. He opened his eyes and begun to walk backwards, the intricate whorls and runes crafted into the gauntlets of his lightning claws glowing with an unearthly light. He passed into the tunnel moments before the air at the very mouth of the opening began to shimmer. Dark light began to spill from the growing phenomenon, as the air itself seemed to bubble and melt, crackling fingers of multi-hued energy snaking from its epicentre to rake the surrounding walls. The Tau slowed, a ripple of apprehension passing through the massed aliens. Only the drones continued on undaunted, shimmering softly as they neared the growing singularity. There was a sudden flash of energy accompanied by a deep pressure boom and the entire deck shook. Ligur turned and began to sprint as the first of the drones wobbled and then spun away into the yawning abyss, breaking apart even as they rolled out of sight. The rest of the constructs began to crash together as they struggled to hover away, only to be sucked into the rift in massed clumps, unable to escape its irresistible pull. The Shas Kayon behind them began to shout and cry, grabbing hold of whatever they could find, their hooves skidding across the smooth floor of the deck. Weapons were hurriedly discarded as they fought to flee, armour and equipment peeling away in chunks to spin off into the gap. Ligur had opened a gateway to the warp itself on board the Larshi and the resulting forces began to tear its surroundings apart. The entire housing ring surrounding the iris began to peel away from the wall, groaning as it bended. Sections of the iris itself rang as they spun away, sparks zipping after them like star-fire. The segmented boarding tunnel began to quake, imploding in on itself as the immense pressures began to compact it. Debris swirled into the rift in a glittering spiral, thickening as everything around it came apart. At the very rear of the screaming, shuddering tumult, a single eye as black as the void of space looked on as the entire tunnel broke away from the hull of the ship, coming apart piece by piece as it depressurised. Roaring and cursing his rage out into the widening void, ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon swore revenge.

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Chapter Seventeen: Revelations

+++THE MASSCIL ASTEROID WASTES+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ +++ONE SOLAR MONTH LATER +++ There she is. We have found her at last. Space Marine Chaplain Daelo Codian opened his eyes and turned his head to the small viewport by his side, feeling the Hellrunner shudder gently around him once again. Grey asteroid chunks cartwheeled past, some the size of Land Raiders, others as large as a Strike Cruiser. The cutter trembled again, fighting the effects of passing by another gigantic rock. He studied the vista beyond closely and, after a few moments of searching, saw her for the first time. The black behemoth hung ominously in the void like an ambush predator, almost invisible save for the many twinkling lights glittering across its vast surface. An Astartes Fortress Monastery, Ligur had called her the Proscriptus Rex. That is as much as he knew about her, even now. It had been twenty five days since the incident onboard the Tau ship. Twenty five days of running, of fighting to stay alive. He could never have imagined just how difficult such a relatively short journey could be, especially when this journey was taking place in what used to be Imperial space. During this time he had come to know most of the Deathwatch well enough for them to begin to open up to him. Perhaps it was his role as a Chaplain; maybe it was the fact that they saw in him a living, breathing relic of an age forever lost to them, an age where the superhuman warriors of the Emperor dominated the galaxy. For whatever reason, he had begun to slowly piece together the full, sobering truth of his current situation. The ever distant Liger had spoke little since the escape, and yet what little he had told Codian troubled him greatly. Firstly, warp travel. The psyker had explained that prolonged warp travel in this region was all but impossible now. Something here was affecting the entire Immaterium, though what, he would not say. All he would divulge was that it was the Taus doing, that the enemy had somehow found the means to quiet the raging power of the warp itself. He had never concerned himself much with the mechanics of this foreboding dimension, though he found himself questioning this. Firstly, he could not imagine even the Tau to possess such power. Secondly, he had argued that surely such an effect would allow for smother travel, not render it impossible. The Librarians answer was short and simple; all would be revealed in time. He would find the answers he sought onboard the Proscriptus Rex. In the days following their escape from the clutches of OKirla, another disquieting fact had become apparent. It seemed that these warriors were not a part of the main Imperium rebellion. They operated alone and towards their own agendas, though it was clear that they fought and died in the service of the Emperor. Codian found himself deeply troubled by this. Why would these warriors refuse the leadership of Calgar,

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the greatest of all the Chapter Masters? Ligur himself had once been Ultramarine, as had many of the others. There was no doubt in his mind that these men were still fully faithful to the Emperor and committed to seeing the power and rightful dominance of the Imperium realised once more. Again, the same answer had fallen from Ligurs lips. All would be revealed. He turned away from the stars and his eyes found Berolinus, the youngest among them. His helmet removed, he still wore his shattered armour with pride, refusing all offers from the others to have his suit repaired or replaced. I am an Ultramarine., He had told them. And I will wear the colours of my Chapter until I fall. Brother, how goes your healing? Berolinus turned and met his gaze, his face sombre and serious. I grow stronger by the day, Chaplain. Umbras has tended my wounds well. He uttered, holding his gaze for a moment. Codian nodded and then turned to retrieve his helmet, feeling the ship begin to slow. Soon, he told himself. Soon he would discover the truth. +++ A day later he found himself standing before the door of the huge chamber alone, the lights of the surrounding glow-globes centred on him. It had taken the Deathwatch a day to bring him to before their mysterious commander, a day of misdirection and half-answers, of probing questions and augur scans. Whenever he had asked what was going on or why they seemed to be delaying his requests for an audience, he had received the same reply. We have to be sure. Did they suspect him still? After all they had been through, did they still think of him as some potential enemy spy? It had taken them a day to bring him here, and still they would only allow he alone to seek an audience with the driving force behind all this. Umbras and Berolinus were being kept securely within the training quarters, and Laenar was still in his chamber onboard the Hellrunner, refusing all requests to give up the Caesus for inspection. Codian had called on the reclusive Techmarine but once since the incident with the Tau, and he had seen first-hand what had happened to his adopted quarters. It would take the cutters entire crew just to breach the doorway, let alone bypass the defences within. He was still considering all this when the doors of the chamber began to grind open, an ethereal light spilling through to bathe him in its glow. Enter. A deep mechanical voice uttered from somewhere above him. He strode through the doorway and slowed, finding himself at the centre of a lighted dais. The doors slid shut behind him and he tensed, sensing the shadows all around him shifting and churning. Servos whispered and the floor shook. Augmetic eyes lit the impenetrable shadows like a crimson starscape as a multitude of weapons powered up. Greetings, Ultramarine. A voice uttered, surrounding him.

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Codian glanced around him and then bowed his head sharply, clearly aggravated by his current situation. I have travelled far and gone through much. I would appreciate an audience with the commander of this ship, not just his voice and a host of guardian constructs. He answered, his powerful voice reverberating around the vast chamber. There was a moment of deep silence, and then an answer. Very well. The shadows shifted and parted as something large moved towards the centre, whining and humming as it advanced. A large plinth slid into view, the silver symbol of the Deathwatch glinting at its base as it caught the light. Codian looked on in silence as the area at the top of the dais exploded with light, a pale blue bubble of blue-grey energy shivering and humming as it came into being. At the centre of the energy field he could make out the outline of some sort of seat or throne, and on the throne sat a robed figure, its features indistinguishable beneath the folds of the flowing cloak. Codian never even flinched as the entire top section of the platform detached with a resonating thrum and hovered gently forward, the newly revealed underside of the throne sparking and pulsing as it advanced. It is an honour to make your acquaintance, Chaplain. It has been many long years since I last met one of your kind. The individual uttered, his voice distorted and ghostly, no doubt an effect of the strange energy field surrounding him. The Chaplain didnt even flinch. He stood his ground, proud and unmoved in the face of this unknown entity. The figure at the centre of the field shifted his weight, leaning forward slightly. He caught a glimpse of gnarled fingers, almost white in the cold glow of the protective bubble. I have heard your story, Codian of the Ultramarines. Im sure you can appreciate my apprehension. To have been lost in the ocean of the Empyrean for so long Still, all the tests confirm that you are telling the truth, and that you arent an agent of the enemy. You must understand Codian, we had to be sure. Okirla and the Unity have been hunting us for a long time. You wouldnt have been the first Astarte to infiltrate our organisation. Who are you? Codian asked, plainly disinterested in the individuals explanation. The figure shifted his weight again, settling back into the ornate chair. He raised his hands and clasped his fingers together slowly. A relic of the past, just like you. A brief silence settled over the scene. Beneath his helm Codian frowned, bemused by the comment. He decided not to answer. He didnt want to give this unknown stranger the satisfaction. Tarsis Ultra, Chaplain. I was there. It was this next comment that caught him off-guard. His fingers slackened and then tightened almost immediately, his mind reeling with memories of the distant past. So was I. Was all he could bring himself to say. The figure leaned forward once more, the field shimmering around him. The Tyranids, Chaplain. We saw a great victory against the Tyranids on the Tarsis Fields. We beat the

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Devourer of Worlds back despite all odds and we won. It was a proud time. Codian remained silent for a moment more and then turned to look about him slowly, watching as the shadows around him shifted softly once again. You say that you have determined my allegiance and yet you still seem to fear me. You know now that I am no Tau spy. Why are you still apprehensive? As I said, you would not be the first Asta You are renegades. He uttered, striding forward. The shadows bulged outwards as the hidden constructs responded as one, a thicket of whining guns and crackling blades encircling him. Deactivate. The single word caused the host of machines to freeze, the huge circle of eyes fading to blackness around him. The robed figure threw himself forward and slammed his fists into the armrests of the chair. We are all loyal servants of the Emperor, every last one of us! You understand little of these times, Chaplain. The old Imperium is long gone. Calgar and his Alliance Imperialis Solar are but one facet of the rebellion. The Astartes Chapters themselves are divided into many separate factions. It would surely open your eyes to discover just how fragmented the forces of the Imperium are now. Then tell me! Codian roared, sweeping a hand before him, his mighty voice heavy with frustration. I am tired of fighting to piece together every single aspect of this damned time! I have a mission to fulfil, a mission so important that it could bring about the fall of the Tau. How can I see it through when I know so little of what has happened to our glorious Imperium. The Caesus. Yes, the Caesus. I am expected to deliver this device into the hands of Calgar and yet I do not even know what it does. I do. The figure answered suddenly, causing the Marines breath to catch in his throat. You know what it does? Yes. I helped to create it, Codian. Join us. Join us and together we will journey to Terra. Together we will deliver the Caesus to Calgar and bring about the fall of the Unity. Codian hesitated for a moment and then turned away, shaking his head slowly. No. No? No. Not until I start to get some answers. If I am to join you then I want to know everything. I will go no further until I am satisfied. He turned back towards the figure and walked towards him, his dark armour bathed in pale light. What is your answer?

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Very well. Though I warn you, Chaplain, you may not like what you discover. I will take that chance. Now make a start. Tell me your name. The figure nodded and then swept his hand before him, deactivating the protective field. He lifted his hands and removed his hood to reveal a pale, hairless head, a face creased with long centuries of age. Despite his ancient appearance Codian found a face he somehow recognised, a face from long, long ago. The face of the saviour of Tarsis Ultra. Kryptman. He whispered quietly.

Chapter Eighteen: Kryptman

Codian exhaled slowly as the weight of this latest discovery settled in his mind. Things were starting to fall in place, to make sense at last. Lord Inquisitor Kryptman had been a well-known figurehead of the Imperium for a long time, the unchallenged expert on the Tyranid menace. Despite this he had been declared Excommunicate Traitoris after his desperate actions had caused the deaths of billions of souls under the advance of Hive Fleet Leviathan. Is it really you? Codian whispered. It is, Chaplain. Hundreds of years of exile have taken their toll on me, but I am still the same person who fought to save the Tarsis sector. Perhaps you are now better able to understand why Ligur and his brethren class themselves as separate from the main rebellion. I currently have under me around three hundred Marines. Some were initiated as neophytes, others found themselves joining our ranks as disillusioned defectors. Defectors? Codian echoed uncertainly. Kryptman smiled weakly. There are some thatdisagreewith the beliefs and doctrines of the Alliance Imperialis Solar. Most of those, like Ligur himself, found their way to me after the fall of Cadia and the Great Fragmentation. The truth can be hard to accept, Codian, even for one as powerful as Calgar. You must understand, we all work towards the same goal. We all wish to see the an end to the reign of the Tau. It is unfortunate that we cannot all work together to achieve this. Unfortunate? I find it absurd that the forces of the Imperium fight a common enemy whilst divided. Kryptman smiled again, his ancient face creasing further. As I said, Codian, the truth can be hard to accept. You do indeed have much to learn from me. As for my own agendas, one of them is to bring the Imperium back together. A goal, Im sure you can imagine, that is made all the more difficult for me to achieve by my current exile. I am fully aware of the events leading to your expulsion from the Inquisition. Codian answered sharply, his anger lingering at first and then subsiding a little, his change of emotion hidden from sight by the ever-frozen skull of his helm.

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There were many amongst the Ultramarines that did not agree with your expulsion. Your measures were extreme, I will not argue that, and yet many of my brethren agreed with your decision. Many more lives were saved than were lost. Most important of all, Leviathans advance into the Imperium was stalled. Codian thought back to that distant time. He recalled just how close the Imperium had come to buckling under the advance of the Tyranids. I sent them against the Orks. Kryptman continued, a measure of regret in his voice. I steered Leviathan towards the Octavius system. I hoped against hope that the two forces would expend themselves slaughtering one another. A desperate gamble, by all accounts. Those were desperate times, Codian. Our options were limited. Did it work? Kryptman did not answer, not at first. He continued to stare at the Marine with those unwavering eyes, eyes dark with age and heavy with the burden of all they had witnessed. For a time. He finally uttered, lowering his gaze. We always knew that there was risk. The Orks were the most numerous of the Imperiums foes and yet even they were hard pressed to stall the advance of Leviathan. The Orks of the Octavius sector struggled against the Tyranids for almost four hundred years, Chaplain. Four hundred years. Drawn by the call of war, more and more Orks poured into the sector, unable to resist the challenge. The green menace all but disappeared from Imperial space, and for a time, unbelievably, there was peace. The Chaplain sighed heavily and shook his head slowly. So, you are saying that you actually found a way to set the two most arguably powerful xenos races in this galaxy against one another? In a word, yes. The plan did work, Chaplain. In fact, it worked better than we could ever have imagined. By infesting the Ork empire with Genestealers we managed to alter the course of the entire fleet. The Tyranids simply could not resist such an abundance of life. The Orks themselves in turn could not resist the challenge Leviathan brought with it. The Ork thrives on warfare, you know that. I am assuming something went wrong, Kryptman. For a time, you said. What happened? The ancient Inquisitor fell silent for a moment and then sighed, his fingers tightening around the arms of his obsidian throne. As I said, the plan worked too well. We had hoped that the green plague of the Octavius sector and the ravening swarms of Leviathan would annihilate one another. I only pray to the Immortal Emperor that He can forgive me for the apocalypse I brought into being. The Orks and the Tyranids found in each other the perfect opponent. For the first time in recorded history, the Ork race unified beneath one banner. Entire systems were abandoned as the Orks gathered to answer the call of war. The Tyranids of Leviathan responded in kind. Splinter fleets the length and breadth of the galaxy altered their course to join with the main fleet. Brought together, the Ork and the Tyranid almost wiped themselves out. The unbelievable had happened, Codian. Both races abandoned their designs on our galaxy and descended upon one another, each utterly obsessed with the other. Stars themselves shook beneath the apocalyptic conflict. We dared foresee a victory greater than any we could ever have imagined possible. I take it I am to assume that something went wrong? Indeed. Kryptman answered heavily, slowly nodding. As with any plan, there were factors that we did not consider.

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The Tau? The Tau. With that Kryptman waved his hand and the field reactivated around him, thrumming softly as it ignited once more. You must excuse me, Chaplain. I am old, far too old to rightfully exist. This field is all that keeps me alive these days, I cannot survive long without it. You were telling me about the Tau. That I was. He answered, and with that the lights surrounding the chamber increased, revealing the huge space fully for the first time. Codian looked around him in silence, taken aback by the sheer volume of xenos artefacts that lines the walls of the huge hall. Above the silent hulking machines that flanked the walls hung countless weapons and devices, all apparently Tau in origin. The Tau, Codian. How foolish we were to underestimate them. They were young then, you see, mere upstarts struggling to forge a destiny for themselves in a galaxy already so very old. That was how it seemed to us, anyway. Hmm, if only we knew then what we know now. We came to realise at our cost just how much potential the race had. This device that keeps me alive, even this is of Tau design. Codian began to pace around the walls, his hands behind his back. Most of the objects he laid eyes on he did not recognise, though some of the most ancient-looking devices seemed familiar to him. It would seem that we all underestimated them, Kryptman. Tell me, what did the Tau have to do with the Ork-Tyranid wars? Commander Shadowsun. AunVa. ShasO RMyr. Are you aware of these names? No. Should I be? That is unlikely. Those are just a few of the names of the many enigmatic Tau characters that were starting to emerge round about the time you were lost. Even then the Tau had a propensity for advanced change, both evolutionary and characteristically. They were already growing stronger, wiser, becoming more of a challenge. Elements of the Imperium were starting to sit up and take notice, though I fear the Octavius wars were at that time more important than any other concern. It now seems that the beginnings of the Tau threat were already starting to seed. No one truly knows exactly what happened to the Tau, to my knowledge. Those that do would never speak of it, for it is one of the ultimate secrets of our universe. It has taken me many long years to hypothesise that which I am about to tell you. There was a brief pause, and then he began. You have encountered the grey Ork, I take it? Codian nodded. We fought them on Ryza. Then Im sure you are aware that the creatures you encountered are not true Orks, but an amalgamation of Ork and Tau. More specifically, Orkoids that have been genetically modified with elements of Tau DNA.

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I am aware of that fact, yes. Kryptman nodded. The Octavius wars raged for many years. It was during this time that the Unity discovered the means to genetically conquer the Orks. They began to culture the creatures at an exponential rate, though the reasons for this were not apparent at first. You see, the Tau did not simply wish to conquer the Orks, they wished to use them. They were created to serve as a weapon, a weapon to use against the Tyranids. The Tau themselves had suffered in the advance of the hive fleets. The Eastern Fringe always was a dangerous place, an unknown territory. It seemed as if they feared the Tyranids above all else. So, how did they intend to use these creatures? Quite ingeniously, as it happens. You are probably aware of the fact that they are able to control the grey-skinned Orks due to the genetic bond the two races share. Little by little, the Tau began to send small fleets of modified Orks into the Octavius conflict. These creatures were soon assimilated by the swarms, as were those that followed. Decades passed and, slowly but surely, the Tyranid gene-pool became slowly but surely saturated with Tau genetic material. It was enough to alter the course of the entire war. The Orks were doomed, of course. The entire might of Leviathan and its splinter fleets was reduced to little more than a shadow of its former self but, in the end, the Orks were wiped out. The Tyranids had won, but it was a hollow victory. The Ethereals now had a rudimentary control over the remnants of the Tyranid swarms, effectively becoming a collective surrogate hive mind. It was a control so powerful and yet so vastly different from the psychic influence of the Hive Mind that it eclipsed the galaxy-spanning influence. The Tau managed to influence the swarms enough to steer them away from the galaxy and back out into the Great Void beyond the Fringe. Some accounts even go as far as to suggest that they were sent to challenge the gestalt entity that directed them here in the first place, but I find this hard to believe. One thing is for sure though, and that is that the Tyranids were, at last, turned away from our borders. . The growing Unity wasted no time in bolstering the defences of the now-conquered Eastern Fringe. Massive stockade defences were erected across the entire length of the Fringe. Millions of gun stations were shipped en masse to defend the area, and to guard the billions upon billions of null-field generators and drones that even now hang in space there, ever vigilant should the Tyranids return to take their revenge. Upon hearing this Codian turned away, his eyes finding the many relics hanging on the wall before him. So the Tyranids are gone for good, and not simply another part of the Unity. As are the green-skinned Orks. I thank the Emperor for that, at least. He left the edge of the chamber and headed back towards the centre of the room, removing his helmet as he did so. He had always found it pertinent to wear his helm whenever he met with an opposing commander. Not only did it hide any emotive reaction but it also served to reinforce his position and status. Now that Kryptman had opened up to him, he felt it was time to show his true face. I am sure that you can appreciate my position, Inquisitor. He began, using his counterparts former title simply due to the fact that he could think of no other. I am still getting used to this grim time. I feel that I can only fully perform my duties if I am brought up to speed with everything that has happened since we were lost.

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Of course Chaplain. A good commander directs his actions through knowledge. Know your enemy. Codian closed his eyes and nodded. Then you will forgive my questioning. Before Tau came to power, there were three great threats to our rightful dominance. The Tyranids, the Orks And Chaos. Kryptman interrupted, drawing his pallid head back slightly. And Chaos. Codian finished, his mouth twisting into a troubled frown. No one has yet dared tell me of the fate of the Ruinous Powers and their foul minions. The Tau may have changed almost beyond recognition, but there is one thing I know for sure. The Tau were able to bring fear to the arrogant and ancient Eldar. They were able to find a way to best the mysterious Necrontyr. They even managed to bring both the Ork and the Tyranid under their control. I accept all this and yet I can not, I will not, allow myself to believe that they somehow conquered that which cannot be conquered. No force in this galaxy or beyond has the power to bring Chaos to heel. Above him, Kryptmans face altered. He tipped his head, a look of bemusement spreading across his ancient features. An interesting admission for an Astarte to make, especially a Chaplain. You do not believe Chaos can be conquered? Not even by the glorious Imperium? Dont mock me, Kryptman. I am no heretic. Neither am I a fool. Faith is worth nothing if it is blind. The only way we can conquer Chaos is to eradicate those who serve to spread its influence. The Imperium has struggled to do this for thousands of years and yet still the rot continued to take hold. Are you to tell me that the Tau were somehow able to achieve this? In a word, yes. Codian spat a curse beneath his breath and swept am arm before him, turning sharply on his heel. Impossible! I will not believe it! He raged, his face contorted with anger. The forces of Chaos were beaten back, just all the others were. It is the truth Codian, no matter how hard it is to accept. You have seen with your own eyes how powerful the Unity is. No one was prepared for them, not even us. Then tell me. He answered, turning to face the Inquisitor once more. Tell me how the Tau bested the forces of Chaos. Kryptman tipped his head and closed his eyes. Very well.

Chapter Nineteen: The Eye

Of all the opposing forces facing the advancement of the Unity, Chaos proved the most difficult to defeat. Kryptman began, his voice low and ominous. With the Threat of the Ork and the Tyranid extinguished, the Tau now found themselves with two other

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major forces to contend with. The Imperium and Chaos. The Tau knew little of the Warp and its unfathomable denizens. They were a race of blunts, with no psychic ability whatsoever. They did, however, know of the Eye of Terror. Their plan of attack was simple and yet vastly effective. They began to move against the inner systems, one by one, pushing their empire forward. This began with Ultramar. The change had already begun to take place, the Great Evolution already well underway at this pointah, forgive me Chaplain. I do tend to ramble these days. The full history of the Taus rise to power will have to wait for another time. To put it bluntly, the Unity played us for fools. They quickly swamped Ultramar, attacking with a strength and numbers undreamed of. The Octavius conflict had come to an end by this point and the defences along the Eastern Fringe were well established, leaving the Tau free to begin to push west into the Imperium. Even as the Unity began to move upon the Ultramar system, the full might of the Tau war machine was still being realised. Several huge and powerful fleets began to emerge and, slowly realising that the Tyranids were no longer abroad in our space, the powers-that-be named them after the various Hive Fleets that had plagued Imperial space. Kryptman paused for breath, his head sagging a little. Codian watched as his chest seemed to rise and fall, each breath laboured. Rest if you must. He uttered hesitantly, unfamiliar with the concept of emotional concern. Kryptman shook his head and held out his hand. No Chaplain, forgive me. For one to extend his life beyond its natural capacity there are burdens to bear, and bear them I must. I will continue. As I was saying, the Tau played us all for fools. At first the Tau attacked as one with thousands upon thousands of ships, a vast armada of vessels. Ultramar was unprepared for the sheer size of this fleet and she fell, an inevitable consequence only slowed by the stalwart defence of the Ultramarines. At this point the weight of the Imperiums fleets were tied in with maintaining the defences around the Octavuis conflict, ready to bear down on the survivors of the war. They were little prepared for what happened next. The Tau armada fragmented, splitting into the fleets we know today, an unanticipated manoeuvre by all accounts. Kraken continued the war against the survivors of the Ultramar conflict, a war that was to rage on until the system finally fell less than two solar months ago. Prometheus moved west into the Ultima Segmentum, conquering all before them as they advanced. As the Tau had predicted, the Imperium moved to counter this threat. The Leviathan fleet moved northwest. They passed through the galactic core, seeding the fallen Demiurg homeworlds as they went, before heading north to skirt the very edges of the Imperium itself. I have been told of the fate of the Demiurg. Codian interrupted. And I see where this is leading. They were headed for the Eye. The Inquisitor nodded. They were indeed. The ships of Leviathan were created to hunt down and destroy Chaos, Chaplain. By the time the fleet had passed south of the naval base of Cypra Mundi it was already too late. They seeded the Ork planets of Gathrog and Dreguk north of the Eye and then descended, sweeping all before them. The majority of the Imperial fleets were either engaged in the defence of the Ultima Segmentum or were heading to meet the advance of Prometheus. Mars had fallen to the suicidal Kroot less two years before and they were taking no chances. System by system, Leviathan hunted the forces of Chaos back to the very threshold of the Eye itself.

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Along the way many Imperial worlds were conquered and their populace subjugated, further adding to the fleets military might. Those worlds that could not or would not be conquered, such as Mordian, were systematically scoured. Drone factory ships fell from the skies like rain to unfold amongst the packed hive cities, spewing forth millions of murderous yet expendable machines. The Tau had prepared well for this push, and it soon became clear that Leviathan was by far the most powerful of the fleets yet. By the time war smashed into the naval base at Port Maw, it was too late. The Ork worlds of Gathrog and Dreguk were by now churning out Greyskins at an exponential rate. The Tau advanced slowed and they began to dig in, taking Port Maw as they did so. They knew the Wolves of Fenris were coming. Codians face hardened as he heard this. The Space Wolves. Yes. Unfortunately for the Imperium, most of the Chapter had left to meet the advance of Prometheus. The remaining Wolves gathered to meet the closing threat, accompanied by a great fleet sent forth from Cadia herself. Despite the strength of this vast force, they were ill-prepared for what awaited them. Hundreds of defence Orbitals now lined the outlying systems. Every world they had conquered now churned out drones, millions at a time. While the fleet dug in and awaited the arrival of this force, hundreds of Vespid Hives were headed towards Fenris, accompanied by around close to a thousand Drone Factory ships. At the same time a vast fleet of Ork landers headed south west of the approaching Imperial forces and descended upon Cadia. No one is quite sure of what happened from this point. Fenris eventually fell. The Wolves were beaten back, the survivors swearing revenge. The entire Gothic sector now belonged to the Tau. Cadia herself was now embroiled in war Chaos, Inquisitor. Codian interrupted. You have yet to tell me about Chaos. Kryptman fell silent, his grey eyes holding the Marines gaze for long moments. You dont see it? There you have your answer then, Chaplain. No one did. No one realised that all this was about the Eye. By this point it was thought that the Tau were pushing to surround the Segmentum Solar. In truth, this could have been part of their intended plan. We were to discover, however, that their true goal was to conquer Cadia. The Cadian Gate. Yes. Kryptman continued. They intended to seize control of the gate. The Imperium realised this too late. The Unitys push for Cadia came just as the majority of the Imperial war machine reached the edges of the fight for the Ultima Segmentum. Calgar had by now taken control of the fight against the combined might of both Kraken and Prometheus and was now faced with a soul-destroying choice. He could either continue to fight to keep the two fleets from pushing further into Imperial space, or make the long journey back to Cadia. To compound matters, Macragge herself still held out against the Tau. Isolated and trapped by the sheer weight of the two fleets, the world was weeks from falling. Somehow, Emperor knows how, he made his decision. Macragge was abandoned to her fate and the Imperial alliance fled west, praying against all hope that they would arrive in time to stall Leviathans advance into the inner systems themselves. No. Codian whispered in disbelief, his head falling.

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He blinked slowly and shook his head, exhaling a long, hissing breath. He found himself unable to imagine the consequences of having to make such a decision. Abandon his homeworld to defend the seat of the Emperor, or stay and risk His downfall. How could any man choose either path? The choice almost tore him apart. No faithful servant of the Emperor could ever risk an enemy treading upon Terras holy soil. Anyway, for Cadia at least, the decision was made too late. The mightiest of the Imperiums heroes met the Tau on Cadia and the world itself shook beneath them. Unfortunately the Tau had already established a foothold there They were too late. Millions died. It was here that the Imperium fully realised the true power and treachery of the Tau. There followed the Great Fragmentation, the event that saw the forces of the Imperium divided to this day. Those who stood with the Warmaster abandoned the planet and fell back, dividing further in order to defend the shrinking borders of the Segmentum Solar. Those who did not left to pursue their own agendas, to fight the Unity on their own terms. The rest, as they say, is history. Cadia was lost. The forces of Chaos had retreated back to the safety of the Eye like a black tide, sweeping all before them as they fought their way back. It was as if they somehow knew what the Tau intended to do. This caused further problems for the already stretched defenders of the Imperium. Great armadas of Chaos worshippers began to emerge from every corner of the galaxy and head in the same direction, burning everything and everyone in their path in their desperation. Cadia suffered greatly at the hands of the foul legions as they had fought to bypass the legendary defences of the Cadian Gate and the Unity descended upon the ancient world like carrion birds, sealing her fate prior to the arrival of the Imperial forces. The Unitys plan was complete. Cadia stands today as a bastion world, just as she has for millennia, only now it is the Tau that keep watch over the Eye. Millions of orbiting gun platforms are perpetually trained on the rift, weapons with the power to nullify the energy of the Warp itself. Billions upon billions of null-drones are sent into the Eye day by day, slowly pushing the immeasurable power back. It has to be seen to be believed, Codian. Little by little, the Unity are closing the Eye of Terror. Codian shook his head slowly, the weight of this latest revelation too much to bear. To imagine that the Tau had the power and ability to actually do this shook him to the very core of his being. Butbut why? He asked, his mind reeling. I dont understand. The Tau seek to unify this galaxy. It is their ultimate goal, a goal they will see realised at any cost. They cant conquer the gods of the Warp, Codian, no one can. Neither can they destroy them. But they can contain them. Seal the Eye and they will have succeeded in closing the largest gateway into our reality that Chaos has. The servants of the Ruinous Powers knew that, should the Eye be closed to them, they would be left stranded, alone. Can you imagine an Imperium without the Emperor? Of course not. They did the only thing they could. They ran for the door before it was locked. Kryptman fell silent, his ancient face creasing with exertion. Codian could see that even the effort of talking was beginning to take its toll on him. So, what now Inquisitor? Where do we go from here? II am dying, Chaplain. Time has allowed me to postpone my death this long, but the field is barely able to sustain me now. I wish to see victory before I die. I wish to see the Imperium restored, the Unity scoured from the face of this galaxy.

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I sense a strength inside you. You are a leader of men, a living link to a past glory lost, a glory that can rise again. Lead these men to Terra. Steel them as only a Chaplain of the Astartes can, a true Chaplain of the proud times. Ligur and the Deathwatch brethren are strong and courageous warriors, but they are a rare breed, Codian. The Astartes of this time are not what they used to be. Calgar is a strong and competent commander but he is desperate. Initiates are pushed through too soon. The procedures of replicating the geneseed and organs are rushed, hurried by the impending push for Terra. Deformity and mutation are rife within the ranks. Steel yourself as you steel those you lead. Prepare for the worst. Prepare to have your faith in the Emperor and the Imperium pushed to its limits. Keep your eyes on the goal no matter what. Your Imperium exists now in but one place, and that is inside you. Strive to restore it and I believe that you will find victory. Mourn its passing too much, and you will fail. Will you lead my warriors, brother? Codian swept his cloak aside and then bowed his head. I will. Kryptman smiled and closed his eyes, almost as if the weight of the universe had been lifted from his shoulders. Thank you. Go now; spread the word amongst the others. I have but one more thing to tell you, possibly the most important thing you will ever hear. There is still much that you have to learn, and there are things even I dare not reveal at this stage. In time you will see. The enemy of your enemy is your friend, Codian. Remember that fact and that alone. Do not consider it; do not even attempt to ponder it. Remember.

Chapter Twenty: Arisen

+++ST. UPHRASIA FIELDS+++ +++ THE SHRINE WORLD OF GEHENNA+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Is it true? The raised voices echoing around the chamber died down. All eyes turned to the doorway, finding the accusing eyes of Ancient Ventris before them. Is it true? He asked again, his voice low yet saturated with an ominous weight. The faces gathered before him hardened in discomfort. None of them had ever known the Ancient address his commander in such a way before. It is. Came the reply, deep and resonant. Calgar stomped through the centre of the small group to meet with the new arrival, his vast mechanical frame blotting out the lights above. There followed a short silence between the two old warriors, a silence broken only by the constant pulsing hum of the mighty machination. That, and the distant rhythmic pounding of a war already underway. Ventriss scarred face wavered, the steel-blue of his eyes softening a little.

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How? Sacred Macragge, how did this happen? We dont know. The Warmaster answered, the depth of his augmetic voice causing the Ancients breastbone to tremble. Though it has been confirmed, Uriel. The Unity has restored him to health. They have brought him back and placed the reins of dominance around his blessed neck. Several Scout squads have already sighted him walking amongst the enemy. Guilliman commands the Tau here on Gehenna. Ventris began to shake, his fingers tightening. It cant be true. It has to be a trick, an enemy ruse. They seek to demoralise us. Ancient, it is more than that. Calgar answered quietly. Leaving the Primarch behind was the hardest thing we have ever had to do. That the enemy have taken him as their own is our punishment, the price of our failure. The price of my failure. It cannot be him. Ventris continued, unable to accept it. Even the Tau arent powerful enough to bring our Primarch back to life. That thing out there is not Roboute Guilliman. I will give my life to disprove this if I have to. Ventris turned on his heel to leave, retrieving his precious Chapter standard from the Honour Guard Marine standing in the doorway. Ancient, wait. He turned to see Saint Cloelia the Endymion take a step forward, her mirrored silver armour shimmering as it caught the light. Cloelia and her Sororitas had joined the war as the Unity had pushed into the Gehennan system. The shrine world was a holy site for the Sororitas, a world housing some of the most sacred relics to be found within the Segmentum Solar, including the bones of St. Uphrasia herself. Cloelia herself claimed that she had been reborn in order to defend this very world against the Unity. As she spoke, her words seemed to echo in the mind of everyone around her. We must take care. The Unity have deployed in great numbers along the St. Uphrasia Fields. It will be here that the fight for Gehenna will be decided. The Legio Titanicus are even now moving to counter this threat, allowing our forces to prepare for the ground assault. We are not yet prepared to meet the Unity head o Ventris thrust his armoured fingers deep into the metal of the console beside him, causing the Saints words to die in her throat. He tore the entire station from its moorings and hurled it the length of the room, sending it smashing into the opposite wall in a shower of sparks. This abomination is not our Primarch! He roared, his lined face red with rage. I will hunt down this heretical impostor and I will bring back his head on a spike! I will make him scream for forgiveness! With that he turned back towards the doorway to leave. Ready the Banner Guard. We go to make war with this pretender. The Marine nodded and left, leaving the Ancient to turn to face those gathered before him. His eyes found the Warmaster, his hulking frame towering over those around him. We left him behind, lord Calgar. We abandoned him. That is an Ultramarines greatest shame. I will not allow this travesty to continue a moment longer. By my life, I will end this. Calgar watched in silence as the Ancient disappeared through the doorway, the eyes of the others around

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him turning his way. +He is heading straight into the heart of this war.+ Iron-Father Gaumech growled, his synthetic voice like the growl of some predatory feline. +His heart burns for vengeance. He will surely find death at the hands of the Unity.+ Can you not simply order him to stand down? Lord Inquisitor Arthas asked, a look of bemusement spreading across his aged face. High Chaplain Nostracles of the Flesh Tearers sneered as he heard this, his pitted face knotting. He thirsts for retribution, Inquisitor. Such things are the way of the Astartes. I wouldnt expect you to understand. Nostracles is right, Arthas. Calgar uttered, silencing the Inquisitors intended retort. It would be inappropriate for me to deny the Ancient his vengeance, no matter what it may cost him to seek it. Then what do we do? Arthas asked, glancing at the field of tactical readout screens beside him. It will take nothing short of miracle to stall the Taus advance here on Gehenna, let alone prevent Ventris from finding his own death. We aid him. The Warmaster answered. B-but the advance The Inquisitor began. Calgar ignored the Inquisitor and stomped forward towards the door, turning his vast sarcophagus on its axis to face the others as he crossed the room. The war for Gehenna begins now, people. Ventris is right; we have to uncover the truth behind this heresy. Commander Gorth, am I right to assume that the Guard are deployed across the length of the Fields in readiness to meet with the enemy advance. They are, lord. Good. Magos Vanthadox. Have the Titans of the Gigas Passus legion entered the field? The flickering holo-image to his right nodded its head in response. +The Titans are loosed, Warmaster. Their systems sing with the joy of the conflict to come.+ Calgar came to a halt, turning his legs around to even himself out. Then the war has truly begun. Whether or not this figure proves to be the Primarch himself or some blasphemous Tau construct, the need to uncover the truth is paramount. If we are to reach this deep into the enemy lines then we need to act fast and we need to do so now. Heavy armour will not carry us to the heart of the enemy. Gaumech, Nostracles, you are the senior Astartes present here. I want you to arrange a strike force of assault troops and Land Speeders, the best we have. Scour the troops if you have to. I know we have several elements of the Raven Wing and a few veteran Flesh Tearers assault squads. Lady Saint, if you would do me the honour of having your Seraphim sisters joining the attack, we may just see the heart torn out of this advance before it has a chance to take root. May the Emperor guide us this day.

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With that the Warmaster turned and strode from the chamber, leaving the others to begin the hurried preparations. One way or another, the imposter would be revealed. +++ The earth quaked as if in terror as the Titans of Gigas Passus moved to meet the Unitys advance. A dozen armoured giants strode towards the shifting mass, their holy weapons thundering and flashing. Explosions glittered across their omnipotent mass as they attracted the enemys attention, though nothing even came close to staying their advance. Something huge rose from the ground to meet them, carried aloft on multiple legs, a vast machination of smooth taupe armour. The KorVesa factory ship unfurled its mighty guns, its vast domed head turning to face the threat. Hundreds of drones continued to pour from its open sides, an endless mass of expendable firepower that hovered or crawled its way towards the Imperial lines, unmoved and unafraid. Volcano cannons and turbo lasers ignited the air itself as the Titans fired, tearing great burning rends across the Factory Ships armoured flank. The alien craft returned fire undaunted, though its efforts were to prove fruitless. Even as the mighty machine fell, another rose from the smouldering crater a thousand metres west, unfolding its armaments to meet the threat. +++ Press on! We will not falter! Ventris roared, his beloved standard clutched tightly to his breast. His jump pack screaming, he bucked and then veered left, passing through the towering legs of the striding Titan. Ahead on the horizon he could see the enemy lines. He felt his hearts hammer in anticipation. He turned his head to see Galthor, the Champion of the Banner Guard accelerate alongside him, his honour blades drawn and ready. The rest of the Banner Guard followed, their axes to hand and shimmering with crackling energy. Our scouts have confirmed the position of the enemy heretic. Ventris sub-vocalised. We are closing in on position. Let us honour the memory of Guilliman, my warriors. Let us wipe this shameful stain from our Chapters honour and show the Tau what little good comes of trying to demoralise a Space Marine. Ahead, the truth awaited them.

Chapter Twenty One: Evil's Heart

Ventris held his breath and released his grip a little, allowing the ancient cloth to catch the wind. The banner rippled and exploded outwards, unfurling in the air, whipping and thrashing as if imbued with a life of its own. For the Imperium! He cried, feeling his age-old hearts stir once again. Honour the Standard! Came the reply of his brethren.

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The Ancient touched down, the rest of his squad following suit around him. The ground itself quaked beneath the advance of the Titans behind them, the air above hissing and burning as each mighty lance or blast carved its way through the indistinct mass on the horizon. He scoured the flat expanse, searching for his target. To the left of them the air shimmered and burned, the huge blackened shell of a Korvesa Factory blocking the entire horizon as far as the eye could see. Stay sharp, brothers! We have to pierce the heart of the enemy and we have to move soon, otherwise we will be undone! His eyes began to adjust to the blinding firelight and, within moments, he saw it. Around a quarter of a kilometre ahead lay a small abandoned pilgrimage town, a smouldering, alien-defiled ruin. Small yet bright flashes of light sparked across the horizon from in between the forlorn stone shells, sporadic yet unremitting. He focused his hearing and found he was able to single the noise out. A continuous low thunder. The thunder of the Earthshaker. Traitooooors! He roared, his voice rising in pitch to match that of the cacophony about him. The Banner Guard seemed to tense as one, almost as the very mention of Imperial defectors caused them to experience physical revulsion. Ventris gripped the pole of the standard tightly in his hands and lowered his body into a crouch, his eyes burning with a fierce thirst. Let us guide them towards His judgement. He growled, and was gone, borne aloft on wings of thunder and fire. +++ Keep the supply flowing! Runners and loaders maintain! Maintain I say! Guevesaui Monik Dursch marched along the line of armour, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. The speaker drone hovering by his side seemed to shudder softly and continuously as it amplified his voice, raising it so as to carry his words over the cacophonous tumult of the hammering guns. Before him the powerful vehicles continued to quake, thrown back one by one as they unleashed shell after shell, stabilising support legs digging deeper into the soft grassy earth. Thats it! For the good of the Unity, we shall not falter! He paused and lifted his field goggles and, looking out over the ruins of the city he watched in silence as the shells impacted against the distant hillside. Beyond that hill lay the Shrine of the Saint. Victory was within sight. For the Greater Good. He whispered. There was a brief, screaming whine and something landed heavily before him, throwing up a cloud of soil as it slammed into the ground. He gasped and reared back, reaching for the laspistol by his side instinctively. Weak-minded turncoat! Ventris roared, his power sword igniting with a growling thrum. Astartes. The Guevesa sergeant gasped, his eyes widening. He lifted the pistol and fired three shots at the

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hulking shape, only to watch them bounce harmlessly away from his thick chest armour. Treacherous to the last. The Marine growled, cutting the man down where he stood. The rest of his squad fell to earth around him, weapons drawn. Brother Cyries spun on his heel and lifted his plasma gun, sending a brace of bright blasts screaming through the air and into the bodies of the crew of the nearest field gun. Take them out! Take the whole damn line out! The Ancient roared, sprinting towards the artillery line. He reached the first Earthshaker and leapt up onto the rear bed, the entire platform shuddering as he landed. The two gunners cried out and fell against the stabilising arms, curling up in fear. A single sweep of his sword saw the mens treachery come to an end and he kicked the remains aside, slamming the pole of the standard through the thick plate below him with little effort. He tore a single krak grenade from his belt and cast it through the open barrel hatch before slamming it closed. He retrieved his banner and leapt down from the platform as the huge barrel shuddered, a low rumbling boom resonating through the entire vehicle. The skies above were dark now, the sun itself dimmed by the sheer volume of Tau fliers screaming overhead. He lifted his face up to see something huge and incredibly vast sliding slowly through the air above him. It was a Megalodon, the largest of the Unitys aircraft. Objects were pouring from its vast underside like rain. Drones and warriors spilled from its belly in their hundreds, falling earthwards to join the fight for Gehenna. It did not matter. Nothing mattered here and now except vengeance. Lord Ventris! The Ancient turned as he heard the call, his eyes running across the length of the punished artillery to where Gaedan stood, one hand thrust out towards outskirts of the ruined town beyond. The living rain still fell there, the skies saturated with countless warriors, war machines and drones. He could make out several large shapes breaking free of the main mass and heading their way, each one almost as large as a Warhound. Crisis Dominators. He growled. Hold the line. The Titans will deal with them. No, lord. Something else comes with them. Look! Ventris took to the air and landed beside the warrior, his eyes combing the ruins beyond the outstretched finger. Sure enough, someone or something seemed to be advancing with the Dominator suits, matching their velocity. Brilliant blue flashed beneath the sun, fringed with flecks of gold and crimson. It was running. Running at least as fast as a Rhino with its engines gunned to maximum. Running towards them. Banner Guard, to me! The rest of the squad began to fall in around the age-old warrior within moments of the command, all eyes falling upon the rapidly advancing shape. The Champion Galthor strode forward to stand by his side, both swords held out ready to counter the threat.

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Another of the Unitys abominable creations to slay. Allow me the honour, Ancient. Ventris nodded and then turned to the others around him. Ready yourselves, brothers. We may have to meet the Dominators in combat yet if they manage to break past the Titans guns. Remember the drill. Meltabombs ready. Target the joints and the sensor arrays first. For the Emperor! The veteran warriors roared in answer and he turned once again, ready to meet the threat. Something large and incredibly fast slammed into the waiting Champion with such force that it threw him through the air and into the back of one of the smouldering Earthshakers, his twin swords shattering beneath the force of the blow. Galthor hadnt stood a chance. Ventris reeled back in surprise, his scarred face twisting. Emperor deliver us The glowering abominations void-like eyes found his, and it smiled. Cries of agonised disbelief rose up from the rest of the Banner Guard as Ventris staggered back, the banner falling to the floor beneath him. For the first time in an age he found himself frozen with fear, swayed by indecision. The Banner Guard strode forward as one, weapons raised. They were unsure, perturbed by the warrior standing before them, towering over each one of them as an adult would a child. Astartes. The figure began, its voice like thunder. Ventris shook his head and rose to his full height once more, retrieving the fallen banner as he did so. He looked out at the blue-armoured warrior, standing tall as a giant before them. Its white hair and majestic features were all too recognisable to him. He looked upon a face he had seen many, many times, a face revered by every Ultramarine who had ever lived. The face of Roboute Guilliman, son of the Emperor, father of them all. Primarch-father. He uttered. The Primarchs gaze fell upon each of the warriors before him in turn. The ancient looked on, his voice stolen. It was the first time he had ever seen Guillimans eyes. They were black. Black as the trackless cold of space. I am returned. The giant said, his powerful voice seeming to echo no matter the intensity. My sons, kneel before me. Kneel before your Primarch. The Banner Guard swayed visibly, unsure. One of the warriors finally stepped forward and lowered himself onto both knees, his hands falling by his sides. No... The Ancient whispered, his voice still unwilling to spill forth. Guilliman coolly swept his sword across the Marines neck and sent his head rolling away across the dusty earth. The rest of the squad cried out and tensed, axes thrumming as they were raised.

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The Primarch turned to face them and kicked the corpse aside, his face twisting into a mask of utter malevolence. You should have knelt, filth. You would have died swiftly. Instead you raise arms against your own gene-father. I will shatter the light from your eyes. I will empty your veins one drop of blood at a time. Honour the standard! The Guard hollered as one, defiant despite their fear. For the Greater Good. Came the Primarchs ominous reply.

Chapter Twenty Two: Titans

The Ancients hearts missed a beat as he witnessed the charge of the Banner Guard if through the eyes of another, his body frozen as it was in horrified shock. The thing that was Guilliman stood before them, colossal and unafraid. Where there should have been rage or hatred or any other glimmer of emotion upon that face so revered, there was none. The warriors of the Banner Guard fell in silence, scattered like so much flotsam before the storm of the Primarch, his huge sword rising and falling without counter. He looked on as Guilliman lifted one of the Guard, brother Semion, high above his head and flung him into the burning shell of a Basilisk without effort, the thick metal bending around his armoured form as he slammed into it like a bullet. His black eyes turned to Ventris and he grew cold, as if he had been sucked bodily into the endless void. Ancient. It is your time. Ventris drew the banner pole close to his chest, the ancient cloth above him writhing in the breeze. His scarred face twisted with emotion, a mixture of pain and agonised revulsion. The father of Ultramar is dead, imposter. I see that now. You are an affront, betrayal forged in the Primarchs likeness, nothing more. I will honour the legacy of Roboute Guilliman by ending your existence. Guilliman swept the Sword of Ultramar before him and cut the warrior rising at his feet in two, sending his bisected body rolling away. His advance was one of measured confidence, his stride long and slow as if there were no other living creatures on the surface of Gehenna except him and the Ancient. This galaxy will unify under one banner, traitor. The Ethereals have opened my eyes to the horrors that are to come. You will stand with us or you will fall at my feet. There can be no other way. Ventris shook himself and stepped forward, ignoring Guillimans corrupt ramblings. To even suggest that the Primarch would serve a xenos master was a crime akin to renouncing the Emperor himself. Enough heresy! This ends now! The ground shook beneath the advance of the Titans of Gigas Passus as the two warriors prepared to meet, the Ancient tense and unsure, the Primarch bold and indomitable. Columns of searing fire lit the skies from end to end, the noise rising to unbearable levels.

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Above him, not a single inch of the Gehennan skies remained. For the Emperor and for Ultramar. He whispered. And charged. The Primarch filled his vision for little more than a fleeting second, growing and growing until all that could be seen was that familiar and revered face, now more alien and unknowable than it had ever been in death. He raised his arms and lunged, bringing the golden rod forward like a spear. Guillimans expression never once altered as he shifted away from the lunge and grabbed the banner pole, his grip like that of some vengeful god. He threw his sword to the ground and thrust his arm forward. Fingers of adamantium closed around Uriels neck and he gasped, unable to draw breath. The crimes of Horus replayed again. A sons betrayal of his father. The Primarch uttered, drawing the struggling warrior closer. I will brook no such treachery from you. There was a flash of movement and a lightning strike of fierce pain and he found himself drawn across Guillimans knee, falling with all the force of a descending lance strike. As I break you, so will I break the back of your treacherous Imperium. He fell to the floor, a mess of splayed limbs. The Primarch appeared, towering over him, an avatar of destruction. He raised the standard and slammed the pole through the Ancients chest with such power that it embedded itself in the earth beneath him. Ancient Ventris stared up into the burning sky, unable to stand or defend himself. The face of the Primarch stared down at him, cold as the grave, an entity of clear, inconceivable malice. Beyond the Primarch he could see the first of the towering Titans as they drew nearer, each mighty footfall jarring his vision. Beyond that, the innumerable fliers and vast ships of the Unity, blocking out the sun as they descended. And beyondonly eternity. Imposter! Guillman turned as he heard the voice, his expression ever unchanging. Galthor the Champion bounded past him to stand over the fallen Ancient, reaching down to retrieve his commanders chainsword. Stand down, pretender. He growled, activating the blade. Guilliman regarded the warrior with scornful eyes, the merest flicker of emotion that soon faded to nothing once again. Galthors armour was split and buckled in a dozen places. His left arm hung limp by his side, the bones shattered to fragments beneath his armour. He was swaying, clearly struggling to stay on his feet. He wheezed as he drew breath, his fused ribs smashed. Take him. Take him and go. The Primarch opened his mouth to answer and then paused, movement catching his eye. Two of the surviving Banner Guard limped past him and grabbed the fallen Ancient. One pulled the standard from his

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chest while the other took him beneath the arms and hauled him to his feet. Seeing this, Guilliman smiled. Pathetic to the end. It sickens me to see you wearing the armour of the Astartes. I see before me the sickness that has taken hold of the Imperium in my absence. A sickness that can only be purged by the guidance of the Unity. Galthor did not answer. No! Ventris roared, watching as the Champion lunged, his own screaming sword held aloft. He struggled to free himself from the grip of his two wards in vain. Let go of me! I command you to release me! It should be me! It should be me! There was a scream of engines and he fell silent, the two warriors carrying him slowing. Shadows began to descend all around him, the dry earth swirling beneath the downdrafts of more than a dozen craft. Land Speeders bearing the insignia of both the White Scars and the Ravenwing came to rest around him, their collective roar drowning out the sounds of the war for a fleeting moment. Marines disembarked in silent, practised formation, quickly flooding the space around him. Around the vehicles a rain of silver armour fell to earth on wings of fire, warrior women of the Adepta Sororitas. Lord Ventris. One of the Marines began, leaping down from the ornate speeder before him. The Marines armour was a deep black tinged with green and partially covered with long ivory robes. On one shoulder he bore the insignia of the Alliance Imperialis Solar, the other an ivory wing struck through with a sword. Captain Ornion. I must be released The warrior shook his head slowly, his eyes regarding the scene before him with a grim apprehension. No, Ancient. The orders are from the Warmaster himself. We are to bring you back. He was about to argue when he felt a hand against his shoulder, soft and yet alive with underlying power. He lifted his face to see the gaze of the Endymion, her porcelain features softly glowing with an ethereal light. Return. She uttered, her soft voice filling his mind. For you, this battle is over, brave warrior. Rest now. These were the last two words Ventris heard on Gehenna. +++ Galthor attacked, bringing the chainsword down at an angle towards the Primarchs head. Guilliman tuned the blade away with ease and countered, returning with a blow that would have cleaved the Champion in two had he not thrown himself back. The Sword of Ultramar swept by his waist and then rose, coming down at his head almost faster than he could follow. He lifted the chainsword and deflected the strike, spinning to attack again. Guilliman blocked the swing and lashed out with his boot, kicking the warrior off his feet. The Champion lurched back, rolling onto his feet once again, almost torn in two by the strike. Forgive me, Primarch. He whispered, stepping forward, the blade in his hand screaming. Only in death. Guilliman answered, decapitating the warrior with a single swing.

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The Champion fell forward onto the floor, his defiant challenge ended. The Primarch stepped forward and raised his eyes of the carnage about him, the shadow of the Imperial Titans falling over him. Heretic! B-----d son! He reeled, countering the blow at the very last second. The flaming sword rang as it deflected off the blade of his own, flames washing over his armour. Wings of pure white filled his vision as the Endymion landed before him, her silvered form mirroring the flames surrounding them. Two shining eyes regarded him with utter hatred as the Seraphim landed all around him, weapons ready. Sororitas. He hissed, taking on an aggressive stance. So, there is truly no end to the treachery of the new Imperium. I see now how far my fathers realm has fallen from His grasp. I will scourge and remake this kingdom one world at a time if I have to. Saint Cloelia did not answer at first. Her blazing eyes regarded the fallen Primarch with a knowing sadness, a realisation only she could truly understand. For a true son to have fallen so far to corruption is a tragedy, firstborn one. You of all the Emperors sons should have learned from the mistakes of the past. I see the truth behind the lie of your existence, for my eyes shine with the light of the Emperor. I cannot allow another Horus to leave this planet alive. Guilliman froze. A terrible rage burned in his obsidian eyes, an anger so deep and all-consuming the Saint herself shuddered to look upon it. Horus. He whispered, his voice deepening, changing beyond all recognition. You will burn for that insult, guela kre. You will all burn. With that he turned his eyes to the sky and lifted his arms, his face shaking with an indomitable rage. Execute the Montka! Kill them all! Wipe this planet clean! Overhead, the darkening skies rumbled.

Chapter Twenty Three: The Fall of Gehanna

The skies themselves shook with the wrath of the Unity. Huge areas of the firmament above darkened and sagged as the ships of the Montka Korvattra descended, laying waste to everything beneath them. Tau battlesuits, drones and fighter craft saturated the skies around them, so numerous in quantity it was as if the air was a solid mass. Bright lances of burning energy divided the world from horizon to horizon, cutting through the drifting smoke banks as they hunted their distant targets. Swarms of pulse fire zipped through the endless explosions, and death could be seen in every direction. Captain Orneon of the Ravenwing ran his gaze over the all-encompassing forces of the enemy and knew then with utter certainty that Gehenna was lost. There were too many. He banked sharply, passing between the legs of an Emperor-class, its indomitable advance shaking the ground, each footfall a peal of seismic thunder that crushed or toppled entire streets as it touched down.

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A quick rise and then a jink, throwing him and the rest of the pursuing Land Speeders out of the path of a brace of jogging Warhounds, their hunched bipedal bodies rising and falling as they hunted in the shadow of the lumbering colossus. The Ancient was still unconscious beside him; his armoured form slumped against the mag-clamp restraints of the gunners seat. Whatever the Saint had done to him, it seemed she had made sure that he would not be awake to see the fall of Gehenna. Curnian, raise the Warmaster. Inform him that we have the Ancient and are heading back as ordered. He voxed, descending sharply to race through the burning streets, wary of the hunting Dominators prowling the stone hab-blocks to the southeast. A shadow fell over his right side and he turned to see the speeding dirty white streak of Gohlgis Speeder pulling alongside him. The White Scar captains long grey beard and scalp lock thrashed in the wind, his ancient eyes tight and thirsty for retribution, his face almost hidden amongst the thick fur of the pelt he wore at his back. Captain My warriors and I wish to fight, Dark Angel. Too long have we fled like dogs before the tau. It is our time to honour Jaghatai, with our deaths if need be. Orneon held the warriors gaze for a lingering moment, searching the White Scars lined face for any sign of pause or vacillation. There was none. No Astarte is expendable in this war, son of the Khan. You must not let pride override reason. The two speeding craft parted swiftly as a burning Factory Ship cleaved between them, thick black smoke obscuring everything for a moment. No sooner had they passed the wreck than the White Scar skimmer speared through the choking fumes and fell in alongside the Ravenwing Speeder once again. The Unity burned Chogoris to try and keep her warriors from entering this war, Orneon. The sons of Jaghatai Khan are honour bound to collect their payment of blood. This is as good a theatre of war to die with our armour stained with tau blood as any. The Warmasters orders Calgar will be told we died a good death. Every one of my warriors will fall with a hundred tau corpses littered about their feet. No son of Chogoris would allow himself to die unless this is so. It is our time. Orneon turned away, unable to find the answer to this. He knew better than to try and reason with the feral warrior and his kin. As you wish, Gohlgis. I will inform the Warmaster of your decision. The White Scar captain raised his head and nodded, satisfied. He turned to speak to the pilot beside him and then to Orneon once more, raising the ornate curved tulwar he held above his head in salute. Then it is time to enter legend. Win this war, Dark Angel. Honour our memory. Orneon thrust his fist in the air in answer, saluting his brother captain. Die well brother, in the name of the Khan.

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Find victory brother, in the name of the Lion. The warrior answered. With that he turned to the squadron of speeding White Scar craft behind him and raised his sword once again. For the Khan and the Emperor! He roared, and was gone. The war cry echoed in Orneons ears long after. +++ The war cry of the massed Sororitas was a single shuddering scream, a keening, piercing howl that carried over the battle-tumult. Bolters barked and flared a staccato strobe-storm. Promethium flame gouted in mighty burning arcs. Meltabeams flashed the air itself to superheated molecules, searing anything they touched to nothing. The Endymion and her sisters attacked with all the force and fury of the mightiest tempest. They were dead the moment they laid eyes on the fallen Primarch and his xenos allies. The light of the suns above faded to dusk as the XV-00 Dominator cadre descended to meet them, a wall of armour stretching as far as the eye could see, jump-jets screaming. The first suit touched down and the ground beneath its feet shook, sending entire squads of Sororitas tumbling to the floor. As the first bolt pistols opened up in answer the first sisters began to die, scythed from their feet by the whining pulse chain-cannons of the towering warriors. The air turned to red mist within the first few seconds of the Dominators arrival, even power armour not proof enough against the guns of the enemy. The ten armoured giants rocked beneath the combined Sororitas guns, almost consumed by the blossoming fire. One of the suits stomped forward and staggered, its barrel chest turning to steam and molten metal beneath the touch of a hunting meltabeam. Bright blue energy flashed and sparked around it as the suits inbuilt field overloaded again and again, unable to cope with the powerful blast. The Dominator shuddered, finally undone, as the beam lanced through its bulk and cut it in two. The victorious Sister never had the chance to rejoice in her success. Another of the colossi swung its leg and punted her out into the swirling melee beyond, the blow breaking her apart. The Seraphim were as flies buzzing about the heads of gods. The massive Dominators swung their mighty arms about them, multiple weapons systems punching bodies from the air wherever they turned. Guilliman saw all this and smiled. Monster. The Saint spat, her porcelain features darkening empathically. The flaming sword in her hand seemed to flare brighter at her rage. Are you so condemned, First Son? Have you forsaken the Father so completely? Perhaps it is better that I end the torment of your existence for all time. Woman. Guilliman answered, his voice deeper and more timeless than the slow dance of the heavens themselves. That the integrity of the Fathers Imperium is protected by an army of women speaks volumes of its decline. My heart bleeds for the sons of Ultramar, my sons, left to fester and spoil in my absence. I will avenge their memory, sow, and I will paint this soil with your blood. Then I will be martyred for my god. She replied, the glowing corona about her head changing to a rich red glow.

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Stupid, wayward witch. Guilliman spat. The Emperor is no god. When I have finished with you I will have an audience with my father and I will bring him to task for the ruin that has befallen this kingdom. The saint said no more. A burning anger twisted her features and she charged, ethereal power igniting about her. The Endymion was a living Saint, a miracle of the Emperor. She could burn the heretic with but a gaze, could bend adamantium with her bare hands and purge the sin from a man with nought but a word from her holy lips. The Primarch tore her apart without a thought. Hold! It is done. The huge shadows slowed, falling over the bloodied face of the Saint. The huge Dominators froze at Guillimans word, almost as if physically compelled to obey the Primarchs every command. The bodies of the Seraphim were strewn about the feet of the towering battlesuits, littering the ground in all directions, broken and torn to less than bloodied meat. The Endymion lay sprawled on her back where the Primarch had cast her aside, her white wings broken and torn, her silvered armour rent in a dozen places. Witchlight flickered about her pale face, sputtering and dying like the flame of a spent candle. Saint Cloelia was undone. Guilliman deactivated the huge sword in his hand, cleaned its blade on the edges of his cloak and then sheathed it, confident in his victory over the Sororitas warriors. His expression remained unchanged as he walked over to the dying female, his stride one of assurance and resolute poise. He picked his way through the waiting giants and lowered himself before the Saint, casting a shadow over her prone, bleeding form. It is done, false saint. Let the light fade from your eyes now. Let the heresy end. Your misguided cause is lost. He raised a hand to the chaos about him, as if to offer the image to the dying woman. This world is ours. Gehenna has fallen to the rightful power of the Unity. The last bastion of the sick Imperium before the borders of the Segmentum Solar, and she is ours. I rejoice that we are so near to our goal. Know that, as the life fades from your body. We have won. The Primarchs lips spread in a wide grin, revealing perfect teeth beneath. He awaited the dying womans reply, though when it finally came, the victorious grin soon faded. Poor, misguided fool. Can you not see what has become of you? Can you not see how far you have fallen? My death is of no consequence; I am but a tool, a weapon. My passing shall have no bearing on the outcome of this war, only my actions. I have played my part. I am here, am I not? Guillimans face tightened as he heard this, rage reddening his taut skin. It is over. Let your life slip away Not yet. She whispered, raising a hand to his face. The Primarch recoiled instinctively, retreating from the womans touch. You still fear me?

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I never did. He snarled, his fingers curling around the Saints hand. She writhed at his touch, pain contorting her features. He took a moment to savour the womans pain. An arrogant mistake. The Prophet. The Endymion whispered, so softly as to be almost unheard. What? What did you say? I leave this legacy. She uttered, the fingers of her other hand pressing against the Primarchs temple. Guilliman shuddered and arched back, though he found himself suddenly unable to break free of her grip. A burning glow radiated from her palm, a searing light that scorched the Primarchs skin and turned it to blister. Know The Saint uttered, her armoured fingers seeming to sink into the Primarchs flesh. Know the truth. See the lie within. If only for the briefest of moments, doubt. He is coming, Primarch. See it as I have seen it. He is coming for you. Guilliman tore the Saints grasp away and put his fist through her lily-white face, causing the blessed woman to spasm and die beneath him. Raze this world! He roared, rising to his feet, his arms spread wide. Raze this damned world to ashes! Let all know the futility of standing against the Unity! Let the borders of the Imperium retreat further! Terra will be ours! The seat of my damned father will be mine! Roboute Guilliman screamed with unfettered rage as the skies above him roiled, choked with the innumerable craft of the Unity. Gehenna was lost, the last bastion of the outer territories. The borders of the Segmentum Solar lay beyond, laid bare before the advance of the Unity. The last boundary, ready to be crossed. The Primarch turned away and strode out into the burning conflict beyond, tall and proud and impervious. The single tear that ran down his regal cheek fell unnoticed.

Chapter Twenty Four: Epiphany

+++PROSCRIPTUS REX+++ +++THE MASSCIL ASTEROID WASTES+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Impossible. The rest of the gathering remained silent despite Berolinuss protests. All eyes hovered uneasily upon the Chaplain standing before them. Not impossible. Fact. Codian answered, resolute and unyielding. There is no mistake. Terra is inaccessible. I have studied the charts myself, and they are here before you should any wish to question my observations. We cannot hope to reach Terra unscathed. Even now the Unity move into the outer reaches of the Segmentum Solar. The corona worlds will already have fallen, that much is cold, hard fact. The inq

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He paused for a moment and then continued. The commander of this ship has revealed to me many truths about the current situation here in this galaxy. He nodded to Andrasi and the Rogue Trader activated a small hololith projector. A blue-tinged map of the galactic plane expanded out into the half light. A small red rune blinked to show their position. Other, larger runes were spread across the map like an infection, showing the postulated positions of the enemy fleets. With Ryza gone the Tau hold the entire eastern fringe of the Segmentum. There is nothing between here and Terra but Tau. To access the seat of our Emperor we would have to journey north from here, skim the southern edges of the Segmentum Obscurus, pass beneath Fenris and then between Stygies and Yarrick. Intelligence suggests that this area holds a narrow window of opportunity. The Leviathan fleet holds the space around Cadia, though the region between the bastion world and the Terran system is left open, unguarded. It is clear that the Tau see this region of space as safe, and that they can imagine no attempts to bridge the gap between Terra and Cadia. With Prometheus advancing further and further north upon Terra, any attempt to retake Cadia would sign the Imperiums death warrant. The gathered Astartes considered Codians words in silence, lost in thought. None of them had expected the way forward to be an easy one and yet, it seemed, everywhere they turned, the path to the Emperor grew ever more treacherous. Umbras rose from his seat and made his way over to the hovering map, causing the image to stutter and jump slightly as he ran an armoured finger over the area of space in question. What do we know of the status of the worlds here in this sector, Chaplain? What of Fenris, the homeworld of the Wolves? Does she still stand? Codian shook his head sadly. Fenris is lost, Apothecary. It would seem no one knows the eventual fate of the Wolves. Umbras nodded soberly. I see. What of these two worlds, Yarrick and Stygies? Unable to answer, Codian turned to Ligur, the Deathwatch Librarian. Hnn. Yarrick is the world you would have known as Armageddon. Not even the Tau seek to conquer that hell-hole. You will find nothing there except death and ruination. And what of Stygies, Librarian? Does she survive? She does, in a fashion. The priests of Stygies went mad after the fall of Mars. The world is no more than a locked-down bastion of the Mechanicus, so jealously defended that even the loyalist forces would be aggressively engaged should they attempt an approach. Stygies survives yet, though in truth she is as lost to us as any of the other worlds. Without a word, Umbras returned to his seat, a visible sadness in his eyes. Codian watched his return for a moment and then spoke once more. Then we are alone on this leg of our journey. So be it, this will be our trial. There may well be scattered worlds or outposts still loyal to us in this region of space. If we come across such colonies then we can petition their aid, perhaps even recruit their craft and warriors. Only time will tell. Then it is our destiny to deliver this Caesus to the Warmaster on Terra. Berolinus cut in, rising to his feet.

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That we should risk all to achieve this disquiets me, given that we know nothing of its intended function. Tell us, Chaplain, what does this device actually do? I do not know, brother. I have never once questioned its purpose. Ridiculous! How can we fight with any amount of conviction to complete a mission we don not even understand? This is Necessary. Berolinus fell silent and turned to the hulking form of Laenar, the Techmarine. In the many weeks that had passed since Ryza, Laenar had become more and more enigmatic, a silent, brooding figure hardly ever given over to communication. That he had chosen to speak at all was enough to silence the young Astarte. There are few indeed who know the true purpose of the Caesus. To allow the knowledge of its function to spread through our ranks would be to invite catastrophic failure. It is not an issue of trust, young Berolinus, but an action of necessity. Should any one of us be captured by the Unity, they would be sure to extract the information from us by whatever means they could. We cannot divulge that which we do not know. And what of you, brother? Berolinus spat, accenting the final word bitterly. If no ones integrity can be trusted, what is to prevent you fr My life, brother. I am unable to reveal such information either willingly or under duress, the Ryzan priest made sure of that. There is installed in my brain a cyanide capsule that may either be triggered by my own conscious thought or automatically should I even attempt to explain the nature of the Caesus. You see, I cannot betray this mission if I wanted to. To attempt to do so would mean my death. Berolinus hissed through bared teeth and sat back down, his eyes radiating hostility. Codian wished he had the means and the time to temper the young Astartes spirit, but even he had to admit that he sympathised with the warrior. Umbras placed a fatherly hand upon the Marines shoulder and then turned his attention to the Chaplain. So, do we have a definitive plan? Reach our destination. Was all Codian could reply. +++ The soothing sounds of the hymnal drifted through the close air of the chapel, creating a warm blanket of peace that wrapped itself around the shoulders of the praying Chaplain. He opened his eyes and looked up at the golden effigy of the Emperor Immortal standing above him, His powerful hands locked around the hilt of His sword. My father, steel my thoughts. He whispered, reaching up to touch the idol gently. Deliver us from the clutches of the enemy on this, our most important journey. Stay the hand and avert the eye of the enemy long enough so that we may complete this mission. Give us the strength to restore your Imperium for all time, so that no other enemy may ever again threaten its borders. Once before you have delivered me from death, so that I may undertake this task. I ask of you again. let your shield guard me and your sword bolster me, so that I may die knowing I have fulfilled your task. He bowed his head slowly and then looked up at the idol once more, placing both his bolt pistol and his

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crozius on the ground before the plinth. So it is that I offer all that I am to you, my father. While ever there is life in your ancient form, I know you can hear my prayers. I know your all-powerful mind and spirit is able to reach to the furthest corners of your rightful domain. Here me thus, then, as I make my pledge before you as an Astarte should. I, Daelo Codian, Ultramarine Chaplain, swear to you that I shall do all I can to succeed. My final breath shall be drawn only when I stand upon the same soil as the Emperor of all mankind. He found himself staring into the eyes of the Emperor then, transfixed by the golden orbs. His own words seemed to echo through his mind, over and over again. I, Daelo CodianI, Daelo Codian The golden statue seemed to glow brighter, the light glinting across its polished surface intensifying. It became apparent to Codian that he should find the sudden strange phenomenon disturbing, and yet he did not. He felt neither panic nor apprehension as he suddenly realised he could not move. Daelo CodianDaelo Codian He felt himself falling slowly backwards as the statue was enveloped in a blinding golden-white glow, more brilliant and intense than any he had ever experienced yet not so harsh as to cause discomfort to his eyes. It was as if he was immersed in warm, viscous liquid, as time seemed to slow about him and he felt the ground beneath his back and his arms fall by his sides, outstretched and splayed. The entire chapel disappeared as the light spread, resonating with a sound like the song of a million-strong Ecclesiarch choir. The voice in his head was no longer his but female, quiet and yet more intense than any he had ever heard. Daelo Codian, Prophet, I have seen himHe is coming Prophet, Chaplain Chaplain! Can you hear me? He opened his eyes to see Umbras kneeling over him, concern heavy on his face. Motion returned to his limbs and he sat up sharply, awash with confusion. Whatwhat is this? What has happened? The spike. Ligur growled, and Codian saw a gnarled face awash with blood. Even the Librarians eyes were crimson and bloodshot, the vessels burst. His psychic hood smouldered and sparked, almost ruined. II have never felt anything like it. Every single one of us onboard this vessel were floored by it. Emperor, what was that? As he hauled himself up onto his feet he became aware of the alarms, hundreds of them, all screaming in post warning. II felt something. I heard my name. At first we suspected the Nicassar, but this was different. Ligur continued, ignoring his claims. The only way I could possibly describe it would be that it felt like the most powerful transmitted astropathic message I have ever known. Servitors the length of the ship began to babble and speak in tongues. The Gellar field almost came online of its own accord. The Astropaths are still senseless. They speak of rapture, of the hand of god. They saythey say the Astronomicon spoke to them.

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An impossible notion. Codian said abruptly. I agree. Nonetheless, every last one of them still able to speak said the same thing. The Astronomicon itself spoke to them. And what did it say? Ligur shifted at that, the expression on his face a mixture of confusion and rejection. The same message. The servitors, the Astropaths, even a good few of the ships crew. A voice, both male and female, powerful and ageless. It was a message. Tell me what they said, Ligur. Awaken. Awaken and arise. He has come. The Prophet is among us. Codian pushed past the Librarian and propped himself up against the bulkhead, the colour draining from his face. He experienced a feeling he had not felt in an age. Nausea. Chaplain? He could not answer. Daelo Codian was a Chaplain of the Astartes, a son of the Emperor Himself. He knew that the Emperor was no god. He was, without doubt, the greatest and most powerful man ever to have lived, but he was no god. Why then, in spite of this philosophy, did he feel as if the hand of the divine had touched him? It had been a caress more beautiful and terrible than any he could ever have imagined and yet, despite the subject of the message, it had not been for him. It was a call to war.

Chapter Twenty Five: Hunters Returned, Vanphilos

Damned bloody Screamers! Wherever you turn they are waiting! Grungi roared, tearing his flight jacket from his shoulders. Codian looked on as the Demiurg proceeded to cast the jacket aside and then let his augmetic fist fall to the floor with a dull thump, its retractable chain rattling as it followed. A terrible feeling of impending trepidation settled over his mind. It had taken them two weeks to reach the edges of the border between the two Segmentum, only to find themselves stumbling into the path of a Nicassar Hunter Armada. Now, again, they were fleeing for their lives. Look lively, stalk-leg. Grungi growled, shaking him from his reverie. Codian frowned, donned his skull-face helm and locked it in place, the sealing clamps hissing as they connected. Very intimidating. The Demiurg smiled, sweeping his long red dreadlocks up over his face. Let us hope the Screamers chasing us are a particularly anxious strain.

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If not then they will learn to be so. Codian answered, activating his crozius. It is our duty to teach them the meaning of fear. Grungi watched as several of the Deathwatch jogged past, bolters held ready at their chests. Codian ignored the warriors as he took up an aggressive stance, the glowing eyes of his helm slowly surveying all around him. Hnn. You are wasting your time, Imperial. There will be no Nicassar stepping out of the air to shred our minds on board this vessel. This is an Inquisition ship. Explain. Codian answered, turning his gaze toward the short humanoid before him. Grungi responded with a look of bemusement before he spoke. Blessed ancestors, dont you know anything about your own organisation? This is a black ship, an Inquisition barge. It has null-fields so strong you can barely access your own memories without a struggle. Not even the Screamers can get inside this tub. No, if we cant outrun these b-----ds then well see boarding action, sure as sure. I hope they are stupid enough to try. By the time they realise that they cant call upon the powers of the warp in here I will have slaughtered myself a good many of them. I would ready my crackle-stick if I were you. He pushed past the Demiurg and made his way towards the bridge, drawing and arming his bolt pistol as he did so. Anxious deckhands sprinted past in squads, their armoured boots ringing on the deck. He slowed as he recognised one of the faces amongst the gathered throng. Andrasi! The Rogue Trader slowed as he laid eyes on the towering Astarte. Chaplain! Blessed firmament, the Nicassar have found us! I know, Captain Andrasi. I seek my brothers They head towards the bridge. The psyker has been looking for you, Chaplain. It would seem that our path has changed. Changed? Yes. The way to Terra is blocked. The Tau have massed along the northern border. Wewe cannot pass through. No! Codian raged, smashing his crozius into the bulkhead by his side. The power weapon tore through the thick metal as if it were paper, sending sparks coruscating across the deck. I will not be denied again! The choice is taken from us. Andrasi answered, drawing his own weapon. We must run. We must run north past Fenris, the only way free of the Tau fleets. It is the only way we shall survive this day. With that the Rogue Trader joined the tide of bodies and was gone, disappearing from sight within moments. Codian could barely contain the rage burning in his heart at being denied once more. Kryptman had been sure that the Tau were thin in this region, that their path forward would be free of obstruction. It seemed to him that the Unity were wiser than any of them had given credit for. What is the word, Imperial. Grungi asked behind him. Do we run, or do we fight? It would seem we run. Codian answered darkly. And in the wrong direction.

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+++ The ethereal light played across his black armour, casting an azure glow over his standing form. Covered from head to foot in his artificer power armour, no one who cast their eyes upon Daelo Codian could even guess at the glowing rage that smouldered beneath the armoured shell. Explain it to me again, Inquisitor. Why is it we still journey north, when the hallowed soil of Terra and our Imperial brethren lay to the south? I have a mission to complete, and I will see it completed no matter what. No living creature in this galaxy will prevent that. I understand your frustration. Kryptman answered, his voice deep and resonating as it carried over the multiple vox speakers set around the chamber walls. It was only by the grace of the Emperor that we managed to evade the Nicassar. We have, however, hit upon a significant problem. It would seem the Unity have doubled their efforts to corral the Terran system. Our intended path is too treacherous to even attempt to take. No, we have sorely underestimated the Unitys strength here in this region of space. If we are to hope to penetrate this cordon, we need information. We cant take any chances with the Caesus, Chaplain. Codian frowned, unable to mask his displeasure. Then what is our next course of action, Inquisitor? If we cannot head towards our intended destination, where do we go from here? We have a plan. We do? I am aware of no such plan. That is why I asked to speak with you, brother Astarte. It has become painfully clear that the Unitys movements here in this Segmentum have increased exponentially. We need to acquire a better picture of the lay of the enemy. We must capture one of their kind. And how do you intend we do that? I have spoken with your iron-priest. We think that we may have come up with a way to divorce a Tau subject from the Ethereals control, if only for a short time. We know such a thing is possible, for it has happened before. OShovah? The glowing figure before him nodded slowly. Imagine, Chaplain. Imagine if we can do this. To wrest the very defining power of control from the Ethereals would be an achievement greater than no other. The legend of Commander Farsight is a well-known tale in these times, a tale of hope to those still fighting the Unitys control, and yet no one truly knows what OShovah found on that dead world. Whatever he found, whatever happened to him, it was enough to cause him to hate his Ethereal masters with every ounce of his soul. Enough to cause a great schism within the Tau empire, a schism that is still being felt to this day. This has to be worth a try. Codian nodded slowly, realising that there could realistically be no other course of action. The way ahead had proved to be too treacherous, and they had to ensure that they found the safest path they could through the massing enemy.

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Very well. He finally answered. I will do whatever you advise, Inquisitor. I ask but one concession. Name it, Chaplain. The Caesus. Tell me of the Caesus. II cannot - Please, Inquisitor, spare me your pleas of secrecy. I know its function cannot be openly revealed while ever we risk capture by the Unity. I merely seek the answer to one particular riddle. When we first met, you told me that you were partly responsible for its creation. Do you remember? I do. Then answer me these questions. How did it come to be in the possession of Ankarzoth of Ryza? How many others were involved in this endeavour? If you cannot tell me what it does, then at least tell me how it came to be. There followed a long pause between the two figures, with only the softly humming field providing any noise. Finally, and much to Codians surprise, Kryptmans half-shrouded face broke into a wry smile. Clever, son of Macragge. I applaud your wiliness, but you forget that you speak with a man whose lifes work it has been to seek out the hidden truths in all things, to twist and manipulate every question so as to ensure the desired answer. Very well then Chaplain. I will indulge you. The Caesus is not a weapon in the conventional sense. Though we hope to use it against the Unity, in truth it was not designed to directly affect the Tau. No, the origins of the device lie far in the past, in a time long before the Tau rose to power. Long ago, there was a meeting of great minds. Many of the Imperiums foremost characters came together with a single purpose in mind. One purpose. One plan. To prepare. For what? The end. Kryptman whispered, almost fearfully. The end of the Imperium. We had always known, since the time of the great Heresy, that this glorious kingdom our Lord Emperor built would eventually fall. Of course, to even countenance such a notion in those times was a heinous slight of heresy, and yet He spread his arms wide as if to accent his point. Here we are. Codians face darkened along with his mood. Kryptmans words caused his stomach to tighten and twist, a consequence of centuries of Imperial dogma. Nonetheless, he could not doubt that the Inquisitor spoke the truth. This all sounds very clandestine. It was, I regret to admit. Nevertheless, it was decided that the preservation of the Imperium was more important than any other consideration. It fell to us few to safeguard humanity, to ensure that the seat of the Imperium and the Enthroned Emperor would forever be secure. Calling upon our combined expertise, we calculated and planned the design of a device of such power as never before imagined. Focusing our efforts on a central theme, each one of us took it upon his or herself to create a single part of the ambitious project, so as to ensure that no one of us could ever use what we had achieved for our own ends.

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Many were the minds involved in its creation. It fell to me to devise the devices implications of use. To another, greater mind of the Inquisition, the means to power it. A powerful priest of the Mechanicus oversaw its construction. A prominent member of the Astropathic council of Terra directed us in its function. A legendary missionary of the Ecclesiarchy undertook the task of consulting the Imperial Tarot to divine the Emperors will and a great Saint of the Imperium took it upon herself to stand sentinel until the day it would be needed, to send the call that would signal the end time had come. It was an endeavour like no other. The Chaplain listened, but found he could not shake the dark feeling of subterfuge from his soul. To imagine such a conspiracy had existed back then, in his own time. Kryptman saw this in his eyes and nodded slowly. I sense you discomfort, brother Codian, but you must understand that we all toiled with the best interests of our Imperium in our hearts. So you created this weapon in secret, long before the Unity rose to power? Yes. It was to be our legacy, our contribution to survival and stability, though I never imagined myself bearing witness to its application in my lifetime. None of us did. Now that Ankarzoth is dead, I may well be the last surviving member of the conclave, and I must put my faith in the others that each one of them left a legacy that will allow our collective efforts to be fulfilled. The Unity stand before the very gates of the Emperors Seat, and it is time. Faith? Legacy? Inquisitor, are you saying that you dont even know if this Caesus will work? Nothing is certain, Chaplain. Faith is the very foundation upon which this project was built. I can only pray that, when the time comes, all the pieces will fall into place. +++ He left the chamber and made his way to the bridge, his soul churning. A newfound sense of anxiety and hesitation lingered inside him, unbalancing his humours. The conviction he had placed in the Caesus now seemed suddenly uncertain, his every effort, unsure. Part of him wished he had never broached the subject. He rounded the corner and slowed, finding Berolinus approaching at a marching pace. Chaplain. He called, slowing to meet with Codian. I have come to find you. We have a target. Berolinus turned back the way he had come and Codian fell in alongside him, feeling his spirits lift slightly at the prospect of action. There is a small world not far from here, a world called Vanphilos. The ships long-range augurs have detected the presence of Tau technology. It would seem this world is under the control of the Unity. Then, it would seem, we have our opportunity. Codian answered, discontent clear in his voice. Berolinus nodded and, in silence, the two warriors headed towards the bridge, and the destiny that awaited them.

Chapter Twenty Six: Amongst the Enemy

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+++JEPHTAS REACH+++ +++VANPHILOS+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Rocking slightly beneath the movement of the open carriage, his eyes remained fixed to the distant alien shapes high above, hanging still in the air like bloated flies. The Unity were everywhere, like a plague. One could not look to the skies without seeing a ship or drone vessel. High above the colossal crystal windshields protecting the city of Jephtas Reach from the relentless, buffeting winds the Tau made their presence felt, ensuring that the conquered citizens of Vanphilos could never forget, even for a moment. He sneered and turned away, defiant of their unmistakeable message. Stop here. This will be fine. The carriage slowed, the drone of the anti-grav motivators decreasing in time with the deceleration. Five Imperials. The gruff navigator snapped, turning to face him. The mans eyes fell upon the leather case at his passengers side and he paused, licking his lips. Less you got foodstuffs in there. Lho sticks, liquor. Ill take anything worth a trade. He noticed the look of desperation in the mans eyes. Occupation did that to a populace. He didnt know how long the Unity had been here, but it stood to reason that the Imperial credit had long since depreciated in value since the Unity had come to this world. He ignored the case at his feet and began searching through the many pockets hidden beneath his wind-shawl, finally producing a good handful of credits, which he thrust into the navigators waiting hand. Sorry friend. Alls left is Imperial creds. Sall any of us got left now the damn Greys got us under the leash. The navigator stuffed the credits into his pocket quickly, his eyes widening. You mind your tongue, friend. You don know who or whats scanning the waves. The man hissed, flicking his head sharply to the left. A few moments later a trio of Korvesa drones hovered past them down the wide avenue, under-slung pulse carbines fanning slowly from side to side. Listeners. The navigator whispered with disgust, as soon as he was sure the constructs were out of earshot. He shook his head and then began to power up the carriage once more, glancing swiftly behind him as his passenger climbed down onto the street. You be needing me to wait? No. He answered, removing the case from the floor well of the carriage. The base thrum of the motivators filled his ears as he took in the city around him and the carriage left. Jephtas Reach. He could tell that this metropolis had once been a magnificent place. Its gleaming curved spires towered far above the windshields, glinting as they caught the sunlight. Far below, where the relentless winds could not penetrate, the mezzanine stretched as far as the eye could see. Its size hinted at the sheer volume of people that had once lined the marbled expanse. Now it was all but empty, the trading stalls bare, vendor and citizen alike shunning the once-popular area. Propaganda posters and stuttering holo-projections proclaimed the dominance of the Unity, as if the

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peoples of Vanphilos might somehow forget their incarceration. Once-magnificent statuary lay toppled and shattered upon the flags, desecrated by the occupation force. Little wonder then that this place had been shunned, he thought to himself. He dismissed the oppressive melancholy of the square and started to walk, taking in the lay of the occupation forces. Over to his far right he could see a squad of Guevesa handing out recruitment leaflets. Their idling Devilfish had its rear hatch open, waiting to receive the inevitable youths drawn by promises of protection and favour in return for a life of service to the Unity. Traitors to the Imperial cause, the soldiers now served the enemy. They fought and died for the Tau, whether through self-preservation or outright fear. Traitors to a man. Just like him. He decided to steer clear of them and crossed the avenue, heading towards the edges of the expanse. As he passed by one of the crackling projections, a depiction of an orating Envoy, he bowed his head and spoke softly. The Tauva is all. Live to serve in the name of the Unity. As he walked away he couldnt help but feel the disgust churning in his gut. To speak those words now caused his soul to twist inside him, but he knew without a doubt that they were listening. He had seen others curse and denounce the Unity before these projections on dozens of worlds, only to pay the price minutes later as the Sentinel drones responded with extreme prejudice. The Tau cared nothing for the lives of those they dominated, they only cared about compliance and servitude. He would show them that rebellion would never be scoured from the hearts and minds of men. Gunfire shook him from his reverie and he picked up the pace, quickly turning the nearest corner to happen upon a grim scene. A ten-strong Fire Warrior squad were stood over the broken bodies of several men, the crimson stains dashed across the wall behind the bodies speaking volumes of what had happened. Another public dissident execution. Another flicker of rebellion quelled. He took a deep breath, pushed the anger and disgust deep down inside him, and started forward. The Tau warriors glanced his way as he approached, the lenses of their helmets glinting in the sunlight. One or two of them shifted their position to face him, pulse rifles rising slowly. The Tauva is all. He called, picking up his pace slightly. Before any of the xenos had time to speak, he threw a nod towards the dead men and sneered. Good hunting, noble Shas. Perhaps, given time, those foolish enough to entertain ideas of insurgence may finally realise the futility of their ideals. We must pray that the sons and daughters of these men learn from the pain of their loss. Move along. One of the Tau snapped, dismissing him with a wave of his rifle. Mind your own business, guela. He didnt heed the warriors warning. Instead, he made a show of glancing around him and then stepped forward, much to the aliens chagrin. He shook the case in his hand. Forgive me, but I have journeyed far in the name of the Tauva.

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He produced a small ident-wafer, though it was clear by the glances the Tau threw one another that they had little idea of what they should be recognising. Guela Intelligence, Sacea Command. I have in my possession enemy technologies; technologies that may well expedite the advancement of this suppression phase. It has taken us months to obtain this device but we are sure that its use here may well see an advance on Terra brought forward by months, perhaps even sooner. The squad Shasui of the squad, revealed to be the warrior that had first warned him off stepped forward and raised his rifle, halting only when inches from the mysterious mans face. The rest of the squad mirrored the commanders actions and within seconds a wall of thrumming pulse rifles surrounded him. Drop the container on the floor and back away. Do as I command. He did so without question, placing the case before the cloven boots of the Shasui and then backing away, his hands slowly rising. On your knees. The Shasui ordered, gesturing with his head towards the case. Another of the warriors stepped forward to retrieve it. Please, have a care. The device is very delicate. If it sustains any damage The Shasui smashed the barrel of his rifle across the mans face, sending him sprawling onto the floor. Silence, guela. Remember your place I know my place! I serve AunO Kelsharn Gilthor of the Kraken Shanal. You would risk the wrath of an Aun so tactlessly? The entire squad froze upon the mention of an Ethereal. They retreated as one, heads bowed, rifles descending. You? You serve an Aun? I Careful, Shas brother. Speak with a cautious tongue. To question an Ethereals motives or conduct shows a lack of faith utterly inimical to the Tauva, you know that. I question nothing. The Shasui answered sharply, clearly appalled by his near-lapse of control. I live to follow the orders the Ethereals, not question them. You shouldyou should have identified yourself sooner. He picked himself up and grabbed the case quickly, ignoring the blood streaming from his nose. Blame is irrelevant. This matter is of utmost importance and we have already discussed too much out in the open. He gestured over to the squads waiting Devilfish. You have shown me that the citizens of this world still harbour the capacity for rebellion. I need to speak with whoever is in command as soon as you can arrange it. For the Greater Good. +++ The scream of thrusters shook the bulkhead of the transport, signalling the arrival of the target. The two warriors by the hatch glanced out into the square and then signalled to the others before quickly exiting, causing the rest of the Fire Warriors to follow without a word.

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The ShasUi looked at him for a moment and then followed, gesturing for him to stay where he was seated. He reached down by his side and gripped the handle of the case, feeling his pulse quicken. Time to act. The Tau had searched him for weapons when he had boarded the Devilfish, a routine precaution. Of course, they had found none. He was better than that. He quickly placed the container on its side and opened it, the release clamps popping with a hiss. The inner lid of the case was false and he slid it aside to reveal the compact lasgun hidden there. He checked to ensure that none of the warriors were about to return and then snatched the weapon, quickly arming it. The cockpit access door lay just ahead of him at the end of the hold, the pilot beyond that. He picked his way past the seating rows, activated the door release and calmly put three lasblasts through the pilots skull, the noise masked by the arrival of the craft outside. He deactivated and slid the pistol into his belt and then closed the hatch once more before quickly returning to his seat to await the arrival of the target. The Fire Warriors returned within moments and with them was another Tau, much taller and more slender than the armoured warriors. He wore long robes of white and gold over segmented ivory armour, and a wide-brimmed headdress similar to the dome of a Korvesa drone. He carried a long cane topped with a symbol of his office, a bisected diamond shape headed by a circle of glowing azure light that fizzed and crackled rhythmically. A hovering shield drone accompanied him, its inbuilt shield generator humming softly. The warriors parted to allow the new arrival to approach him. The Tau did so, his obsidian eyes narrowing. I am PorO Gormat, Envoy Prelate. What is it you need so desperately to show me, guela? He looked into the eyes of the Water Caste Envoy and smiled. Noble Por, I have a gift for you. A gift that may quicken the course of this war. The scowling Envoy looked on as he slid the heavy case across the floor towards him and then opened it, revealing the object within. The Tau cast a quizzical eye upon the offering and then looked at him, clearly unimpressed. You would have me beg an explanation? No, Por. This is a piece of Imperial technology captured from an Astartes battle barge in the Ultima Segmentum. My master believes that, should the Earth Caste here be able to replicate the device, the advance of Leviathan may be accelerated beyond all expectation. He reached into the case and hauled the device out onto the floor of the hold, clearly struggling with its weight. The Por eyed the ugly, angular guela construct with disdain. Teleportation technology. He explained with a smile. The Pors face slackened. Howhow does it function? Allow me to show you. He puffed and panted as he hauled the device down the ramp and placed it on the floor of the square. The

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Pors personal Orca sat idle mere metres away, its open hatch flanked by the Envoys honour guard. He righted the teleporter and then glanced around him, a wary look on his face. It is unfortunate that we must test this machine out here in the open. Who knows what loyalties hidden eyes may hold? This world is under Unity control, guela. Its loyalty is assured. Of course. He answered, bowing his head. He made a show of quickly glancing over at the bodies of the executed rebels, a gesture he was sure was not lost upon the Envoy. You must forgive my caution, Por. I have never before been entrusted with such an important task. From what I could gather, the Tau Shanal itself awaits news of this devices utilization. The Envoy almost choked as he heard this, visibly shuddering at hearing the mention of the Ethereal council of Tau. The weight of the strangers words appeared to have a physical effect on the Envoy as his entire body sagged. He gestured to the surrounding Fire Warriors and they quickly formed a living shield around the precious technology. Bring it to the hold of my craft, guela, and be quick about it. We will discuss the implications of its use. Of course, Por. A wise course of action. He replied, doing as ordered without delay. Surrounded by twin walls of Fire Warrior armour, he began to lug the machine towards the open rear hatch of the bulky Orca. Your name. The Envoys voice startled him and he slowed. What is your name, guela? My pardon, Por. I am the Cadian. The Envoys smooth brow furrowed. A curious name, but it will suffice. I will be sure to remember it, especially if this technology proves successful. I am sure you will, honoured Por. He replied, stepping into the bowels of the craft.

Chapter Twenty Seven: Kidnap

I presume you are able to operate this device? I am. The Cadian replied, stepping back as the teleporter began to power up, sending out a low hum that resonated through the surrounding bulkheads.

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The Envoy gave a curt nod and then ordered the warriors back with a wave of his staff. You intend to use it now? Is this wise? It is safe enough. Are you familiar with Imperial teleportation technology? Of course not. Such knowledge is the concern of the Earth Caste. My apologies. Fortunate then that I took the liberty of pre-arranging a small demonstration in order for you to familiarize yourself with its applications. He explained, producing a small control slate from the inside pocket of his jacket. I have pre-programmed specific coordinates into the device. Using these coordinates I am able to actually displace this craft and send it to another location. I have set it to appear at the far end of this mezzanine. Assuming, of course, that you approve. The Envoys face slackened. Intriguing. And you are able to guarantee that the craft will maintain its integrity? This is my personal transport, Cadian. The Cadian smiled and nodded. I give you my guarantee, Por, that this will be a memorable day. +++ The Orcas occupants filed out onto the surface of Vanphilos in one huge, swiftly-moving mass. The crafts pilot was the last to exit, a tall, incredibly thin creature that almost seemed to struggle with the simple task of walking under his own volition. It was clear he more than any other was unhappy at having to leave the craft, though he never once voiced any displeasure. Once they were clear, the Cadian produced the control slate once more. Good Por, today we will witness history being made. He said, pressing the small rune set into the centre of the device. The Envoy answered him, though what was said, he never heard. He looked on as one of the Fire Warriors broke away from the squad and made his way over to the Devilfish, moving at a swift jog. A pang of apprehension quickened his pulse. Did the Tau suspect something? The hilt of the Envoys staff jabbed him in the leg, rousing him from his reverie. Did you hear me, guela? I asked you how long this is expected to take. Not long. He replied, all traces of obsequiousness gone from his voice. Good. And what of the populace? Before you were concerned by the possibility of rebel witness. Do you not think this elaborate demonstration somewhat over-revealing? Perhaps it is time the agents and dissidents of the enemy received a demonstration of our power. The Cadian answered, his entire demeanour changing. He cast the slate aside and looked toward the Devilfish as a low, resonating whine began to rise steadily from the belly of the nearby Orca, its landing feet rattling on the flags below. The Envoy threw him a bemused glance, a deep scowl weighing on his lipless mouth.

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What is this? The craft is yet to move He ignored the Envoy and took a few steps forward, his eyes fixed upon the silent skimmer tank. The Fire Warrior had been inside for several seconds now. What was to follow next was inevitable. The emerging shas threw himself out of the xenos transport and onto the ground, shouting as loud as he was able. Every head turned slowly as the rest of the gathering heard this, bodies freezing in surprise. The Tau soldier sprinted across the square towards them, the rifle in his hands rising The Cadian drove an elbow into the helm of the warrior by his side, tore the rifle from his hands and blew the runner from his feet in a spray of visceral matter. Before any of the others had time to react he turned and put a shot through the head of another warrior before driving the butt of the rifle into the Envoys gut, doubling him up. He kicked the glowing staff away across the flags and rolled around the back of the Water Caste commander. Before the taller creature had time to react he wrapped his free arm under the aliens armpit and behind his head then slammed the barrel of the rifle into his chin, pushing the Envoys head up with a violent jolt. Welcome to your fate, xenos. He snarled, a manic grin spreading across his scarred face. The rest of the Hunter Cadre hesitated, weapons hovering diffidently. Guela kre. The Envoy spat. I should have known. It will be a pleasure to witness the extermination of your kind once the Final Destiny is realised. The Cadian tightened his grip, causing the Envoy to release a quiet gasp. Kre? You are right, Tau, I am a traitor. I betrayed my people and my Emperor once and I will spend the rest of my life atoning for that. You will never escape this square alive, guela. You have condemned yourself. Even as we speak there are forces mobilising to bring you down. And they will be well met. The Cadian replied, turning his captive so that he had a good view of the Orca. Arrogance will prove to be the downfall of your Unity. You speak of destiny, noble Por. Look to yours. PorO Tashvar Gormats eyes widened as they met with the twin red orbs of the leering guela skull. The black armoured giant threw himself from the Orca and landed heavily on the floor before the ramp, his crimson cape billowing about his back. His weapon roared and two of the Fire Warriors came apart where they stood, torsos disintegrating as the mass-reactive rounds blew them apart. Forward, brothers of the Imperium! Codian shouted, thrusting his active crozius out before him to where the reeling Fire Warriors waited. Cleanse this nest of Tau filth! The Chaplain broke into a sprint, each footfall shaking the ground beneath. More huge armoured shapes burst free of the Orcas hold and ran after him, sending bolt rounds smashing into the gathered Tau warriors. The Fire Warriors and the Pors honour guard finally found the presence of mind to mobilise and began to drop, one by one, rifles quickly raised and aimed. The first round of pulse-fire hammered into Codians artificer armour, each hit a bright, ringing thud. Deep molten craters scored the ancient armour, each one exuding a thin, acrid smoke. The Chaplain did not falter. By the time Codian had reached the Envoy and his captor the rest of the Tau lay dead or dying around him,

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broken by the relentless fire of the Marines. Only the Air Caste pilot still survived. The skeletal creature drew a small pistol from the holster at her waist, considered using it for no more than a passing moment and then, glancing at the wall of Marines surrounding her, made to cast it aside. The thunder hammer of Torvus smashed her head from her shoulders regardless, causing the body of the slender pilot to fall forward onto its knees and then onto its chest. Congratulations. Codian said, nodding towards the Cadian. With that he turned his gaze upon the Envoy. Who is in command of the Tau here on this world? You waste your time, guela. This world is forever under the control Who is in command of the Tau here on this world? Codian repeated, his armoured fingers closing around the Envoys neck. The former Kasrkin released his grip on the Tau and moved away, allowing the Chaplain to lift the Envoy as if he were lighter than air. Despite the obvious fear in his eyes, the Envoy remained defiant. Imperial fool. If you seek to undermine the command of this occupation force then you waste your time. The rule of each and every conquered planet is overseen by a Water Caste council. Kill or capture me you wish, it will make no difference. Codian tightened his grip just a fraction, enough to cause the Envoy to choke and squirm in his grasp. Where are the Ethereals? F-far from here. The Envoy rasped, hardly able to answer. They do not n-need to be present to d-direct the destiny of this war. Wuh-we a The Chaplain swept the back of his gauntlet across the Taus face and knocked him unconscious. Just as your Techmarine had hoped. Ligur uttered over his shoulder. Codian nodded and gathered the cataleptic Envoy up under his arm, holstering his bolt pistol in order to do so. He gestured over to where the Taus fallen staff lay, still pulsating softly. Kryptman and Laenars instructions were clear. He said, looking to Berolinus. Retrieve any ceremonial items or symbols of office belonging to the captive. Berolinus did as ordered and stooped to snatch the staff from the ground, moments before the first whine of high-powered engines was heard carrying over the rooftops of the surrounding city. Reinforcements are coming! The Cadian shouted, stooping low to retrieve the rifle of one of the fallen Tau warriors. Codian listened to the sound for a moment and then turned to the rest of the Marines. Their response was swifter than anticipated. We must retreat while we can. Cadian, you realise the teleportation retrieval system will be unable to I know, Chaplain. I am no Marine. The Cadian answered, quickly checking over the weapon in his hands. I got down here by myself. I will get back. Either that, or the Emperor will decide it is time for my Trial before the Throne. Either way, I wish you luck. Restore our Imperium, Codian of the Ultramarines. The Chaplains eyes remained locked with the soldiers for a moment. Try your best to survive. Do not fall until you are sure you have done all you can. Any less would be an

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affront to the Emperor. The Cadian nodded and then sprinted out towards the Devilfish without another word, casting a quick glance at the growing shapes gliding over the distant rooftops of the city district. Feeling the weight of the alien beneath his arm, Codian readied himself to leave Vanphilos behind, their prize secure. Did I hear mention of a retreat? The familiar voice caused him to glance over his shoulder. A gnarled, ruddy face stared back, almost lost amid the matted tangle of red hair hanging about it. Thurgus Grungi smiled his wide, broken smile at Codian, the jacket of his flight suit already removed and cast aside. By Kurgans hairy rump, I dont think so, stalk-leg. Ive only just got here. Grungi? How in Macragges name..? What? Im Demiurg, Marine. Your techpriests would soil their augmented breeches if they had even half a hint of what our Engineers were capable of. Dont concern yourself, we have a battle to fight. The short alien thrust a finger out at the rapidly approaching craft. I am the Tauslayer, Codian. It has been overlong since I last reaped my quota of grey flesh. With that the unhinged alien turned to look out towards the Tau transport, watching as the Cadian disappeared into the open side hatch. Stay here and you will fall, Demiurg. We cannot fight an entire invasion force. Then perhaps my fate has caught up with me at long last. Grungi answered with a sneer of determination. This is my life, to hunt and slay these grey filth-piles. Run if you must, complete your mission and exterminate these damned treacherous b-----ds for all time. I will not. Besides He gestured in the direction of the Devilfish. Retreat is not an option available to some of us. Your smaller friend is perhaps the bravest of us all. I will not abandon him as readily as you. Blessings of the ancestors be upon you, Codian of Ultramar. Codian made to reply but the Demiurg spun about on his heel and was gone, running as fast as his modest legs would allow. For the first time in his long existence he found himself stunned by the words of another. Stunned, and perhaps even more unexpected, derided. The truth of the aliens words stung far more than any wound ever could. There was no more time left to question or argue. The Tau were almost upon them. He quickly passed the unconscious Tau to Ligur. Take him, brother, and set the teleport homer to return. Only Berolinus wavered, hesitating as the rest of the Deathwatch turned and jogged quickly back towards the Orca. Brother Chaplain? Go. Codian snarled, sweeping his crozius out in a wide arc before him. Do not argue. Do not question.

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Honour our Chapters memory and follow my orders without hesitation. The Emperor be with you, Chaplain. Berolinus replied, bowing swiftly before turning and dashing out after the others, the telltale hum of activating teleportation inversion coils rumbling beneath the rising whine of the approaching enemy force. Daelo Codian stood alone in the middle of the square and listened to the familiar pulse-pulse-pulse of his Marine brethren returning to the Proscriptus Rex, along with their prize. The Demiurg was right. The teleportation technology was designed for Astartes use, but with the proper modifications it could be used to transport almost anyone, the Tau was proof of that. In truth, he had given little thought to the Cadians fate beyond the capture of their target. Now, left behind to face an entire Tau army, he considered what price honour would ask of him.

Chapter Twenty Eight: The Escape

The first Tau vessels to reach him came screaming out over the tall buildings and passed overhead, the passing downdraft rocking him and causing his cape to snap about his head. The wide mass of a Tiger Shark plotted out the sun above, flanked by a pair of Barracuda escorts, the screech of their collected engines vibrating his chest plate. He watched as the three aircraft spread and began to come about, rising up over the spires of the surrounding buildings in order to turn. Stalk-leg! Shave my mane, but its a sight to see you! He tore his eyes away from the sky to see Grungi waving from the hatch of the Devilfish, its engines whining as they powered up. Well, what are you waiting for? The Tau to frag your arse into the warp? Come on, move it! He lowered his head and ran, every thunderous step shattering the floor beneath his feet. He tore his bolt pistol free and armed it, checking the ammunition readout flashing on the inside of his visor. Half a clip. Within a minute he ascended the ramp with a single bound and ducked inside the vehicle, feeling it shift beneath his feet. Grungi was standing behind the door, a manic grin on his face. Welcome to your conscience, Imperial. You had better make a little more room. What? It would seem your newfound sense of ethics is infectious. Grungi replied, gesturing out past him. He looked out of the hatch to see another shape sprinting towards the craft, the sunlight glinting off the silver trim of his armour. It was Torvus, Ligurs assault Marine. The dark-skinned warrior shouted something incomprehensible in the racket caused by the howling engines of the approaching Tau craft and thrust his hammer out towards the wide avenue, his pace increasing further. His warning was clear. The Tau ground forces were almost upon them. Codian risked a glance up at the

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skies as the Marine thundered into the hold beside him, watching as the large Tiger Shark began to disgorge its complement of gun drones. What do you think you are doing? He asked the Marine, retreating back into the interior of the craft. To his complete surprise, Torvus lowered himself onto one knee and bowed his head, his storm shield and thunder hammer spread out before him. My duty, Chaplain. My life is His. I exist only to wreak His vengeance, to bring nought but rightful death to His enemies. I will not run from that destiny. I will stand and fight while ever there enemies to slay. Then stand, brother, for there are enemies aplenty here on Vanphilos. Codian replied, shifting back to allow the Marine to stand. By his side, Grungi nodded vigorously in approval. Too bloody right there are. Enough that I may spare one or two for the whetting of your mallet, Marine. I am feeling generous. Torvus threw the Demiurg a spiteful glance that the short alien almost seemed to take pleasure in disregarding. Codian left the two warriors and made his way over to the cockpit hatch, stepping over the leaking body of the vehicles former pilot. I assume you know how to pilot this craft? The Cadian glanced behind him quickly and then turned his attention back to wrestling with the controls, his actions causing the Devilfish to begin to glide forward. I have a grasp of the basics. Shouldnt you lot be on the bridge of the Proscriptus Rex by now? I wasnt planning on carrying passengers. Plans change. Codian replied. Just keep us moving. We will try to take care of the rest. Yes Chaplain. Ave Imperator. Codian slammed the hatch shut and picked his way back along the confined hold as the Devilfish began to pick up pace, the shrill whine of the engines a muted hum behind the thick armour of the hull. Torvus and Grungi were waiting for him. What is the plan? The Marine asked, fighting to keep his balance. To stay alive. The Chaplain replied. And to kill as many of the enemy as we can. By the Leagues, thats a sound plan! Grungi answered. My metal fist aches for Tau blood. Its joints thirst for lubrication, the only kind it knows. Codian ignored the Demiurg and moved to speak with his brother Marine. The Tau here vex me, Torvus. I was under the impression they had changed, grown larger and stronger like the beast we encountered when we rescued you. You speak of the Shas Kayon, the Astartes Hunters. Monsters like OKirla were engineered to be largest and strongest of their kind. These Tau are of a more typical constitution Torvuss words trailed off as he realised the Chaplains attention was elsewhere, his eyes set on the scene behind him. He followed Codians gaze through the open hatch and looked on as the drones launched from the Tiger Shark beset upon the Orca. The constructs unfolded as they fell, multi-jointed extremities unfurling. The disc-shaped arachnoids

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clambered quickly into the open hold, weapon-limbs searching the space. Others spun on their axis to look out at the fleeing Devilfish. Once they realise the Envoy has gone, they will hunt for us. Torvus announced. The transport took a sharp right into the depths of the city and the scene quickly disappeared. The Devilfish tore down the narrow street, the backwash from its thrusters bowling terrified citizens from their feet. Bodies ran screaming in flight as the speeding craft careered from left to right, scraping the facades of buildings and felling glowlamp stalks amid showers of sparks. Codian threw open the pilots hatch and loomed inside, his armoured torso filling the cramped space. Cant this crate move any faster? Without pausing to look behind him, the Cadian shook his head. Throne, Chaplain, any faster and we wont make the next turn. He began to manipulate the control bank before him and a section of the digitally-projected windshields interior became a readout screen, the alien symbols printed across the glass utterly unrecognisable to the Astarte. It would seem we have an entire Hunter Cadre on our tail. Any ideas how we are going to lose them? You tell me, Cadian. You served these xenos cretins for a time. Surely you have an idea of how they operate? The Cadian did not turn to offer his reply, yet Codian could sense the soldiers bristling at his words. Hmm. The aircraft are our main concern. We have little chance of outrunning the Barracudas. Our only chance will be to deploy the disruption pod The entire craft rocked violently and Codian watched through the projected screen as the brace of sleek, snub-nosed flyers thundered past them, blotting out the sun. That was too close. The Cadian said, fighting to keep the transport steady. Sooner or later their crew will compensate. We are living on borrowed time. We need a plan. The Chaplain answered. I assume this vehicle has its own armaments? A single nose-mounted burst cannon and a smart missile system. Nowhere near enough to win this fight. Improvise. The Emperor will show us the way. The narrow avenue widened and then stretched away all at once, revealing a vast, open space. The ground either side of the Devilfish plummeted away, leaving a twin-lane strip of road stretching out before them. The suspension bridge was huge, spanning the valley from horizon to horizon. Sparkling blue water twinkled far below. Far up in the azure skies, the Cadian looked on as the distant fliers began to turn and come about, ready for another attack run. S--t. I may have just signed our death warrant. He warned the Chaplain. Well never make it to the end of this damned bridge!

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Then do all you can to take them out of the equation. Codian answered. You say this craft has missiles. Use them. Way ahead of you. The Cadian began to frantically program the intelligent munitions, leaving the Chaplain to push his way back into the transports hold. Torvus was by the open hatch, his eyes fixed intently on the blurred barriers speeding past. It seems weve hit a snag. He observed. Codian nodded and glanced at the pair of stunted legs standing on the raised platform before him. Id have to agree with the lad! Grungi called from the open cupola above. It would seem that we are not fraught with options out here! Codian holstered his weapons and plucked a pulse rifle from the munitions rack lining the hull. Let me see. He ordered, depressing the symbol set into the bottom of the platform, an action that caused the circular dais to descend. Grungi scowled in displeasure as he appeared, their two faces drawing level. What gives..? I will not yield without a fight, Demiurg. Save your flying fist for when the enemy are close enough to smell. I intend to delay that time for as long as I can. With that he climbed onto the dais and rose to his full height. Such was his size that he didnt need to raise the platform up. He lifted the alien rifle up through the hatch in time to see a number of speeding shapes scream from the front fins of the Devilfish, twisting contrails spreading in their wake. The smart missiles rose sharply and stabbed through the overhead latticework of girders before spearing out into the skies, hunting for the approaching flyers. He almost lost the rifle when the skimmer rose suddenly, avoiding a slower moving vehicle below. In his struggle to maintain his balance he watched as both Barracudas began to fire, ion cannons flashing like miniature suns as they unleashed their deadly particle streams. A glittering cloud puffed from the two flyers as the pilots realised, a fraction too late, that the smart missiles were upon them. The decoy launchers caused most of the twisting missiles to explode prematurely, though a brace of the intelligent munitions managed to break through the cloud of emitter drones and reflective chaff and spear through the wide intake grille of the of one of the flyers. The Barracudas entire left side expanded and ruptured beneath a billowing mushroom of flame, sending the unfortunate craft into a dizzying spin. Look out! Codian cried as the burning craft corkscrewed into and through the uppermost support spires, smashing girders loose and causing tension cables to snap like straw. A good deal of the descending craft was torn away, fins and armour plate shedding and spinning away. Codian shielded himself instinctively as the falling craft ploughed through the vertical cabling metres before them and plummeted out of sight, thick black smoke extending lazily in its wake. One of the Barracudas wing-mounted pulse cannon drones scythed towards him like a falling coin and rang off the hull of the Devilfish before spinning past his head, shedding matter and weapon parts like rain.

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Rubble fragments pattered against his visor as the hurtling skimmer punched through a thick wall of dust thrown up by the ion cannon streams, mercifully diverted at the last moment by the missile strike. He rotated as fast as he was able, the pulse rifle still in his grasp, to see a number of woefully familiar shapes loom through the choking grey cloud behind them. Emperors oath He uttered, watching as the long, sleek barrel of the pursuing Hammerhead pierced the veil like an arrow. Behind it followed more bulky hovering shapes, all similar and yet differing in the configuration of their weaponry. As if to add one final nail to the coffin lid, the wide, dark shape of the Tiger Shark slid over the smaller tanks like a miniature eclipse, skimming the tops of the support towers. A glance to the left saw the remaining Barracuda circling wide over the horizon to begin another attack run, ready to reap its vengeance in blood and death. There was nowhere to run. We have a problem He warned the others, ducking into the hold. I know, Imperial. Grungi answered. Your soldier has already warned us. A fine variety of targets for us to choose from. Who do you recommend we dispatch first? Codian shook his head and was about to rise through the cupola once again when a sudden melodic pattering rang off the hull, causing the Demiurg to flinch. Several small glowing patches appeared by his head, the metal there turning red-hot in seconds. By the Core, what is that? Codian rose through the hatch and looked up to see scores of large drones falling towards them, their twin burst cannons spinning webs of pulse fire his way. He thrust the pulse rifle up, took aim through the sight and fired, splitting his first target open like a ripe fruit. He quickly shifted his aim and fired again, punching another automaton from the sky. Another shot, another successful hit. The drones were armed well but they were slow, both in compensation for the speed of the Devilfish and in descent. Codian dismissed the lancing azure energy slamming into the hull all around him and silently prayed to the immortal Emperor to help him maintain a steady aim. Within seconds a shower of pulse shot hissed by him and slammed into his shoulder guard, gouging glowing craters in the thick ceramite. The rifle shattered amid a shower of sparks and the separate pieces spun away, metal pattering across his faceplate and shoulders. He cast the remains aside and drew his bolt pistol, aiming and firing single-handed. Another gun drone shattered into whickering fragments, its armour nowhere near proof enough to stop the Imperial bolt round. The rest of the bolts failed to find a mark and he ejected the spent clip, already fumbling at the pouches at his waist for another. Here, stalk-leg, try these. He heard Grungi call from below, and felt a collection of disc-shaped objects being thrust into his questing fingers. He pulled his hand up to see them. EMP grenades. Set the timer dial to minimum and throw them, Imperial. Dont concern yourself too much with accuracy. Arm my pistol. He answered, casting the weapon down into the hold. Eh? Dont think Ill be rummaging about your armoured bloody crotch for ammunition, stalk-leg The Chaplain took one of the discs, turned the dial to minimum with his thumb and then depressed the activation button, arming the device. He drew his arm back and hurled the grenade over his shoulder at the

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descending drones. The grenade burst apart in mid-air, emitting a blinding flash of light and a shriek of noise. The drones nearest the explosion shuddered and fell from the air, trailing thin grey smoke. Without hesitation he armed and threw two more in quick succession, his actions causing more of the slow-witted constructs to fall, smouldering and dead. He continued to do this until he had a single grenade left. He was about to throw it when he heard Grungi call from the hold below him. Message from your Guard brother, Imperial. You had better hold on tight up there, as it would seem the Hammerhead has acquired a target lock. Codian froze. He shifted around to find the wide barrel of the huge Hammerhead railgun pointing their way. Emperor guide me. He whispered, feeling the smooth disc in his hand. They had but one chance.

Chapter Twenty Nine: Desperate Tactics

He thumbed the disc timer to maximum and armed it, realising at once that they were all moments away from destruction. He had witnessed first-hand the unmatchable power of the Hammerhead railgun in battle long before this wretched time, and he had no desire to find himself on the receiving end. The familiar, terrible whine of the guns accelerator coils carried through the air, warning of the impending devastation that was to follow. The tanks under-slung target array flashed, a thin beam of crimson light connecting its sighting lens to the rear of the craft beneath him. Its aim was dead centre on the Devilfishs rear hatch. If the shot was on target then they would die, as sure as anything. The railgun projectile would punch through the hold of the skimmer, travelling at such hypervelocity that it would liquefy everything in its path He steeled himself and flung the grenade as hard as he could out at the chasing tanks, praying he had judged correctly. Time seemed to slow around him as the desperation of the situation accelerated his enhanced system into overdrive. The ominous railguns barrel began to glow with building energy, ready to unleash the deadly projectile. The grenade struck the road and bounced, spinning madly. Smaller, faster shapes pushed their way past the tanks and began to accelerate towards them, sleek, two-man skimmers capable of far greater speeds than their larger cousins. The grenade bounced again, turning madly end over end, heading towards the hammerheads nose-mounted sensor array. At the far end of the bridge he caught sight of the surviving Barracuda, swooping in low beneath the towering support stanchions to chase after the Tau convoy, eager for its share of the kill. The grenade bounced one final time and, much to his relief, lodged itself in between the array and the tanks hull. He held his breath, made the sign of the aquila at his chest, and whispered the Emperors name. Deliver us, Lord of Terra. We have much work yet to be done. The EMP grenade exploded, sending a wave of rippled electromagnetic energy washing over the smooth hull. The Hammerhead listed badly and dipped sharply, its smooth nose ploughing into the road, carving ferrocrete as it went. The railgun shot screamed past wide, though close enough to almost drag the

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Chaplain from the turret. He held on for dear life as he fought to follow the large bullets trajectory, tracing the shimmering rings left behind all the way to where the shot slammed into one of the vast ferrocrete support pillars, puncturing the thick mast with a supersonic boom. The hole made by the shot seemed to grow and widen by the second, spider web fractures spreading as the thick stone was first shattered and then dragged through the widening gap, pulled by the powerful vacuum the projectile had created. He watched as the entire integrity of the pillar weakened almost at once, the cracks spreading from horizon to horizon until, emitting an ominous, rumbling shudder, it began to shift. He tore his gaze away and looked out behind him to see the Hammerhead tumbling end over end, breaking apart as it went. A number of the other skimmer tanks and lighter craft were caught by the stricken vehicle and were crushed, metal squealing against metal as the highway became clogged by pulverised armour. That was when the sky above him became night all at once. The deep, rumbling quake was a terrible sound, so powerful to shook the Devilfish around him. They were passing directly beneath the pillar when it started to topple, tensioned steel wire pinging and snapping under the strain. They passed beneath the falling stone tower and night became day once again, the bright sunlight hitting his vision-slits. The surviving pursuers quickly followed, escaping the collapse of the support seconds before it crashed into the bridge. The pursuing Barracuda, however, was not so lucky. By the time the pilot of the craft had realised the pillar was about to topple it was too late. With no way to turn or retreat, the flyer smashed into the falling support and turned into a searing fireball, a second before the massive chunk of stone crashed into and through the bridge, cutting it in two. Codian felt the resultant shockwaves quake the bridge to its very foundations beneath him, causing the bottom of the Devilfish to scrape against the trembling road. He cast a final, hateful glance up at the vast underbelly of the Tiger Shark and then sank into the hold. Hah! He froze as he felt a hard, ringing slap ring against his vambrace. A mighty effort, bone priest! Saw the tower collapsing through the viewscreen! An inspired effort! Ill wager it took out a few of those bloody no-snouts behind us as well, eh? There numbers are depleted. Codian answered flatly. But we are far from out of danger. If we are to die, we will do so with our hands slick with Tau blood. Torvus said behind them. The Demiurg smiled at this. Spoken like a true warrior, Marine. I have no intention of falling. Codian answered. Not here, not today. While ever we still breathe, there is hope. Forgive me, Chaplain. The Cadian called from the pilots seat. But we still have more than enough problems to deal with. Sensors are detecting another wave of drones preparing to launch from the Tiger Shark, and Im picking up several markerlight tracers sweeping our rear hull. We have a Sky Ray amongst our pursuers, and I dont think our disruption pod is going to hold out much longer. It is set at maximum just to keep the enemys target locks confounded, but Im shunting so much power through it that it will burn out before lon Crud. It gets worse. Ive just detected another Tiger Shark bearing down on our position, following the

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highway from the south. It will be upon us by the time we reach the end of this bridge. Then we have to act. Codian said darkly, holding out a hand for his bolt pistol. The Demiurg passed his freshly-loaded weapon to him and scowled, clearly at odds with the concept of falling to the enemys guns. Torvus snarled and booted the hull before him in anger, the blow so hard that it left an imprint in the thick metal. Damn these filthy xenogens! They have us! By the Throne, they have us! He looked towards the others, hatred blazing in his dark eyes. We are helpless against them now. We have nothing left to fight them with save for the weapons at hand. What about the missile system? Codian asked, remembering the demise of the first flyer. He craned his neck out into the cockpit and looked up at the ominous spread of the Tiger Shark above. We blew one of their craft from the skies Redundant. The Cadian answered soberly, throwing the Devilfish to the left in order to avoid another isolated and bewildered civilian transport. I tried the same thing again as soon as the Tiger Shark accelerated beyond us. The crafts decoy launchers obliterated them all. We didnt even touch it. Curse them. Codian spat, hauling his vast frame back into the hold. Then there is nothing else for it but t Markerlight. He looked at Grungi, who stared back with a frenzied, tooth-laden smirk. By the seven hundred Leagues, of course. Hnn. Bloody markerlights. The Demiurg threw himself around and began sifting through the stored equipment lining the hold, casting weapons and ammunition aside in his turbulent quest. Within moments he emerged from the scattered heap, one of the Tau guns held in his hand. The short xenos gestured at the small black rectangular addition strapped to the side of the snub-nosed pulse carbine, an expression of triumph upon his ruddy, scarred face. Hah! Dont you see? We dont need heavy guns to assail them. Those feckless, three-fingered fools will provide the fireworks for us! You have lost me, Demiurg Codian began. Grungi brandished the weapon in his hand with a fierce vigour. Brother stalk-leg, you have a lot to learn about the sheer stupidity of Tau technology. We dont need our own tank-killers. The Unity has been gracious enough to provide them for us. Allow me to enlighten you. With that he jogged over to the cupola platform, leapt up onto the circular dais and disappeared, quickly rising out of sight. Codian couldnt help but find himself intrigued.

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Thurgus Grungi felt the rush of the wind in his knotted hair and inhaled deeply, taking in the fresh atmosphere. His augmetic eye whined softly as it adjusted to the illumination difference of the open air, the bright sunlight causing the glass-covered iris to contract. He turned his gaze to the Tau armour hot on their heels, the twists of his matted mane whipping about his head and face like cables. He could see the Sky Ray nestled amongst the pursuing vehicles, its wide turret rack laden with seeker missiles. He was glad to see the absence of the Hammerhead, although the quantity and variation of the other Tau war machines chasing them caused him to grimace with displeasure. Still Ancestors be with me. He uttered, lifting the stolen weapon up to his chest. He armed the mounted markerlight with a swift flick of his stubby finger and then thrust the gun up, finding the belly of the Tiger Shark. Find your mark, my beauty. He whispered, directing the emerging red laser towards the descending drone rack. He shifted his aim so as to ensure the laser was aimed as far into the exposed space as possible and then, allowing himself an ironic smile, pressed the trigger. The whine of the arming missile could be heard, even from this distance. He lowered the pulse carbine and looked out at the distant armada following them as the Sky Rays missile rack came to life, a telltale puff of white smoke rising up from the automated thrusters of one of the mounted missiles. The intelligent munitions screamed as it detached itself unbidden from the rack, streaking skywards faster than mortal sight could follow. By the time Grungi was able to shift his squat frame around to observe its progress the seeker missile was loosed and it speared into the open hold of the Tiger Shark, detonating on impact. A brilliant plume of searing fire billowed from the gap, blowing the descended rack clean off its runners. The twisted metal platform landed upon the massed cabling above and bounced over the edge, spinning as it fell away. The gun drones waiting to be released there were immolated to ash in an instant, torn apart by the ferocious explosion. The entire craft shuddered as its belly was ruptured, its unprotected interior torn to shreds by the powerful missile. Grungi laughed and aimed the weapon once again, pressing the auxiliary trigger twice more. Another two missiles screamed free of the Sky Ray and slammed into the flyer, detonating across its immense underside. The entire sky above seemed to grow closer as the Tiger Shark began to list, huge gaping holes torn right through the wide craft. Secondary explosions continued to flash and burst across its length as it began to fall, veering sharply to the right. The Demiurg twisted in the cupola as the growing fireball fell away and grinned, hunting for his next target. A number of the chasing Piranhas speared ahead of the skimmer tanks and began to fire. He spied the questing railguns of a TX-42, his eye narrowing. Youll be my next offering. He activated the markerlight and within moments another missile detached itself from the Sky Rays rack and screamed as it slammed into the light skimmer, tearing it apart instantaneously. Flaming debris flashed past his face, casting a orange glow over his exposed skin. The explosion caused the other small skimmers so slow, veering sharply to avoid the backwash. This in turn caused problems for the following skimmer tanks and thus the entire enemy convoy was thrown into momentary chaos, resulting in the demise of one of the Piranhas as it was crushed by an oncoming Devilfish. Grungi laughed wickedly, delighting in the destruction he was causing. He gleefully aimed the markerlight

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once more, this time at the missile-toting Sky Ray itself, and pressed the trigger. Lets see how suicidal you are feeling Much to his chagrin, nothing happened. He pressed again and again, before realising what had happened. Finally figuring out the duplicity ahead, the crew of the Sky Ray had deactivated their missile rack. A sensible action by all accounts, considering. Sensible, but ultimately futile. Sensing the sudden deactivation of the Sky Rays munition bank, the simple artificial intelligence of the seeker missile mounted to the Devilfish behind it responded to the Demiurgs request and flared to life, detaching itself from its hull mount. It speared up and then straight back down into the nose of the Sky Ray, tearing the craft apart as it detonated. The resulting explosion engulfed the other skimmer tanks in one huge conflagration, breaking them to pieces or dashing them against the thick ferrocrete barriers of the bridge. He watched as the few surviving Piranhas at the head of the group wavered and lifted at the rear, like boats caught in a vicious swell. Laughing, he powered up the carbine in his hands and emptied the power cell in a flurry of bright pulse fire before hurling the gun itself out at the speeding shapes. Thats how its done, Marines! He announced, sliding back into the hold. Torvus withdrew his head back inside the craft and nodded, genuinely impressed. An effective tactic, xenos, though we do still have several light support craft on our tail. As if in response to his warning a hail of ringing thuds pattered against the rear hatch. And another Tiger Shark to deal with. The Cadian called from the pilots seat. The Demiurg scowled. Hnn. Well then, lets see you lot do bloody better! Codian peered down at the small being before him and then raised the pistol in his hand, issuing a curt nod. My turn, Demiurg. He strode over to the large rear hatch and slammed his fist into the release button, causing the armoured disc to fall open with a resounding clang. Through the screen of sparks he watched as the closing Piranhas loomed into view, nose-mounted burst cannons wailing as they spat glowing death his way. Burning energy pulses pinged off the bulkhead around him as he stepped forward and fired his bolt pistol one-handed. The closest Piranha shuddered as the pilots body disintegrated, his fingers wrenching at the controls. It veered away to the left to dash itself against the bridge, sending out a wild spray of pulse-fire that peppered the open hold and staggered the Chaplain. Codian gritted his teeth and bit back a cry of pain as he felt his chest armour and shoulder guard grow red-hot instantly. A fine shot. Grungi shouted, pushing past the shaken Marine. His eyes were wild with feral anticipation. Caution, Demiurg Codian began, watching ominously as the three remaining skimmers began to close on them. The trio of craft began to disgorge their complement of gun drones as the surviving TX-42 primed its railrifles, leaving the others to spear forward, intending to draw level with the Devilfish. Caution be damned, Marine! Deaths gaze is too lofty to find a stunty like me! Before the Chaplain could offer any more protests, Grungi sprinted forward and leapt clear of the open hatch, his short legs treading the open air. He drew his arm up and out behind him and his metal fist detached, its link chain unravelling.

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The ambushed TX-42 unleashed a brace of whining railrifle shots that almost tore the Chaplains armour from his body as they flashed past, boring through bulkhead walls and support girders until they exited, pulling everything in the hold unsecured with them, including one of the gun drones unfortunate to find itself in the bullets path. Torvus batted the spinning construct aside with his forearm and cried out in anger as he fought the pull of the hypervelocity, the whites of his eyes instantly bloodshot with the pressure. A second later, Thurgus Grungi landed on the smooth nose of the skimmer and sealed the fate of the Tau crew. The Demiurg was aflame with murderous zeal. He swung the fist-mace above him and smashed two of the hunting drones into pieces before turning his attention to the craft below. The balled fist ignited and scythed through the armoured roof strut, almost taking the head of the pilot as it swung past. The skimmer swerved right, throwing Grungi off-balance. He rolled along the smooth hull and landed on his feet on the left wing, arms flailing. The thin roof strip began to lose integrity and peel away, revealing the two stricken warriors beneath. Grungi snarled and lunged forward, his augmetic hand smashing another drone from the air before quickly retracting. He grabbed the pilot and hauled him from his seat, flinging the hapless Tau out onto the road like a stone. Time to lose some ballast. He growled, descending upon the ill-fated gunner. Hard right, Cadian! Cut them off! Codian spun sharply to see the assault Marine lurch back, questing pulse-fire shredding the hatch ring before him. They intend to flank us, Chaplain! Torvus shouted, arming his powerful hammer. The weapon shuddered as it powered up, a sheen of whispering energy sliding over its solid head. Codian nodded and jogged toward the crew compartment. Cadian I heard, Chaplain. The soldier answered, hauling the control stick to the right. The Devilfish tilted as it swung right, so close to the walls that the hull shook and squealed. The entire transport rocked as it struck something less immobile and was pushed violently back, the impact throwing the Chaplain across the hold. He looked out of the rear hatch to see Grungi and his captured skimmer pass beneath the twisting wreck of the rammed Piranha, his fist held high in triumph. One left, he thought to himself. Torvus was already halfway out of the hatch by the time he shifted his gaze. The Marine swung from the gap, the fingers of his shield hand embedded in the hatch ring. He brought his thunder hammer down on the Piranhas hull so hard that the skimmers nose crashed into the road, tearing the pulse cannon from its mount. The skimmer flipped violently, its back end turning over to smash into the ferrocrete. Within seconds it was gone, a dull, thunderous explosion quaking the bridge behind them. Only one. Torvus hissed, hauling himself back into the transport. What Only one of themin there

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Codian realised what Torvus was trying to tell him a second or two before he heard the sound of hooves crossing the hull above. Arrogant xenos. He snarled, removing his crozius from its strap. It was then that the grenade fell through the open cupola and rang as it struck the deck at his feet.

Chapter Thirty: The Vespid

Codian saw the grenade land at his feet and in that instant cursed his stupidity. Even as his body reacted to the shock, he knew he didnt have the chance to do anything, yet still he reached forward unbidden, intending to bear the brunt of the blast The grenade exploded and the world turned white. Ultrasonic noise rose sharply until it was far beyond mortal hearing, a fierce, shuddering lance of pain at the brains centre. The concussive force blew him back into the hull, yet the detonation was not enough to kill or even injure him. Blind and deaf despite the protection of his armour, he struggled to right himself, tearing fixtures from their moorings in his bludgeoning attempts. He felt the grilled deck vibrate beneath him as his attacker fell from the cupola, ready to reap the rewards of his successful ruse. Debilitated as he was, he could do little except cling to his life. He felt his crozius heavy in his hand and swung it violently, feeling the field-generating weapon spasm as it carved through the Devilfishs hull, shearing thick armour as easily as paper. Red-hot hammer blows punched into his chest armour, hurling him back to the floor with bone-snapping violence and forcing the breath from his lungs. He was no coward but he found himself dearly wishing that Laenar had been swifter in his efforts to repair his rosarius, if only to provide him with a measure of extra protection while he was in this vulnerable state. He heard Torvus cry out as if immersed in thick liquid, his powerful voice quickly fading into the rush of the passing air outside the skimmer. The confounded auto-senses of his helmet began to slowly reconfigure themselves and light soaked into his vision, sound seeping in a second later. He became aware of raised voices and shouted curses ahead of him. The sound of weapons fire sang loudly and the Devilfish rocked, its engines whining. The skimmer touched the road and bounced back up, rattling him around inside his armour. This ends now. He raged, the last effects of the photon grenade fading away to reveal the chaos before his eyes. The Cadian was in clear distress, buried beneath the Tau warrior. The warriors pulse rifle was on the floor behind him and he had a short, ornate knife in his hand, the bright metal quivering as he tried with all his might to force it down into the soldiers flesh. Codian bounded across the hold and grabbed the Fire Warrior, huge armoured fingers enveloping his neck. The warrior dropped the knife and cried out as the Marine flung him back across the hold and clear out of the Devilfishs open rear hatch. The Cadian shouted something back to him that he didnt catch. His eyes were fixed to the looming mass of the approaching Tiger Shark coming in low and fast over the tops of the bridge supports. This accursed

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bridge seemed to stretch on forever. He tore his eyes away from the ominous scene and looked out to see Grungi and his stolen skimmer swiftly advancing upon the Devilfish. To his relief, he could see Torvus spread out across the back of the vehicle, holding on for dear life. The surviving drones were far behind them now, unable to maintain the speeds needed to keep up. Grungis skimmer disappeared from view as he accelerated, appearing once more moments later at the open side hatch. Torvus clambered across the vehicle and threw himself into the hold, relief clear on his face. The Demiurg followed straight after, leaving the Piranha behind to its fate. I thought you lost, brother. It is good to see you still with us. Codian said to Torvus. The Marine simply bowed his head in reply. Good to see you too, stalk-leg. Grungi huffed caustically, dusting himself down. Luckily, your thanks for my efforts are not needed. I will applaud your efforts once we are out of danger. Codian answered, watching as the huge shadow crept over them from the rear and disappeared. He spun towards the crew compartment and looked at the projected viewscreen before the Cadian, watching as the Tiger Sharks nose emerged overhead, the rest of its vast bulk following a second later. Will we make it to the end of this damned bridge before they start to deploy the drones? He asked the Cadian. Unlikely. Besides, it would seem you didnt hear what I said a moment ago. My apologies, Cadian. What did you say? That it is not a drone carrier. Its an assault craft configuration. Assault? Thats right. The Cadian replied ominously. They are carrying Vespid. Codian turned to see Grungi and Torvus staring back at him in silence, their faces tight with concern. Damn. Theyve loosed a strain on our bloody arses. The Demiurg snapped, glancing up at the open cupola. Torvus reeled back and brought his mighty hammer up, his teeth bared. Then we will see a good fight before we escape this ill-fated planet. Vespid. Codian had heard of these creatures but he had never faced them in combat. Stories had filtered in from the Eastern Fringe of insectoid creatures fighting for the Tau, xenos warriors with the power of personal flight and weapons that could drop a Marine with one shot. Both Torvus and Grungis reaction spoke volumes of how feared these creatures must be, even here in this anarchic future. He could not help but feel apprehension at what was to happen in the next few minutes. Hnn. Here they come. Grungi hissed, watching from beneath the cupola. Codian joined him in time to see the underside of the flyer lower and speeding shapes emerge from the space, angular, alien figures with blurs of fluid light at their backs. Mind those neutron blasters, Marine. They make light work of the thickest armour or the toughest constitution.

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Noted. He replied, readying his weapons. The first enemy beam lanced through the hull and speared past Torvus with less than a metre to spare, passing through the entire craft without effort. The thick metal warped and glowed yet did not puncture, at least not at first. The plate grew thin and then seemed to dissipate like evaporating water, leaving smouldering holes as an indicator of its relentless path. God-Emperor Codian breathed. Huh, dont be too impressed, stalk-leg. The armour of these Tau skiffs is like softwood. I could boot by way through this hull if I had the mind to. The Demiurgs quick dismissal did little to assuage his apprehension. If such a blast could cut through vehicle armour with ease, his own carapace would provide little more resistance. More blasts speared through the Devilfish from above, causing the three warriors to pin themselves to the walls. Within moments the first heavy footfall rang above them, a sound that caused Grungi to bare his teeth. They are down. Time to reap my quota of shell and flesh. He made to climb the cupola dais but Codian stopped him. No, Demiurg. Let them come to us. He raised his pistol up and fired on full auto, the bolt shells punching through the roof. Something squealed in a resonating, high-pitched tone and a bulky shadow fell from above, tumbling end over end as it landed on the road behind them. We approach the end of the bridge! The Cadian shouted from the cockpit. Another few minutes and we will be clear, His will allowing! An inhuman shriek carried through the air and the three warriors turned as one, watching as a dark shape descended before the rear ramp, hanging on shimmering wings. The monstrous blue insectoid pointed its strange rifle at them and fired, sending a stream of shimmering green energy scything through the hold. Codian and the others threw themselves out of the way and the beam lanced straight down the length of the space and through the open cockpit hatch to burst through the Devilfishs front screen. The Cadian cried out as the projection there stuttered and died, leaving him with a glowing hole where the crafts meagre physical viewslit had once sat. The soldier cursed loudly, his voice heavy with pain at the beams searing proximity. A good deal of the Devilfishs control bank had been reduced to sparking ruin by the shot and the skimmer began to sway and shudder as a consequence. The Cadians eyes fell upon the flashing warning diodes before him. Were losing speed and power! As soon as were off this Emperor-damned overpass were going to have to abandon this crate! Then make sure you get us there! Codian called back as he raised his pistol and put a dead-shot round through the Vespids multi-eyed face. More and more ringing clangs sounded overhead as the Vespid attackers began to land en-masse, inhuman claws driving into the hull in order to gain purchase. If they felt any loss at the death of their comrade, they did not show it.

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The situation was becoming desperate. Stand ready! They are preparing to storm us! Grungi bellowed, the familiar clang of his metal fist ringing through the hold as it struck the deck. The first attacker emerged upside down through the cupola, diamond-hard claws gripping the metal ring as the chitinous abomination pushed its way through. Codian spied a multitude of twinkling eyes burning with malice and he watched as the creature thrust its rifle into the hold and then he fired, shattering its inhuman face. Grungi lunged at the open side hatch and swung his metal fist into the blurred shape descending there. The creature issued a shrill, inhuman shriek and came apart. Pieces of armoured shell and gobbets of flesh were sucked into the Devilfishs engine intake and the entire thruster shuddered, a horrific grinding reverberating through the engine. Almost immediately the craft began to lose momentum. Stand fast! I am going to try something! Codian heard the soldier call out and glanced towards the cockpit in time to feel the transport begin to quiver beneath him. The shrill stutter of heavy pulse fire sang as the burst cannon flared to life. He was about to ask the question when the answer came as a ringing thud, and he threw his head around to see the long metallic rod of a glow lamp bouncing away down the road behind them, sparks spiralling from it. The whine of the burst cannon continued to filter through the rush of passing air and there was another explosive crack. The Devilfish shook and sank rapidly, the interior lights flickering. Another glow lamp bounced down the road behind them. Seconds later and another followed, and then a fourth. Despite being rebounded around the interior of the craft, Codian watched with satisfaction as Vespid fell like rain behind them, smashed from the hull by the falling metal rods. Despite this temporary victory, the Devilfish continued to slow. That, and as the low, resonating hum of alien wing cases filled the air, he realised that there were still Vespid to slay. Torvus swayed on his feet but bore on as he strode towards the rear hatch, raising his hammer. His storm shield flared brightly as the first neutron blast struck it squarely at its centre, its powerful field activated by the rays kinetic impact. He didnt give his alien attacker the chance to fire again. He swung the hammer and smashed the alien from the craft with a single mighty blow, shattering its hardened body like glass. Get us to the end of this Emperor-forsaken bridge! He roared, feeling the Devilfish continue to slow. Even as he spoke, the narrow road suddenly widened and spread, branching off into streets and avenues behind them. The tall buildings of Vanphilos sped past. They had made it. Hold on! The Cadian called. The punished Devilfish began to decelerate sharply, swerving to a halt by the side of the road. Those few citizens brave or desperate enough to find themselves on the streets scattered in abject terror, running for cover as the scene unfolded. Grungi leapt eagerly from the side hatch before following Torvus out of the rear of the craft, his weapons ready in his hands. The assault Marine lunged towards one of the xenos warriors lying prone in shock before him and brought his hammer down onto its armoured chest, crushing the life from it. Behind him Codian spun on his heel and raised his pistol up, blowing another from the roof of the craft.

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High above, the Tiger Shark began to come about, realising its prey had slowed. Find cover, now! The Cadian flung himself out of the craft behind him, a stolen pulse rifle in his hand. He began to scour his surroundings, trying to decide the next course of action. Within seconds he was sprinting towards the nearest building, firing from the hip as he went. Another Vespid fell, shrieking. The Chaplain watched the soldiers exit, adrenalin coursing through him. Grungi and Torvus were still engaged in furious combat with the remaining xenos warriors, a storm of flashing energy and twirling weaponry. He felt his danger sense flare as he spied another of the foul aliens drop from the roof of the Devilfish and advance upon his brother Marine, its powerful rifle ready in its hands. The beast had him dead in its sights. By the time he had raised his pistol the Vespid was almost upon the assault Marine. Codian fired and put a bolt through the terrible gun, shattering it to pieces. He fired again and the creatures arm came away in a puff of splintered chitin, and it took a third to finally bring it down. Torvus ducked low beneath cruel, raking claws and returned with a piledriver blow, turning his opponents torso to wet pulp in a flash of bright energy. His face was set in a rictus of effort and rage as he threw his body around and flung his weapon into another insectiod attacker, the spinning hammer crushing the alien against the hull of the Tau vehicle. These loathsome fiends face us on equal terms now, brother Chaplain! Torvus cried triumphantly, quickly retrieving his thunder hammer. They hesitate in using their weapons He never heard the rest of what the Marine said. Even as the words left Torvuss lips, the exact same realisation dawned on Codian. The Vespid could have brought them down easily before now and yet they seemed almost restrained, unwilling to use their powerful guns to finish their opponents. They werent here to kill the invaders. They were here to capture them.

Chapter Thirty One: From an Unexpected Quarter

Codian looked up to the skies above the city at the distant Tiger Shark, its broad body glinting beneath the sun as it came about. Another attack run. He looked to Torvus, whose eyes were also on the approaching craft. Another strain is on its way, Chaplain. This fight is just beginning. And we will end it. Grungi announced, letting the remains of another Vespid opponent fall from his grasp into a heap at his feet.

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No. The others looked at Codian as they heard this, clearly surprised. The Chaplain pointed out in the direction the soldier had headed. I crave a warriors death as much as any, but I am not yet ready to die. I will not meet my end here on this forsaken planet, not while I have a mission of such importance to fulfil. Follow me. Torvus nodded without any attempt to disagree. Grungi, predictably, voiced a colourful disapproval. That was an order, Demiurg. The Chaplain growled. If we must fall, then we will fall together. +++ The sound of the Tiger Sharks engines shook the windows of the hab-rise as the craft passed overhead. The sun dimmed, the resulting gloom casting deep shadows over Codian and the others. The Chaplain watched the swarm of small shapes emerge from the flyers belly and then ducked through the doorway and into the building. Footsteps echoed through the corridor and the Cadian appeared, slowing as he laid eyes on the others. At last! Come, this way. We have to try and lose them. The soldier beckoned the others to follow him and they did so, quickly pushing further into the bowels of the building. Within moments they had passed through several doors and found themselves in a small open yard, surrounded on all sides by towering walls. Various glass-fronted elevators lined the yard, as well as several benches and carefully cultivated topiary plants. All four of them glanced up at the skies as the Tiger Shark passed slowly by above, the noise of its engines funnelling down into the small space. The Cadian pointed in the direction of an open passageway to the right and began to jog that way. The others followed, their outlandish presence clearly startling the small group of citizens that turned the corner. Stay with the Emperors light. The Chaplain growled as he passed by the cowering figures. The terrified men and women simply squealed in answer and huddled together, bodies quivering as if boneless with fear. The Cadian rounded the bend and slowed, pushing himself instinctively towards the wall. The group found themselves in an open reception space, quite narrow but long, stretching out as far as the eye could see. Vast windows dominated the right wall, illuminating the many entranceways and elevators lining the left hand side of the hall. Screams echoed through the air almost immediately as the people there laid eyes on the imposing group, bodies scattering or simply disappearing behind whatever cover they could find. In here. The soldier flung the first door open an they ran through, entering yet another corridor. Where are you leading us? By the time the bugs find us well be little more than spent The rest of the Demiurgs complaint was lost as muted screams filtered through the hall behind them. The Vespid were on their tail. Keep moving! Codian shouted, urging the others on. Grungi was clearly more hesitant than the others, his face alight with anger. Codian snatched to small warrior up and broke into a run, carrying the flailing Demiurg like an unruly child.

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Find us an exit and soon! He urged the Cadian, ignoring Grungis protests. The group broke through into a large garage area, a vast cavern filled with civilian transports. The vehicles lay untouched, abandoned by their owners. Given the current status of the planet, it was little wonder that the streets were so empty. This way! The Cadian pointed towards the far end of the garage, to where sunlight could be seen illuminating the road to escape. The Chaplain released the struggling Demiurg and threw his weapons down. He tore a thick length of pipe from the wall and jammed it through the handle of the door, securing it. That should hold them for a brief time. He said, water cascading across his armour. Now go The door began to rattle and shake furiously, spurring the others into action. Within seconds the first neutron beam speared through the thick metal and out across the parking bay, melting a widening hole through the door as it went. The beam disconnected and a clawed hand reached through the glowing hole, searching for the source of the blockage. Codian saw this and put a bolt round through the probing limb, shattering it in a spray of arterial matter. We have to leave! Now! The Cadian called, breaking into a sprint towards the open end of the vast space. He had advanced only a few steps when the bright sunlight dimmed and a furious humming began to filter down the exit tunnel. No The soldier whispered, slowing to a standstill. The Vespid swarmed into the garage, a thick cloud of alien malice. Codian cursed beneath his breath and loosed another brace of bolt rounds, blasting two of the abominations from the air with practised skill. The human soldier before him threw himself down and rolled behind a shining new six-wheel, neutron beams lancing through the air in his wake. He rose sharply and fired a hail of pulse fire into the advancing aliens, their numbers so thick that he could not fail but to achieve a number of successful hits. The return fire hammered into the parked vehicle, quickly penetrating its metal hide and bursting through around the beleaguered soldier. Into them! The Chaplain roared, charging forward. He never once paused to consider the recklessness or futility of the charge. He did not allow doubt or reason to stay his advance. Daelo Codian was a Chaplain of the Ultramarines, and his blood was up. The words of his mentor, ancient and venerable Chaplain Cassius, oldest and greatest of the Chapters spiritual leaders, echoed through his mind. An Ultramarine does not fear death. An Ultramarine does not shy away from the possibility of his own demise. None of us are invincible, nor indestructible. An Ultramarine embraces his mortality. An Ultramarine knows that it is his destiny to die on the battlefield, his enemies lying heaped about him. Shine, my brethren, when it is your time to die. Shine with the light of the Throne itself, and know that His eyes will bear witness to that final, ultimate sacrifice. The words were as fire in his veins, invigorating his muscles and resolve. Utterly devoid of fear, Codian charged across the garage, vaulting vehicles as he advanced. Torvus and Grungi were hot on his heels but they could not catch him. In the blink of an eye he was into the Vespid, his pistol roaring, his crozius flashing and sparking as it tore through alien flesh. Neutron energy flashed across his vision and he spun violently, his shoulder guard shedding ceramite like

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cinders from burning wood. He came down hard on the engine shield of a grav-carriage, bending the groaning metal as if it were paper. The vehicle shuddered and spun, crashing into the six-wheel beside it. Vespid fire punched through the vehicle in his wake, tearing strips from the dormant transport. Codian was already gone. The nearest alien landed heavily on the roof of the grav-carriage and unleashed a withering barrage of neutron blasts down into the place where the Chaplain fell, only for his shots to slam into the bare rockcrete. Codian ascended at the far side of the vehicle and smashed the Vespid from its feet, shattering both its legs with his awesome power weapon. The creature fell back and Codian finished it with a final blow, taking its head from its shoulders with an executioners blow. Sell yourselves dearly! He cried, killing again and again until his clip ran empty. Torvus and Grungi charged into the alien mass, roaring their anger out across the garage. The huge Marines storm shield flashed and pulsed again and again as it turned the Vespid swarms deadly blasts aside. He charged into the fray, swinging his mighty hammer from left to right. Inhuman screams pierced the air as bodies fell, shattered and broken, organic fluids misting in the air. The Demiurg skipped lightly over the low roofs of the gathered transports, swinging his weapon-fist around his head. He leapt into the enemy without fear, smashing bodies apart. A magnificent day! He howled elatedly, his ruddy skin coated with Vespid filth. My tally soars! The Halls of Rememberance will echo with Tales of Thurgus Grungi until the stars themselves dim! Grungi leapt up into the air and flipped back, his glowing power weapon arcing brightly through the air around him. He landed expertly on his feet amid a sticky visceral mist and continued to lunge and thrash, each blow seeming wild and yet more practised and precise than it appeared. Codian waited until the Demiurg Slayer had bounded by and then holstered his spent pistol. He lowered himself onto one knee and thrust his free hand beneath the vehicle. Summoning all his strength, he rose sharply and flipped the car, sending it tumbling into the advancing Vespid. For Ultramar and the Imperium! He shouted, vaulting the upturned transport in a single bound. His crozius crackled as it cleaved through armour and shell, its power unstoppable. The inhuman Vespid were fast and powerful opponents, bred for strength and war, and though they faced a mighty foe, the outcome was inevitable. The Cadian cried out as his weapon was torn from his grasp by raking claws and sent spinning away. He fell on his back and raised his fists, ready to defend himself. His alien attacker landed above him, its clawed feet digging into the rockcrete either side of him. Strong arms wrapped around his shoulders and hauled him up into the air, the deep humming of his captors wings roaring in his ears. He heard Codian call from within the whirling chitinous mass but he could not see him. Torvus and the Demiurg were also lost in the midst of the Vespid mass, little more than flashes of swirling energy and glinting metal surrounded by alien flesh. Caught in the vice-like grip of the xenos, he felt himself being carried towards the exit of the garage, captive and helpless. With no other options left to him, he closed his eyes and began to pray. The air seemed to whisper as it rushed past his ears. He opened his eyes as his alien subjugator shuddered and slowed. A series of wet metallic hisses drew his eyes up and he watched as the Vespids head began to vibrate, chitin sloughing away from it in swift, bloodied puffs. By the time he had realised that the xenos was dead he found himself released from its grip to fall to the floor, viscera-mist pattering against his skin.

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Grateful and confused in equal measure, he quickly hauled himself to his feet and looked back to the fight behind him, ignorant to the wall of xenos flesh surrounding him. The whine of neutron rifles rose to a crescendo all around him Then the grenades came. A barrage of small projectiles skipped and bounced across the garage towards the Cadian and the surrounding Vespid. Each one of the smooth conical grenades came to rest before the strain, spinning madly beneath their hovering feet. A sea of twinkling eyes fell as one, finding the curious ornate objects as they began to whine in harmony, the tiny runes carved into their surfaces blinking with an increasing regularity. The Cadians eyes widened and he raised his arms instinctively, acting on impulse despite the futility of the action. The Vespid around him simply looked on as the grenades reached critical mass and exploded. Vespid tumbled from the air like rain amid the blinding display, dragged down by the fluctuating gravity. Weapons were dragged from their grasp and limbs were pinned to the floor, held fast. Those xenos on the ground stumbled and fell; emitting clicks and screeches as they crashed down. Codian froze as he watched the attack unfold, his mind racing. The air inside the vast garage grew suddenly colder, a drop of several degrees registering on his helm readout and the base of his skull began to vibrate, his usually keen perception distorting for a moment. He recognised the symptoms immediately for what they represented. It was the psychic touch of a witch. Bright, flickering images seemed to bleed from the air itself at the far end of the garage to spread like a wet stain amongst the gathered vehicles. Each time he attempted to focus on any area of activity the phenomenon faded, reappearing several feet away in every direction. An omnipresent whispering saturated the air, indistinct and incoherent and he felt his pulses quicken, sensing the conflict to come. What trickery is this? He heard Torvus whisper in disgust behind him. The Chaplain could not answer. His grip tightened around the haft of his ancient weapon as he started forward, preparing to face this new threat. A shape ghosted past him and he stalled, catching sight of something he struggled to make sense of. A face, a mask, there one moment and gone the next, its void-like eyes finding his before fading into nothing. A dream-glimpse, a hallucination. Prophet. An echoing, ethereal voice whispered from everywhere at once. A heartbeat later, the Vespid began to die.

Chapter Thirty Two: The Masque

Codian turned, almost ponderously, and watched as the Vespid warriors at the head of the attacking strain began to shudder and break apart, armoured bodies turning to blood-mist before his eyes. The aliens

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responded almost immediately, loosing bright angry blasts of neutron radiation indiscriminately out into the garage, panicked by the unexpected attack. The strange colours and shapes flickering at the edges of his perception danced and swirled around the powerful blasts like living, glittering mist. He caught sight of a figure, lithe, tall and agile, weaving and ducking as it avoided the probing fire before sinking back into obscurity, ghosting into nothing once more. The Vespid mass continued to thrash and die before him, shredded by the whispering enemy fire. He shook himself and gathered his thoughts, fresh adrenaline surging through him. Whatever was happening here, it had provided them with a chance. The Tau-loving abominations were reeling and in disarray. He started forward, accelerating into a bounding run. A powerful leap saw him carried into the Vespid lines and he swung his crozius arcanum through the packed alien flesh, the powerful field generated by the ancient weapon disintegrating everything it touched. The glowing, bejewelled barrel of an alien gun rose to meet his violent attack and he quickly wrapped his fingers around the weapon. He tore it free of its owners grasp and smashed it into the face of the xenos, shattering weapon and visage alike. He swept the beloved power weapon before him and shattered a line of threatening rifles, the crystals contained within their barrels shattering like glass. He kicked out and felt another body break beneath his boot. Every action saw another warrior of the enemy dead. Something indistinct yet tangible brushed by him and he swung his fist out instinctively, catching the hurtling shape with a glancing backhand blow. The thing let out a cry of pained surprise and skittered across the floor, coalescing as it tumbled end over end. As he watched, the shape came to rest, flickering into being to reveal a slender, kneeling humanoid. The shock of its sudden emergence caused him to take a step back, raising his weapon instinctively. The creature turned its eyes towards him and spoke, its voice high and melodic, its words incomprehensible. The thing was a riot of colour and motion, the gaudy design of its tight bodysuit nauseating to behold. Its masked face swam, writhing with glittering light and fluid energy. Several others stepped from the air to surround it and then were gone again in the blink of an eye, little more than broken motes of shifting transparent light dancing around the cumbersome insectoid aliens. What are you? Codian growled and stepped forward, his thrumming weapon casting an azure glow over his black armour. The creature responded by quickly removing something from its belt and casting it at his feet. The Chaplain barely had time to look down at the spinning disc before it exploded, sending his world plunging into darkness. The world flashed briefly and then was gone again, light and sound surging forth only to dissipate. The soundless blackness returned, hot and suffocating. He was on his back and paralysed, his power armour unresponsive and dead. He gritted his teeth and raised his arm, fighting the weight of the thick carapace surrounding him. The ancient suit of armour that had protected him and saved his life in countless was now useless to him, a leaden weight encasing his body. Light flashed again, and this time stayed, albeit grainy and stuttering. He felt the power pack fixed to his back shudder as it activated once more and diagnostic warning runes began to stream past his eyes, scrolling thick and fast as they listed the affected systems of his armour. Motive power began to return to the inner fibre bundles, allowing him to begin to move. He rolled onto his chest and retrieved his crozius, its power field deactivated and dead. He soon came to realise that the explosive device the creature had attacked him with had been some sort of electromagnetic pulse emitter, clearly designed to incapacitate but not harm him. He did not let this fact dissipate the rising anger within his soul.

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Codian hauled himself to his feet as the shadow of Torvus loomed over him. Chaplain? He pushed the Marine aside and activated his crozius once again, anger seething in the burning pits of his skull-helm. You waste time, Marine. Never hesitate to end the lives of your enemy. He started forward, only to find the haft of Torvuss thunder hammer barring his way. With respect, Chaplain, hold. This is not our fight. Codians hand closed around the haft and he wrenched it aside, his anger boiling to the surface. Not our fight? You dare..? This is not our fight. Torvus repeated, his voice taking on a more serious tone. He turned his face aside as a large chunk of Vespid chitin spun past and then thrust his hammer out at the melee. Both the Cadian and the Demiurg are gone, Chaplain. The attackers have taken them. We have to make our escape now if we are to survive this fight. We retreat now or we die. Gone? The sudden pang of loss within surprised him. Mourning traitors and xenos, the very suggestion would have would have seen the culprit laid low before he had awoken in this terrible time. For the first time since he had opened his eyes onboard the escape boat, Codian realised he had come to regard the two beings as allies. We fight. He uttered, focusing his rage. And if it is our time to fall, then we will fall. I am sick of running from this enemy, Torvus. I will run no longer. Before the Marine had time to argue, Codian surged forward and barged into the fight, driving his weapon through the reeling alien swarm. The Vespid were by now in complete rout, hampered by the relentless assault of the mysterious attackers. Prophet. He shuddered as he heard the ethereal voice, the sound gusting through his soul like a draught. He heard Torvus cry out in surprise and when he turned to look for the warrior, there was no sign of him. Torvus! The assault Marine had vanished from sight. The few surviving Vespid were broken and put to flight, heading for the exit, but Torvus was not held captive among them. Torvus, answer me! He demanded, activating his vox. Static hissed in his ear, his only reply. The mysterious attackers had to be the ones responsible for his disappearance. He sensed eyes burning into him from every angle, whispered voices thick in the air. Now that the Vespid were gone, he knew he would be next. Codians warrior senses were honed by countless years of combat. A mind dedicated to strategy and tactics of combat surveyed the scene, running through every possible scenario. He had seen how these intangible abominations had torn the Vespid apart. Strength and implacability would not see him victorious here. Whatever these creatures were, they were tricky, agile and incredibly

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fast. They confounded the eye and the mind with their witch abilities. No, strength and resolve would not win this fight. Escape was also impossible; he knew that with a grim and utter certainty. The Vespid survivors had fled this place only because this new and monstrous enemy had allowed it. There was however one single, if precarious, factor for him to consider an advantage in this situation. They wanted him alive. Unseen, the gesture hidden by the flickering spectres surrounding him, Codian smiled a humourless, predatory smile. I will not be taken. He uttered, straightening his back. He lifted his crozius and held it out before him, turning in a slow arc. I will not be taken. He repeated, stepping forward. I am an Astarte, a son of the Emperor of mankind. I am His word given voice, His vengeance given form. I do not know who or what you are, and I care even less. Return those you have taken and leave. Do not risk my anger. The shimmering apparitions before him flickered, but did nothing apparent. He thought he could hear whispering at the very edge of his enhanced hearing, a high, sibilant chatter barely perceptible even to an Astarte. Bring. Them. Back. He growled, emphasising each word with a low and ominous tone. Prophet. A voice answered in perfect high gothic despite its strange, inhuman tone. Come with us. I asked you twice. I will ask no more. Codian spat, spreading his arms wide in challenge. Take me if you dare. The challenge was met. The living shadows shifted and Codian spun to meet the expected attack, raising his arms swiftly. Something shining and incredibly swift rang as it glanced off his armoured vambraces and he stepped back defensively, sparks flashing before his eyes once again. He brought the crozius up and parried several lighting-fast blows, impulse and practised deduction bringing success again and again until the ghost-blade glanced off his shoulder guard and turned him aside, throwing his balance. The Chaplain allowed the momentum to spin him around and he thrust his weapon out like a knife, its winged head flaring as it struck something solid. Shards of glittering multi-coloured light burst before him and swam like liquid into the outline of a humanoid figure, the shape stumbling beneath the blow. The figure fell to its knees and then dissipated once more, its pain a palpable, skin-tingling sensation. Another attack came, again from behind. Codian fell to his knees and twisted, reaching out to grab the oncoming attacker. His first attempt was turned aside with each, the blow weak in comparison yet executed with consummate skill. He brought the crozius around and attempted to smash the attacker away but struck nothing save for empty air. Cowards! He roared, rising to his feet once more. He thrust his fingers through the glass of the nearest vehicle door and, gripping the metal tight, hauled it free of its moorings. He twisted at the waist and hurled the projectile out before him, watching as the swirling, blinking colours swam around and past the spinning metal. Show yourselves! Face me as warriors of honour would! Face me, or I will fight to the death here in this damned place! Do you hear me, coward-filth? Reveal yourselves!

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Something small and hollow-sounding plinked at his feet and he looked to the floor as the grenade skittered to a stop at his feet. Not again. He uttered, drawing his leg back and booting the device away. The explosive device slammed into the rockcrete wall at the far end of the garage and exploded, a shockwave of shimmering white light spreading out from it. Even as the grenade detonated more fell at his feet and Codian threw himself over the bonnet of a sleek speeder, the expensive skimmer squealing in protest as he reshaped its lithe curves with his immense weight. They all detonated in sequence, their cumulative effect denied. Hidden from sight, Codian withdrew his pistol and slammed a fresh clip into the breach. He rose quickly and emptied his magazine out into the space beyond, bolt rounds screaming through the air. Something cried out and fell, coalescing as it crashed to the ground. Keep trying! Codian shouted, ejecting the spent clip. I will kill you all or fall in the process! He heard a series of light footfalls skipping across the floor and the speeder dipped once, so slightly he barely noticed it. It was enough. Codian drew himself into a ball and twisted quickly, feeling the depleted force of the anticipated impact slide across his power pack. He brought the pistol around and drove it down, the thick metal connecting with a satisfying crunch. The broken, shimmering cloud quivered and solidified at his feet and he drove his foot down into the mass, feeling bones snap beneath his boot. He straightened and glared out at the shifting colours, his red eyes blazing. I can do this all day. He began. That would not be wise. A voice answered, and he watched as a shape detached itself from the shifting mists and advanced. Glittering ghost lights flickered and swam as they swirled into a central point, colours bleeding together to form the outline of a body. Shards of every colour imaginable were pulled into the materializing anomaly until the creature itself seemed to step from behind reality itself to be revealed, the air bending and sliding over it like a veil. The tall being glanced either side of it at the surrounding ghost images and then at Codian. The activity behind it faded away to nothing almost immediately, leaving Codian and the mysterious figure to face one another alone. The creature was tall, almost as tall as the Marine. It was clad in a dazzling bodyglove of multicoloured diamonds, and wore a thick jacket bedecked with ruffles and frills. Its grinning mask shimmered, the leering visage pulse with a living luminescence. At last, a measure of courage. The Chaplain sneered. Come with us. Not a chance. Return my comrades to me and I will allow you and your spectres to leave this place unharmed. Deny me and I will fight until my final breath. The enigmatic creature shook its head softly and pointed the tip of its alien blade out at the exit, its every movement fluid and graceful, like those of a dancer. Extend your mind beyond the borders of your own perceptions, mon-keigh. The being sang, its voice clipped and melodic.

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Dissolve those barriers of xenophobic conditioning and unfold. All this The figure gestured about him. Is a puzzle consisting of many parts. The pieces move to complete it. You and I, we are but the foci of a single scene. We are not your enemy, Prophet. We are here to facilitate your deliverance. Enough riddles. Codian snarled. I have been hunted and hounded from the moment I opened my eyes here in this damned time. I will run no longer. So blunt. The creature answered with regret. So blinkered. I leave you a three choices then, Prophet. Fight me, walk away, or follow. We already know the outcome of your decision. With that the creature raised his hand and gestured. The shadows surrounding the garage interior warped and flickered then came to life, the outlines of a score of bodies shining as they coalesced. Codian looked on as many more of the alien abominations stepped from the air as one, revealing themselves. A howl of displaced air and a low, rumbling thud resonated through the cavernous space. A bright, blinding corona of light swirled into being, tearing a rend in the air itself. Once the anomaly had stabilised the figures began to step into it, one by one. Codians jaw tightened as he watched his options fading away. He knew he had no way of leaving the planet alive. His mind swam with indecision as he fought to understand what was happening to him, and why he had been referred to as the Prophet more than once. First the Nicassar, and now this gaudy creature. He knew, even now, that reinforcements were swarming their way towards his position. His comrades were gone, taken by the deadly spectres. Damn you. He whispered, staring out at the slowly-spinning vortex of black light. All other choices gone, Daelo Codian began to walk slowly towards his destiny.

Chapter Thirty Three: The Last Bastion

+++THE PHALANX, FORTRESS MONASTERY+++ +++ALLIANCE IMPERIALIS SOLAR MOBILE HEADQUARTERS+++ +++GEHENNAN SYSTEM+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ The Phalanx shook violently, the tremor causing the eyes of Uriel Ventris to snap open. He attempted to sit up, but found he could not. He swayed as the massive vessel rocked again, another dull, thunderous explosion resonating through every surrounding bulkhead. Ancient. You are awake. He heard the strained, augmented voice and glanced to his side to see the towering, black-clad Terminator standing over him. Lord Cassius He uttered, recognising the ancient being standing over him. Cassius was a truly antediluvian warrior, close to a thousand years old. The Alliances Master of Sanctity, it was Cassius who had bestowed the honour of Ancient upon Ventris. Is was Cassius who had masterminded the formation of the Alliance, who had ordered the internment of Calgar and had seen him appointed as the

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Warmaster. He had taken the mighty Terminator armour of Calgars as his own after the former Chapter Masters near death defending Ultramar. The centuries of warfare and the countless injuries he had sustained fighting the enemies of the Emperor had taken their toll on the venerable warrior. Now the armour was a permanent fixture, his life-support as well as his protection. Cassius was a living relic of the Astartes, revered and idolised by all those under him. His mighty form was protected by veritable net of rosarius field generators, each one of the powerful, bejewelled crosses welded to his armour donated from the Reclusium of the various Chapters joined to the Alliance. The presence of so many rosariae caused the ancient warrior to emit a dry and constant thrumming crackle, the noise deepening with every gesture or movement, the cumulative protective qualities of the generators a testament to how badly the Alliance as a whole needed him to stay alive. Rest, young Ventris. The ancient Chaplain said. Allow your body to mend. You have been tested mightily, and you must regain your strength. The Master of Sanctitys voice seemed almost as ethereal as it was mechanical, emanating as it did from the small brass vox speaker set into his larynx. Indeed, most of Cassiuss face had been ravaged by war. By visage alone, he was the epitome of an Astartes Chaplain. Most of the flesh of his face had been scoured away over the countless centuries and the bone of his skull had been plated over with shining silver. The sockets of his long lost eyes now held deep glowing crimson augmetics, their baleful stare enough to cause the hardiest warrior to quail. Ventris dismissed the aches and pains saturating his body and tried once more to rise, only to find one of Cassius huge hands placed gently on his chest. You arebroken, Ancient. Your back is shattered and several of your organs are ruptured. You will live, though the Apothecaries cannot even begin to restore you until we are out of danger. The Ancient let his head fall back against the operating table and he emitted a long, impatient sigh. Everything that had passed before his fall flooded back into his mind. Shame racked his punished body, more painful than any injury. Cassius turned away, sensing his comrades pain. Thethe Saint Ventris began. She cheated me. She used her powers to I know what she did, Uriel. She saved your life. Cloelia Argaenta has fallen, son. The Endymion gave her life in the defence of Gehenna. She will be mourned by all. No! She cannot be dead! She was to be the inspiration, the crux of our victory. Cassius glowing eyes found the Ancient once again as the huge vessel shook around them, the light guttering and dimming for a moment. No, Ancient. The Endymions fate was to fall on Gehenna. It was foreseen in the Tarot. Rest now, warrior. We will need your strength in the coming days. Ventris raised his hands to his head and gripped it tightly, fighting the waves of despair coursing through him. Once again, the defence of the Alliance had been denied. Once again the borders of the Imperium had been thrust back. Gehenna had been the last of the border worlds. Now, only the Terran system remained.

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He whispered a quiet oath of fortitude beneath his breath and sought to quiet his reeling mind, struggling to centre his humours. Here, laid immobile and prone as he was, he couldnt help but feel a helplessness weighing on his soul. Lord Cassius, tell me. What of the forces that were engaged on Gehenna? How do they fare? We are beaten and bloodied, my son, but our strength remains. Lord Calgar made the decision to withdraw after the death of the Saint in order to facilitate the defence of Terra. The Sororitas, however, would not withdraw. They stayed to fight the Unity unto the death. The demise of the Endymion hit them hard. Their sacrifice allowed the rest of the Alliance to withdraw largely unscathed. We may have lost Gehenna, but thanks to the sacrifice of the Sororitas we move to bolster the defence of Terra. The defences of Saturn will stall the Unitys advance long enough to allow us to prepare for the final push on our capital world. The majority of the fleet will stay to add their strength to Saturns might, allowing us to join the defenders of Terra. They will not take the Throne without a fight. Ventris could not begin to take in what he was hearing. He could not believe that they had reached this point. There was nowhere left to run. With Gehenna secure, the damned Tau would soon be crossing the border into the Terran system itself. They were literally at the gates. It was then that another thought seeped into his mind. He opened his eyes and looked to Cassius, his weathered brow furrowing with consideration. My lord Chaplain. He began, his voice fraught with intrigue. What of the Warmaster? Cassius looked at him as he heard this, the collective fields protecting him fizzing as he moved. Calgar? He is well, Ancient, if not troubled by the desperation of our circumstances. He currently meditates in slumber, awaiting reactivation upon our arrival at Saturn. Forgive me Chaplain, but you misunderstand. I would have expected to see the Warmaster here. Instead, I open my eyes to see you. I sense that there is more at play here than a simple desire on your part to see how I fare. You are the greatest spiritual leader of all the Astartes, brother. I know why you are here. Cassius froze, his mighty form standing rigid as a statue. His terrible eyes blazed, their cold, burning light intensifying. The mighty digits of the twin gauntlets of Ultramar tightened, the ancient metal squealing as it was compressed. Was it him? By all that is sacred, brother, tell me. Was it him? Was it the Primarch? After a lengthy pause, Ventris slowly nodded his head. His age-old features creased with sorrow and regret as he spoke, the words tumbling painfully from his mouth. It was him. Blessed Macragge, but it was him. I know this with utter certainty, Chaplain. I have looked upon the face of our Primarch too many times to count. I know our father. I cannot say how it is the damned Tau have resurrected him, or how it is that they have managed to corrupt our most blessed father. All I know is that it was Roboute Guilliman that I faced out there. They have the Primarch, Chaplain. They have him. He fights for the Unity. Cassius reeled as he heard this, his back arching. No! He cried, spinning around and smashing a medicae console from its mooring. It cannot be! It cannot be him! It has to be a mistake There is no mistake. It was the Primarch, Chaplain. They have taken him and perverted his honour. The Unity has somehow convinced him that we are the enemy, that the Imperium has been corrupted in his

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absence. He fights for the Tau. No Cassius answered again, this time softer, his voice filled with despair. Damn the Tau. Damn their xenos hides into the warp. The giant warrior-priest crossed the chamber and came to rest, his face hidden from view, his mighty fists resting against the bulkhead. What happened, Uriel? In their youth, the Tau were such honourable foes. What happened to change them so? I have fought these aliens since the beginning, and it would seem that they have yet to find a boundary they would not cross. He looked to the Ancient once again, his vast black form hidden in shadow, his terrible eyes blazing through the gloom. How is it that they could do what we could not? In just over half a millennium they have all but conquered the galaxy. They have faced and beaten every foe they have encountered, young Uriel, and we are the last. They have done the impossible time and time again. How? The Emperor curse their damned name, how? They adapt. Ventris answered after a lengthy pause. They change, they grow. Do not ask me how they do so, for I could not answer. All I know is that they do. It is almost as if they have the answers already. Somehow, they are able to determine an enemys greatest weakness and use it to defeat them. It is as ifas if they are programmed to win. They have corrupted the blessed Primarch, Ancient. It would seem that no goal lies beyond their insidious reach. Ventris felt a sudden shiver of unease pass through him upon hearing the Chaplains words. Cassius was the living embodiment of the Astartes spiritual strength and boundless resolve. He was a figure that even the mighty Calgar looked to for support and guidance. Uriel Ventris had known Cassius for literally hundreds of years. The venerated Chaplain had always been a figure of awe to him, from initiate to battle brother, to captain and finally to Ancient. This was the first time he had ever heard the Master of Sanctity speak with sadness or doubt in his voice. There descended a protracted and awkward silence, and Ventris found himself struggling to find his next words. As it was, he didnt have to break the silence. After many long moments of personal prayer, with the sounds of the space-borne war raging around them, the Master of Sanctity raised his bowed head and made the sign of the Aquila across his chest. Steel yourself, young Ventris, and prepare yourself for the war ahead. This will be our final stand, warrior. We will need your strength for the final fight for Terra. Ave Imperator. Ave Imperator. Ventris answered, banging his fist against his armoured chest in salute. With that, Cassius left the medicae chamber and Ancient Uriel Ventris alone with his thoughts. +++ Master Calgar, I woulpeakith you. The massive blue monolith shifted as the tinny voice crackled over his inbuilt vox system, stuttered and broken by static, no doubt a product of the gunfire assailing the Phalanx.

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Cassius. The Warmaster uttered, his augmetic voice deep as thunder. You have spoken with him? I have. Itonfirmed. The Unve the Primarch. Roublliman He never heard the rest of the broken communiqu. Calgar roared in anger and spread his metal arms, rotating his mighty Dreadnought chassis on its axis. Sparks flew amid the screech of squealing metal as he tore through the walls surrounding him, rage exploding from him like a living force. No! His mighty voice echoed down the ancient halls of the vast vessel, a voice heavy with disbelief and pain despite its synthetic tone. +It is true, Warmaster. The blessed Primarch is reborn to the enemy. I have seen it through the eyes of the Ancient.+ The ethereal voice drifted through his mind, stalling his fury with its icy touch. Calgar fell still, turning his sarcophagus toward the pale emerald light emanating from the view slit of the thick chamber door at the end of the dark, featureless corridor. So it is confirmed then? He uttered, debris falling around his mighty form. Our worst fears have been realised, brother. The gene-father is awake, restored by the Unity. +Yes.+ The voice answered, seeming to come from everywhere at once. +The Primarch has risen, there can be no mistake. Yet there is hope.+ Hope? Explain. +The Endymions death awoke something within him.+ The voice continued, the light streaming from the chamber pulsing softly at each psychic word. +I cannot explain it, brother Calgar. All I know is that, somehow, her death on Gehenna was necessary, was meant to be. The Saint sacrificed herself intentionally. All this I have divined from the mind of the Ancient, using Cassiuss eyes as my own. I saw it, the imprint left upon his soul. Cloelia left her mark upon him, her legacy. She is gone, her wings spread wide, her soul unconfined. Emperor, did you not feel her release?+ I feltsomething. The Warmaster answered, almost hesitantly. Something passed through the ship. The Astropaths called it an Astronomicon surge. Its like has never been experienced before. +Yes. It was this that stirred me from by vigil-slumber. Something is happening to out there, Warmaster. There has been a quickening. Something is awoken.+ Calgar heard this and stomped down the corridor towards the hatch, the floor quaking beneath each mighty footfall. He reached the source of the glow and placed one huge paw upon the thick metal. Awoken? Explain. +I cannot, brother. Whatever machinations have been set into motion by the death of the Saint, they are much, much older than even you or I. I sense plans and preparations that have lain dormant since our Emperor walked upon the worlds of the Imperium coming to fruition. Life itself stirs, Calgar. The depths of ancient times stretch out before me, a chasm of possibility. It would seem that my mind was not created to understand its significance.+ The Warmasters powerful fingers tightened, driving deep grooves into the inches-thick adamantium. Try as he might, he could make no sense of the voices prophetic words. All he could do now was trust, trust in the divinations of his brother and advisor, just as he always had.

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Tell me then, brother. What is to be our next course of action? Even now the fleet speeds towards Saturn. What can you see of the path ahead? +All paths lead to the end, Warmaster. The Unity hammers its fists against the Gates of Terra. It is a challenge every last one of us must rise and respond to. Go now, and prepare. When the time comes I will stand with you, brother, shoulder to shoulder. As it always was.+ As it always was. Calgar answered, withdrawing his limb. Farewell then, Tigurius. Until we meet again on the soil of Terra to make our final stand. With that, the mighty Warmaster shifted his bulk away from the emerald glow, sank into the shadows, and was gone.

Chapter Thirty Four: Lost

He opened his eyes and the nausea hit him like a wall. He dry retched, impulsively reaching up to remove his helmet and then paused, discipline winning over instinct. His body and mind fought against the effects of the unnatural reality of this place, his eyes watering and aching, his mind churning. He tried as best he could to assess his surroundings and yet found he could not. Even though he could see and hear perfectly, he found his mind unable to process the information it was receiving. Everything about this place was wrong. Do not fight it. You are not designed to understand, mon-keigh. The geometries of the Webway will settle in time. The Webway Codian echoed ominously, glancing around him at the swirling energies. As soon as he heard this, a glimmer of recognition formed in his roiling mind. His gaze found the tall creature by his side. So you are Eldar then, xenos. Curious. The figure cocked his head quizzically to one side. I was lead to believe the Eldar race had long since abandoned the galaxy. Truth is never straightforward, mon-keigh. Answers are complex by their very nature. Your species has always struggled to comprehend that. Codian sighed deeply and shook his head. Such arrogance. Such contempt. I know little of your kind, Eldar, and I have no desire to learn more. Regard me with all the disdain you like, alien. If you wish to communicate with me, then speak plainly. It was the Eldars turn to express frustration. The being emitted a harsh hiss of contempt and glared at him, the eyes of his mask flashing a palpably hostile light. There are few of us with patience or tolerance enough to communicate with the brute races

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Khatheir. The alien paused and stared out into the abyss of the roiling void-tunnel beyond as he heard the voice. Then he was gone, his body absorbed into the fluid energy of the tunnel walls in an instant. Codian. He looked ahead of him to see another Eldar standing at the centre of the ethereal tunnel. The warrior, a female this time, wore a similar brightly-coloured bodyglove over which was draped a loose-fitting, hooded tunic. The Eldars featureless mask was a smooth, flawless mirror of quicksilver, shifting and rippling with incomprehensible energies. A strange, warm sensation crept into his mind, like warm liquid seeping through his brain. He felt his body relax a little, as if the thick layers of hatred and xenophobia his countless years of service had deposited around his soul began to soften and slough away. I feel you in my mind, witch. I will brook no such foul intrusion. He snarled. In response to this the witch waved a hand and the sensation drained away, though a little of the warmth remained. It was merely my intention to render you more receptive to my presence. I apologise for the abruptness of Khatheir. He is unused to dealing with what he deems to be agents of the lesser-races. We have gone to great troubles to locate and retrieve you, Codian. We have a great many things to discuss. There can be no room for the old animosities and conflicts of interest that have passed between our two races. Now is the time to unify. Codians physical response spoke for him. He took a step back, his hands reaching for his weapons. They were gone. In fact, he couldnt even remember deactivating and holstering his crozius. See. The Eldar whispered, opening her hand towards him. If we had wished you harm at any point, you would not be stood before me. Let this gesture show that we two are not at war, Codian. No longer can the Mon-keigh and the Eldar afford to indulge their differences. Ours is a truce forged through necessity. So, there is an armistice between us? Forgive me, xenos, if I am hesitant to accept such a claim. I have witnessed a great many changes since my reanimation, but a peace between the Imperium and the Eldar? I cannot imagine such a situation. The xenos psyker fell silent then, the myriad colours of the swirling Webway dancing across her slender body. She seemed to be regarding him, weighing him up. I see it. She finally answered, tilting her head forward slowly and gently. Yes, I see it clearly within you. You are the one, Codian. It is time. The Chaplain started forward as he heard this, his fists tightening. Enough of this damned mystery! I will be goaded no longer, xenos sow The tunnel stretched and spread about him, the energies swirling and spinning wildly in the blink of a eye. His breath caught in his throat and he stumbled, taken aback by the sudden change. He looked on in stark bewilderment as the a wide darkness spread all about him, a featureless void that felt as infinite as it did cold, like being lost in the trackless depths of deep, starless space. Instinct urged him to call out in shock but he did not. Instead he gritted his teeth and forced his mind to focus, to fight the indescribable confusion assailing him. He would not be laid low by the infernal machinations of the Eldar.

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+Codian+ The alien females voice called to him in his mind, the thought-sound distant and cold like hoarfrost draft blowing through his skull. +Codian-Prophet, centre yourselfYou are in no dangerThe illusory stuff of the Webway merely shifts to accommodate your primitive minds eye+ He ignored the voice and pushed out, willing his feet to feel solid ground beneath them. The Eldar was still standing before him, hanging there as if in space. Her mirrored face swirled and swam as if in sympathy to his plight, myriad colours playing across its surface like oil slick. What is happening, witch? Answer me! +I cannot, Codian, nor was it ever my destiny to do so. No, we each have our place, as was determined millennia ago. Open your eyes if you truly seek answers, Codian. Open your eyes to the truth ahead. He would have an audience.+ Relentless waves of confusion battered against his mind, threatening to tear his very sanity from its moorings. This was all too much to take in, to assess with the cold, analytical mind of an Astarte He froze, the thought echoing through his brain. Perhaps he was the problem. Perhaps it was his own, logical mindset that was causing this maelstrom of chaos around him to intensify. He realised then that to fight, to struggle to find reason or sense here, was utterly futile. There was no sense to be made of this damned, Emperor-forsaken place, he could see that now. He relaxed his mind and let go, allowing the turmoil around him to thicken and intensify, no longer fighting its inconceivable geometries. Brother Chaplain. At last. At long last. Codian opened his eyes and the endless screaming stopped. He had never even realised the presence of the terrible sound until it was gone, replaced instead by the cold, deafening void of silence. He blinked. Stupefied, he blinked again. Everything had changed. Emperor, bolster my fortitude. He whispered, staring out at his surroundings. The Webway was gone. The cold, endless void too. Incredibly, he found himself within the gloomy confines of the escape boat, the same vessel that had seen him saved from the destruction of the Guillimans Wrath. Several things had changed since had had last been onboard the vessel. The ring of escape chairs now empty and clean, the remains of his comrades long gone. There was no patina of age or dust within the cramped confines of it interior. Everything seemed sterile, untouched. Not real. The voice. He came to life with a start, as if the presence of the voice had only just registered within him. Who speaks? Show yourself. Open your eyes, Chaplain. I am here. Codian did not answer immediately. Almost as soon as the rebuke entered his mind, the figure was there. The man was standing directly in front of him, one hand resting upon the headrest of the chair Berolinus had taken. It was as if the figure had been stood in the same place for some time, and the Chaplains eyes had only just registered his presence.

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The figure was human, there was no doubt about that. Codian found he couldnt determine his age, though judging by the lines around his eyes and mouth, he wasnt a young man. His long raven hair was swept back, a single white stripe running from the left-hand side of his forehead right back to simple knot at the base of his skull. He wore a neat, trimmed beard grown to a sharp point His garb was uninspiring, if not recognisably Imperial. He wore a loose suit of black with silver trim, and on his gloved fingers he sported a number of elaborate silver rings, each one set with a different coloured stone. What new trick is this? Codian growled. Do you think me so dim? You assume a human appearance in order to better coerce me. I assure you, friend, that I am all I appear to be. The man answered, taking a step forward. He placed his hands upon the back of the seat before him, and Codian recognised it to be the very same seat he had taken on the lifepod. My appearance is my own, Chaplain, though everything else you see here is illusion, an illusion created by your own mind. A place of safety, perhaps, or a place of awakening? I cannot answer that. Then answer me this, stranger. Why am I here? The man smiled softly at this, the lines around his eyes deepening. Despite the masking qualities of his helmet, Codian visibly bristled. Forgive me, Chaplain, but you cannot truly know how complex an answer such a question requires. Why indeed? He gestured around him at the familiar, if out of place, surroundings. In many ways, I empathise with you. All this, the journey you have unwillingly found yourself undertaking. So many emotions locked within that adamantine Astarte soul of yours. Every which way you turn, conspiracies abound. Factions hunt for you, but for what end? Why you, Daelo Codian? Why you? He lowered his arms again and placed a hand upon his chin, his eyes narrowing. You can trust me, Chaplain. I have been waiting to meet you for a very long time. For over half a century I have lingered here in this timeless realm, awaiting the call. Now, at long last, here you are. Codian shook his head and twisted slowly, his eyes finding the small viewing port and the twinkling stars beyond. He knew them to be false, yet they seemed so implicitly real. He was surprised to find a measure of comfort in the familiarity of their presence. You claim to be human, yet you answer with enigmatic riddles. Just like an Eldar. It would be unwise of you to continue to test my patience, stranger. Return my comrades to me and allow us to leave this cursed place. We will, Codian, I promise you that. As I have said, we are not the enemy. I am not the enemy. I am as loyal to the Emperor as you. My being here is one of necessity, my goal, the survival of our race. You must believe that. The Chaplain did not answer. He leaned forward so that his helm touched the thick glass. Ceramite squealed as his fists tightened. Very well. The man said after a pause. He let go of the seats backrest and folded his arms, his eyes

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narrowing. He issued a long sigh, and then began to speak. Over six centuries ago, this small vessel saved your life. Your fleet came under an unexpected attack by the Eldar. Your Strike Cruiser, the Guillimans Wrath, suffered critical damage and had to be abandoned. You and two of your brethren were the only survivors. Codians head began to slowly rise from the glass as he heard this. The lifepod contained the command squad of your Company, including yourself. Captain Eupheis Artemon and Epistolary Lorn Kreusus, the other two commanders of your Company, never made it out of this chamber alive. Only three of you survived. How could you know this? The Chaplain snarled, pivoting sharply. We know many things, Chaplain. We know you were on your way to engage a powerful Tau expansion force headed for Brimlock. After the destruction of the Guillimans Wrath, the Eldar attackers disengaged and the rest of your fleet continued on to engage the Tau in war. This was to be the beginning of the end, Codian. The Tau had already begun to change. Shadowsuns true power was revealed, and the rest is history. Codians rage was apparent, the crimson lights shining in the pits of his eye sockets intensifying. Explain how you know all this, traitor. Know it? I have borne witness to this and more. There are forces in this galaxy that cannot be known to men such as you, Codian. Powerful, ancient forces. The Eldar attack on your vessel was no coincidence. Had you gone on to Brimlock, you would have perished, along with the rest of your Company. At great cost, your death was averted. This small vessel was guided into the shifting tides of the Protea Wash deliberately, Chaplain. Your centuries-long entombment, your discovery. It was all planned. Planned by the Eldar. Your being here is the result of machinations that stretch across millennia. Can you imagine what it is to be part of a grand design as large and timeless as this? How can you know all this? Codian raged, repeating his question. He twisted and smashed the nearest chair free of its moorings with a single backhand blow, sending it tumbling across the small chamber. Part of a grand design? Your precious grand design saw the deaths of my brethren! Your grand design saw brothers closer to me than flesh or blood rot and turn to dust within the damned eddies of the warp! Someone, somewhere, will die to avenge their loss! You He thrust an accusing finger out at the stranger. You will be the one to satisfy that debt. The man unfolded his arms and held his hands up in supplication, though his unchanging expression betrayed neither concern nor fear for his own well-being. I understand your anger, brother Astarte, and I sympathise with your loss. The ways of the Eldar are enigmatic and unfathomable to most. Events were set in place that were necessary, however abominable they may seem to you now. Believe me when I say this, it could have been no other way. Fate follows a very complex but specific path, Codian. Every single facet of existence is linked, no matter how insignificant it may appear. Only the Eldar are able to see this. Only they have the power and the foresight to change even the most manifest of destinies. Yours is a destiny that had to be directed to be realised. You had to be protected. You had to be taken from

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your life and your duties and preserved, safeguarded, brought here to this dark period. You, Daelo Codian. You are the one. The Prophet. Codian thundered across the hold like a living storm of wrath, smashing everything in his way aside. He lunged for the man and wrapped his armoured fingers around the strangers neck, lifting him clear off the ground and slamming him into the bulkhead. The man began to choke and claw at the Chaplains fingers instinctively, his eyes bulging. I am the Prophet, xenos-lover. You are right about that. I carry the word of the Emperor to the darkest places of the galaxy. I am His voice, His sword. His retribution. There is nothing so foul in His eyes as a traitor. The Chaplain held him there for a few moments more before releasing his grip and letting him fall to the floor in a heap. A foul, despicable traitor, who would consort with xenos creatures, who would even stoop so low as to do their bidding. It took the stranger several moments to regain his breath, the sounds of choking and gagging finally giving way to a whistling, harsh wheeze. There isnothing sofoulin His eyes than a traitor. He echoed, slowly stumbling to his feet once more. An interestingphilosophy. He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck, his teeth bared in pain. Interesting, considering the current state of the starscape. Have you seen nothing since opening your eyes here, Codian? Do you have even the most vague concept of how many human beings serve the Tau? Of course you dont. Dont speak to me of treachery, Chaplain. If I were a servant of the Unity I would have already tried to kill you. And you would fail Look beyond that immoveable wall of xenophobic, monodominant hostility and see the bigger picture! The man raged, baring his teeth. Codian found himself genuinely surprised by his counterparts change of emotion, his anger subsiding a little. I only speak for the Eldar, Chaplain. I do not serve them. I serve the interests of the human race as a whole. Do you still not see? This is bigger than both our species. I was brought here to learn, to prepare. To pave the way for you. We have a war to win, Astarte. Codian emitted a harsh grunt of a retort turned his back on the man. I have a war to win. I care nothing of your involvement in this, nor the Eldars. I have a mission to complete, and in all my years of service I have yet to fail in my duties. Release m So you have it, then? The Caesus? Codian froze. Behind him, the man smiled. Ah. That would be a yes, then. So you know of the Caesus. Is this why you brought me here, to determine its whereabouts? No, only to confirm that you have it. That is enough for now. I confess, brother, I already knew as much. I

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know you felt the death of the Endymion. We all did. I know nothing of any Endymion. Again, you speak in riddles. My apologies, Codian. I know that if you have the Caesus then you must have met Ankarzoth, its fabricator. He waited for an answer, but their came no reply. He continued regardless. Kryptman, perhaps? Come, Chaplain, open up a little. I know he commands the Deathwatch now, and I have seen for myself the colours your Astarte friend wears. Ankarzoth. Kryptman. The Endymion. Even myself. We all had a hand in creating it. The Caesus, our Imperiums last hope. Codian thought back to the incident onboard the Proscriptus Rex, when the powerful psychic burst he experienced had bowled him from his feet. I know you felt the death of the Endymion, the stranger had said. He was in no doubt that the event this man was talking about was connected to that strange and powerful happening. You claim to have been involved with the Caesus? Who are you? At that, the man stepped forward and extended his hand. Czevak. Came the reply.

Chapter Thirty Five: Czevak

Though I have seen within the Black Library and spoken to its most terrible guardian, I can never reveal what happened there; not to any man nor even the Emperor Himself for I am so foresworn to powers beyond your knowledge. I can only say that a time of inconceivable horror is about to begin. A time when mankind with all the might of the Imperium cannot endure when the strength of the Eldar fails. Even now, our doom stalks us across the stars. Inquisitor Czevak at the Conclave of Har. Czevak. Codian breathed, recognising the name immediately. Inquisitor Czevak? I know you. The Teachings of the Unholy arewerestandard doctrine in the scholas of Ultramar. Good. Czevak replied, bowing his head a little. It is good that you know of me, Codian. Better even that you know of my work. You must know then that I am no heretic. Perhaps. You do however seem to somewhat lionise the Eldar in your writings, Inquisitor. Codian replied. Little wonder I find you here. Czevaks hand lowered as he heard this, his expression hardening. Lionise? No, Chaplain, I assure you that is not the case. I respect the Eldar, yes, for they are a race that must be respected. I am no fawning sycophant to the Eldar race. One who has learned such terrible and astounding secrets as I have would understand the precedence with which I place them in the schemes of this universe.

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At that, the Inquisitor sighed and lowered his gaze. Can you imagine what it is to have wallowed within these warp tunnels for so long, Codian? I sense it, the question lingering at the forefront of your mind. I am no psyker, yet here amongst the shifting energies of the Webway, one finds their powers of perception augmented, over time. Yes Chaplain, I am the same Czevak of that lost era. The laws of time and space hold little meaning here, for otherwise my bones would long be turned to dust. Like you I have been kept, preserved if you will, so that I may be abroad to see this final, grand plan. We have more in common than you would care to admit, Astarte. Codian shook his head and pushed past the Inquisitor, heading towards the lifepods single access door. He slammed his palm against the activation rune and the hatch hissed open. Shifting, lurid colours swam across his armour immediately and he cursed, looking out into a void of churning, vivid energy. So this is a prison. He said, punching his fist into the rune once again. No. Yours is a mission that must be realised, Codian. You were saved from capture so that you can may continue your holy work. The Eldar The Eldar. The damned Eldar! I am tired of hearing their accursed name spilling from your lips, Inquisitor! I was told the Eldar had fled the rising power of the Unity. There is a measure of truth in that, though there are many facets to the Eldar race. Centuries ago the mighty Craftworlds turned their prows toward the void and headed out into the unknown regions. Those that brought you here, the Harlequins as we know them, did not. They cannot. They could not abandon the Black Library, Chaplain. Ah yes. Codian uttered, facing the Inquisitor. The fabled Black Library. Many are the tales told of that secret place. You yourself mention it many times in your works. So, is this where we are, Czevak? The Inquisitor shook his head, his face darkening. No, and you should be thankful for that. To even stand within its walls is to risk your sanity. There is no other place I know of so utterly inimical to the human psyche than the Library. What I saw and learned there changed me, Chaplain. Sometimes I wish that I had never been allowed to enter its gates. Still, many are the secrets I have learned, not least of which is the very reason I was allowed to enter in the first place. To learn and to prepare for this very meeting, and for the journey ahead. So, you claim that you are here to help me, Inquisitor. Fair enough. Help me. Return my comrades and set me on a path that will lead me back to my people, to the ship that even now journeys towards Terra. Do that, and perhaps I will begin to believe you. Much to his surprise Czevak smiled and nodded his head. That was always the plan. Preparations are being made as we speak to return us to realspace. I only ask that you allow me to join your quest, so that I may act as your guide in these coming days. I have waited centuries for you, Daelo Codian. The death-scream of the Saint was a call, the call to arms. It is time for the enemies of the Tau to respond. Again, Codian felt the uneasy presence of great and unknown machinations at work. He hated the thought that his own actions were being guided by some force or power other than that of the Emperor Himself. He knew with all his heart and soul that he would never allow himself to trust the Eldar, no matter what lay ahead for him. The mission. The mission was all that mattered. To complete it would be his rock, his centre. It would be the lynchpin that would anchor him to sanity and purpose when all about him seemed to be chaos.

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Only the lost understand true terror. Excuse me? You wrote that, inquisitor. Dont you remember? Strange that I should recall those words here and now. Perhaps you would attribute such coincidence to the meddling of the Eldar? Czevak did not answer the question. Instead he raised his hand and swept it out before him, a gesture that caused the air itself to shimmer and distort. Codian stepped back as a swirling light expanded from a central point and spread like glittering dust, taking on a scene he found immediately familiar. He looked on as a miniaturised, three-dimensional vista of the galaxy unfolded before him, the spiral arms spreading as they unfurled. Entire regions of the vista were shaded in red, like vast angry lesions spanning entire systems and sectors. The stars are ours no longer, Chaplain. See for yourself how far the Unity have spread. See for yourself how small the borders of our Imperium have become. The net tightens with the passing of each moment. The end is coming, Codian. Trust me. Trust me and we may yet see victory here. Hope remains, and while ever it does, we must fight to preserve it. Czevak paused and walked slowly through the illusion, his passing causing constellations and systems to swirl about him as they were displaced, only to realign themselves as he passed. He cast a furtive eye over the shadows at the edges of the chamber and then looked back at the Chaplain, his features pleading and genuine. The Harlequins of the Red Masque saved my life centuries ago. In the midst of the Despoilers thirteenth attempt to storm the Cadian Gate I was captured by one of the sons of Magnus Czevaks words died in his throat as Codian loomed toward him and tore his helmet free amid a hissing of escaping stream. The Chaplain eyes met his for the first time and Codian spat at his feet. The Chaplains burning eyes lingered there for a single moment more and then they were gone, buried once more beneath the gleaming death mask helm. Never utter those names in my presence again, Inquisitor. To even hear them spoken is anathema to me. As it should be, faithful Chaplain. It was, however, through the actions of one of the Fallen Sons that I came to be held here these past centuries. Even then, the Ruinous Powers suspected something of these dark times. The servants of the Changer of the ways sought to use the onset of the Black Crusade as a screen, a distraction that would allow them to break this Webway wide open and advance upon the Black Library itself Still, all this is irrelevant to you. What I am trying to make you understand is this. Yes, I have spent many, many years in the company of the Eldar. And yes, everything we do is affected in some way, however subtle, by the unknowable machinations of that ancient race. But all that is immaterial to me. No matter what you believe, I am not privy to everything they know, nor will I ever aspire to be. I do not care for whatever distant future goal it is that they seek to attain, and they know that. They have reached into the furthest depths of my mind and they see the truth. I serve their cause but for one reason, and that is to see the Imperium of our Lord restored. The extermination of the Tau is all that matters at this point, Codian. To halt the Unitys advance and collapse their damned star-spanning empire is my goal. Whatever lies beyond that is a concern for another time. Codian paused as he heard this and glanced about him, his eyes searching for things he knew he could

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not see. They are still here, arent they? They surround us. Yes, of course. I care nothing either for their presence or their intentions. I know what the Caesus was created to achieve and I would give my life to see its function realised. He held up a hand as if presenting the invisible beings surrounding them. They know of the Caesus too. Had they any choice, they would see it destroyed as an abomination. Yet they dare not. They fear it, Codian, and yet they fear what is destined to happen should it not be used far more. Do you see? We are not the only ones bound to events and situations we detest and yet know are necessary to survive. We are not the only ones forced to dance with the figurative devil. They need us and we need them, no matter how bitter a taste it leaves in the mouth. Czevak finished and stepped away, sweeping his hand before him. The galaxy shuddered and disappeared, dissipating into the air. What now? Codian asked. We leave. There can be no further delay. Much preparation has been put into place to assist our efforts. Given that we have no direct way to join with your vessel, we will be deposited on the world closest to its path that is free from the presence of the Unity. A planet named Ornsworld located at the southern edges of the Segmentum Obscurus. There we will establish contact with your people and, once retrieved, will begin the next stage of our journey. I see. The others who were with me? They are safe and they will be joining us. Good. The sooner we are back on course for Terra, the better. Czevak heard this and paused, rotating his neck slowly so as to look at the Chaplain. We are soon to leave, Codian, but before we do, you must understand something. The Caesus is not yet ready for use. Before we begin the final leg of our journey, the journey that will take us to Terra, there are other plans that must be set into motion. Czevak I apologise, Chaplain. The Inquisitor answered, the small hold of the lifepod softening and starting to distort, as if running fluid. But that is the way things have to be. Try to relax The rest of Czevaks words became fuzzy and indistinct as the Webway dissolved the illusion around him and the sickening colours of its insubstantial walls leaked in, causing his mind to thicken and turn to soup. Next came blackness +++ Light. He opened his eyes with a start and was up onto his feet even before his mind had begun to assess the situation. The ground beneath him was soft and malleable and he looked down to see vivid emerald grass reaching up to his armoured shins. The Webway was gone. He looked out over endless, rolling hills capped with clear blue skies. The only hints of civilisation he could make out were sparse and scattered columns of distant grey smoke snaking

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lazily into the skies. Gorthuns Guild! Bone-priest! He twisted as he heard the voice to come across Grungi, standing almost waist-deep in the grass carpet. The Demiurg swept his flame-coloured tresses back over his head and waded forward, glancing about him in obvious bewilderment. Well, I wont even pretend to have a clue about what happened to us back on Vanphilos, but Ill wager were no longer there. Even as Codian made to answer he noticed the rising forms of Torvus and the Cadian ascending behind the short alien, both their faces slack with waking confusion. Czevak He uttered quietly, his thoughts quickly gathering. Whats that? A stalk-leg swearword? Perhaps so. He replied, making his way over to the others. He greeted the Marine and the soldier briefly and then, satisfied that they were unharmed, turned his attention to the surrounding countryside. They were at the edge of a woodland, standing meters away from the where the rolling grasslands met the dense tree line. There was no sign of how they had come to be here. Chaplain? What happened to us? Torvus asked, shaking his head. What is this place? Ornsworld. All eyes turned to the trees as the four figures heard the voice. Czevak emerged from the shadows, carrying with him a heavy-looking cylinder of clearly xenos design. Torvus and Grungi responded with equal speed, faces tightening as they started forward. A flicker of apprehension crossed the Inquisitors face and he looked expectantly toward Codian. Hold. The Chaplain growled. He is with me. The two warriors paused, anger fading from their expressions. What do you mean, with you? Grungi snarled, eyeing the aging man suspiciously. And where in the warp is Ornsworld? Czevak placed the strange device onto the ground and held up his hands. Please, lets all of us allow ourselves a moment to balance our thoughts. Transition is never easy for those unused to the shifting energies of the Webway Webway? Codian flinched as he felt Torvus attempt to barge past him, and he grabbed the Marines arm, slowing his advance. Be calm, all of you. It would seem that there is much to explain

Chapter Thirty Six: Reunion

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Czevak observed at a distance as Codian explained the current situation to his comrades, one hand resting intently on his bearded chin. Curses and oaths carried through the air at regular intervals, accompanied by gestures of disbelief and outrage. He continued to scrutinize the exchange until one of the figures, the Deathwatch Marine, broke free of the group and strode towards him, his fists bunched in anger. The Eldar? The damned Eldar brought us here? He closed on Czevak and thrust an accusing finger out at the Inquisitor. You consort with xenos witches and yet you claim to be a member of the Emperors Inquisition? You allowed heretical alien sorcery to transport us to this place Sorcery? Hardly, Astarte. Czevak answered. He raised his fist and slammed it against what looked to be empty air, causing a dull, solid thud. This action in turn caused a ripple to pass through the air and the others looked on, stupefied, as the air seemed to literally burn away like singed paper, the glowing hole spreading quickly to reveal a towering half-whalebone arch. The others stepped back instinctively as the construct towered above them. An Eldar Warpgate. It would surprise you to learn just how many of these artefacts lay undiscovered on Imperial worlds. This iswashow the Eldar transported themselves between spheres. Codian was the first to break the following silence and respond. He left the others and made his way over to the Inquisitor, casting a furtive eye over the ancient relic before the air swallowed it once more and it sank back into the trees, the woodland appearing to thicken and envelop it. I have explained our situation, Inquisitor, now I see no further reason to delay. What happens from here? We await the arrival of your vessel. The Harlequin Seers have already taken steps to inform your Astropaths of our location. It is not that simple. We have security codes I know, Chaplain, I am an Inquisitor. The codes were obtained from the mind of your Deathwatch companion. Now it is a simple matter of awaiting the arrival of your colleagues. He gestured towards the trees behind them. All your weapons and equipment are stowed in the tree line. You are all free to retrieve them. The others hurried past as they heard this, eager to rearm. Only Codian remained where he was, his eyes fixed on the Inquisitor. There are still many questions that require answers, Czevak. You will answer them if you hope to join us. Czevak met his steel gaze and bowed his head. That is my purpose, Chaplain. I am to be your oracle on this journey. I will answer your questions, but will tell you only what you need to know. Alright. This world, Czevak. Why here? Ornsworld? As I explained, this was the safest point of exit from the Webway in this sector. This planet is a Ratling homeworld, meaning its orbital defences are almost nonexistent. The Unity swept through here and conquered the population almost overnight. Over ninety five percent of that population are gone, Chaplain,

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absorbed by the Tau war machine. Given the relative desolation of this place, your comrades should encounter no resistance when they come to retrieve us. Fair enough. How will they know where to find us? Coordinates were sent. They will find us Chaplain, I promise you that. Codian glanced over to where the others were still busy retrieving their personal equipment. Sure that they were out of earshot, he turned his attention back to the Inquisitor. The Caesus. No one has yet revealed to me its purpose. Nor will I. Czevak answered all too quickly, his face darkening. For your own good, I cannot. I told you that I would reveal only what you need to know, and you will learn of its function in due course. I trust you, Codian, for I have been shown your destiny. It is a destiny, however, that can be affected by any number of unforeseen circumstances. If you were to be captured by forces that seek to prevent that destiny then they would Enough. Codian growled, waving his hand. I have heard all this before. I know that I can be trusted to deliver it but not trusted to know what it does. Enough of this damned mystery, Czevak. I do not wish to know how to use the Caesus, I just want to know what it does. Tell me. Tell me now or I go no further. Czevak glanced nervously towards the others, watching as faces turned his way in response to the Chaplains raised voice. Please, Chaplain, chasten yourself. Walk with me. Codian heard this and scowled. Nonetheless, as the Inquisitor folded his arms beneath his robes and began to head out in the direction of the endless, sprawling hills, he followed. +++ You have yet to answer me. Codian said, glancing behind him at the shrinking specks far behind the. Czevak did not answer at first but continued on a little further, his face raised to meet the cool breeze. The Chaplain maintained his pace beside the inquisitor, and was finding it difficult to keep his stride short enough to stay alongside the smaller man. Inquisitor Czevak slowed, taking a deep, appreciative breath of fresh, unpolluted air. They did not join the Unity willingly. What? The Ratlings of this world. Czevak answered, facing Codian. They did not fall beneath the yoke of the Tau without protest. They fought, in their millions they fought. Alone and without Imperial aid, they nonetheless fought the invading xenos even though they knew they could not win. I fail to see what that has to do with anything, Inquisitor. Faith. Czevak answered with a short affirming nod. Faith has to do with everything. Loyalty and faith. Some would call the inhabitants of a world like this lesser creatures. Ab-humans. Tolerated, yes, but impure. And yet they loved the Emperor with all their hearts and souls. And now they serve xenos masters.

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Yes. That would make them traitors and heretics, turncoats of the foulest calibre. Yet they did what they had to do to survive, as a populace. They knew the Tau would exterminate them should they fail to comply. In short, they have forever damned themselves in the eyes of the Imperium. Codian snarled and shook his head, feeling his anger rising. Again you divert and prattle. What does this have to do with the Caesus? Czevak smiled and reached into the folds of his robes. Desperation, Codian. Fear. Self-preservation. Sometimes a man has to go to lengths he would never have dared dream of just to stay alive, to ensure his survival. Such were the reasons we created the Caesus. To survive the inevitable coming of the end, no matter what the ramifications. I have two gifts for you, chaplain. Here, take them. Czevak handed the Chaplain two items, placing each one gently into the huge open palms of the Marine. Codian glared in bemusement at the gifts, feeling a fresh surge of confusion wash through him. One was a large oval jewel, its smooth surface flawless and shimmering with a curious internal light. Even through the protection of his gauntlets he could feel a pulsing warmth. The other was a scroll of obvious age, bound by a crimson ribbon. Place the gemstone somewhere safe, Chaplain. Guard it with your life, for it is to play an important part soon enough. As for the scroll, untie the ribbon and read it. Perhaps it will provide some of the answers you so crave. Annoyance and intrigue warred within the Marine. Eventually he gave in to the enigma and, watched intently by Czevak, secreted the gemstone in his belt pouch and untied the ribbon. He began to read. Time most distant, futures zenith. In tears, the star-sea mourns. Ishas children lament. All is lost to arrogance, grand designs soured by success, dreams are dust. Shattered and done, the progeny set sail for the forever-beyond, flight borne on the tides of shame. To dwindle and expire, forever denied. The New Star burns too intense to douse, unchecked, untamed. Gods despair. Tide surges, the end time is come. Futures path runs red as Khaine-blood, Hate-Winter rages, the portents scream their siren song. The song of Ulthanash is silent, Ishas eye closed in slumber. Asuryans Shrine-light flickers and dies. The Cosmic Serpent reveals the truth and sheds his final skin. The Rebirth is denied. The Doom of Eldanesh comes to pass, the Red Moon rises. The Rhana Dandra is come, let young and old cower before the chaos of the end. The New Star will rise unprecedented, all the dread despoilers of the old kingdom quail beneath its fire. Dead-King shivers on his maggot-throne as the Tide assails his walls, his kingdom lost. Locust flees, no longer to plague creation-fields, feast denied. Slave-puppets, once free, now lie in chains, conquered anew, rebellions essence bound in blood. Long-Dead are exhumed, tombs razed. There shall be no flight, no peace in death. Their gods shall tremble. Damned Shores become bastion as Dark Souls return. Exodus-flight before the rising swell. Denizens of Under-Kingdom cower behind its gates as the Tide surges. Shame-Kin be damned in the bowels of the Webway, vermin scuttling in filth and terror, afraid of the ragescream storm above. Let them gather souls in shame and desperate haste, past sins quail as the All-Thirst is quenched. The brightest hope may lie amongst the darkest of shadow, the Learned

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Mongrel-Soul exhumed to see a destiny fulfilled. Many Mighty Kings shall offer their swords to the Tide. None shall escape. None shall escape. Skeins divided, hope defiant. Light and darkness heed, else collide and be damned. Fractured is as death, no other path leads to hope. Existence-Tree be razed to its roots, bitter leaves cleansed. Then can hopes light flicker. All forgotten to the core of creation. Then can hopes flame catch the breeze. Let the Lost Princes of the Young gather, shoulder to shoulder they alone may weather the Hate-Winters wrath. Bright Hopes flame still burns deep in the shadows of the Dead Land, too powerful to extinguish forever. Soul Beacon, the Horn of Kurnous will sound the call to war. They shall gather, let but some of their names be known. The Revenant. The First-And-Ever Lords of War. The Lost Princes. The Wrathful Masters. The Reapers of Light. The Stolen Giant. The Prophet. The Last Avenger. The Entombed Ancient. The Oracle. The Blazing Rebel. All these names and more shall stand ready as the Rhana Dandra dawns and the light of the Final Day casts her glow upon armour and weapon. Maelstrom, life and death gather for war, old and young collide beneath the Red Moon. Origin revealed, too sour a taste to accept. It matters not, what is, is. Gods splintered reform in deed to counter the twilight. The children rise, menagerie gather in bitter winds of divisions death. Choice is murdered for all time, no longer sustainable in revealed irrelevance. Diversity is power, the only power left unconsumed. Youths vigour an appetite insatiable above all else, desperation will rule the firmament. There can be no more old-thought. Every shadow will shift, writhe with hidden stirring. Lifes last breath must be deep. Let them stand on the Final Shore as one, faces turned to the Tide. I have seen futures zenith. I have seen crux and apex. Past, present and future united. Enmity is not survival. History rewritten at its very core, primeval puzzle complete. One must tell the tale. Paths cannot be altered, only destinations revealed. Unity. When the ash-wake clears, no more division, only Unity. The Great Unity will prevail. Done, he rolled the scroll back up and clutched it in his fist, his eyes finding the Inquisitor. What is this, Czevak? Yet another riddle? Much more. You hold in your hands a translation of an ancient Eldar prophecy, one of the oldest in existence. It describes the rise of the Tau to ultimate dominance in this galaxy. More so, it hints at the course the war will take and the heroes who will rise to meet the Unity in those final days. Here, let me show you. He took the parchment and unravelled it. Codian followed his finger as it pointed to a certain word on the ancient scroll. The Prophet. That is you, Codian. There can be no mistake. The original tablet this is translated from is older than anyone can guess, and yet, there you are. Let me see that. Codian answered, snatching the parchment. The Oracle. Czevak continued. I believe I fill that role. You see, I am to be your oracle, your liason to the clues of the past, as I am given to understand it. Read on, Chaplain, you should recognise more. The Last Avenger? This has to be your Demiurg comrade, the last of his kind, honour-bound to avenge the extermination of his people. It would seem he too has an important part yet to play.

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Codian found himself reading the entire thing again, and though he would not have admitted a such to Czevak, the words intrigued him. This first section. He began, lowering the paper. Ishas children? The Eldar. As I suspected. It describes the Eldars exodus. It seems to suggest that they fled the galaxy in shame. A sudden and icy silence descended upon Czevak. His face darkened immediately, and he raised a hand and placed it on Codians arm. Keep the scroll safe, Chaplain. Use it as a guide in these coming days. All is lost to arrogance, grand designs soured by success. Flight borne on the tides of shame. What does this mean, Czevak? What did the Eldar do? What did they do that was so terrible they fled these stars in shame? Czevak issued a long sigh and looked to the horizon, the breeze catching his raven hair. It was as if he dared not meet the Chaplains gaze. They made a mistake, Codian. Armed with the best intentions and more than enough of that legendary Eldar arrogance to match, they decided to try an play at being gods. Creation assumed the role of creator, yet they were far from ready. Creation? Creator? What mistake? The Tau. Dont you see, Codian? Havent you worked it out yet? It was the Eldar. The Eldar created them. The Eldar created the Tau. basicheader=000000]

Chapter Thirty Seven: Revelations[/basicheader]

+++THE PROSCRIPTUS REX+++ +++THREE WEEKS LATER+++ Chaplain? He lifted his head as he heard the voice. It was Andrasi who stood in the open doorway of the small reclusium. The Rogue Traders eyes fell upon the slip of yellowed parchment in the Chaplains hands and a look of intrigue crept across his face. Codians fist tightened around the parchment and he quickly secreted it before rising and fixing his almost omnipresent helm back into place. What is it captain? What is it that is so important you would disturb my meditation? Andrasi was obviously taken aback by the Chaplains curt retort and hovered there for a moment, his jaw working in silence. He finally plucked up the courage to step through the arched doorway and into the chapel, quietly taking in the serenity of the small, holy space. The way the young man glanced about him at the friezes and reliquary, it was clear that he had never spent long, if at all, in an Imperial chapel.

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My humble apologies, Chaplain. I was asked to come and find you. Your link seems to be down. It is. I was meditating. Codian repeated, quickly rolling the paper back up and sliding it into the pouch at his waist. Andrasi nodded, wringing his hands. Itit is good to see you back here alive and in one piece, brother. We feared the worst when we heard you had been left behind. It is nothing short of a miracle that you all made it back alive. Codian stiffened as he heard this. He looked at Andrasi, his glowing eyes burning into the Rogue Traders flesh. A miracle? Eldar techno-sorcery is no miracle, Captain. We only escaped from Vanphilos thanks to the Eldar. My soul feels laden with filth at the thought of this. Andrasi made no reply at first. He moved further into the chapel and sat down on one of the small pews, his actions furtive and hesitant. His skin softened and glowed in the light of the flickering candles spread out on the altar before him and he flicked his long fringe away from his face. My family have had dealings with the Eldar in the past, Chaplain. In my line of work such things carry a measure of inevitability. My family history contains many, many documentations of trade with the old Craftworld dwellers. They are a lofty species, aloof and mysterious, yes, but But? Andrasi shrugged. Ah, I dont know. I justI just cant understand why you hate them so much. They saved you, Chaplain. You would have died or been taken by the Tau if they had not come for you. Codian took a single step forward and issued a long, rumbling growl. Andrasi flinched, his arms drawing tighter to his chest. Hate? I am required to hate them, Rogue Trader. They are xenos and they are counted amongst the great enemies of the Imperium. My attitudes are right and they are just. Besides He paused, a measure of his anger dwindling. The sins of their past are grave indeed. How little you truly know. Andrasi hastily made to stand and issued an instinctive bow to the golden effigy set into the wall above the alter before facing the doorway. He reached the arched opening and slowed, looking towards Codian. I will consider myself chastised. He answered, sweeping a hand over his unruly hair. I just came to tell you that your presence is required on the bridge. Your Inquisitor comrade is holding a private conference with Kryptman as we speak. It would seem that your colleague is most eager to contact the Alliance. You are formally invited to attend. The free captain finished and bowed respectfully before shifting into the sterile light beyond the reclusium entrance. Andrasi? The Rogue Trader paused, one hand falling upon the doorframe.

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Tell them that I am unable to attend at this time. I have to speak with Kryptman. Kryptman will be present via the internal link I have to speak with him alone, Andrasi. Tell them to conduct the meeting without me. That is all. Andrasi nodded and stepped through into the light. Please try to forgive my ignorance, Chaplain. He said over his shoulder. Perhaps it is a product of my background and upbringing, but I just dont have the capacity to abhor that which I do not understand. I tend to reserve my detestation for those who are my enemy through circumstance and action, not those who do not share my racial origins. Perhaps I am nave, and that is my failing. Unlike you, it would seem that I do not have an endless reserve of hate. With that he left swiftly the way he had come, leaving Codian standing alone in the flickering candlelight. Better for you that you do not learn the truth. He whispered, but Andrasi was already long gone. +++ The semi-living slabs of flesh and metal that were the Praetorians shifted as the door slid open, the floor creaking beneath their weight. Codian thundered into the chamber, his crimson cloak billowing behind him. Chaplain. The voice echoed through the chamber around him, tinny and overtly acoustic. He stepped into the glow emanating from the powerful life support field before him, his eyes finding the figure seated beyond its crackling protection. I have been expecting you since you arrived back on the Proscriptus, Codian. I know why you are here. Is it true? He retrieved the parchment and thrust it out at the Inquisitor, the edges of the aged paper fizzing as they caught the shimmering field. I know that Czevak has been here, and I know of your history. The Inquisitor told me many things, Kryptman. I need to know if they are true. What did he tell you? Kryptman asked. Dont patronise me! Codian roared, slamming his fist against the field. The Praetorian servitors mobilised immediately, pivoting as one to face the angered Chaplain. They all took a few lumbering steps forward and then froze, weapons systems and motive servos dying in a heartbeat. As one, each of the massive constructs deactivated. The Chaplain watched all this unmoved. There. Now you may rage uninterrupted, if that is your desire. Or, if you wish, we can hold a civilised discussion. Codian growled with displeasure and backed away a little, the scroll still clutched tightly in his fist. You and Czevak are comrades of old, Kryptman, I know that. He revealed many things to me, supposed facts that I suspect you would have kept to yourself. Perhaps. Then again, he would have only told you what you were ready to hear. Exactly what is it that is

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troubling you, Chaplain? I assume that you are aware we are about to attempt to make contact with the Alliance for the first time That can wait. I would know the truth, Kryptman, and I will not leave this chamber until I am satisfied. Is it true? Are the Eldar responsible for all this? Kryptman fell silent. Codian could see the ancient Inquisitors expression beyond the field, and it was one of dark displeasure. It was clear that the Inquisitor felt great discomfort with the prospect of disclosing what he was about to reveal. Very well, Chaplain. Kryptman finally uttered. I will tell you all I know, but before I do, I will give you this warning. You must not allow the facts I am about to reveal to cloud your better judgement in the days to come. If we are to survive this war then we must do so by whatever means we can, even if those means will ultimately damn us in the eyes of the masses. Do you understand? Yes. Codian answered simply. Kryptman nodded. Then tell me what you know. Codian lowered his gaze and began to pace slowly around the room like a caged animal. From his body language it was apparent that he was hesitant to speak of what he had learned. Czevak claims that the Eldar created the Tau. Is this true? Kryptmans reply came after a lengthy pause. Yes. Codian nodded and continued to pace up and down the chamber, slowly and purposefully. Tell me how. I want to know it all, from the beginning. How are the Eldar responsible for creating the biggest threat our Imperium has ever faced? Very well, Chaplain, but I must warn you. It is likely that most of what I reveal may be beyond your understanding. You may deem many of the facts heretical, and so be unwilling to hear them. Still, you wish to learn the whole truth. So be it, Astarte. Here it is. The Tau werean experiment. They were created as a weapon. By the Eldar? By the Eldar, yes. A weapon against Chaos, the Great Enemy. A last, great hope. You see, we may have been fighting the forces of the Ruinous Powers for many thousands of years, but the Eldar? They have been fighting the war much, much longer. They hold a great racial shame, Codian, a shame they may never overcome. A shame that eclipses all others, even that of the traitor Horus and his damned followers. Codian felt his soul churn at the very mention of the traitor Primarchs name, and Kryptman saw this. Ah yes. As an Astarte, the hatred you feel burning in your breast at the very mention of that most foul name is nonetheless but a dim, stuttering fraction of the palpable hatred that all Eldar feel, every single moment of their lives. The memory of what they caused is ingrained upon their souls. It is their curse, their eternal burden. Why, Inquisitor? What did they do that was so terrible?

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They destroyed themselves, Codian. They gave birth to something so utterly horrific that its delivery eclipsed their homeworlds, effectively destroying the Eldar empire. They condemned themselves to a lingering, inescapable death. The Eldar race has been gasping its dying breaths since before we even took to the stars. Gave birth to what, Kryptman? To answer that, look to the Eye. The largest ever warp-realspace breach. We both know that the Eldar are a highly potent race with regards to psychic ability. The decadence of the ancestral Eldar created a schism so powerful that it tore a hole in the universe, Chaplain. Its birth swallowed their homeworlds and created the Ocularis Terribus, the Eye of Terror. The Eldar, in essence, gave birth to a facet of Chaos itself, and in doing so they condemned their entire race. Little wonder then that, at some point, they would conspire to atone for their sins. How little they had learned. Codian shook his head slowly and fell still, his glowing eyes burning in Kryptmans direction. You claim that the Eldar created the Eye? Do you realise how monumentally absurd such a claim sounds? Of course I do. That aside, does it really surprise you to learn such a thing? Chaos was abroad long before it almost tore apart our Imperium during the Heresy, Chaplain. There were races and creatures that warred for supremacy amongst these stars long before the human race even existed. Our race is young, Codian, younger than most. Back to the Eldar and the Tau. Codian said, stepping closer to the glowing dais. What of their connection? I am already explaining that to you, Chaplain. You see, the Eldar are driven by this shame to seek a way of ending the threat of Chaos for all time. However, their biggest failing, like that of all the other enemies of Chaos, is their very self. The vulnerability of the body and soul. The Eldar, it seems, are a perfect effort, at the pinnacle of their development. They are immune to genetic change, unable to evolve. This is why they so stringently expose themselves to such rigorous meditations and disciplines. Like an immune system unable to evolve in order to counter a deadly virus, the Eldars tenuous existence teeters in the face of Chaos. They simply have no hope of countering it. That is their one great flaw, Codian. They were designed to withstand evolutions progress. They are genetically locked. Codian issued a long, audible sigh and looked away, frustration clawing at him. You asked for the truth, Chaplain. The Eldar were designed? What do you mean by that, Inquisitor? Designed, as we all were. Open your eyes, Codian. The clues to our origins have been among us since the dawn of our existence. You are raving! Codian shouted, brandishing his fist. You have lost your mind, Kryptman. I will hear no more of this idiocy! At that the Chaplain swept around and marched toward the chamber door, shouldering past the towering Praetorians. So be it. Kryptman called after him, his broadcast voice reverberating around the dusty space. Run from the truth, Chaplain. But be warned, you were the one who demanded answers. I knew that you would be unable to accept the truth, and yet I revealed it to you nonetheless. Before you leave, let me ask you but one question. Codian slowed at the doorway, one hand finding the frame. He turned his head slightly.

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Speak, and then be done. He growled. Were we the first? Came the reply. What manner of question is that? The first? The first, Chaplain. The primal race. You know that we were not. You know that there were other creatures abroad amongst these stars long before the human race even existed. They were the creators, the primogenitors. The fathers of the ancient Eldar, the fathers of us all. Codians imposing form froze in the light of the doorway. Blasphemy The single word echoed through the chamber, low and quiet and filled with menace. Your disbelief be damned, Chaplain. It doesnt matter how hard it is for you to accept. You, like all of us, are a creation. Whether through purpose or accident, it matters not. Life and sentience, they are no accident, no simple culmination of random astronomical events. The Chaplain pivoted sharply and the air within the chamber thundered. Several bright flashes strobed across the walls and the gathered xenoarcana as his bolt pistol roared, sending a hail of bolt shots out into the glowing field. Shimmering ripples spread across the iridescent wall as the bolts exploded, plumes of fire bursting at the demise of each projectile. Kryptman raised a hand and the guardian servitors came alive, shuddering as they activated. Each one stomped forward and surrounded the Chaplain, so swiftly and suddenly that he had no time to react. Within seconds he was fast, his pistol torn from his grasp. Steel claws wrapped around his arms, holding him rigid. Try as he might, he could not break free. You will hear the truth, damn you! Kryptman shouted, his voice filling the chamber, so loud it caused the brass-ringed speakers to crackle and shudder. Know your place in the greater scheme of things, Astarte. Step down from your pedestal and accept your status. We are children, all of us. Mere children struggling to emulate the greatness of those whose footsteps we follow across the stars. Wars were fought for this galaxy long before we existed. Powerful, ancient races waged those apocalyptic wars, races that were so powerful they could have eclipsed our Imperium without thought. You yourself must have seen their legacy on hundreds of worlds across the Imperium, stood beneath their ancient monoliths and pondered upon the archaic technologies they left behind. Cadia, the Sentinel Worlds, Naogeddon. Arthas Moloch. These worlds and hundreds more hold the clues to their legacy. Codian did not answer. His rage was clear, his glowing eyes burning into Kryptman. The ancient Eldar, in their boundless arrogance, attempted to emulate their creators. Their all-consuming hatred of Chaos drove them on to do so. So it was that they discovered one of these legacies on a world close to the Eastern Fringe, one of the last surviving worlds of their creators, the First or Old Ones. On the world of Arthas Moloch they uncovered an ancient gene-temple of the Old Ones, and beyond that, traces of their final efforts, a small system, a stellar nursery, if you will. It was here that they discovered the final legacy of their long-lost creators. Every lifeform within the infant system was unique in that, biologically, they were resistant to the insidious corruption of Chaos. It was there that they found the Tau, their last great hope. Their weapon against the Great Enemy. Am I right in assuming I have your full, undivided attention now?

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Again, Codian remained silent, though he seemed to have ceased struggling. I will take your silence as a positive response. I know how hard it is for your kind to accept change, Chaplain, to strive to learn beyond the confines of your dogma. The Tau are change given flesh. They were designed to adapt, to learn and advance. Using the ancient technology they discovered, the Eldar bio-engineered the ultimate creature. They trawled the lifepool of this galaxy in search of the most powerful genetic traits and they stole them in order to create a super race. From the Ork they took the ability of racial memory and genetic malleability. From the Qorl, the power of hierarchical pheromone control, racial unity and caste mentality. The Kroot provided evolutionary control and manipulation and the Jokaero, the ability to construct and design unconsciously any aspect of technology needed to counter or solve any given situation. Even we were harvested, Codian. They took from us our sense of inquisitiveness, our thirst for conquest and exploration, our need to expand. So many traits were stolen and it would take an age to list them all. The Eldar reaped their genetic harvest and forged it into the Tau, instilling their own ingrained hatred of the forces of Chaos. Then they conjured up a great and powerful tempest around the system in order to isolate their progeny and preserve them, to allow them to grow. And so the Tau were born. Kryptman nodded and the Praetorians released the Chaplain before stepping back into the shadows in silence. Codian stooped low to retrieve his pistol, hesitated for a lingering moment, and then placed it back in its holster. So the Tau are the ultimate creation then? As interesting as all this is, it fails to answer one fundamental question. What happened? Kryptman answered, speaking each word slowly and purposely. Beyond the field, his eyes widened. Why did they go so wrong? In short, no one knows the answer, not even the Eldar. All we do know is that, sometime during the Taus growth, something happened to them. They encountered a foe or obstacle so utterly inimitable to them that it caused a great and unforeseen schism. Some Eldar suspect the Tyranids were to blame, that perhaps the complex Tau genepool was compromised, mutated by Tryanid influence. Others claim that the emergence of the ancient Necrontyr triggered some inherent factor within the Tau, a product of their legacy. We just dont know. What we do know is that this event initiated an acceleration within each and every Tau. It effectively kick-started an evolutionary boost that continues to this day. You see, the Tau were not the perfect creation they were supposed to be, Chaplain. They are flawed, and that flaw is why we are where we are today. Imagine it. Every one of the traits implanted into the species has been magnified beyond imagination. They are the masters of their own biology and are able to gain any knowledge they need in order to prosper, able to change both physically and mentally in order to deal with any situation. They exist to bring an end to Chaos, an urge so strong that they conquer and enslave and consume for one purpose, and that is to build an army capable of destroying Chaos. They learn from every conflict and adapt to every situation that arises without exception, all the while driven ever onwards by a will to dominate and succeed that mirrors our own. They cannot stop, Codian. They cannot yield. They were designed to win. So how do we beat them? We open their eyes. With that, Kryptman manipulated something set into the armrest of his chair and a small hololithic projection shimmered into being before him. Codian immediately recognised the figure it portrayed. It was the Tau ambassador they had captured on Vanphilos. He looked to be held in a small cell, and Codian

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guessed that it was one of the many onboard the Proscriptus. Our captive. Kryptman confirmed. He may yet hold the key to the downfall of the Unity. How so? OShovah. The legendary rebel of the Tau. OShovahs rebellion is proof that the Tau are able to break this cycle of conquest. OShovahs expedition found the world of Arthas Moloch and they encountered the eternal guardians that the Eldar had left to stand sentinel there. It was there that he discovered the truth behind his origins, and it was also there that he discovered the true extent of the treachery of the Ethereal caste. When the Aun leading the expedition was killed, the all-consuming control was broken. He and his followers were free. The Inquisitor gestured towards the projection. It is our hope, Chaplain, that we can somehow find a way to counter the Ethereals control. Your brother Laenar and myself think that we have found the key to do just that. If we are able to permanently divorce a Tau from his genetically-induced enslavement, we may be able to win this war. I see. And if you cannot achieve this? Then we will use the Caesus. Kryptman answered, his voice growing cold. And we will see a war that will eclipse the stars. Unsurprisingly, Codian found himself utterly without a response. Then we had better pray your plan works. He finally managed to answer.

Chapter Thirty Eight: Dark Designs

All eyes turned to the double doors of the bridge as Codian entered, voices falling to silence. He stepped into the massive chamber, each footfall reverberating through the vast space. Chaplain. Czevak smiled, tipping his head in greeting. The Astarte did not answer. Instead he moved past the Inquisitor and stood before the Astartes present, greeting each one in turn with a warriors handshake, hand to forearm. Brother-Chaplain, it is good to see you alive and back here. Ligur said, his words sincere. The Librarians thick lightning claw gauntlets were gone, and Codian found himself gripping a bare bronzed arm covered in wards and decoration. It is good to be back amongst familiar faces, brother. Imperial faces. He cast a glance over at Czevak, who looked to respond with a certain disappointment. This pleased him. I am told we have a plan. He said, taking in the surrounding tactical displays and hololithic charts. Ligur tipped his head solemnly. We do. I trust your meeting with Kryptman was satisfactory, and that you gained the answers you needed in order to clarify your thoughts for the daunting journey ahead?

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The question came completely out of the blue and it caused Codian to take a step back. Ligur merely met his gaze and awaited his answer. Many supposed facts were revealed. He whispered ominously in reply. If even half of what Kryptman told me holds truth It does, Chaplain. Ligur answered, cutting him off. And we of the Deathwatch are amongst the few brethren who know this with utter certainty. It is why we do what we do, and why we have divorced ourselves from the Alliance. If you can take the word of any Astarte on board this vessel, take mine. The Librarians powerful eyes found his for a lingering moment, his gaze sharp and ominous. There has been enough division amongst our kind, brother. Codian found himself beginning to understand why these Marines were acting beyond the influence of the Imperium then. Ligurs sincerity was without question, he could see that. He still knew little if nothing about why the Marines here had separated themselves from the rest of the remaining Imperium, but could sense that belief played an important part in that separation. The plan. He said again quietly. Ligur nodded slowly and faced the gathered mixture of Astartes and bridge staff. Now that we are all present, it is time to discuss our next steps. Adept? He gestured toward a black-robed engineer who bowed his head and began to manipulate the rune bank before him. A rising whine echoed throughout the chamber and the glow globes dimmed sympathetically, a growing orb of sterile white light forming before the adept. Silence fell over the assembly as the hololithic projection yawned into life, a perfect scaled image of the galaxy. Many glowing runes lit the image, pulsating softly like miniature crimson stars. Masses of these small lights were clustered about the projection, and Codian took them to be representations of the positions of Tau forces. The Librarian indicated several areas encircling the Segmentum Solar, the image rippling as his finger passed from one pulsating crimson mass to another. Our intelligence, if reliable, places the current Tau advance in these key areas. It would seem that the fleets Kraken and Prometheus are merging, an event we have feared for many years. We know this to mean only one thing. The advance for Terra is underway. A quiet murmur passed through the assembly, as each and everyone present had their worst fears confirmed. Ligur shifted his hand and slowly encircled the Terran system, the large azure rune that represented Terra pulsing softly at its centre. They are closing the net. The Tau have the Alliance on the back foot and they know it. We have sent an Astropathic communication via the Macharius array but we dont even know if the grid is still intact. All we can do is await an answer. In the meantime, we must redouble our efforts to close the gap between the Caesus and Terra. Forgive me, Brother Ligur. Czevak cut in. But there is more than a simple need to deliver the artefact to its

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required destination. The Caesus must be prepared for use as well as relinquished to the appropriate authorities on Terra. We still have much to do before we can complete our mission. Codian emitted an audible growl at the Inquisitors interruption. Ligur shook his head silently to quiet him and stepped aside, bowing his head at Czevak. Perhaps you could explain further in the absence of Kryptman, Inquisitor? The comment was subtle but Codian picked up on Ligurs hidden anger straight away. Kryptman should have been present to head the meeting, and yet it was clear that he would be remaining absent. The others gathered here seemed aware of this already, and Ligur of all of them was clearly the most displeased by this. He felt he could sense a rift beginning to grow between the Inquisitor and the Astartes in his service. In the weeks following Vanphilos the ancient Inquisitor had become increasingly withdrawn and secretive, spending longer and longer locked away within his chamber and refusing conference, and no one knew why. Czevaks arrival had brought about a change in him, and Codian for one did not know why. The change vexed him greatly, and he found himself directing the blame at Czevak. The Inquisitors eyes lingered on Codian for a moment before he turned to the projection and began to point out the various positions of the encroaching Tau fleets. We still have a huge area of hostile space to cross before we are able to rendezvous with the Alliance fleets, and then we cant be sure they even know we are coming. That aside, we still have to ensure that the Caesus is prepared for use when we hand it over. It is up to us to make sure that it is not only delivered but also primed and ready. I will not lie to you all, the journey we need to take to achieve this will test each and every one of us far more than we have ever been tested in our lives. We, as a race, stand facing the twilight of our existence, and we are going to have to confront trials that none of us could ever have imagined. Speak your mind, Czevak. Codian snapped, his raised voice turning every head. Czevaks face twitched but he maintained his composure. He pivoted sharply to face the projection once more. As you can see, there are currently no safe paths through to the Imperial fleets that we know of. At this moment in time, this is of no consequence. Another collective murmur washed through the gathering. Codian drew himself up in preparation to answer, though this time it was Berolinus who answered, the younger Astartes face flushed with anger. He stepped forward, his fists bunched. Of no consequence? How can you say that? The future of our Imperium hangs in the balance Czevak held up his hands for calm, clearly apprehensive in the presence of the towering Marine. Please, hear me out. The activation of the Caesus is a huge undertaking, far larger than anything else ever attempted since the near physical demise of the Emperor. Our immediate problem is not its delivery. We need to find a way to power it. I see. Codian answered, stepping forward. So enlighten us then, Czevak, for we know too little about this device to be able to guess how to do that. The Inquisitor fixed Codian with a cold, steely gaze, a dark and damning knowledge lingering behind his eyes. Even before he uttered the first few words of his reply, Codian knew what was coming. The Eldar have promised us the solution to this. Even as we speak, my former hosts move to secure what we need. I know precious little of how this will be achieved, only that our efforts are being observed and augmented by these mysterious creatures. In the meantime, we have other pressing concerns.

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He looked to the Librarian beside him. Brother Ligur? Ligur nodded and then turned to the gathered faces, signalling to one of the deckhands standing beside the door to the bridge. We have had a breakthrough. Precious few such achievements have been made since the Tau rose to power, yet we have finally managed to secure ourselves a major victory here onboard the Proscriptus. Brother Laenar, you may enter. Codian felt a surge of anticipation at the mention of his brothers name. It had been too long since he had seen his Techmarine comrade. The doors of the bridge hissed open and Laenar stepped through, his huge frame filling the space. The arms of his servo-harness were folded at his sides and his back, yet still the warrior had to negotiate himself through the opening. Laenar entered the bridge and bowed to the surrounding warriors, the eyeslits of his helm pulsing a glowing emerald green. As he spoke, his voice was deep and mechanical, more so than Codian could ever remember before. Brothers, comrades, I bring you tidings of great import. The integrity of our enemy has been compromised for all time. He held out a hand towards the open doors and the others looked on. A collective gasp whispered throughout the chamber as the creature there stepped through into the light. Standing there, regarding each face with a mixture of bewilderment and fear, the captured Water Caste Envoy froze. The creatures mouth worked silently as if struggling to find speech. A large area at the centre of its face was covered with gauze, indicating an obvious surgical procedure, recent given the freshness of the dressing. After several moments of terrified silence, the Tau lowered himself slowly onto one knee and bowed his head, a visible tremble running through his body. PorO Gormat, Envoy Prelate. Laenar uttered, introducing the xenos to the stunned audience. Slave to the Unity no longer. Codian was the first to break free of the mire of shock. He started forward, his footsteps ringing on the deck in the near silence. Explain, Laenar. What isthat He thrust a finger out at the alien, doing on the bridge of this ship. Making history, Chaplain. Stand, Envoy. The alien did as ordered, slowly rising to his feet. He seemed to flinch at every word or movement around him, his eyelids fluttering in apprehension almost constantly. Standing by his side, Laenar literally towered over the slender alien. The mission to Vanphilos may have been testing, but it has borne fruit, Codian. We have achieved that which we set out to do. We have an ally in this creature. The Chaplain took another step towards the Por, bending at the waist so as to examine the Tau. Gormat lowered his head fearfully, his eyelids almost turning translucent as they vibrated. After a few tense

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moments Codian rose. An ally? How can we possibly trust a Tau? If such a union were possible, would it not have been tried before now? It is all a matter of biology. Laenar answered, indicating the gauze at the centre of the Envoys face. With that he walked away from the scene and returned moments later, carrying with him the Envoys captured staff. Gormat regarded the symbol of office with a glimmer of recognition, his black eyes widening for a moment, then he simply turned away, a curious and unreadable expression passing across his face. It was Kryptman who came to me with the idea. Laenar continued. He theorised that the Ethereals of the Tau somehow exuded a powerful pheromonal control over the rest of their race. Furthermore, in their absence the commanders of the other castes had to ensure, albeit unwittingly, that the ultimate control of the Ethereals was sustained. He extended his arm and proffered the alien staff. His suspicions proved correct. This artefact was found to generate an artificial pheromone near identical to those generated by the Ethereals. The device was neutralised and the olfactory receptors of the subject creature removed. Within hours the subject started to display symptoms of extreme withdrawal, but this soon passed. You see before you a member of the Tau race now utterly divorced from the influence of the Ethereal caste. Envoy? The alien bowed his head at Laenar and then Found Codians fiery gaze. PorO Gormat, Envoy Prelate He paused, thought passing over his grey face. Former Envoy Prelate of the Final Sphere Expansion, Ores Elleath to the fleet of AunO Ndras ShiKovash Ores Olnan Codian emitted a low growl of irritation, cutting the Taus rambling introduction short. M-my apologies, guela warrior. Gormat will suffice. Xenos will suffice. Codian uttered, a murderous hostility in his voice. Are you so ignorant a creature, Tau, that you cannot sense the absolute hatred I hold for your kind? It is all I can do to stand in your presence without tearing your head from your shoulders. Perhaps you had better convince me why I should continue to restrain myself before the urge becomes too great to suppress. The Envoy held up his hands and backed away, pleading eyes finding the Techmarines helm-covered face. Please, try to restrain your anger, warrior of the Emperor. I am your enemy no longer. Your engineer and your medical caste have opened my eyes to the deceit that lies at the heart of my people. Ours is an empire built on lies and manipulation. We are a race of drones, slaved to the machinations of our Ethereal masters. Every action I have ever undertaken in the name of the Unity I have done so unwittingly, despite thinking I was acting under my own volition. Gormat fell silent, a look of what Codian took to be disgust twisting his smooth features. OShovah. He whispered, his voice tinged with a deep sadness. By the Tauva, I see it now. All this time we thought of him as the worst traitor, and yet now I finally see the truth.

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Gormat twisted on his heel and made quickly for the nearest bulkhead, his slender fingers reaching out in order to steady him. Whatever pain of betrayal he felt inside, Codian was unmoved. I await your answer still, xenos. What can you offer us in payment for your continued survival? Justify your presence or prepare to meet the end of your existence here on this bridge. Gormat tensed at hearing this. His fingers tightened against the dark, brass-trimmed wood. What can if offer you? He rose and faced the Chaplain once more, smoothing down the folds of his ceremonial robes as if in an attempt to regain a little dignity. Guela, you have no idea. Your Alliance fights with bravery and defiance as they struggle to turn aside the extinction fleets. They cannot win. Enough, Tau. I will hear no They cannot win. Gormat said again, this time much more defiantly. The Unity are too powerful to stop. They will smash through the defences of your home system and they will take the seat of your Emperor as their own. You know nothing of the Unitys myriad plans for this galaxy. Codian took a step forward, his hand finding the hilt of his crozius. Gormat continued regardless. I will teach you all the secrets of the Tau if it will bring about an end to the Ethereals rule. I will reveal their plans to build an army of your kind. I will reveal the pacts they have made with the unknown denizens of these stars, creatures you know of only in stories and legend. I can tell you what they plan to do with the Emperor Enough! Codian roared, drawing his crozius with a thrum of crackling power. Hear me, guela! They will use him to further their own ends! They will corrupt him and turn him to their cause Codian thundered across the remaining space and drew his arm back, azure sparks trailing behind the skull-faced head of the murderous weapon. as they have done to your warrior prince, the Guilliman The Chaplain froze, his boots squealing as they slid across the deck. The power weapon halted inches from the Envoys head, the field surrounding it deactivating instantly. It hovered there, causing Gormats features to quiver unbidden. What did you say? By the Fortress of Hera, Tau, repeat that last statement. Your first one, the warrior prince. The Guilliman. He is awoken, guela, and he fights beneath the banner of the Unity. Even as the first sharp intake of breath hissed through the air of the bridge, Codian was gone, the double doors leading out into the ship twisted and hanging forlornly. At the centre of his private chamber, Kryptmans eyes slid open.

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Chapter Thirty Nine: Hard Truth

+++THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS, SEAT OF THE HIGH LORDS+++ +++THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++ +++TERRA+++ All eyes turned to the massive arched doors. The shadowy giants standing guard there shifted in the half-lit gloom, golden armour glinting. The sound of the huge doors grinding open was thunderous, echoing through the impossibly vast space. Pallid cherubs trailing banners and censers flitted away from the light that spilled into the space, illuminating the ancient mosaics stretching across the floor. Armoured shapes appeared, casting long shadows across the glowing bridge of light. The sound of armour plate and steel-shod boot rang through the dry air, intensified a hundredfold by the acoustics of the immense space. The arrivals were Astartes, clad in gleaming blue and gold ceremonial armour. The personal heraldry of the Warmaster decorated the right shoulder guard of each warrior, marking them out as members of Calgars Chosen. My honoured Lords, presenting the Honour Guard of the Warmaster. A faceless and hidden herald-servitor boomed, its augmetic voice reverberating throughout the chamber. Representatives of the Warmaster and Lord Solar, commander of the Alliance forces. My Lords, prepare for hololithic audience. The lead Astarte, his flawless armour almost entirely hidden beneath a flowing ivory cloak, started forward from the procession as the rest of the warriors fell to one knee in perfect unison. The cloaked figure stopped as he reached a huge inlaid golden aquila and knelt himself, producing a small object from beneath his vestments. The object was a small and perfectly formed golden idol of the Warmaster clad in armour and flesh, seated upon the throne of Macragge, just as he had been before his internment into the ancient Dreadnought armour. Not that the figures arrayed around the edges of the circular chamber could have picked out these details. The twelve most powerful men in the Imperium sat illuminated far above the floor of the audience chamber, so far in fact as to seem little more than shadowed pinpricks of light. One by one, flickering holographic representations of each of the High Lords of Terra appeared before each lofty throne, eyes cast down upon the new arrivals. Open the link. Spoke the twisted, avian form of Krieusius Magmador, Master of the Astronomicon. The figure far below bowed and did as ordered. There followed a short, whispering rush of building power and the air above the outstretched idol frosted and swirled, quickly forming the same kind of grainy image as those surrounding the curved walls. Marneus Calgars majestic face formed out of the very air itself to look out upon the assembled High Lords, his regal features proud and clad in flesh, just as they had been in centuries past. Lord Calgar. Spoke the wizened Matriarch Constanta Anvellonne, the Abbess Sanctorum of the Adeptus Sororitas.

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We have gathered here as requested, to receive word of the continuing war effort. How goes the fight against the Unity? Magmador cut in, his high, sibilant voice almost a screech. My gathered Lords, I bring news of the war, though I regret to inform you that little of what I have to report is of a positive nature. Then perhaps you had better put us out of our misery, Lord Calgar. Spoke the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum, Lord Fraudator Regaas. The image flickered as it bowed, the oversized face tightening with suppressed anger. We are put to flight. Gehenna saw a defeat for the Alliance, a defeat that would have been compounded had we attempted to stay and face the Unity. I made the decision to withdraw for the good of Terra. I see. Spoke Anvellonne, her pale, lined features wrinkling. And what of the Endymion? We of the Sororitas were hoping to hear of her own account of this war. Does she fare well? She islost to us, Matriarch. The Saint gave her life to face the Taus greatest weapon. An audible cry of despair rose up from the Abbess Sanctorums position and her personal holo-image dissipated, breaking apart. The light illuminating her seat faded, casting the distraught woman in darkness. Unmoved by her pain, the other High Lords looked on, faces set in stone. Perhaps the loss of Gehenna and the surrounding inner territories was an inevitable occurrence. Spoke Gregator Consolatin, Adeptus Supremus, Master of the Administratum. This war has drained our resources to their limits. We can simply no longer sustain the rate at which we are having to produce By the Emperor, Consolatin, hear yourself! Cut in Lorn Vestosul, Lord Commander Militant of the Alliance Guard. We are a war for the very survival of the Imperium itself! You cannot put a price on this war, neither in terms of manpower nor fiscal cost. This is survival at it rawest, Adeptus Supremus. Nonsense! You know nothing of the workings of our Imperium, Vestosul Nor the cost. Another voice cut in, a powerful mechanical tone. The huge holo-visage of Grand Magos Ghormengar Ghan Achosyx, Fabricator-General of Mars Posthumous, turned its gaze towards the fiery Lord Commander. We are not an inexhaustible commodity, Lord Commander Militant. Mars is gone. All our blessed forge worlds are gone, either destroyed, captured or far beyond our reach. We simply cannot afford to sustain any loss Enough! A thunderous voice cut through the arguing, shocking those responsible into silence. All eyes fell upon the golden-helmed visage of Captain-General Pugnus Imperatorius of the mighty Adeptus Custodes. The bronzed skin of his ancient face contrasted starkly with his flowing white beard. Set at the centre of this shock of hair, his perfect teeth were bared. Enough of this petty squabbling! You are High Lords one and all, the masters-in-state of our Emperors

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realm. Conduct yourselves as such. Can we not set aside our differences of opinion long enough to discuss our next course of action? Our Imperium teeters on the brink of total destruction? None of the other Lords were able to offer an immediate answer. Vestosul is right, at least in principle. Imperatorius continued after a pause. This is a war of survival, and as such we will do whatever is necessary to survive. We will fight and work and produce, regardless of limitation. Failure to do so can mean only one thing, defeat. Hmm. There is too much talk of retreat and concession. Regaas chipped in. Soon we will find ourselves backed into a corner from which there is no escape. Can we not steel ourselves to take the reins of offensive action? Please, let Calgar speak. Uttered Suni Mae Sing, Grand Mistress of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. Her eyeless holo-representation shifted to face the Warmaster. The death of the Saint was suspected, Warmaster. We felt it even here. Tell me, what do you know of Saint Cloelias final moments? What was her message? Calgars visage wavered, a visible confusion tightening his features. I regret to say, Mistress, that I know of no much message. I was regretfully far from the scene of her death when our lost Primarch took her life. Interesting. The blind woman replied after a lengthy pause. And yet every single Astropath on Terra felt what we now know to have been her death-song. She spoke unto us, the blessed Endymion, though we know not what she said. It was much more. Magmador cut in. The Astronomicon roils still at its passing. The Great Light of the Throne reacted, Mistress The Primarch. Imperatorius uttered, his mighty voice cutting through the heated debate. So, the suspicions were true. Guilliman is restored. He is. The Primarch walks amongst men. The entire chamber fell into silence, a deep foreboding void of sound. Not even the cherub swarms made a sound, the incessant beating of their grafted wings fading into nothing as if in empathic response. It fell to Lord Inquisitor Covenant, the Inquisitorial Representative, to break the silence. So, how does one set about making war with a son of the Emperor Himself? Not even the Inquisition has such countermeasures in place to deal with the re-emergence and betrayal of a Primarch. Betrayal. Growled the Warmaster in reply. Is an inappropriate to describe the current status of our Primarch. He is not of his own mind. The enemy have somehow managed to compromise him. As Horus was compromised, Warmaster? Regaas sneered. Do not allow your love for your Primarch to blind you, Calgar. Look to history. The betrayal of the Emperors first sons almost tore our Imperium apart. That same betrayal saw our Lord cast broken upon the Throne Regaas! Imperatorius roared, his visage shuddering and breaking up beneath his rage. Speak not of that which you little understand! Fraudator Regaas image darkened, a sneer of contempt drawing his lips back over his teeth.

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And yet, Custodian, the fact remains that Guilliman serves the enemy. Whatever the cause of his betrayal, his heresy cannot be ignored. Lord Inquisitor. Abbess Sanctorum. Grand Provost Marshal. Ecclesiarch. The Assassinorum Grand Master looked to each of these faces in turn. Together, each one of your organisations exist only to uphold the law of the Imperium and ensure that heresy, dissent and impurity are scoured from its borders. Surely, there can be no compromise in the execution of your collective duties? A traitor is a traitor, an enemy is an enemy. There can be no grey area if this organisation, this Imperium of ours, is to survive. The law is utterly resolute. Answered Lodon Darvistor, the Grand Provost Marshal of the Adeptus Arbites. Regaas speaks the truth, however unpalatable it may be. I concur. Ecclesiarch Von Winterthur echoed, bowing his ancient head. Heresy is heresy. Our dark and shameful history has taught us that. He must be brought low. Covenant answered calmly. Compromise is naught but self-condemnation. Primarch or no, he murdered a Saint of the Imperium. Anvellonne whispered from the darkness, her cracked voice heavy with spite. Can there be any greater crime against the All-Father? Guilliman must be destroyed. Calgars mighty face quivered to hear such things. Steeling himself, he bowed. Then I can plainly see that my audience is at an end here. Until the next briefing. Before any of the High Lords could voice a protest, the Warmasters shimmering face dissipated and his Honour Guard quickly rose as one. In silence they turned on their heel and left the chamber, the massive doors slamming shut behind them. For several long minutes, there was only silence. Voicing himself for the first time since the Lords had gathered, the Paternoval Envoy of the Navigators spoke, his voice seeming to cause a chill to descend over the entire chamber. It would seem that we are at odds with our own Warmaster. Malchis Vambra-Rhaeticus observed. This cannot bode well. There has been enough schism amongst the members of the Alliance. Can we trust Calgar to do what is necessary? We must. Von Winterthur answered. The soldiers and citizens of our Imperium are harried enough. Faith has been sorely tested these past few centuries. Entire worlds have fallen beneath the yoke of the Tau. Heed my words, we are in danger of seeing another Plague of Unbelief. Should word spread through the remaining kingdoms that one of the mightiest warriors of our Imperium has turned his face from the Emperors light and sides with the hated enemy, it may prove to be the undoing of us all. He must be stopped, no matter the cost. Agreed. We must use every resource available to achieve this. If Calgar cannot be trusted to destroy Guilliman then it is up to the Inquisition to end this heresy. I fear that perhaps only the Grey Knights are strong enough to achieve this. High above, Regaas hammered his fist into the ancient lectern. I will hunt him. Perhaps we cannot allow Calgar to see us working against him to destroy the wayward Primarch. No, this could shatter the relations between ourselves and the Alliance, at least the Astartes factions. Guilliman must die, that is certain, but it must be a death unconnected with any of us, at least in

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the eyes of the Warmaster. I will set my assassins upon the Primarch. I pledge the efforts of every temple at my disposal to achieve this. A slow-burning murmur of agreement whispered throughout the chamber as, one by one, the other High Lords concurred. Only ancient Imperatorius remained silent, his burning eyes fixed upon the Grand Master of the Assassinoriums triumphant and determined face. Regaas saw this, and smiled.

Chapter Forty: Old Comrades, New Enemies

Is it true? He had found himself asking the question with an unexpected calmness and clarity. The doors to Kryptmans chamber had opened upon his arrival and the hulking guards within had stood immobile, cold and deactivated. The Inquisitor had been waiting. Yes. Even as the single word echoed through the chamber in reply, to his credit, he did not react. His twin hearts hammered a single shuddering beat. His fingers tightened. He fought down the urge to cry out, to lose himself in anger, to surge forward and tear the Inquisitor from his seat. He did not. He found himself able to utter but one word, the tone of his voice controlled by only the flimsiest emotional walls. Explain. I cannot. Kryptman had answered with genuine sincerity. I can only confirm that he is risen, restored to health by the Life Caste. His mind is poisoned, his eyes blind to the truth. He fights for the enemy. How could a son of Macragge respond to that? How could a keeper of the Chapters sanctity allow himself to hear such an incredulous claim? Roboute Guilliman, the greatest of the Primarchs, the father of his Chapter and a score of others. Guilliman had resisted the Great Heresy, when brother had turned against brother, when warriors sworn to uphold the honour of the Emperor had turned their faces towards the darkness and eternal damnation. Roboute Guilliman had not. He ducked low as the whining buzz-saw arm screamed past, his reverie almost causing him his head. Stripped to his waist, the muscles of his honed physique strained against his skin as if they would burst through. The training servitor spun wildly, the speed of its rotation increasing. Weapons arms flailed in deadly arcs as screaming saw blades, crackling power bludgeons and all manner of other cruel weaponry hunted for his flesh.

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The servitors aggression pattern was set to maximum, and Codian felt the thrill of combat surging, washing away the anger and confusion within. The heat of battle always brought with it a clarity of mind an Astarte could not find from any other source, not even meditation. He could think over no better way to both work away his frustrations and centre his thoughts. A crackling power spike speared forward, hunting for his abdomen. He shifted to the left and twisted, bringing the head of the crozius down in a hard, chopping motion. The spike rang and spun away, sparks bleeding after it. The hoarse, raking thrum of a chainblade intensified as the weapon swiftly made to take his legs, missing as he leapt just high enough for the blade to scream by beneath. Codian landed and turned into the servitors pole-like torso strut, feeling his bare back slam against the cold metal. He raised his free arm and grabbed the nearest extremity before bringing his weapon up and shearing the large scissor-claw there away with a swift, rising blow. The servitor started to rotate again and he rolled forward, passing between two more weapons arms before landing on one shoulder and coming up in a controlled roll onto his feet. His armoured boot flashed out and another weapon went spinning away, twisted and broken. The blow set the unit off-balance, if only for a second. He saw this and shouldered forward, his arm drawn back ready to strike. The servitor was still turning, its targeting systems realigning after the blow. He brought the crozius forward The spike came out of nowhere and drove into and though his collarbone, cutting his advance brutally short. The immediate flash of intense pain caused him to cry out and he brought the weapon down, carving the servitors cogitator unit into two ragged halves. He felt his collarbone grind against the spike, a fresh surge of pain hitting him as the unit slumped, pushing him down onto one knee. Pushing yourself too hard I see. The unexpected voice startled Codian, so much so that he forgot the pain surging through him and hauled himself free, the triumphant spear coated with thick, congealing blood. He slumped down on the edge of the combat dais and looked to the door of the chamber to see Grungi staring back, leant against the frame. Perhaps you ought to get that looked at. It will heal. The Demiurg gave a nonchalant shrug and shifted his weight onto his feet, a glint of amusement in his eyes. Hnn. Im sure it will. Feel better for that, longshanks? It wasnt much of a fight, from what I saw. Perhaps it was exactly what you needed though. He gestured towards the grisly wound. A warrior needs reminding from time to time that he is not immortal. To live as we do, you have to expect death to come from every blow. Expect to die. Such expectations will keep you strong, keep you focused. A good look, by the way. Much more fitting of a warrior. Advice. Codian answered coldly. From a xenos? Grungi sneered and dismissed him with a wave of his hand. Ahh, get over yourself, cloud breather. Extract that rod from up your arse and try to cultivate a sense of perspective. A king is only a king if he has a throne to squat on. The Tau are the rulers of this galaxy, my friend, and you are the xenos, the unpalatable minority, the alien to be purged. You have no business

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acting and talking as if you are my better. Grungi shook his head and waddled over to the dais where he slumped down beside the injured Chaplain, chewing his scarred lip thoughtfully. We are stuck. Did you know that? What? Stuck. Stranded. As in no way forward. If youd have stayed instead of storming off in a sulk you would have found that out. We cant get to Terra, bone-priest. The Tau have seen to that. We have no obvious way of delivering your precious Caesus. Codian shifted uneasily as he heard this, the pain in his shoulder subsiding almost immediately. Are you sure? Your brethren certainly are. The Tau Envoy is working with them to try and discern a safe course through the enemy fleets, but it may be some time before we find ourselves on the move again. We have hit a dead end. Codian rose, his ascent visibly unsteady. He reached over and slammed his palm into the console at the dais edge and the lights of the chamber intensified. So, we have hit a dead end. Damn this cursed place. Beside him, Grungi regarded his augmetic hand thoughtfully. You know, I feel Ive spent too long on this soulless Imperial tub. I need to clear my head and speak with the ancestors. I feel perhaps you do too. What say you join me? Codians eyes narrowed in suspicion. Join you? Demiurg, what are you talking about? Follow me. Grungi replied, hopping from the dais and onto his feet. And bring your armour. When not in battle a warrior must preserve his dignity. +++ The low hum started with a deep, thunderous boom that rolled beneath the darkness like a wave, its echoes rumbling as they dissipated through the bowels of the black void. The crackle of activating lights followed; dim at first, but growing in intensity at the passing of each moment. Even as the vast space began to illuminate, casting the black shadows away, the large circle set into the centre of the chamber floor ignited, a cold, blinding azure glow creating a column of shimmering light. Dancing wisps of ethereal energy appeared at the centre of the column, bleeding into existence as if caught immobile after travelling at great speeds. Within moments, a crude, misty outline began to form. Moments more, and Thurgus Grungi stepped from the thick beam and out into the silent chamber, a smile of recognition spreading across his twisted face. Home. He whispered, stepping aside as the column darkened and rippled once again. He looked behind him as Codian emerged, his body language betraying his bewilderment. Grungi found himself staring at the Marines face, his real face, not the leering skull he had come to recognise. It was only then that he realised that, in the combat room, he had seen the man beneath the armour for the first time.

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Hmm. He smiled and raised his hand, offering the view to the dumbstruck Chaplain. Welcome back. By Thor, but its good to be among the ancestors once again. Codian didnt understand what he meant by that, not at first. It took him several seconds of silent observation to actually realise where he was. The Grudgebearer. Grungi smiled again and beckoned him to follow. Ah, my soul lifts already, longshanks. Her spirit welcomes me home. Codians face tightened as he purged the disorientation and shock within him. The layout of the alien craft, the vast deck spaces with their overtly industrial design, the coolant groves and thick riveted bulkheads, all started to look familiar. He had left this craft months ago and now here he was again, incredibly, where moments before he had been stood on the deck of the Proscriptus Rex. How? How did we do that? He asked quietly. Teleportation? No. Not as you know it, bone-priest. Heh, your Mechanicus have quested for an age to learn the greatest technological secrets of the Demiurg. They never were able to accept the prowess of our engineers. Even so, you didnt answer. We have just crossed the gulf in the time it takes for an orbital teleportation to occur. That was faster than warp travel, Demiurg. The machine in your quarters I built it. Grungi answered, almost as if hesitant to admit responsibility. I have taken two life oaths in my years, bone-priest. The Engineers Oath was the first. The translation matrix is a fairly simple machine to build, even with Imperial tech, if you know what to salvage. I managed to link your ship to the matrix just over a month ago. Codian said nothing, but found himself marvelling at the stark simplicity of it all. He knew he should have felt anger at the Demiurgs actions, both in the theft he suggested and the fact that he had kept his abilities from them, but he found he could not. So much had happened these past few months and, despite the anger he still felt burning within him at both Kryptman and the Taus revelations, he could also sense a change within. Many facets of the smouldering core of faith within him were cooling, unravelling despite his best efforts to maintain their vigour. His hatred of the xenos, the strict principles of the codex, these and more seemed to be growing almost redundant, unnecessary. It was as if this dark, uncertain future had somehow begun to fundamentally change all that he was inside, a prospect unthinkable for an Astarte. The problem was, he was more than a warrior of the line. He was a Chaplain, the very essence of both the warrior and the chapter made flesh. To even suggest that his own faith might be sliding Why have you brought me here? Grungi looked away from the quivering coolant pipes he had been inspecting and exhaled sharply, his nostrils flaring. To reflect. One must look to the ancestors when he has no answers of his own, brother warrior. I return here now and again, just to keep myself grounded and commune with those who have passed. Hnn, it also does me good to check that the Grudgebearer remains undisturbed. Feel honoured that I have chosen to share this with you. Reflect? Codian answered. Here? I am not Demiurg, Grungi. Why would I find solace on an alien vessel?

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Grungi shook his head softly and then flicked a thumb out in the direction of a gloomy corridor beyond. In truth, even as the words had left his mouth, Codian realised how blind the momentary confusion had made him. Think back to the moment you first opened your eyes here in this dark time. Grungi continued, regardless of the realisation passing over Codians face. And the tomb you left behind. +++ The cramped interior of the lifepod was just as he remembered. The bodies of his lost comrades lay where they had died, little more than desiccated husks, skeletal and mummified by the centuries. Artemons ancient artificer armour gleamed beneath the lights, the golds and blues sparkling beneath the dust. Captain He whispered, bowing his head respectfully. The other honourable dead were arrayed about their captain, seated in eternal silence. Maximus, the Company Champion cut a regal pose even in death. His broadsword rested, hilt up, across his chest and down between his armoured legs. His shield lay at his feet, the golden Imperial eagle facing the ceiling. The others, battle brothers Polonius, Andrior and Lestri had been young by Astartes standards, part of the same squad as Berolinus. He still remembered standing at the door of the lifepod, his hand outstretched. No more room, brothers. A hurried series of responsive nods had seen the rest of the Marines leave without protest, intent on seeking out the next available pod. A heavy sadness weighed him down as he thought back to that time. Could he have saved more lives? Had those Marines escaped, gone on to continue the Emperors ceaseless wars? He knew he would never be able to answer that. He looked to the floor at the centre of the small bridge at the shrouded body of Kreusus the Epistolary. Such waste. Though he had administered the Final Rites to these fallen warriors, he considered their final resting place, the tomb the lifepod had become. Perhaps it would be fitting to ask the Demiurg if it would be possible to cast the vessel adrift and aflame, a fitting tribute to those inside. Here in this nightmare time, there would be no safe place to lay the bodies of these men to rest. He nodded thoughtfully to himself, the idea gaining merit in his mind as he considered it. To be back amongst you one last time is my honour, brothers of Macragge. He whispered. And I will carry your memory with me wherever fate may direct me. Ave Imperator. Touching. Every muscle in his body froze as the soft voice echoed through the space. It was a voice he had never heard before. He twisted his head to look out at the access hatch, and the dark-armoured shadow standing there. Another Astarte.

Chapter Forty One: Secrets, Fallen

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+++THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS, SEAT OF THE HIGH LORDS+++ +++THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++ +++TERRA+++ Grand Master Regaas pulled his gloves tighter, almost seeming to relish the prospect of outward perfection. He smoothed his raven hair back against his scalp, a look of barely disguised triumph spread across his face. The other High Lords were gone, sinking quickly back into the endless shadows, their vast entourages in tow. Achosyx was the last to depart, as ever. He cast a long sideways glance at Regaas, his single remaining eye glistening in the half-light, before heading towards the vast floodlit archway, his huge and ever-present Praetorian servitors in tow. He sighed, his eyes passing over the deep shadows surrounding him, before turning to the nearby entryway to his left. A disturbance there caught his attention and he watched as shadows appeared, almost as if on cue, blocking out the bright light streaming in from the space beyond. Grand Mistress Mae Sing glided into the chamber like a ghost, her white robe seeming to shimmer as if imbued with a light of its own. Master Astropaths surrounded the blind woman, ancient skeletal figures that brought with them a psychic weight that far belied their meagre forms. Regaas inhaled sharply through bared teeth as he felt the entourage enter, sensing the palpable psychic presence of the ancient Master Astropaths surrounding her. These were individuals selected for their sheer potency, men and women who were able to tear open organs and crush skulls with the merest thought. The blind, emaciated gaggle scanned the deep shadows as they passed, faces twitching. No amount of darkness could hide a body away from the attentions of these beings, and though it appeared so, it was almost mockingly apparent to the potent Astropath council that Regaas was far from alone. High Lord Mae Sing. The Grand Master uttered with a smile, affording her a curt but courteous bow. To what do I owe this informal audience? Suni Mae Sing slowed, the foot of her guide cane coming to rest on the polished marble floor with a loud, echoing tak. Come Regaas, you know why I am here. She whispered with a voice like an arctic wind. Like you, I seek to bring an end to this war. Our two organisations may never have been the closest of allies, but still it would seem that we must work together, all of us, if we are to bring about the changes needed to halt the Unity. Regaas nodded slowly and then sighed. He had about him the air of a man almost permanently late for some unspecified appointment, driven and harried by a life of constant haste. You bring me a warning, do you not? I do, and it would seem that you are already aware of the specifics. Indulge me nonetheless, Mistress. Regaas answered, stepping closer. He had the gleam of anticipation in his eyes. Imperatorius. He whispered. Mae Sings thin lips moved in perfect timing with Regaas own as he spoke, a silent confirmation of his suspicions.

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Ah yes, ancient Imperatorius. His ideals are as dated and dust-choked as he himself is. To think that he would have us consorting to save the traitorous Primarch. Have a care, Regaas. No matter the circumstances The circumstances are clear to see, Mistress. Regaas hissed, his voice dripping malice. There can never be exception. The iron fist of vigilance must be maintained. If we allow its grip to slacken even a fraction, we risk losing everything. Guilliman has to be destroyed. Mae Sing took a step back, her porcelain face twisted with discomfort. It was clear to Regaas that she agreed, no matter the bitter taste it left in her mouth. This meeting sours my soul. She spat, a visible discomfort saturating her. There has already been enough division amongst the Imperial factions. And yet, honoured Mistress, you arranged our clandestine tryst. Imperatorius is old but he is powerful, one of the most powerful among us. His voice is strong and his influence great. No matter my candour, I fear him, Mistress, yet I cannot allow some age-old, deep-rooted sense of extended brotherhood to rob him of reason. If this Imperium of yours is to stand any chance of regeneration, any and all malignant cancers must be purged. Purity, irresolute purity, is all that can save us. Did not the Emperor Himself, father of us all, teach us that? He did, Regaas, and I am here to confirm my support of that. You understand that such conflicts of opinion can lead to only one outcome. You of all of us were the most outspoken. Even now your agents plot and scheme to end Guillimans life. My minds eye has a far-reaching gaze, Lord Regaas. Imperatorius would surely seek to undermine your plans by whatever means necessary. Then let him try, Mistress. My cause is just. He paused, a wily light playing in his eyes. Of course, all this is moot, if we are to be truthful with one another. You didnt run the risk of discordance to come and voice your approval of my suggestion. No, I sense an underlying anxiety in your demeanour. You come to warn me of more than our erstwhile colleagues intent. As you say, your minds eye sees that which the mortal gaze can not. Confide in me. Mae Sing wavered, her skeletal hands rising. I have seen She whispered, her ethereal voice causing the others around her to shift and tense empathically. I have seen beyond the faade, beyond the layers of deceit. I have glimpsed the hidden core of ancient origin at the centre of Captain-General. Potent as my gaze is, even I am unable to glimpse more than a hint of the being that lies beneath. Even so, I have seen. Pugnus Imperatorius is not who he appears to be, Regaas. He is an imposter A deceiver, Mistress. Regaas answered, his features twisted in contempt. It is as I have always suspected. No other High Lord can claim such a resolute authority in duplicity as I. I too have seen beyond the faade. The condescending air, the irreverence of his tone. The way his eyes shine with contempt every time he regards us. Yes, I know Imperatorius hides his true identity from us, Mistress. He lives a lie, a lie that would see us duped, coerced and misguided. He seeks to persuade our efforts, to manipulate us, to influence our racial direction. We cannot allow this. Whatever his motives, we must not be swayed by his influence. Regaas swept one hand out before him as if to dismiss the deceit, disgust writ large across his face. Imperatorius has an agenda of his own, unknowable and dark as it is. I will not allow him to manipulate and

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despoil our efforts. Have a care, Regaas. Mae Sing answered, her voice low. We could well find ourselves at odds with our counterparts. The voice of the Custodes commander is strong, and I cannot guarantee that the others share our direction. I have sensed the enmity between yourself and Achosyx, and I know of at least two others who hold strong ties with Imperatorius. Then we must be vigilant. For the good of our survival, we must persevere. No. Mae Sing answered ominously. She reached out and touched his arm. He recoiled instinctively, as if touch carried with it a charge. There is a darkness amongst us, Regaas. An ancient secret, a masquerade, hidden and seething. You dont, cant, understand. Imperatorius wears his identity like a veil, his very essence tainted with deceit. I know. The Grand Master of the Assassinorium hissed. And I will see the lie suffocated and extinguished before it can be allowed to interfere with our plans. With that, Fraudator Regaas pivoted on his heel and marched from the cavernous meeting space, gesturing at the shadows as he departed. Suni Mae Sing shuddered as she felt the deep shadows surrounding them shift at his command, and tried as best she could to dismiss the foreboding weighing upon her soul. +++ Codian took a step back, quite unable to trust his senses. The bulky shadow stood before him, as large and corporeal as life, blotting out the light from beyond the doorway. Though he knew he could see and hear the figure, another Marine given his bulk and appearance, there was something about him, something indistinct, life blurred slightly out of focus. What is this? Codian snarled, instinct forcing defence into his posture. Chance. The stranger whispered, his voice clipped and spare. Or fate. You decide, Prophet. Codians face tightened as he heard the name spill from the strangers lips, feeling his choler rise. Questions raced through his mind faster than instinct, playing over and over again even as he reached for his holstered bolt pistol. Where was the Demiurg? How had this being gained access to the Grudgebearer? Who was he? He raised the pistol and aimed, his arm fast and true. The stranger didnt even seem to shift, just glow brightly for a split-second, a snap of white light exploding before him. Codians sidearm spun away amid a shower of sparks, whickering past his head like white-hot shrapnel. Stay calm, Ultramarine. The stranger warned him, a brace of pistols now held in his outstretched hands. Or Ill put a ball of plasma through your face and make a mockery of destiny. The stranger held his pose for a few tense moments more and then finally relaxed, deactivating both pistols and holstering them with one smooth cross-armed motion. He stepped further into the chamber, allowing Codian to see him better. He wore thick white robes under which could be seen the familiar bulbous curves of ceramite power armour. A large hood covered his head, leaving only the lower half of his pale face visible. Long black hair streaked with grey snaked from the hood and hung down, reaching the curve of his chest armour. He carried with him a broad-bladed sword, its sheath strapped at an angle behind him. As he stood there,

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his hidden eyes regarding the Chaplain, he nodded his head slowly, as if in approval. Yes. He whispered. I had to see, had to be sure. Codians lips drew back over his teeth in a snarl, his anger undiminished by the sudden assault. If the stranger noticed this, he remained impassive. I knew that you would come back here, back to the beginning. I could have hunted the stars for you for years without success, and I would have found you, for time is on my side. My quest is nearing its end, brother. I have danced forward and back for the longest time in the blink of an eye. There is no place out of my reach, Chaplain. No place in the universe. No place except where it all began. What do you want? Codian asked, with a voice as deep and as ominous as rolling thunder. To go home. The stranger reached around behind him and revealed the sword hanging there, though he made no attempt to remove it from its scabbard. The reason for my existence given form. He said, allowing the hanging weapon to fall back loosely behind him. You wear the colours of a Dark Angel. Codian observed, ignoring the outsiders strange revelation. Yet I sense that you are less than that. I will ask you again. What do you want? This is a private place, renegade Cypher. Codian paused, the hand that had been creeping towards his crozius slowing. A glimmer of distant recognition sparked within his mind, like the recollection of some old, half-remembered childhood story. Cypher. He repeated, shifting his weight as he turned towards the door. Remember this. Lock that word within your mind and remember. Remember Caliban. At the end, Prophet, in the light of the dawn of the final day, remember that name and call it aloud. I will come, and I will He paused, clearly rethinking whatever it was he had intended to say. At the end, at the very end, when they are revealed, the first will answer the call to war. I know more than I should. He looked over his shoulder at Codian, revealing no more than a sculptured jaw and a row of perfect white teeth. Too long have I drifted, Prophet, awaiting redemption. Only you may save me. Open the gate for me and I will bring salvation, for you and for I. Remember. As he watched, a pall of ethereal darkness seemed to seep from the very air to surround the being, indistinct and hazy. The mysterious warriors voice grew distant and surreal, as if heard through water. Return, Chaplain. Return now. The Reavers have come He was gone. Codian blinked, almost as if expecting his senses to have deceived him. He stayed there, immobile, his mind running through the bewildering event over and over again. The final words of the stranger continued to echo around his head, alive and heavy with potency. One word in particular stained his thoughts, refusing to be pushed aside.

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Return Even as Grungi barrelled his way through the hatch and into the lifepods cramped interior, the mists of confusion were abruptly swept from his mind. Return. The Proscriptus.

Chapter Forty Two: Contact

Berolinus stepped into the bridge and shook his head. He appeared displeased. No sign. Wherever he is, I cannot find him. The rest of the gathered figures said nothing. Ligur exhaled deeply and turned back to face the glowing display before him, the light it exuded casting a sickly emerald glow across his face. No matter, he will return when he is ready. This ship, you are sure it is one of ours? Beside him, the small gaggle of deck officers slowly began to confirm their suspicions. The signature is unmistakeable. One of the men answered, a short aging crewman named McNeill. He pushed his way forward carefully and began to manipulate the brass runes before him, concentration screwing up his aging features. Its a cruiser, Gothic pattern by the looks of her. Shes old Port Maw stock. The ident-cogitator names her as the Thrones Vigil. He fell silent, the soft pulsing radiance of the readout screen bathing him. He frowned. She isnt responding to hails. Shes locked onto us but Im not detecting any weapons signatures. Strange. You are sure? Ligur asked, edging forward. He lowered himself next to Soble in order to get a better look at the screen. Side by side, the Librarian positively dwarfed the smaller crewman. As I can be. The Prostriptus I.C is one of the most reliable I have known. Hmm, something doesnt sit right. Ill continue to try Place the ship of alert, just as a precaution. Ligur answered, rising slowly. The others were silent, an air of ominous anticipation hanging heavy over the bridge. Laenar left his position and made his way silently across to the screen, a mass of hulking extra augmetic arms. Umbras and Berolinus watched him go. Codian should be here. The tactical Marine uttered, looking to his brother. We should be together, Umbras. His absence unsettles me. The Apothecary merely nodded, his gaze fixed upon the Techmarine. Umbras was a veteran, a warrior tempered by many decades of experience. Berolinus was younger, fresher, the fires of youth and vigour burning within him.

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Me also. Umbras answered after a pause. He seemed distant, distracted by something beyond him. He checked the serrated blade and workings of his vambrace-mounted reductor and then, watched closely by his younger comrade, unclipped the helmet from the hook at his belt and slid it onto his head. Expecting trouble? Berolinus asked, already tensing and arming his bolter even as the question left his lips. Umbras nodded curtly and gestured by a flick of the chin out into the busy bridge. Exactly who or what the Apothecary was trying to draw his attention to, he had no idea. Someone is, brother. He drew closer, sliding his bolt pistol free of its holster in one fluid, soundless motion. Its a hidden thing, a flicker of anxiety here, a whispered warning there. Many of the men and women here have served onboard this ship all their adult lives. They have seen a lifetime of ship-to-ship warfare. This is a warship, Berolinus. The Proscriptus exists but to hunt. Cant you feel it? She is a predator, and her hackles are up. Berolinus frowned and rose to his full height, bolter clutched tightly in his hands. Now that Umbras has pointed it out he could feel it, the underlying tension in the air. Not one to rest on his laurels, the Marine left his position and moved to stand with Laenar. What is it, brother? He asked, empathising with the tension. The Techmarine simply turned his head and regarded him, his cold, pulsing eyes devoid of either familiarity or emotion. Precaution. Fear not, we just have to be sure. According to these readings the Thrones Vigil is confirmed to be closing on our position. The engine signature and dimensions of the craft are unmistakeable, though He fell silent for a moment but continued to work the controls before him. Berolinus watched him, intrigued. What are you trying to do? Fix this. Something seems to be malfunctioning. He gestured at the bank of screens before him. We know shes there; we have all the information, all the readings. We just cant see her. He began to cycle through every visual array in turn, searching for any sign of the approaching craft. Nothing. He uttered, seemingly unmoved by impatience. She has to be there. Lurom Berolinus stepped back and looked to Umbras. The older Ultramarine returned his gaze, silent and unwavering. Like Umbras, he couldnt shake the feeling that something was building. Something bad. Captain Andrasi was on the bridge too, surrounded by a small collective of his crew. He was shouting something to McNeill, his face flushed with anxiety. A warning. Check the Segmentum logs. See if shes ever been registered as lost Berolinus began to push his way through the flocks of crewmen circling the busy bridge, heading towards Umbras position. As he passed by he caught the quick flashes of conversation that drifted between them. Low, anxious bursts of opinion, kept whispered as if to contain a greater panic. Umbras stood beside Ligur at the head of the bridge. The Librarian was busy growling at the ships Master

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Astropath, a tall, skeletal ghost of a being called Scanlon, whose pearl-white robes seemed to shimmer as if woven out of glittering light. That is none of my concern. Establish choir to choir contact now, it is the only sure way to ascertain their identity. If we cannot reach them soon then we will be forced to respond with hostile force. See it done. He looked back over his shoulder at the two Marines, hissing his frustration out through bared teeth. A communications problem, nothing more. He said. Despite the measured control in his voice, both men knew it was an over-simplification. Berolinus was about to answer when he heard a voice from somewhere amongst the underlying white noise of the bridge. A familiar voice, quiet and apprehensive. A fearful whisper. He peered over his shoulder to find the black-robed Czevak, standing in one darkened corner of the bridge. The Inquisitors eyes were wide, not through outright fear but strong, pulse-quickening apprehension. He looked to be speaking into something; a hand-held communications slate connected to the control banks via a looped, copper-alloy wire. Unnoticed by the Inquisitor, Berolinus tapped Umbras on the shoulder guard with the back of his hand and started forward. Yes. Yes, I am sure. Mimic engines, has to be. I would advise it, Inquisitor. For the good of the holy mission He finally noticed the approach of the two Marines and cut the communication short, casting the slate aside. Berolinus imposing advance brought him before Czevak in seconds. You. He uttered, thrusting an armoured finger at the smaller man. You know something. Damn you, share what you know with us! What is happening? I cant be sure. Czevak answered calmly, despite the trepidation the Marine had seen in his eyes. His breathing seemed rapid, laboured. But we may be in great danger. I needI need to do something. Something very important. Berolinus was about to answer when the ambient buzz of the bridge increased. Voices were raised, warnings shouted. From what he could gather the ship was closing, still unseen, still silent save for the transmission of the obsolete code. He heard on of the frantic crew shout something, raising his voice to a screech so as to be better heard. The Thrones Vigil had been listed as lost, presumed destroyed, over one hundred and fifty years ago. I will need help. Czevak said, drawing his attention once more. Emperors light, pray that I am wrong With what? Umbras asked him. What is it, Czevak? Berolinus snapped. Please, Apothecary, I need a strong arm to assist me. We do not have much time. I will explain on the way Umbras nodded and made to move. Answer me! Berolinus shouted, grabbing the Inquisitor by the shoulder and pulling him around. The wrench must have been painful but Czevak showed no discomfort, only desperation.

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Let go, you fool! We are all in great danger! He hauled himself free and gestured for the Apothecary to follow him. We need to reach my quarters with haste and retrieve something. If the enemy board us before I am able to complete my work then all is lost. He looked to Berolinus. You stay here, Astarte. Prepare for a fight. They will board us, and when they do they will head for the bridge. Hold them, just stay alive and hold them, whatever it takes. Hold who? Who the hell are they? Pirates. Czevak answered, already on his way out of the bridge. Of the worst kind. +++ It took five minutes from the departure of Czevak for the general alarm to sound, rousing the ship for war. Three minutes after that, the first shots were fired. By the enemy. Lightning-strike hits punched expertly through the starboard defence batteries, crippling them. Another two minutes and the enemy craft was visible, a churning mass of star-suffocating void that spat out lance after lance of black energy, each strike precise and calculated. One strike speared through the starboard fighter bays, flashing Furies and Starhawks to atoms in the blink of an eye. Another lance carved through several generator compartments at the stern, not destroying but seriously compromising the effectiveness of the shield generators. Void shields were raised less than a minute after that, but their efforts were too little, too late. The Proscriptus Rex was on borrowed time. Its down! V-shields gone! McNeill shouted, lost somewhere amongst the panic. This is it, we wont get another charge in time to stop an attack Berolinus stood like a pillar of rock amongst the flow, his bolter slowly rising. He caught sight of Ligur and a number of the other Deathwatch by the bridge doors and nodded, seeing their readiness for combat. He was halfway across the shifting body-sea when the entire forecastle shuddered, a wrenching, blurring jolt. Sirens wailed and crewmen screamed, all bathed in the shifting, iridescent light of a score of warning beacons. Ligur! He called out, barging his way through the last few feet of bodies, his temper finally getting the better of him. Pirates, he said! What did he.. Move! God-Emperor, move! Andrasi flung himself past, surrounded by his crewmen. The men were all armed, pistols and rifles clutched to their chests. The Free-Captain ground to a halt before Berolinus and found his gaze, his eyes wide with unashamed fear. Eldar pirates, Marine! They are Eldar! By the Throne, you had better pray that they kill you! He snatched at the Marines armoured chest, clawing as if trying to gain purchase. Hit them hard. He warned. Hit them hard and fast and keep on hitting until they cant stand any more.

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Dont let up until they realise that you wont give up, until they cant take the losses, and they will run. If that happens, if you beat them, dont let them take anyone alive. If you see them snatch someone you put a round through that poor b-----ds head. You dont ever let them take prisoners. Do you hear me? He banged the flat of his fist against the Marines chest armour and nodded, as if this was farewell. With that he began to urge the rest of his men through the doorway, shoving bodies before him. We go to defend the Hellrunner, tighter spaces mean a tighter defence. I suggest you adopt the same tactic. Stay tight, dont leave any space behind you or any shadowed corner. They are like oil, dark and liquid. They will flank you given any small chance. Stay sharp, burn the shadows and do not let them take you with them That was it, Andrasi was gone. Berolinus watched him leave and then looked to Ligur. He is right. The Librarian said, directing his warriors into a defence line surrounding the doorway. Berolinus fell in unbidden, quickly finding a space in between the Deathwatch warriors. He lowered himself onto one knee, checked his boltgun one last time, and prepared for combat. Blocking out the chaos about him, he fixed his gaze on the closing bridge doors. Codian. He whispered to himself. Where the hell are you, brother?

Chapter Forty Three: Soul Reaver

Krak-thoom. The noise thundered through the corridors, echoing and overlapping as it rolled over them. Bodies tensed, some twitched. A fine rust rain fluttered down from the overhead pipework, dancing as the lights flickered. Another one. Another strike, not as close this time, but close enough to cause a fresh surge of fear to course through the men. Stay focused. Ignore the noises and concentrate on the job ahead. The Cadian whispered through his rebreather. The men-at-arms gathered themselves and pulled in tighter behind him, shotguns clutched tightly to their chests. He checked his wrist chron and edged closer to the turn, advancing foot over foot, his hellrifle drawn up to his face, ready for use. He reached the junction and risked a short, quick glance around it into the space beyond. He drew his head back and, pausing for a moment, tore the rebreather from his face. Atmospheric integrity is stable. He told them, steam curling from his mouth. The section was ice-cold, frost particles glistening like clouded glass on the bulkheads, one of the classic after-effects of hull-breach. He took a few sobering breaths of freezing air and then, lowering himself onto one knee, took another look. Hed seen enough. Without a word he raised five fingers and waved then out at the other side of the corridor. Five of the men-at-arms ducked low and sprinted across the space to come to rest at the other side of the opening, clustering around the adjacent corner. Slowly, sure that the others were ready, the Cadian began to edge his way around the corner. The fierce, barbed spike jutted through the ruined viewport bay like a nail through wood, an invasive alien

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structure totally out of place and utterly malignant. Its fierce prow glistened with a liquid sheen, steaming with the heat generated by the harsh impact. Sickly amethyst lights blinked and played across its surface, writhing like iridescent snakes along organic veins worked into the segmented carapace. The craft itself pulsed as if alive. Impalers, ship intelligence had called them. Assault boats. That was about as far as the information extended. They are xenos, Eldar. The Cadian whispered, as if that fact would somehow make a difference to the men. We know s--t all about this enemy other that they most probably want to kill us. Hnn. I heard different. One of the men behind him answered gruffly. Guy called Swallow up in ordinance; hes seen em before. Says they take you, back into the shadows. Says they can tear the scream right outta a mans throat and leave it like a stain, a lingering shriek Whats your name? Thorpe, sir. Thorpe, shut your mouth. What they do, all they do, is step out of that thing and die. Sir. A deep, hissing rush of steam drowned out anything else any of them had intended to say. The Cadian edged forward and peered out into the mist, his rifle solid against his shoulder. Despite the thickness of the vapour, he could see something pulsing at its centre, rippling like a vertical pool of shimmering mauve water. The sharp nose of the craft had spread, opened into four points that jutted from the drifting mists. There was no sign of any enemy movement. There was nothing at all except the light, swirling softly inside the dark innards of the craft. Where were the enemy? Move up, he signed. The others crept up behind him, shotguns at the ready. They quickly spread around him to form a wall, guns pointing at the pulsing anomaly. Hold your fire and brace. He ordered. I am going to take a shot, see if I get a reaction. He loosed a single bright blast out into the gaping mouth, the lasbeam spearing right into the heart of the glow. The light rippled briefly, increasing in intensity for the merest of moments before reasserting its ambient glow. Nothing else occurred. What do we do now? Thorpe asked. Advance. Slowly, they began to close the gap, the Cadian leading. He had almost reached the edges of the separated extremities when it happened. The anomaly pulsed briefly and something was vomited out onto the metal deck, ringing as it bounced to a standstill. The Cadian responded immediately. He shouted something that the others didnt catch in their surprise and launched himself back, almost falling on his face as he sprinted for cover. The others finally began to come to their senses as the brace of skittering obsidian orbs came to a halt, spinning like cast stones before them. By the time they exploded, three of the men-at-arms were left to bear the brunt of the blast.

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The projectiles didnt explode as such; rather they seemed to reach the end of some sort of detonation cycle. The spheres whined and began to glow, no more than a curious and unbalancing occurrence, before they shuddered and liquidised into a bright, blinding light. The three men fell to their knees screaming, screaming like children, hands clutching at ears. Shotguns clattered to the floor, forgotten and useless. The sound emitted by the devices was like claws on glass only a thousand times worse, wicked, horrendously pained and utterly immobilising. Pure, unadulterated terror spilled from their mouths as they fell to the floor, convulsing. Oiled chains sprang from the depths of the alien craft and dragged them screaming back into the abyss, limbs flailing. Attack! The Cadian shouted, driving forward. He unleashed a flurry of shots out into the glowing, churning steam, the screams of those taken echoing in his ears. He continued to fire one-handed as the others quickly joined him, tearing a frag grenade from his belt. He pulled the pin with his teeth and lobbed it into the mass, shotgun fire roaring around him. Pull back! Fire in the hole! The survivors fell back with him, awaiting the inevitable backwash of the exploding grenade. Several long seconds passed. Nothing. The Cadian frowned and folded himself around the corner once again, gun trained and ready. The rest of the men with him followed suit, nervous, cautious, fearful of the reappearance of the wicked chains. Options, sir? Thorpe asked, quickly filling the breach of his gun with fresh shells. Do wedo we advance? We do not. We dont have a clue what were dealing with. Get me ship security. We need to reinforce this breach while we still have the chance. We need charges up here, its the only way to be sure. Well blow this bloody thing and seal off this corridor if that is what it takes. Even as Thorpe began to speak into his wrist-comm there was a whisper, several liquid hisses barely audible above the ubiquitous hum of the ship. The Cadian snapped his head around and saw the small pockets of quicksilver mist twisting and expanding in the air, unravelling like barbed smoke. Move! Fall back Clouds of monofilament webbing filled the space, hunting for flesh to ensnare and lacerate. Each burst slid from the mists to unfurl, drifting, spinning, glinting in the lights. One mass landed lightly against a vertical cable tube and constricted immediately, wrapping itself around the thick metal with a squeal. The mesh sank as it bit into the pipe, sparks spilling like burning rain. There was a soft, ringing plink, the sound of crystalline glass smashing, then another and another. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see something dark and glossy shatter against the bulkhead. Again, there. Something whickered past his face, the smallest of spinning slivers, almost catching his skin. The enemy were firing. The sound of boots hammering into the floor echoed down the corridor and he turned to see more security agents approaching, soldiers clad in thick black carapace. He waved them over and rose, alien fire still playing it curious melody behind him. One of the soldiers was shouting something as he approached,

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though his words were lost amid the cacophony of fire and boot. Secure this position! We a portals! Damned portals, all over the ship He paused, the words dying in his throat. What? The security officer waved his men on past him, watching carefully until he was sure that they were in position. With that, a good head taller than the Cadian, he lowered his gaze. The b-----ds have been hitting us all across the port side of the ship. Theyre using some form of portal technology, carried in the noses of their damned attack craft. Men have attacked the gates, some have even led assaults through them. Its not a good situation, not by a long shot. The best we can do is blow the breaches and seal the surrounding bulkheads. He gestured out at the gathered soldiers, several of who were already busy preparing thick bundles of krak and melta charges. You had better pull your men back, soldier. Fall back beyond the bulkhead doors and take up defensive positions. The Cadian nodded and waved his squad towards him, watching as the men began to filter quickly through the security officers. Two of the men were unfortunate enough to be forced to cross the open space. Trapped at the other side of the space with nowhere else to go, there would be no protection when the charges detonated. they lowered their heads and sprinted towards safety. Glinting shards speared swarm-thick from the mists and pinned them, convulsing, to the bulkhead. Ach. You and yours had better double-time it back down there. The officer warned, utterly insensitive to the deaths before him. He glanced back over his shoulder. It looks like one of the big things coming through. It took the lives of eight good men to drop the one that came through into the port battery chamber The Cadian spun on his heel and shouted for the others to fall back. Behind him the lights flickered and dimmed. Voices raised as the space before the security agents shrank away, the air thickening with a deep pulsating hum. Something huge drifted into the corridor, bulbous and armoured with layers of black carapace. Oiled metal flashed as folded extremities rattled open, spreading like the petals of some huge, monstrous flower. He looked back and choked, watching as the men rose to meet the abomination. Gunfire roared, armour sang its defiant retort. A scissor-limb bisected one soldier like a ribbon, parting his legs from his torso in a fountain of blood. Another was hoisted high by the creation and deposited into a dark recess at its back. Micro-extremities snaked from the pitted metal around him and with expert swiftness and precision flensed armour, clothing and flesh from his body in less than five seconds. The poor unfortunate was dragged deeper into the unseen bowels of the mechanical fiend, still writhing and screaming as the spiked carapace slid closed over him. He never saw anything beyond that. The shouts of the soldiers behind him turned to screams, horrific sounds heavy with terror and pain. Other, more inhuman whoops and cries scoured the air. Something murmured past him and thudded into the back of the skull of the man beside him, dropping him onto his belly like a lead weight. More alien projectiles hissed around him, shattering against the walls. The shards lacerated his face but he ignored the pain and kept on running, his heart racing.

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Every sound set his nerves alight. Every death around him caused his heart to thunder. He felt the rifle fall from his grasp and he didnt care. Someone was screaming in his ear, calling for reinforcements. He tore the bead free and cast it aside. Fear. For the love of the Emperor, he had never felt fear like this, and Kasrkin did not fear anything. Emperor help me He whispered. +++ Codian stepped out into the chamber, the walls around him shimmering with the light of the portal. Grungi stood at the centre of the small room, an oasis of flesh and blood surrounded by purloined and cannibalised hardware. The Demiurg was silent, on edge. He glanced around slowly, like a predator sensing his preys scent on the breeze. Tension. He growled, his augmetic eye shining. Take a lungful, longshanks. Do you smell it? There is blood in the air. Return, Chaplain. Return now. The Reavers have come The words of the mysterious Astarte echoed around his mind unbidden. A warning, from the far reaches of the galaxy. The sounds of gunfire filtered through the vents as if in confirmation. Cries and screams mingled with the noise, enough to chill all but the hardest of souls. The ship was under attack. Codian said nothing. He didnt have to; the Demiurg was already moving, stripped to the waist and ready to kill. Time to reap vengeance, Marine! Kill them first and consider their sins against us later! The chamber door slid open to reveal a corridor wreathed in thick black smoke. Something was burning further down the end, giving off a thick, meaty odour. Codian frowned as he recognised the smell of burning bodies, though his helmet quickly filtered out the stench. Grungi was gone, little more than a darkening shape sprinting into the fray. The sounds of the enemy were everywhere, filling the air like the cacophony of a spirit host. Shadows shifted at the corners of his vision. He sprinted past several mournful heaps of tangled, eviscerated flesh, almost every and all traces of humanity scoured from them. Halfway down the corridor he passed an poor unfortunate, a young man, a rating by the looks of him, pinned to the bulkhead, his skin gone. The man silently screamed in pain, his vocal chords shredded. Codian drew his pistol and blew the tortured figures head from his shoulders without breaking stride. Up ahead Grungi was shouting, bellowing like a grox. The azure glow of a power field flashed and swirled in the half-light, stuttering and fizzing again and again as it connected with solid matter. He charged through the rolling smoke and saw the enemy for the first time. They were slender, evil-looking creatures, tall but slight. They wore deep blue armour of segmented carapace, bedecked with spikes, thorns and hooks. Grungi had engaged a small squad of the raiders, shouting oaths and curses as he single-handedly fought off their murderous attentions. One of the attackers noticed his approach and quickly raised its rifle. Something sharp and swift shattered against his visor and he lowered his head, turning aside the second shot that had been intended for his neck seal.

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These attackers were xenos and they were fast, deadly fast. He raised his pistol and blew the attacker off its feet, the things arms flailing wildly as it went down. Three mighty strides saw him brought face to face with the others, his crozius to hand and singing with power. One of the pirates drew a long, serrated knife and turned to face him, uttering something strained and unintelligible. Wrong decision. He snarled.

Chapter Forty Four: The Dark Kin

Grungis fist was loosed and crackling with power. He spun on his heel, twirling the weapon about his head, searing glowing ribbons through the packed torsos and limbs surrounding him. The Raiders rifles were cruel bladed things bristling with razor-sharp, monomolecular edges. The weapons were fashioned so as to be used in close quarters fighting as well as ranged combat, though neither these nor the segmented carapace that the pirates wore offered any real protection from the Demiurgs murderous attentions. Grungi pirouetted and twirled faster than any being of his proportions should be able to. Even as the first creature to notice Codians arrival lifted its weapon to fire upon the Chaplain he had killed his first victim. His first strike saw the pirates rifle shattered in its grip. The return took its head from its shoulders. The Demiurg reversed his turn and swept the fist through the stomach of another foe, shearing through its backbone and parting it at the waist. Armour shattered like glass at its touch, sending a glittering cloud of fragments swirling into the air. He stepped back as a bladed rifle swung for his throat and swept his arm before him, in turn missing his opponent by a hairs breadth. He flung his arm up and over, causing his attacker to lean back almost to the floor as the fist scorched and blistered its chest armour. Grungi rode the momentum of his strike and threw himself into a back flip, bringing the fist around again. The creature made the mistake of righting itself and the subsequent strike it cut in half, from groin to collarbone, the blow sending the bisected halves falling away. Codian lunged at his foe, untroubled by the weapon in its hand. He raised his arm and the blade rang against his vambrace, the blow originally intended for his neck. Within seconds he had the measure of the enemy, his analytical mind assessing every nuance and trait with a proficient, gene-grafted instinct. They were fast, almost supernaturally so. They knew exactly where to strike to ensure a kill, merely by facing their enemy. He brought his left arm down tight to his side as another strike hunted for his waist, seeking the flexible join there. The blow rang as it was turned aside, before another swift return jabbed into his armpit. He grunted, feeling the blade bite through the joint into his flesh deep enough to hurt but not kill. He trapped the knife there and turned, tearing it from the attackers grip. He pivoted on his heel and crushed the pirates head down between its shoulder blades, bones snapping wetly. Grungis final opponent cartwheeled past and slammed upside down into the bulkhead by his side, broken and smouldering. Hah! They snap like twigs, these Eldar! Give me a real challenge The Demiurg halted swiftly as something speared into the meat of his shoulder, causing him to emit a quiet grunt of pain. Several more impacts rang out against Codians back and he wheeled around in time to see more of the creatures, Eldar as Grungi had identified them, advancing on them through the smoke. A deluge of fire hit him, so quick and dense it caused him to lurch back, his boots sliding across the deck. Something silver and liquid hissed out to meet him, a rapidly unfurling, glittering mist. He snapped off a bolt round that punched through the mist and sent the attacker sprawling, a moment before the webbing hit him

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and constricted around his armoured form. His carapace groaned and squealed as the net bit into it, fighting to crush him and slice him to ribbons. Grungi charged past, shouting oaths at the enemy, his passing throwing his balance further. He fell back, his armoured bulk shaking the deck. The mesh continued to tighten, testing its tolerance against the ancient armour. His arms had thankfully remained free and he brought the head of the crozius up so that the effect of the shimmering field kissed against the xenos metal wrapped around him. The mesh puckered and blistered in its presence, quickly running fluid. Within moments the integrity of the mesh was lost and the remaining pieces sprang back, coiling in on themselves as they rolled away. Codian hauled himself up and onto his feet, his armour scored but intact. He quickly checked and blessed his weapons and set out down the gloomy corridor, following the Demiurgs grisly trail of destruction. He caught up with Grungi at an intersection, choked with bodies and body parts both human and xenos. Gore literally painted the walls, telling of the violence and murder that had occurred here. He ground to a halt, feet sliding on the thick dark fluid underfoot, as the familiar sight of the stunted xenos warrior hove into view. Grungi was in the midst of a frantic, violent confrontation with the last surviving member of the alien squad, a tall, murderous creature armed with the specialised weaponry of a minor commander. The pirate was armed with a huge, double-bladed claw, the weapon fixed to its forearm. Violet energies slid over the serrated blades in waves, adding to the suggestive deadliness of the razor-sharp weapons. The creature wore no helmet and Codian saw for the first time that Grungis passing identification of the raiders had been an accurate one. The warrior was clearly Eldar, readily apparent by the shape of its pointed ears and dark, almond eyes. The things skin was pallid and grey, its black lips and mouth stained crimson as if through the continual act of drinking blood. An intricate thorn tattoo decorated most of the left-hand side of its face, while its opposing side was little more than a twisted riot of scar tissue. The thing threw a hateful glance at Codian as he approached before turning its attention back to Grungi. It ducked low, faster than any normal human could do so, and swept a leg out to bowl the Demiurg off his feet. Grungi slammed onto the deck and rolled sharply, his attackers blades driving into the space he had occupied a second before. Grungi spun and rose, his chained fist drawing a blazing arc before him. The pirate flipped back and landed lightly on its feet, its free hand producing a cruel-looking, bladed pistol. It fired off a quick burst of splintered crystal-shard fire that sliced through Grungis exposed flesh with ease, the multiple impacts throwing the short warrior back. Codian thundered into the personal space of the pirate like a lascannon strike. The Eldar was swift, inhumanly graceful and utterly deadly, and to its credit, did not falter in the Chaplains presence. Codian literally barged his way through the xenos like a hammer through glass, ignoring the creatures attempts to feign, counter and parry his attack. Blood, armour and viscera scattered like the wake of a bomb blast as the pirate came apart, Codians battle-rage a shuddering, vocal roar. On your feet. He growled, reaching down and hauling Grungi to his feet. The Demiurgs teeth were bared as he assessed his wounds, swiftly deciding that they were superficial enough to disregard. He twisted his arm sharply and the fist retracted, clicking into place at his wrist. He flexed the metal fingers as if working the feeling back into them. Hnn. Press on, bone-priest. Press on to the bridge. Our best chance of a swift victory is to take the head of the commander. Raiders and pirates are all the same, they hate loss. Agreed. Codian answered, attempting to gain his bearings in the death-filled passageway. A choked cry echoed down the hall and the two warriors sprinted out to meet the sound, weaving through

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the ruined bodies. Both of them entered the wide hallway in time to see the lone Deathwatch Marine there die, fighting and struggling as the screeching shadows themselves swarmed over him, slashing and stabbing and tearing him to pieces. Codian caught sight of the warriors face a heartbeat before it sank into the roiling mass, the defiance and exertion he saw there etching itself upon his memory. To the bridge, Chaplain. Grungi insisted, taking hold of his forearm. It is the only way to save this vessel. Mourning follows the aftermath, Codian. Vengeance is immediate. They continued on through the winding passageways of the Proscriptus, finding death wherever they turned. They quickly passed by a series of intersections that had seen a tremendous confrontation, legs churning through the charnel around them. Codian rounded the corner after the Demiurg and caught a glance of a lone rating, bloodied and near death, cornered by a howling squad of armoured nightmares. The pitiable man watched as the two figures hurtled past before pulling the pin of the frag grenade held tight in his bloodied fist. The blistering backwash of the following explosion chased Grungi and Codian through several sections and turns, immolating all it passed. Codian understood the importance of the Demiurgs intent more as they ploughed on, the realisation of what Grungi had meant soon dawning on him. Although he hadnt explained outright, the squat alien was correct. The commander of the xenos enemies would surely be heading straight for the bridge, with the exact same intent as they. To destroy the ships command presence, the best and most sure way to bring the rest of them to their knees. Indescribable horrors awaited them at every turn, each one more loathsome than the last. Reaching a large, nigh-cavernous junction they slowed, almost stumbling, as they came into the presence of something utterly monstrous and incredibly alien. The gruesome mannequin was lashed to a spike thrust into the centre of the space. It appeared at first glance to be some debased, scaled-up representation of a childs toy, albeit fashioned by some inhuman, perverted mind. The thing oozed a visible aura of pain, a churning black miasma that radiated agony, both mental and physical. Bodies lay strewn about the creation, twisted and sprawled as if punched from their feet by its very presence. They lay in pools of vomit, entrails and blood, almost as if the recently deceased had torn themselves open in absolute agony. Grungi staggered back, clutching at his wounds as though their effect had instantly worsened. He fell to his knees, snarling in pain. Codian fought the urge to tear his armour from his body, feeling for all the world as if he were encased in some horrific iron maiden. Atrap He gasped, fighting to steady his gun hand, the pistol in his grip swinging languidly past its target again and again. He found himself losing the fight. He was an Astarte, he had never experienced such a sensation as extreme agony before. The sensory assault shocked and threw him, it was like awakening to find oneself acquiring a whole new plethora of senses, so indescribably alien was the phenomenon. He did the only thing he could. Summoning every last vestige of strength he scooped Grungi up under his arm, cast his pistol out into the corridor beyond and tore a krak grenade from his belt. As he passed the despicable thing he flicked the pin free and rammed the grenade into its midriff, fighting the waves of nauseating blackness washing over him. With one last, supreme effort he threw himself and his companion headlong through the archway and into the next section. Behind them, the thing exploded with a dull, resonating thump, and a single, realitytearing scream. He knew then, with absolute, unquestionable certainty, that he would take the head of the creature

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responsible for this. +++ Warning lights bathed the chamber the colour of blood, the accompanying banshee wailing of the sirens a screaming sonic herald warning of the coming terror and destruction. Czevaks face seemed gaunt and pallid despite the hue. He looked up once more as he noticed the tall, hulking form of Umbras tense by the doorway. He opened his mouth to speak, only to let his voice die in his throat. The Apothecarys finger hovered near the grille of his helms rebreather, a silent gesture in turn demanding silence. He simply nodded and turned his attention back to the task at hand, grimacing with effort as he hauled the smooth cylindrical object free of its hiding place. The thick disc rang as it clattered onto the deck, though the sound was curiously non-metallic. He could feel the Marines eyes on him as he struggled with the release clamps, focusing his mind as best he could, as he had been taught, to will the object open. Czevak. He heard the white armoured warrior whisper behind him, his voice almost lost in the discordant cacophony. Hurry. They approach Despite the anxiety and urgency churning within him he shuddered, feeling the objects residual presence challenging him. Runes glowed hot beneath his fingers, ancient psychic wards awakening and unfurling to protest his alien will. He centred his mind and concentrated, nudging each one aside as carefully and forcefully as he dared. He found himself hoping that the wards would sense the reasons behind his urgency and sink back, and with that he searched his memory for the best mental representation he could, shivering slightly as he recalled the monstrous Dark Kin. The object physically shifted, empathically recoiling from his thoughts. For a moment he feared that he had pushed his will too hard and thus risked everything. Then, albeit begrudgingly, with a hiss of escaping unearthly steam, the mobile wraithgate began to unfold. There was a sound behind him and he jumped, falling away from the altering artefact and onto his rear. Umbras had caught something dark and slender, a creature clad in dark, burnished plate writhing in his grasp. The thing wielded a large curved dagger and was stabbing wildly at the Marines armour, hunting for any weak spot it could find. The Apothecarys armoured fingers sank into the aliens helmet and he twisted violently, bone snapping like dry kindling. The creatures tall helm sagged, its face slamming into its chest. He flung the body away from him and it fell limp, as if suddenly boneless. Umbras threw a hurried glance his way, the crimson vision slits of his bone-white helm shining, before turning back towards the hatch and hauling the sliding bulkhead door shut with both hands. The Marine stepped back and then barged forward, hammering both fists into the frame of the hatch with such force that the metal there bent inwards. He repeated this until the area in question was warped and misshapen, the metal literally fused to that of the hatch itself. Just for good measure he snatched his bolt pistol from its holster and put a bolt through the hatch activation rune, shattering the small panel. That should hold them for now. He said, stepping back from the hatch. Within seconds the door began to shake, the first blows hammering against it. He walked calmly over to the prone Inquisitor and offered him a hand. Czevak took it and allowed himself to be hauled to his feet. He glanced at the broken body sprawled across his cot, dark blood staining the

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simple linen sheets he had slept beneath. I imagine such a foe, if determined enough, will breach this chamber soon enough, Inquisitor. He observed. His gaze found the activating relic at his side, the first pinprick flashes of shimmering light bathing his bone armour in a hazy glow. This. He nodded his head in the wraithgates direction. Whatever it is, whatever it is intended to do, I hope it fulfils its function soon. So do I, brother. Czevak answered, his fingers tightening. For all our sakes.

Chapter Forty Five: Hunted

Demiurg! Damn it! He slapped the back of his hand across the aliens ruddy, bearded face, cursing inwardly as the scarred features remained slack. Grungi was hopelessly unconscious, for the most part. The Demiurg twitched and shuddered, as if trapped in some unknown, horrific nightmare he was unable to wake from. Codian had seen this before. He had witnessed battle brothers sustain such horrific and debilitating injuries that shock had shut their minds down. It seemed to him that the Demiurg had suffered the same fate. Nothing could be allowed to stall him now. His blood was up and his warriors soul screamed for vengeance, a scream that had to be answered. His answer would shake the stars themselves. He knew he had little choice. Grabbing Grungi by the buckle of his belt he hauled the short warrior up and across his shoulder, quickly retrieving his pistol afterwards. He checked the magazine instinctively, balancing his crackling combat weapon across his arm as he did so. Satisfied, he continued on his way. He rounded the next corner, feeling a welcome familiarity as he recognised his surroundings. Here the passageway widened and grew in height, the vaulted ceiling ascending into the shadows high above. The crafts lifepod bank dominated the left-hand side of the hall, a long line of puckered irises stretching out into the distance. He noted that some of them were sealed, meaning the escape boats they had once led to were now long gone. Fools, he thought to himself. Cowards and fools. What good would flight do them? Unlike the Guillimans Wrath, this ship could yet be saved. He recognised his position within the vast vessel. Here he was in the lowest levels of the forecastle, the huge, blocky tower that housed most of the vessels command systems, least of all the bridge itself. There was obvious physical evidence scattered about the place that told him, without a shadow of a doubt, that the raiders had penetrated this far. However, the volume of carnage he witnessed suggested that the enemy presence here was less substantial than he had encountered thus far, meaning that the bulk of the enemy force had yet to penetrate this deep into the ship. Despite his augmented strength the Demiurg was a dead weight upon his shoulders, an impediment he could ill afford if he were to encounter further resistance, which he was sure he would do. He set off again, hearing distant gunfire drifting through the air. Further ahead he knew he would find the elevators that would lead to the bridge itself. If they were still active then he was in with a chance.

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He accelerated into a sprint, cursing the sonorous ring of each footfall he made. Something exploded somewhere nearby, causing the deck beneath him to quake. He ignored this and continued. Strange, animalistic howls reverberated down the space behind him, distant but quickly growing in volume. He increased his speed to compensate, batting aside a bobbing, malfunctioning servo-skull, a slender alien blade lodged in one dead eye socket. A chilling, insane laughter drifted through the air, intermittent, distant and echoing like the drip of water in a cavern. He felt the hairs at the base of his neck rise, his augmented senses reacting to the suggested threat. The nameless abomination that had brought Grungi low had taught him one essential lesson about these piratical Eldar. They sought to achieve victory primarily through terror and panic, the weapons they employed to attain this designed as much to terrify and confound as kill. What manner of nameless horror the damned construction had been he could not guess, nor could he fathom its nightmarish workings. Were they slaves to the Dark Powers? Did they utilise the same mysterious sorceries as the followers of Chaos? Perhaps only Czevak could truly provide the answers. Nearing his objective he tensed, picking up the odour of somethingwrong. Something that shouldnt be. The unfamiliar trace soon vanished, and it took several seconds more for him to realise the impossibility of what he had experienced. His helm was fixed in place and tightly sealed, and as a consequence scent was not a sensation generally afforded to a Marine in full armour. This struck him as particularly disconcerting. It was almost as if whatever he had sensed obeyed none of the rigid, compulsory laws of reality. He considered this an omen, and pushed himself further in compensation. As the gloom continued to peel back he recognised the familiar sight of the elevator bay growing closer, the first of the many doors flanking the hallway coming into view. He knew from experience that most of the elevators ascended to the bridge level, and that he wouldnt need to be fastidious in his selection. Every step brought him closer to his goal, and for an Astarte, this was all that mattered. More inhuman howls and cries assailed his ears. Some were roughly recognisable in pitch, almost human, whereas others were animal and unknown, terrible and otherworldly. He shuddered, a repulsive, familiar feeling washing over him. The odour of something foul, somethingwrong, slowed him in his tracks, and it was several moments before he realised the impossibility of this. His Astarte armour, sealed and airtight, did not allow for the detection of scent unless specifically modified to do so. He glanced over his shoulder to see for himself what manner of abomination could defy the resolute, compulsory laws of existence, and saw them for the first time. The creatures came loping out of the distant gloom, torpedoes of skinless corded muscle that glistened beneath the lights of the hallway. He uttered a prayer to the watchful soul of He Enthroned at the sight of such abominations, for there was no doubt in his mind that these beasts were born of the warp. Part feline, part reptilian, the otherworldly predators were urged on by another, more humanlike figure. The corsair accompanying them skipped and tumbled after his charges, shrieking harsh, guttural commands, and moving faster than any mortal being ought to be able to. This individual wore little except a collection of scattered crimson armour plates, the majority of its exposed skin pallid and scar-laced. He was hunted. He picked up the pace, seeing the end of the corridor approaching fast. From experience he knew that he would have no time to access any of the elevators he passed by, for the enemy would be upon him before he could even coax the doors. No, his best course of action would be to try and put some distance between him and his pursuers in order to create an effective counter attack.

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He reached the intersection and veered sharply to the left, his right shoulder guard striking the bulkhead with enough force to buckle it. There was a cry of alarm and he slowed, several jarring impacts striking his chest and legs. The hallway here opened up into a vast, vaulted chamber, its distant ceiling obscured by the lofty gloom. A long barrier stretched off into the distance to his right, and beyond that, an artificial abyss, Codian knew, that ran from the heights of the forecastle all the way down to the depths of the enginarium levels. Beyond this chasm was a vast wall filled with hundreds of glass-fronted elevator pods, each and every one set at differing heights. More than a few were shattered or ablaze, an ominous indication that the filthy corsairs had penetrated this far, though in far fewer numbers. His attention, however, was more firmly rooted on the small squad of men-at-arms currently staring back at him in horrified shock, the lasguns in their hands smouldering guiltily. Emperor! Forgive us, Chaplain! One of the soldiers begged, holding out a hand in supplication. All five men cried out as they watched the towering warrior lift his bolt pistol up and out at them, where it hovered ominously for a second before swinging it out towards the nearest pod and firing a single round. The bolt shattered the single sheet of curved glass, sending the separate pieces tumbling away into the darkness below. Without a word he let his weapons fall at his feet and lifted Grungi from his shoulders. He drew his arms back and hurled the Demiurg into the pod, then quickly retrieved his armaments. Combat readiness. The Chaplain commanded, pivoting sharply and firing out behind him. The dark, leaping shape came apart in mid-air, the explosive bolts tearing it to pieces. The remnants of the beast unravelled quickly, gobbets of flesh dissolving into a thick, greasy smoke. Sticky soot pattered against his armour, where seconds before the unnatural creature would have slammed into him. The soldiers visibly sagged, horrified by the spectacle. Then the second of the beasts leapt at Codian and was sent flailing over his shoulders and skittering past the men, snarling and snapping as it skidded across the deck. Kill it. He said simply, bringing his crozius up ready. The two remaining creatures and their Eldar master bore down upon the waiting Chaplain, howling malicious intent. He made to strike at the first, only to have its jaws clamp tight around his vambrace. He spun sharply, summoning every last ounce of strength he could muster, and flung the beast into the barrier. It crashed through the metal rail and fell into the dark abyss, its cries echoing as they faded away. Its pack mate slammed into his chest, jaws snapping eagerly, claws raking deep gouges across the thick armour. He stumbled back beneath its weight, feeling the barrier behind him warp and buckle. The beasts maw thrust for his face again and again, acidic slaver coating his helm. He raised his pistol and fired, feeling the power of the shot as it tore through the creatures hip. The warp beast fell away, screeching and convulsing, freeing him. He brought his crozius up and was about to strike the abomination in two when something sliver and incredibly fast flashed past, turning the blow aside. He kicked out, sending the beast spinning away, and watched as the pack master landed lightly before him, its long-hafted falchion swirling as it came to rest. The alien regarded him with a look of utter contempt, hatred twisting its disturbingly human features. It screeched some guttural, unintelligible command and the injured monster by its side turned its gaze towards the unconscious Grungi, its bright emerald eyes shining with a feral anticipation. No. Codian growled, aiming at the beast. This opening allowed the Eldar to react and the xenos did just that, drawing its own cruel sidearm. Splinter fire hissed out at him and Codian reeled, crystal slivers

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shattering against the skull face of his helm. Each shot was calculated and ominously accurate, questing for any weak point or joint that would help deliver a killing shot. He rode this storm of fire, confident in the protective qualities of his ancient and venerated armour. The warp beast dragged itself up onto its feet, shook its head and then coiled, ready to spring. Before he could respond the unnatural animal pounced, quickly accelerating into a loping sprint. It bounded past him and leapt, easily clearing the handrail. Codian responded instinctively, the only way he could. He let his crozius fall and reached out, snatching the beasts serpentine tail. Such was its momentum that it slammed him into the barrier, compromising its further, but his grip held. The creatures advance halted suddenly, suspended in space, before it plummeted rapidly, legs clawing at the air. Codian let out a roar of unfettered anger and twisted sharply, swinging the beast around and through the barrier like the arm of a centrifuge. He let go and the thing twisted through the air and barrelled into the pack master, still discharging the last of his crystalline ammunition as he sprang forward, attempting to catch the Marine off-guard. The two beings rolled away, a fused tangle of grasping limbs, and crashed into the opposite wall with sickening force. He brought his imposing bulk around once again in time to witness the demise of one of the hapless navy soldiers. The creature they had been fighting was injured but still very much alive, if such a state truly applied to a denizen of the warp. It had one of the men pinned powerlessly beneath it and, as Codian looked on helplessly, it tore the head of its prize free with one bite. The mans comrades cried out in dismay and advanced, lasblasts punching holes through the fleshless thing. The barking report of a bolt round thundered through the cavernous space and the beasts head exploded in a welter of filth, its body quivering seconds later as it began to come apart. No mercy. The Chaplain snarled, looming at the men like some terrible, vengeful avatar. The soldiers visibly quailed, one falling back onto his rear in Codians frightening presence. No mercy, he repeated, no quarter. No hesitation. Kill or be killed, life or death rendered down into the simplest of distinctions. To waver is to invite death. He deactivated and sheathed his crozius before reaching down and hauling the prone soldier to his feet, lifting the man by his armpit as if with all the effort one would spend on retrieving a fallen lasgun. He planted the soldier firmly on his feet, the man clearly bewildered by his sudden ascent. To fight for the Emperor of mankind is to prove ones worth to exist on a daily basis. To live is not a right, it is a privilege. The Emperor protects... The Emperor protects. The men answered as one, almost instinctively. At this, Codian loomed ever closer. but only when a warrior deserves that protection. It is not given freely. It must be earned. Remember that. The soldiers nodded and mumbled in affirmation and Codian grunted in satisfaction. With that he swept past them and strode up to where the xenos pack master lay, coated in the aberrant death-residue of the beast he had fallen with. He placed a heavy boot upon the aliens bloodied, quivering chest and aimed his pistol for its head. Without a trace of emotion or hesitation he put a round through its face, effectively beheading the loathsome creature. This enemy made a fatal mistake. He announced, walking away from the smouldering corpse. They invaded this ship. They barged their way, uninvited, onto an Imperial vessel, and straight into me. He accented this last word by jabbing his thumb into his chest, the connection ringing loud in the silence of the aftermath.

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If it kills me, if it tears me apart body and soul to do so, I will see to it that these filthy, xenos excretions that call themselves pirates pay for every drop of Imperial blood they have thus far spilled. None of the soldiers answered him. Indeed, not one of the men even stirred. It was as if they were frozen, transfixed, and not by the Chaplains oath. What is it? He growled, taking a single step forward. The men-at-arms didnt, couldnt, answer. All they could do was stare at the wall of pallid, grinning xenos faces that had suddenly and ominously filled the space behind the Chaplain. A heartbeat later, Codian paused, raising his head slightly. Ah. It would appear, he began, his free hand descending slowly towards his trusted and holy badge of office, that it is time to prove my own worth once again.

Chapter Forty Six: The Lesser of Two Evils

Report! Gorthac here, Epistolary. The third attempt to teleport aboxenos vessel has failed. W...urrently experiencing difficultching their defrned back again The channel went dead, dissolving quickly into hissing static. Ligur snarled and slammed his fist into the console, causing the runes there to flash and flicker as if in empathy with his rage. The Librarian rose and paced impatiently across the bridge, his fists bunched tight. The gathered Marines watched him cautiously, aware of the warriors fearsome wrath. Bring me my gauntlets. He commanded to no one in particular. We need to bring some coordination to this defence. Open a direct channel to Kryptman, we need to keep informed on his status. He wheeled around sharply, taking in every face he could see surrounding him. Sergeant Canth, organise these warriors. Five man squads, even assault mix. If anyone can summon up a munitions store, nows the time to do it. Lento, liase with the relevant security staff and see to it that the Astropaths and the Navigator are secured. Laenar He quickly found the Techmarine amongst the gathered warriors. The Caesus? Secure, Ligur. Trust me. He nodded, the enigmatic Techmarines word apparently enough. Good. You, Tau. Gormat lifted his head and glanced Ligurs way as he heard the voice. Almost lost amongst the gathered ceramite armour, he seemed overwhelmed, adrift.

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Yes, Astarte Ligur? Find a niche and mould yourself into it. You still have a destiny to fulfil, xenos. I will not allow your potential to be lost so prematurely. Of course. Gormat concurred. Bowing smoothly, he sank into the forest of bodies. With that Ligur took in the entirety of the bustling bridge once more, his gaze snatched abruptly as some faceless warrior thrust his battle claws into his grasp. Epistolary, we have Kryptman He nodded and made to move in order to reach the console in question. As he did so, he looked about him one last time. Again, of one particular face, there was still no sign. +++ Codian rotated slowly, cautiously, sensing the sheer weight of xenos presence behind him long before he saw or even heard a thing. The alien warriors filled the wide gantry way before him, a wall of segmented crimson plate and exposed flesh. Each almond-shaped face was turned his way, each gaze fixed upon him. The gathered warriors were a mixture of both male and female, though, clad as they were in their cruel gladiatorial armour, the group exuded an unsettling androgynous air. A veritable plethora of knives, swords, falchions and many other more exotic examples of combat weaponry hovered ominously before him, each once thirsty for his blood. Some of the creatures licked their lips eagerly, whilst others merely regarded him with twinkling, covetous eyes. Behind him, one of the soldiers let out a quiet sob of fear. Remember, he uttered, his fingers slowly tightening around the haft of his sheathed weapon, each one of us is judged by his actions. For a warrior of the Emperor, his own demise is undoubtedly the greatest test of all. To die for the good of the Imperium is a greater honour than life itself. Do Him justice. He raised his pistol and fired, loosing but a single shot before something fast and sharp spun through the air and lodged itself in the barrel of the weapon. By this time his finger tightened again, too late to react. The shot tore through the short barrel and ignited prematurely, the explosion shattering the front of the gun. Undaunted and largely unscathed Codian drew his crozius and activated it, striding forward to meet the massed enemy. He swung the weapon in a fearsome arc that parted the whooping xenos tide and yet struck nothing, such was the aliens collective agility. Bodies rolled and sank before the questing weapon, and even as the Chaplain brought the crozius back for another strike, the first of the retaliatory blows struck his armour. Steel pattered and rang against his ceramite shell like rain, simultaneously striking a dozen places at once. Seven or eight blows struck various points around his head a second later, staggering him with their collective ferocity. Something sharp cut into the flesh of his side, the power of the blow halted but not fully stopped by the supple, segmented rings of his waist armour. Another sharp edge glanced off his neck, narrowly avoiding biting through the weak area. He felt arms clasp around his legs, seeking to bring him down, another short but vicious series of blows crashing against his head. These damned aliens were incredibly fast and agile, and he realised swiftly that they intended to overwhelm him.

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He allowed himself to fall backwards, seeking to crush those behind him with his fearsome bulk, blanking out the agonised screams of the men-at-arms. Lasfire seared past, the blasts hurried, desperate. Whoever was in charge of the weapon cried out in agony and the fire stopped. He came crashing down, feeling a satisfying crunch as the soft flesh beneath him compacted. Something hammered against his faceplate again and again with incredible speed, ringing as it hunted for his vision slits. Lithe fingers struggled to tear his crozius from his grasp. Through the swirling mass of flesh and armour he caught sight of a number of the creatures turn their attentions towards the stirring Demiurg, guttural voices screeching in anticipation. One of the xenos warriors leapt up onto the handrail and landed lightly, crouching on its toes, its free hand clasped around the metal bar. A malevolent smile spilt its black lips. He rolled sharply to the side and rolled, hauling himself to his feet. Bodies fell away, some rolling out of harms way, others broken and leaking by the huge warriors sudden shift in weight. Codian rose and flung the broken bolt pistol at the creature balancing before him, the spinning gun catching it squarely on the back of the skull. It cried out and fell into the dark chasm as he wheeled around, his crackling power weapon out before him, fresh determination and revulsion coursing through him. Gutter-filth! He shouted, lunging forward. Xenos whores and wretches all! I am a bastion of the Imperium! Break yourselves against my fastness if you will! You will find no passage! He brought the crozius down and a dozen blades met its descent, halting its powerful progress. He struck again and again, only to have the same thing happen. He pivoted, kicking his leg out at the mass. Bodies shifted as one away from the blow but his foot caught something and its owner fell away, shrieking in pain. Knives and swords raked across his back, one blow jabbing under his shoulder guard and into flesh. He spun and took the attackers head in a shower of sparks and hissing blood, watching as the body fell away. A boot slammed into the back of his knee with surprising force and, despite feeling the attackers limb snap beneath the blow, he was brought low onto one knee. Another warrior leapt onto his back and brought a blade around to his throat, stabbing at his neck. He lowered his head to turn it aside and grabbed the alien, hurling it over his shoulder. The thing landed in a coiled ball and rolled smoothly to its feet, hissing malevolently. The enemy were on the verge of overwhelming him. A cold, damning realisation beset him then, as he felt the enemy force draw back and change its collective attack pattern, preparing for another mass strike. They were toying with him. These creatures were using him, testing themselves against his might, like a family of young predators learning to hunt. They were possessed of a clearly unnatural agility and swiftness, no doubt enhanced by some unspeakable means. Their dark enjoyment of this game was a palpable feeling, hinted at by the shrieks of mirth and exaltation passing through the horde. He had fought back against them and he had killed, but those deaths were meaningless to these fiends. They cared little for loss amongst their own, and suffered no demoralisation or fear at seeing members of their debased faction die before their eyes. He was nought but a plaything to these fiends, and soon enough, when they had grown bored with his sport, they would kill him. As if to highlight this the group shifted again and two of their number sprinted forth, leaping and twisting in some confusing and insane dance. The first landed before him and leapt high, passing over his clumsy swing and striking him across the face with the haft of its trident. This allowed its female comrade to duck in low beneath his outstretched arm, dart behind him and drag a long curved blade across the back of his neck before tumbling gracefully out of harms way.

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Codian bit back the pain as he felt his flesh part, bright blood spurting from the wound for but a second before his enhanced biology closed it, specialised blood cells forming an instant layer of scar tissue. The situation was starting to escalate beyond manageable levels, even Codian had the humility to recognise that. He glanced out at the open elevator across the bottomless space, the severity of his current circumstances starting to sink in. From here it was a good way deeper into the lower levels of the forecastle, if one intended to come about into the corridor where the pods could be properly accessed. He would never make it. Even if he somehow managed to leap the perilous space safely and gain access to the elevator from here, the enemy would doubtless follow. He could stand and fight, and would undoubtedly do so if no other option was left to him. He would kill as many of these xenos fiends as he could, but he would fall. Against so many skilled and deadly warriors, he would fall. The enemy attacked anew, sending three of their number forth in bounding, twirling leaps. The first warrior leapt into the air and came down swiftly, pirouetting as it landed, one leg folded beneath the other. Its blade flashed out and rang against the armour of his groin. Unwilling to be goaded, he turned and offered his back to the following attackers, feeling the ringing blows as their weapons connected, before spinning and thrusting out with his crozius, catching one of them across the chin and shattering its jaw. The alien fell back, blood clouding the air before it, and Codian brought the weapon up, around and down, smashing it two-handed into the deck. Far too cunning to be fooled by the counter the warriors had already rolled back away from danger and up onto their feet, callous sneers of resentful respect flickering across their faces. If anything, Codians continued survival seemed only to further fuel their determination. The finality of his circumstances hit him then, bringing with it an almost calming clarity. It was said, and indeed taught, that every warrior experienced a single moment in time, a clear, indubitable realisation, that his death was imminent. Fate lifted the veil of uncertainty from his eyes and revealed its intent. So then, he growled, fists tightening, it ends here. So be it. If only he could have seen this. If only he could have known. Such a stupid, frustrating way to end the most crucially important journey he had ever undertaken, he thought. If only someone, anyone, could have warned him that this would happen, that fate would throw this random, unforeseeable variable into the maelstrom of war and conflict this galaxy had become. If only someone Someone had. Someone had seen this happen. Someone had warned him of the imminent attack. He stood here now, staring death in the face, as a direct result of that warning. His mind reeled as he thought back to the events that had transpired immediately before his return to the Proscriptus, an unexplainable, gut-churning coldness twisting at his core. The very shadows themselves seemed to swell and tense about him as he thought this, almost as if in barely-contained anticipation. At that very moment, a sensation, an awareness came to him, indescribable and indefinite, so abstract and incomprehensible it caused his hearts to quicken. It was as if something stirred, shifted, altered. As if all the infinite vastness of the universe itself split into a wide, contented grin.

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He spoke the word regardless, no other options left open to him. Even as it left his lips, it was as if a terrible, ageless burden bore down upon his shoulders, the weight of absolute consequence. He spoke it nonetheless. Cypher.

Chapter Forty Seven: Fallen Angel

The entire deck trembled, only for a moment, the lights flickering and dimming. Xenos heads rose slowly, violet eyes darting between the dark recesses of the space surrounding them. A sensation of deep change passed through the hall, touching every living thing there. The alien warriors uttered not a single sound as they paused, their quarry instantly forgotten, inhuman senses reacting to the palpable transformation. He emerged from the deep shadows as if from the air itself, the darkness first pooling and then separating as he hurled himself forth. A sea of heads turned as one to meet the cloaked figure as he sprinted forth, the twin pistols in his armoured hands blazing. Two of the warriors fell in a heartbeat, twitching and breaking apart into bloodied chunks of meat as they hit the ground. Another died a second later, its torso disintegrated, rendered down into burning, blackened limbs and hissing fat, dismembered and annihilated by the searing ball of energy that tore it apart. These deaths proved to be the catalyst needed to spur the surviving Eldar into action. The shock of the sudden attack brought shard-spitting pistols to the hands of the aliens, filling the air with questing death. The figure ducked and weaved as he advanced, still firing, a supernatural ability sensing the approach of every shot a heartbeat before it struck. By the time Cypher barged into the oncoming squad he had suffered not a single hit. The aliens broke themselves upon the mysterious Astarte, a storm of blades spinning and arcing through the air with deadly intent. Cypher threw himself into the swirling, stabbing mass, the guns he wielded so expertly still unleashing death. Codian looked on in silent astonishment as the warrior entered close combat. He hammered the guns across faces and torsos like twin bludgeons and turned blades aside as he continued to fire. Burning plasma cut blinding swathes through packed bodies, each hissing ball boring its way through the press, killing and killing until it broke free to slam into the bulkhead. Bolt rounds shattered limbs and punctured chests, each and every miniaturised explosion detonating with an uncanny and indomitable effectiveness. He thrust his arms up and crossed them in order to stop a hard downward strike aimed for his head, shattering the blade against his handguns. The pistols then descended rapidly and he spread his arms, blowing the midriffs of two alien assailants into red mist with precise, split-second timing. As the bodies fell he twisted and descended, falling to one knee, the outstretched positioning of his arms shifting again. His guns sang, two more Eldar fell. He thrust the bolt pistol out before him and the plasma weapon out behind him and fired again, both shots striking another brace of targets with deadly effect. He seemed unstoppable, imperturbable. The plasma pistol came up and crossed over his shoulder to burn the head from the shoulders of his next attacker, the killing shot taken and achieved without even the slightest hint of a backwards glance. The mysterious warriors senses seemed preternatural, almost too much so. Xenos bodies fell around the cloaked Marine like saplings before a storm, yet the insane survivors of Cyphers attentions showed no signs of letting up. Worse still, yet more bloodthirsty howls resounded down

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the hallway, undoubtedly heralding the arrival of more of the alien pirate scum. Codians tactical mind kick-started with a surge, recognising the opportunity for what it was. Cypher He called, starting forward. He lunged and took the head of the nearest alien from its shoulders, sending it spinning away. The warrior did not hear him. One of the feral corsairs lunged and made a grab for the sword fastened at his lower back. Cypher froze, his hooded face snapping around. Codian caught sight of his accomplices bared teeth, and the half-glimpsed hint of incredulous revulsion frozen on his face. Never Cypher uttered, holstering his bolt pistol and snatching at the Eldars forearm in one rapid, fluid motion. Black shadow descended from every possible angle and wrapped itself around both the robed Marine and his mortified opponent. There was a deep, immediate boom, like sharp clap of air filling vacuum, and both of them were gone. Codian blinked. Base animal instinct warred with the harsh conditioned logic of his Astarte mind. He trusted his own senses implicitly and yet he knew, with utter certainty, that what he had just witnessed could not possibly be. The grove of alien bodies hung in frozen silence, staggered by the sudden incident. Despite the seemingly impossible length of time that passed as he stood, confounded, the entire event must have actually occurred within the blink of an eye. The same shadows wove and gathered once more and, as they dissipated, they left a single, ivory-cloaked figure standing there. touch that. Ever. Cypher snarled, finishing the sentence. Of the offending Eldar there was no sign. A collective wail of despair rose from the raiders as, one by one, the creatures seemed to slowly realise the apparently terrible fate of their comrade. They reeled, clutching at their heads in disbelief, a reaction Codian neither understood nor empathised with. Death had never appeared to have concerned these wretches before this occurrence, and yet they shook and reeled as if torn by some dreadful revulsion. Cypher cared nothing for their agony. He drew his bolt pistol and started forward, his plasma weapon already to hand, and coolly annihilated the remaining aliens where they stood. More approach. He uttered, flicking his head in the direction Codian had come. He looked out at the recumbent Grungi, his half-seated, slumped body barely visible on the floor of the elevator beyond. You called my name, Codian. I have come. He paused then, the faintest flicker of a smile passing over his lips. Sooner, perhaps, than I had expected. Still, I am here at your behest. Codian peered over the enigmatic warriors shoulder as the sounds of the approaching pirate reinforcements grew louder. How. How did you know? Cypher lowered his arms slowly, both handguns trailing thin, sour smoke. He did not answer. You warned me to return, renegade. You knew that this vessel was under alien attack. He raised his arm, the powerful field of the weapon held in his gauntlet hand fizzing. Cypher remained steadfast, undaunted, his half-hidden face rigid as stone.

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Trust your instincts, Chaplain. I am not your enemy and I know you sense that I sense nothing save for sorcery and the stench of Chaos taint, fallen one. You command the shadows as your own. You appear at the call of your name, and seem to possess the ability to travel the length of the galaxy at will. Such abilities, such supernatural knowledge, could only be the product of obscene and heretical pact. A frown passed over Cyphers lips and he slowly holstered his weapons, seemingly ignorant to the proximity of the approaching enemy. Knowledge? Knowledge is both blessing and curse to me, Chaplain. My mind holds a weight of knowledge that would crush any other man. You would truly wish to know what I am? I am lost. I am part of a legacy of shame, an example to those who would stray from the True Path. Once, an age ago, I shunned the Emperors light, and for that, I became shadow. Shouts and cries echoed down the hallway, and Codian caught the first flickers of movement at the corner of his vision. Then you are one of the damned. He snarled, feeling his gorge rise. I am lost, Cypher said again, his voice soft and low, and you, Prophet, are the one who will light my way. That name again. Prophet. Another enigma, another damned question that lingers unanswered I will show you. Codian fell silent, inexplicably stunned by Cyphers answer. He looked on as the fallen warrior crossed his arms and turned, fast and fluid, and drew his pistols. Gunfire thundered across the cavernous space and sprinting bodies fell, shattered, burned and bloodied. This, Codian, all this, it is destiny! He called over the deafening roar. I heard it, felt it, the death of the Saint! It was a sign, a clarion call! This war will eclipse all those before it and will shatter the stars themselves, if we allow it! I have glimpsed the myriad paths of all the most powerful players of this theatre of war and I have seen what is to be, and what must be done to prevent it! The gunfire ceased and, as the smoke cleared, Codian looked out upon the crimson carpet of broken bodies spread across the deck. Cypher was down on one knee, the ammunition cartridges of his guns already replenished. More will come. He said, rising. He racked his bolt pistol and armed his plasma weapon simultaneously before casting a glance over his shoulder. They can be stopped. They are powerful and terrible, more so than any other, but they can be stopped. I can show you the whole truth, Codian, the truth you have craved ever since you opened your eyes, six centuries after closing them. will divulge those secrets others are unwilling to reveal. I will tell you what the Caesus is and what it was designed to do. I will lay every mystery open to you and I will tell you of the end. I will show you the unimaginable wonders and brilliant, blinding miracles of a time no child of the Emperor has ever dared they would witness. I will reveal all if you only trust me, Chaplain. There is nothing you could say to me that would sway me. Codian answered coldly, unwilling to be persuaded. No?

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Shock fired through Codians body, sudden and electric. Cypher cast his gun aside and his hand darted out, his fingers wrapping around the Chaplains forearm. For all his strength, Codian found he could not escape the grip. He lifted his crozius but his arm felt leaden and heavy. Before him, the renegades dark outline shimmered and dimmed further, the shadows whispering as they came alive to encircle him. Cypher uttered a single word as the light faded from Codians eyes. See. +++ Darkness. Seething, roiling. Destinys strands like snakes of shadow, endless coils twisting, entwining. Mind opened wide, drowning in all that is. Paths converge, focus, light streaming through the void to strike, crushing and infinite and absolute and blinding, so bright A single, terrible thing, ageless and wonderful and incomprehensible. A sensation, an experience so alien it cannot be classified or explained. Where have you taken me? What is this, Cypher? Clarity. Absolute. I cannotis is this what it is like to see through the eyes of a god? Better. I see. I see Dont try to comprehend it, Codian. Dont reason or assess or analyse. The infinite cannot be brought beneath the yoke of logic and your mind, mortal as it is, will not stand the consequences. Learn. Accept. See what is. Do not question, the answers will come of their own accord. I see it. I see it all. Death. War. End. Purpose. Lies. Corruption. Deceit. Decay. I see the cancer within, seething at our core. Angels clad as men, daemons clad as angels, legends stirring, destinies drawn together. Millennial promises fulfilled. A final war, a war built upon layer upon layer upon layer of history. Emperor, I see it all. Every facet, every face. I understand, and I see them. The Denizens of the First Great Darkness. The Denizens of the First Great Light. The One True Light, the father of us all. The Revenant, guardian and sentinel, death guarding death. Xenos gods sleep, awaiting their rebirth. Terrible, ageless, depthless. He will eclipse them all. More, I see, and more I understand. I see the champions of the xenos. The Lords of War, as ancient as the stars. The first young radical, the Mutineer. The Lingering Ones, a consciousness fragmented. Not even the Tau know of their origins. The near-extinct, hatred seething at their core, thirsting for retribution. Others still, bastions of the Light, legend realised. The Wolf. The Eagle. The Raven. The Lightning. The Fist. The Lion. The Gauntlet. The Dragon Still the visions come, burgeoning into my open mind. I see the lost and the damned, they wayward and fragmented. Traitors turned traitor. I see the once-proud sons of blood reduced, wracked by their own

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degradation, screaming for redemption. I see the cold-blooded ones, the lost, cultured and grown as weapons of war. I see the damned, the soul-stained, fathers and sons all. Every path converged. So much, too much I see it all. Emperor guide my soul, I see it all +++ Codian. He opened his eyes and gasped, a long, rasping sound. They were back in the hallway, and the internal chron-counter flashing at the corner of his vision-slit revealed no time had passed. Now do you understand, brother? He nodded slowly and watched as the warrior drew back his hood, revealing a face he had never seen, the face of a individual he had never known existed, from a history that had never been revealed. Despite all this, he knew the warrior standing before him, as sure as he would know his own reflection. I have seen. Your greatest, darkest sins were laid open to me, fallen one. I know who you are, and what you did. Cypher simply nodded, and together their eyes fell to the sword at his waist. Then you know, Chaplain, what must be done to end this. I do.

Chapter Forty Eight: Nowhere Left to Run

They are coming! God-Emperor, they send the machine forth. The soldier threw himself back through the doorway and into the bridge, visibly trembling. The body of his comrade lay on the floor by his side, thick blood pooling around the shredded corpse. Ligur simply nodded and waved a vast, oversized paw out towards the entrance, the gesture causing the Marines scattered about the bridge to mobilise. Armoured bodies quickly hurried into position, the sound of bolters being racked snapping through the close air. This is it. The Librarian growled, striding forward. He issued more curt orders as he strode through the throng before slowing to a standstill in the presence of the shimmering hololithic projection before him. Inquisitor. They move to take the bridge. Stand firm. Kryptman answered, his grainy visage flickering and distorting. Beyond his voice Ligur could hear the sounds of the enemys attempts to breach the Inquisitors chamber. Hold your ground, whatever it takes. We cannot allow these xenos corsairs to undo everything we have thus far strived to achieve. I dont need to remind you that the survival of the Imperium depends on our own ability to survive this assault. The Emperor needs us, Ligur.

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The Librarian bowed and stepped away from the projection, sensing as much as hearing the increase in anxiety around the doorway. He looked to the soldiers and Marines gathered there, watching as one of his sergeants directed the others in preparation for the defence. The tension was thick, the charged air thick enough to reach out and grab. Loud, terrible screams tore from the darkness, sounds obviously enhanced, intended to terrorize and disrupt. Ligur closed his eyes and shivered, glittering frost forming about his head. The runes carved into the backs of his oversized gauntlets began to glow hot, agitated by his powerful mind. They were here. A massive shape loomed from the darkness beyond and floated through the doorway, the twin weapons hanging suspended above it shuddering as they spat death out into the bridge. The lesser men reeled back as the things outsized claws snapped murderously about it, questing for victims. One man was torn in two as the evil weapons found their mark, his bisected body falling in a wet spray of blood. The Marines gathered there stood resolute and a grove of bolters roared in defiance, enveloping the monstrous machine in explosive flame. Ligur had opened his eyes and he threw a nod out at the waiting form of brother Hargas, his armoured body standing flat against the bulkhead. The Marine lunged forward and dropped onto one knee, lifting the meltagun up to his shoulder. There was a sharp whine and the low rumble of igniting air and a shimmering beam slammed into the Talos, causing the machine to lurch violently to one side, shunted by the powerful blast. Its thick armour trembled and liquefied, superheated steam flashing from its flanks, and within seconds the beam had tore its way through the belly of the contraption and out the other side, reducing its mechanised guts to steam. Its suspensors deprived of power, the Talos slammed into the deck, its limbs flailing and shuddering as it died. The Marine holding the meltagun stood back, allowing another of his comrades to step forward and toss a krak grenade into the gaping hole blasted into the abomination for good measure. Fall back and assume firing positions! Ligur commanded, striding forward. Both his lightning claws ignited as one, twin sheaths of azure energy enveloping the imposing blades. The aging Librarian had never faced such an enemy before, and yet, through many decades of experience he had developed a keen sense of the tactics of warfare. The myriad races of the galaxy may be as varied as the stars, but combat tactics were not. Just as he had assumed, the shadows around the door began to pool and darken, indistinct tendrils of nebulous darkness questing through the opening. Engage on sight, whatever comes through that door. Within seconds the darkness began to roil and shift, spilling into the bridge. Indistinct shapes writhed within the mass and a ghostly hissing filled the space. Shapes burst forth, squirming like snakes out into the bridge. Lithe bodies scurried like vermin across the floor, walls and ceiling, scuttling bodies pressed flat to every surface. Half-glimpsed forms, pallid and hairless, shrieked as they began to saturate the bridge, the shining eyes of each creature pulsing with lust as they chose their first victim. The defenders guns opened up, a hammering din filling the bridge with fire and smoke. Alien bodies cried out as they fell, shadow-skinned forms shattering beneath the onslaught. Nonetheless, the shadow creatures poured forth like oil and, within seconds, those of the vanguard had found their first victims. The non-enhanced humans of the bridge staff and ship security forces suffered the worst. Men and women

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screamed as the hunters pounced, rending claws lacerating and beheading with unnatural swiftness. The stoic unflappability of the Marines ensured the inevitable demise of each attacker, and soon the dark blood of the creatures began to mingle with that of their victims. Dont let a single one of them loose in here! Ligur shouted, picking of pace as he advanced. He looked to Torvus as he passed and the assault Marine nodded his head. Thunder hammer to hand, Torvus smoothly vaulted the handrail before him and dropped onto the deck, quickly taking up pace beside the Epistolary. A number of other Marines joined them, including Berolinus, his chainsword drawn and activated. The shadow-things were all but beaten back, the collective miasma they had created slowly dispersing. Hissing xenos fire continued to slice through the doorway in thick bursts and one of the Marines grunted, lurching back, a dark spray of arterial blood spurting from his neck. Without a word the Astarte picked himself up and retrieved his bolter, paying the rapidly-clotting wound no further thought. An Eldar warrior threw itself through the opening, the large cannon in its hands spraying its immediate surroundings with deadly shard-fire. Consoles shattered and sparked beneath the onslaught. Crystal fragments glittered in the air, thick and choking. The corsairs fate was inevitable, however fierce its attack. Seconds before its body was blown to pieces by the weight of return fire, the Eldar cast its spent cannon aside and produced something fist-sized and spherical. It hurled the device before it and pivoted sharply; as if foolish enough to imagine it stood a chance of escape. The defenders cut it down mercilessly, sending its broken body flailing back the way it had come. Ligur was the only one ignoring the dead warrior. His gaze remained fixed to the knotted orb slowly spinning to a standstill before him, forgotten by everyone else in his or her efforts to destroy the interloper. Ligurs face darkened and his eyes shone with power, his scarred face taking on an almost translucent quality. He spread his arms, uttering something rendered unintelligible by the noise of the conflict, and flickering witch light shimmered into being before him, rippling like water in strong sunlight. The force runes carved into his gauntlets responded to his unspoken command, helping the Librarian to call forth the Fury of the Ancients. The raging psychic construct erupted from the air before Ligur and thundered forth, a horizontal column of twisting, screaming blue flame. The enemy weapon had just begun to uncoil and spread, razor-wire tendrils unfurling as if alive as the psychic manifestation slammed into it and hurled it back into the dark spaces beyond, denying its murderous intent. Pained shrieks echoed through the darkness seconds later, bringing satisfaction to Ligur. They will either abandon their efforts or attempt to storm us. Either way, we will be ready to meet them. He ordered, driving the Marines forward. For several moments there was nothing except for a cold darkness to be seen beyond the bridge. Then they came. Terrible spectres of death sprinted through the opening, heavy armoured beasts clad in black plate, their helmed faces white and skull-like. They carried long-hafted glaives topped with cruel-looking blades that they swung and twirled before them, drawing glittering violet arcs around them as they advanced. Several of the survivors of the previous assaults moved to meet them from around the gateway, only to fall back in agony, pierced by the needle shards spitting from the extremities protruding from the crests of the enemys helmets. Las and bolter fire met the warriors, with some if little success. The silent aliens rode everything save for the most powerful blasts, the concentrated fire glancing off their powerful armour like water. They spun their weapons before them and turned aside many shots, sparks flying around them as they reacted with

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lightning speed. With a single, thunderous clash of weapon meeting weapon, the Marines and the xenos killers met in combat. Torvus sprinted ahead of the rest of his brethren and leapt into the invading alien attackers, bringing his hammer around and down in a powerful sweep, roaring at the top of his voice. The vicious and confident attack connected, its sudden speed momentarily confounding the alien warriors, as one of their kind fell back, its head spinning away. Torvus landed amongst the enemy and pressed home his assault, his arms swinging wildly, blocking and parrying each swipe that came his way. His hammer sang against alien blades, its power field pulsing and flashing with each blow. Ligur came into the fight a second later, striding confidently amongst the xenos warriors. His towering image flickered for a moment and then he dropped and turned sharply, raking the stomach from an attacking Eldar and sending its separated body twisting away. He returned swiftly, rising back up to his full height, the blow turning aside a questing falchion. The attacker reeled back and he thrust his claws through its face, near decapitating it, before withdrawing his fist and allowing the body to fall to the floor. I know! He shouted, engaging his next opponent. I have seen! The Eldar came at him with murderous intent, its weapon drawing dizzying whorls and spirals as it hunted for the kill. Ligur parried each strike with preternatural ease, his otherworldly powers allowing him the foresight to know where each and every blow intended to strike. He saw the opening revealed to him and took it, driving a claw through the chest of the Eldar with such force that the warrior shuddered beneath the blow, its weapon twisting away. The alien combatants stood firm in the face of the Marines, pressing home their assault. One of the creatures was armed with a short, bulbous-nosed rifle that spat out searing globes of pure darkness. It moved forward behind the advance of his comrades, using them as cover. Every shot it loosed tore through ceramite, carapace and flesh with unsettling ease, nothing seemingly proof against its vicious bite. Despite the melee of the combat before it each shot was unerringly accurate, passing between warring bodies and clashing weapons to slam home, taking the life of its target wherever the point of impact. Berolinus spied the murderous marksman and sprinted forward, raising his chainsword. A Marine he had come to know as Ghaljas, a former brother of the White Scars fell cursing with his dying breath, his arm and a good part of his left shoulder disintegrated by the blast. Berolinus shouted oaths demanding deference to the Temple of Hera as he ducked and weaved through combat-locked bodies, shouldering bodies aside, intent on his quarry. The warrior looked up as the Ultramarine charged, raising its weapon. Berolinus lowered his head and sprinted the last few paces, passing beneath the swing of an alien power weapon. He brought his chainsword up and thrust it down in a double-handed strike. The xenos parried with its gun, an instinctive reaction that inevitably saw the weapon shattered in two. It cast the separated pieces aside and met him unarmed, assuming a combat stance. The warrior was fast and deadly even without a combat weapon, nowhere near as strong as a Marine but almost twice as fast. It used its arms to turn killing blows aside, ducking and rolling as it avoided death again and again. The curved extremity mounted on the crest of its helmet fired again and again, spitting stiletto shards that hammered against Berolinuss armour again and again, but the Marines ceramite stood firm. The Ultramarines rage grew with each failed attempt, until his opponent finally made a mistake. Berolinus swung the chainsword out and missed again, his foe pivoting on his heel as it rolled along the strike. As it

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did so he reached out and caught it by the shoulder with his free hand. The warrior struggled beneath his grasp but it efforts were to prove too little, too late. Berolinus hauled the xenos towards him and thrust his sword through its belly, the screaming teeth of the blade causing its victim to shudder and vibrate as it died. His teeth bared and his helm covered in the blood of the enemy, Berolinus pulled the chainblade free and hunted for his next victim. More of the vicious black warriors poured into the bridge, dispersing as they entered. Ligur saw this and shouted orders to everyone he could see in a desperate attempt to bring order to the chaos. He tensed, a dark and oppressive sensation creeping across his mind. The psycho-conductive crystals set into his hood sparkled, sensing the same as he. Psychic activity, latent and hardly noticeable, but present nonetheless. The warp rippled softly around him at the passing of some mind-whispered command. He began to search through the roiling mass until his gaze fell upon one particular figure. The warrior appeared identical to its counterparts in most respects, save for the long black, high-collared cloak it wore. Ligur sensed the figures secretive psychic commands, whatever orders it projected to the others accented by quick thrusts of its blade out into the bridge. You are mine. He growled, striding forward. He concentrated his will and the psychic hood responded, flickering power playing about his head. The cloaked figure looked to sense his disruptive efforts and it froze, shaking its head, its own telepathic abilities abruptly confounded. Its glowing eyes turned to regard the Librarian as he thundered through the combat, swiping his claws left and right to clear a bloody path towards his prey. Silent, undaunted, the warrior raised its blade and prepared to meet the challenge. Gormats eyes flickered with anxiety as he watched the bounding creature leap high into the air and decend, sweeping its gleaming blade through the terrified knot of soldiers. Blood blossomed in the weapons wake, spraying across consoles and bulkheads in glittering arcs. The warrior landed on its toes and thrust its terrible weapon through the stomach of another soldier, the blow impaling him against the cogitator bank behind. His dark eyes fell upon a fallen lasgun before him and he unfurled his long fingers, desperate to add his own efforts to the fight. He had never used a guela weapon before and found himself momentarily wary of its crude design. He snatched the gun up and felt its cumbersome weight in his hands, uncomfortable with the crude, wrongly-angled grip and the harsh geometries of the stock. Still, the basic functions looked to bear some resemblance to the firearms of the Tau, and for this, at least, he was grateful. He lifted the lasgun and took aim, ignoring the discomfort of its alien design, and pressed the trigger. A long, searing beam of energy stabbed out and struck the creature a glancing blow across its chest armour, a descent effort by all accounts. Had he not compensated for the effects of the expected recoil that all pulse weaponry suffered he would have caught the Eldar in the neck, though much to his surprise the gun had not shifted at all upon firing. The warrior reeled back, twisting beneath the blow, but its thick armour held. It rode the hit, coming around sharply to face him once again, the outstretched tip of its blade coming to rest in his direction. Gormat felt his heart flutter, fear rising within him. He backed away and fired twice more, both shots lancing wide of their mark. The Eldar advanced like a predator, its crimson eyes shining. It spun its glaive around its body, twisting it as it passed the weapon from hand to hand, almost as if to gain satisfaction from terrorising the Tau before it made the kill.

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Gormat attempted another hurried shot, his final effort deflected by the Eldar, and then stumbled into a corner, turning the rifle with shaking hands in order to use it as a club. The warrior closed on Gormat with murderous intent, so engulfed by its own bloodlust that it never noticed the looming shadow fall over it. A huge metal claw closed around the Eldars neck and hoisted it into the air. A plasma cutter boomed as it flared to life, cutting the warriors arm away at the elbow, limb and weapon clattering to the floor. The Eldar turned in time to see Laenars pulsing green vision slits regard it with a cold, brooding hatred before another augmetic claw-limb reached around to grab it by the waist. The powerful limbs of Laenars servo-harness tore the alien in two and flung the separated carcass aside. Stay with me. The towering Marine said, striding forward to offer his hand. Gormat took it and allowed himself to be hauled effortlessly to his feet. The Tau struggled to compose himself for a moment and then simply nodded. In truth, he would not have had it any other way. Ligur met the enigmatic commander of the xenos hunters with an unmatchable ferocity, huge and imposing next to the tall but far more slender creature. The warrior swept its cloak back away from its legs and took a single step forward, bringing its glaive around. The Librarian crashed into the warrior with the force of a charging Dreadnought, easily enough to shatter the body of any opponent to pieces. The Eldar was swift though, too swift to be caught out by such lumbering force. It sidestepped the roving claws and countered, swinging a rapid strike out to meet the back of Ligurs neck. He pivoted sharply and blocked the attack with the back of his gauntlet, force runes glowing white-hot as they struggled to negate the bite of the weapons power field. He threw his legs around, twisting his waist into position, and struck out with the other claw. The Eldar was no longer there. He lurched forward as the haft of his enemys weapon slammed into the back of his hood, and hissed through bared teeth as the crackling blade was drawn across the ceramite at his back, just below his suits power plant. The ancient armour squealed as it parted and he felt the bite of the blade as it sliced through his skin, deep enough to hurt but not enough to worry about. He felt the pain swiftly neutralising as his enhanced body responded to the injury, and it took a conscious effort of willpower to force the process to cease. Pain kept both the senses clear and instinct sharp, and served as a reminder that the physical self was ultimately susceptible. The Eldar pressed home the attack, swinging the haft of its weapon around in an attempt to catch him across the face. He threw his shoulder in the way and then attacked with a mighty stabbing lunge, almost driving his claws through his opponent. The warrior threw itself into a back flip and landed on its haunches, spinning low, its blade sweeping out to catch Ligurs legs. The Librarian thrust one fist downwards to block the strike and then twisted, driving the other around and down to plough a hissing furrow through the solid deck. The Eldar warrior had already moved. It rolled backwards and sprang to its feet, the dark cloak rolling around it, and pressed forward. Several swift and vicious blows rained down on Ligurs crossed gauntlets, sparks flaring beneath each contact. One lunge managed to penetrate his defensive stance and the blade sang as it jabbed deep into the armour of his shoulder guard, pushing him back. Ligurs face contorted and he let out a roar of rage, his fingers finding the shaft of the glaive just below the blade. He tore the weapon free of its owners hands and threw himself around, sending it lancing back towards the Eldar like a spear. The warrior coolly leaned to one side and caught it as it passed, rearmed once again in the blink of an eye. As Ligur righted himself he watched as the Eldar swept his hand out and beheaded a passing Marine almost dismissively, its burning eyes never once leaving him.

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He saw then that this combat was stretch his abilities far more than he had first imagined. As the combat began to spread out into the vast arena of the bridge, the large arch of the doorway swiftly became deserted. The shadows there thickened and pooled, so substantial it was as if they suffocated light itself. Something stirred within, unseen. Unnoticed by any of the Imperial combatants, a tall, lean figure strode out into the bridge, sweeping its black cloak aside to reveal a suit of ancient and ornate jade armour. The new arrival strode confidently forward with all the practised grace of a predator, its stride long yet each footfall so light it made no noise. Pacing several feet into the charged space, the figure paused, taking up a wide-legged stance. The hilt of the shimmering staff it carried touched the floor by its feet with the merest whisper Every single one of the Incubi froze. A sea of glowing red eyes turned to the newcomer as one. Opponents were quickly abandoned and ignored as the dark warriors withdrew, forming an outward facing semicircle around their lord and master, punisher blades thrust before them in readiness. Ligur growled with agitation as his opponent drew his weapon back and turned away sharply, its cloak billowing around it. A few long strides carried it into the xenos mass unscathed, the defenders too taken aback by the sudden turn of events to take advantage of the situation. For a long, lingering moment, there was only silence. Kryptmans flickering holo-image regarded the figure at the centre of the gathering with a barely-contained astonishment. His representation loomed forward, as if the ancient man himself intended to get a better look. Emperor, it is you He breathed, recognition passing over his shadowed face. Vect. In response to this the figure lifted its head and revealed a face more beautiful and terrible than any man present had ever seen, a visage as utterly stunning and flawless as it was evil. Ruby red lips slowly spread into a cruel smile, and she spoke. So, you know me then, mon-keigh? I am gratified. It would seem the reputation of Arcobel Vect is better travelled than even I suspected. At this, the weapon in her hand shuddered and rocked as if with a life of its own, a dark miasma leaking from its many-bladed, pulsing head. She saw this and smiled, her violet eyes shining with wicked glee. She passed a lean hand through the shadowed mist and the weapon recoiled further at her touch, sending oppressive waves of hot pain pulsing through the vast chamber. Men groaned softly, and many of the Marines gritted their teeth, faces tightening. The Eldar female let out a quiet, gasping sigh and withdrew her hand, the smile soon returning to her lips. Come now, father. Try to maintain a little decorum. There are plenty enough souls here to slake your thirst. At that, she looked out upon the gathered defenders, a depthless hunger shining in her eyes. Enough for us all.

Chapter Forty Nine: A Stay of Execution

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The Dark Eldar Lords eyes fell upon the image of Kryptman, narrowing as she regarded the static-filled image. You. You are the one sealed into the chamber we have yet to penetrate. Hmm, the commander of this rabble, Ill wager. Such cowardice, such a selfish sense of self-preservation I find so synonymous with your kind. We will prise you free of your bolt-hole, mon-keigh, I promise you that. Kryptman made to answer her, his mouth working slowly as he attempted to compose himself enough to answer. Vect waved a dismissive hand and turned away. You have nothing more to say to me. Rid me of his presence. More bodies threw themselves into the chamber at her command, the lesser foot soldiers of the piratical forces. Several of the warriors dropped to one knee and fired out at the hololithic projector, unleashing a storm of shard fire that tore the device to pieces and caused Kryptmans image to blur and fade away. This attack proved to be the catalyst the Imperials needed to kick-start their aggression. Bolters and lasguns roared in answer, sending a storm of withering fire out at the Eldar. Incubi! Vect called, as if she needed to vocalise the curt command. Punishers spun and twirled in dizzying displays of skill, turning aside the firestorm. A scattering of the warriors inevitably fell beneath the assault, though most were simply too skilled and swift with their weapons to succumb to the attack. Vect stepped forward and pointed the head of her thirsting weapon out at Ligur, grinning as her eyes found the Librarian. Leorchar, bring me the head of that beast. Such raw, delectable rage. His spirit makes me salivate. The cloaked Incubi bowed its head and leapt into the air, expertly flipping over the heads of its comrades. It landed lightly and sprinted out towards Ligur, weaving and dodging every projectile directed its way. The Librarian saw this and tensed, anger rising within him at the warriors blatant gall. Before he had a chance to meet the attacking Incubi Lord the other Marines around him started forward, raising their weapons in readiness. The creature named Leorchar slammed the hilt of its glaive into the floor and catapulted upwards, feet spearing high into the air. It curved effortlessly over the heads of the looming Marines and landed smoothly before Ligur, bringing its punisher around. You want my head, xenos? Ligur said. Then take it. +++ The deck hands eyes were wide with terrified anticipation. He checked the load of his pistol with trembling hands and then shouldered his comrade forward, much to the mans consternation. Together, cautious and afraid, the two men crept closer to the unfolding conflict. The shadows in the quiet corner deepened and shifted in their wake, drawing together to form a deep pool of impenetrable darkness. The same shadows parted moments later to reveal a small group of figures, two of them huge, dark spectres of death that looked out into the bridge, seeing the unfolding devastation there. The smaller pile of scarred flesh at their feet stirred, roused by the sudden and violent method of his transportation. HnnnEldar Grungis eye slowly opened and, as if to mirror this his augmetic whined as it powered up, the crimson pinprick of light shimmering into being.

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Eldar Grungi grumbled again, slowly unfurling. The fingers of his metal hand scraped against the deck as he curled his hand into a fist. Thurgus Grungi hauled himself up onto his feet and threw himself out into the bridge, heading for the heart of the fierce conflict. Codian watched him leave, taking in the lay of the conflict before him as he did so. He turned to the figure by his side. This is not my fight. Cypher answered, sensing the question before Codian had the time to ask it. I have done my part. Besides, you can imagine the reaction of your comrades. Do you really think that they would listen to you if you arrived in the company of a heretic? The Chaplain paused then as if to argue, though, after the passing of a few moments, he simply nodded. Then this is farewell for now, fallen one. Until the Tower of Angels. Until then. Cypher answered, and was gone, the living darkness swallowing him whole. The sounds of Grungis arrival amongst the enemy filtered through the background noise of the fight and Codian looked back towards the raging conflict, feeling the pull of his warrior soul. He held himself back for a moment, taking the time to allow the weight of all he had learned to seep into his mind. All he had seen shook him to his very core, elation and foreboding warring in his mind. Despite Cyphers renegade past, his terrible sins and his dark abilities, Codian knew with a complete and utter certainty that the fallen Dark Angel had shown him the truth. He knew it with every fibre of his being. Despite this, he also understood that all paths were never set in stone, and that the knowledge he had gained had to be acted upon for ultimate victory to be realised. More so, he could never reveal to anyone even a hint of what he had learned, for to do so would invite only suspicion and hostility. No, his task would be to guide the others, to direct their efforts, to lead the way. The Caesus. His soul soared as he thought of the construct behind all of this, and what it had been created to do. He pushed the thought from his mind and steeled himself for the conflict ahead, activating his crozius with a flick of his thumb. There was still much work to be done. Before he started forth, he reached down to the small clip pouch at his waist and unfastened the clasp. He removed the object inside and then lifted his hand up to his face, the smooth gemstone there glowing with a shimmering internal light. I understand now. He whispered, gently placing the stone back into its pocket. We are coming to rouse you, ancient one, and make you whole again. Be ready. +++ Ligur thrashed and lunged and raked the air before him as he fought to connect with the dancing Incubi. Leorchar weaved like smoke around and past every attempt to kill him, returning the effort every few seconds with quick, rapid strikes and jabbing thrusts. Ligurs ancient rune armour sported several deep rends and slashes, more than one red with the Librarians blood. Arkannus Ligur was a powerful warrior and a potent psyker. He possessed a range of abilities largely unmatched by many of the adepts of the Librarium. Several of those abilities served to enhance his already redoubtable combat skills, but first and foremost, he was a warrior. This creature was a formidable opponent and, despite the burning hatred he felt for the xenos, he respected its skill. He could have boiled the blood in its veins or tore its black heart from its chest with but a thought by now, but he had not. He would not. He would best this warrior in combat or he would die by its blade. He would not succumb to using his abilities against a single opponent, no matter the threat. The Incubi lunged for him again and threw its legs into the air, sweeping one leg and then the other past

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Ligurs face with blinding speed. Ligur blocked both attempts but was unprepared for the third, as the Incubi landed and then repeated the move, catching him by surprise. The Librarian stepped back, neither injured nor greatly hurt by the kick to the face, despite the dull sensation of a broken nose. The Incubi was in his field of vision for a lingering, snap-shot moment, righting itself as it brought its blade forward ready to strike. Something fleshy and fast cannonballed into the Incubi, both feet slamming into its chest and bowling it back. The Demiurg landed before the sprawling warrior and shook his metal fist free as he rolled up onto his feet, teeth bared in anger. The Incubi regained its balance in time to block the swinging fist, twisting its punisher about and around its body again and again as Grungis blazing weapon-fist hunted for a kill. Within seconds the two combatants had traded over twenty blows, leaping and twisting as they fought. The Incubis skill with its blade was without compare, but Grungis sheer untamed vigour and aggression kept the attack in his corner and the Eldar on the defensive. I know you! Skull-faced shadows of death, Eldar b-----ds one and all! Your deeds are written in the Book of Rancour! This is for the brothers of the Mjolnir and the IronHead, their ships left to rot in space! For the women and the young taken into the darkness! He brought the fist down with a blow that shattered the haft of the warriors weapon in two. The Incubi cast the broken pieces aside angrily and spread its arms in challenge, taunting the Demiurg to finish what he had started. Grungi was a fine warrior and a terrifying opponent to face, but for all his skill, his actions were ultimately ruled by his temper. Failing to see the trap, he took the bait. He started forward, roaring oaths to the ancestors and to his lost people. The warrior retreated swiftly and then turned, breaking into a sprint towards the Incubi line. Grungi was almost upon him when the Eldar flung itself into the air, twisting end over end, and landed behind him. It swung an armoured foot out and caught Grungi square in the back, sending him skittering across the floor to come to rest at the feet of the waiting Incubi. The chattering bolter and lasfire ceased almost immediately as the defenders saw Grungi come to rest before the Eldar. Sprawled on his chest, the Demiurg looked up to see a line of crackling blades hovering before his face. Ahhh, Thors arse Stand down! Silence fell immediately as the booming voice carried through the bridge. Each and every gaze was diverted as Codian strode from the rear of the defence line and out into the space between the two factions, regarding Ligur with a nod as he passed. So, you return. The Librarian uttered. Codian did not answer. He walked straight up to the space behind Grungi and stood there, his burning eyes regarding the gathered Eldar. This attack must end. Now. Not a hint of movement passed between the Incubi. Behind them, the tall alien female laughed, a curt, harsh sound. As quickly as it had surfaced her mirthless smile faded and a smouldering anger took its place. Insolent primate. Such simple minds you possess, minds without the ability to recognise defeat or

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inferiority. Your race is perhaps the most flawed of all, and yet you mon-keigh seem to be unable to let go of the pitiable delusions of grandeur that direct your every action. Are you truly so unable to identify defeat? We have your ship by its pulsing throat, alien. You are at my whim, whether you realise it or not. Shut up. Codian answered sharply, the irreverence in his answer shocking the Eldar lord into temporary silence. A sharp wave of barely-contained anger passed through the Incubi, though they remained steadfast. You dare to speak to me so? Yours will be the longest, most exquisite death of all Your pathetic threats disinterest me, Eldar. If you must sully the Imperial tongue then try to keep your responses to a bare minimum, otherwise save your breath. He looked around him at the scattered bodies lining the floor of the bridge. Man, Marine and xenos alike lay broken and leaking, a vista of bloodshed terrible to behold. Fortunate for your kind that you care nothing for loss, Eldar. All I see when I look at you is extinction. A race damned in life as it is in death. You throw yourselves upon the unsuspecting, the weak and the unprepared, driven by a thirst you cannot quench. You feign enjoyment in acts of cruelty and murder, but the truth of it all is darker than that. You scream and clutch at survival like a cornered beast, wounded and dying. Your every waking moment is given over to a single goal. Fear dominates your ilk more than any other, the fear of death. I know you. You are nothing more than cattle, and you exist only to be consumed. Vects pale porcelain face flooded with colour, her delicate cheeks shuddering with rage. The ornate staff in her hand rocked violently as if to mirror this, dark ethereal smoke leaking from the black gem set into the centre of the many blades. You know nothing of us. I know everything. Codian corrected her, remaining calm and collected. Now order your forces to stand down. Your quest is at an end, daughter of Vect. You need continue your wicked harvest no longer. I am the one you know of as Codian. Liar! Vect started forward with a scream, leaping high over the heads of the Incubi to land before the Chaplain. She was fast, so fast not even her retinue had managed to respond by the time her first blow was turned aside by Codians crozius. The Chaplain cried out as the dark miasma exuded by the weapon passed over him. Unseen fingers raked across his soul, torment given sentience. Something flickered at the edge of his minds eye, a face cast in shadow, screaming in anger for release. He stepped back, countering blow after blow, forcing his will to banish the bitter presence. Listen to me! This has to end Vect did not listen. She was lost to rage, cursing him as a filthy mon-keigh liar. Your soul is mine! I will tear it from your brute body! She raged, raining attacks down on the Chaplain. As each strike landed against the head of the crozius he could see the weapons field flicker and dim, the living blade leeching energy every time it connected. The ghastly hunger bound within thirsted for him. This is your final warning, Eldar! Desist now or pay the consequences! Inevitably, she did not.

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Codian rolled around the proceeding strike and allowed his opponent to lurch past him. A quick glance told him that the Incubi, as watchful and poised as they were, intended to allow their mistress to continue the conflict alone. He removed the gemstone quickly from its place and thrust it out before him, brandishing it like some powerful talisman. The stone exploded with brilliant white light, so intense and blinding it scoured the image of everything around it away, turning everything on the bridge flat and white. Something uttered a lingering, rasping scream, a horrifying sound that scraped against the minds of everyone present. The daemonic howl soon faded to a mere echo, repeating over and over as if sinking into a depthless oblivion and the light dimmed, the pure gleaming radiance withdrawing back into the stone swiftly until the object itself turned cold and lifeless once more. Arcobel Vect picked herself up off the deck and staggered over to where her weapon lay, the once-living blade now still and lifeless, thin black smoke drifting lazily from the cold stone at its centre. There was no trace of elegance in her movements, no haughty finesse or careful poise. Disbelief had stolen those conceited qualities from her. She whispered something, her once-perfect voice hoarse. She repeated the same phrase over and over again, running her fingers over the jewel. Whatever response she was searching for seemed to be eluding her. You killed him. She said, using High Gothic once more, though this time the language came to her only with a clear concentrated effort. She looked at Codian accusingly, an expression that seemed to contain almost as much elation as it did sorrow. Vect cast the staff aside and pointed an accusing finger at the Chaplain. Youyou keep him at your hip, the Fate-Weaver, the guardian of the bitch-goddess Ishas Eye! Damn you and your pet, mon-keigh! Asdrubael was mine and mine alone, and you consumed him. Incubi, kill them all! Still prone before the black warriors, Grungis single eye narrowed. Hnn. He grunted, taking in the horizon of silent faces beyond the outstretched blades. I would feel overwhelmed, but numbers never were my strongest point. With that he rose and swirled his fist about his head, the single blow smashing every outstretched blade from its housing in one effortless motion. The Incubi stepped back in perfect unison and cast their broken weapons aside, waylaid but far from beaten. Knives and other blades were quickly drawn from strategic places about their armoured bodies and within seconds they began to disperse, alien steel glinting beneath the lights. Leorchar darted through the press and came to rest beside his mistress, a curved, barbed dagger in each hand. Perhaps we have prospered sufficiently enough to leave this brute-laden barge. Vect said, with enough volume to ensure that Codian caught her voice. Recall the kin. Any who have not arrived by the time we are back onboard will be left to their fate. Listen to me. Codian called after her. You are making a terrible mistake Vect ignored the Chaplains words, affording him but a lingering, hate-filled glance as she broke into a sprint towards the bridges exit. Leorchar ground to a halt before her, so suddenly she herself striking his back.

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Imbecile! She screeched, striking him across the back of his helmet. The Incubi did not respond. Ghostly and indistinct shapes drifted past the pair, as soundless as the breeze. Her jaw slackened as she peered beyond the frozen Incubi and found the figures standing there. A brace of mon-keigh came to rest before the bridges entrance, slowing as they laid eyes on her. The hulking, white-armoured brute said nothing. The smaller creatures eyes widened as he spied her and he froze, drawing a pistol from beneath his black robes. Arcobel Vect. He spat, arming the pistol and pointing it straight at her head. I should have known. You had better pray to whatever dark gods you serve that we are not too late. If the Prophet is dead, you die with him. Arcobel Vect inhaled sharply and raised her hand, the gesture causing her guardian to let his weapons clatter to the floor without the slightest protest. The air shimmered and rippled about her as brightly dressed figures materialised, their masked faces regarding her with hidden eyes and unreadable emotions. Then it is true? She asked, directing the question not to the humans but rather the mysterious Eldar surrounding them. The Harlequins simply stared back at her, their collective silence providing the answer.

Chapter Fifty: A Gift

Codians reverie was unceremoniously broken by the rude thump-hiss lurch of a passing Sentinel loader. The deck beneath his feet shook as the large bipedal machine stomped by, its oversized power claws laden with more of the strange obsidian caskets. He watched the walkers progress for a few moments more, hearing the slightly unsettling rumble of yet another alien warpgate opening somewhere at the far end of the vast cargo chamber, before turning his attentions back to his own thoughts. Hours had passed since Czevak had brought the Harlequins to quell the murderous attentions of the pirate Eldar, and he found himself harbouring a tremendous gratitude for the mans actions. Despite Cyphers gift to him, he had little doubt that his own efforts to persuade the Eldar Kabal leader would have ultimately failed. He felt he was beginning to understand the Eldar a little better, and reasoned that they were largely not the kind of creatures given to trusting or listening to other races. A trait, he digressed, very much shared by the human race. He thought back to the first meeting between himself and the Inquisitor, and it troubled him to recall how inadequately he had considered the man. True, the circumstances behind their first acquaintance were without a doubt largely responsible for this, but still, it had been his inherent mistrust of the denizens of this troubled time that had caused the friction. Czevak was still an Inquisitor no matter his circumstances. The Astartes and the Inquisition had never had the best mutual relationship within the Imperium, he knew that, and it wasnt as if Czevak had the full weight of the Inquisition behind him. That aside, Codian admitted to himself that he could have shown Czevak greater respect. Other thoughts had warred within him since the events involving Cypher and the conflict on the bridge, and, much to his own surprise, not all of them involved the knowledge he had gained. It was a strange thing, he considered, his unexpected epiphany. It wasnt as if he had suddenly learned everything he needed to learn in order to bring this war to an end. It was as ifas if everything he now knew, he had already known.

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As if his mind had somehow become the most complex and intelligent cogitator ever devised. It wasnt knowledge in the pure, uniform sense but something much more. It was as if his mind now held the key to answer any question he needed to ask, as if all the information was locked away within, waiting to be brought forward at his behest. More so, it was a pure thing, an almost divine phenomenon. Despite Cyphers obvious link with powers dark and insidious, the very thought of which caused him to physically shudder, the gift itself had held no connection with the powers of the warp. Had he even suspected that to be the case he would have ended his own life without hesitation, he knew that with utter certainty. No, this was something else entirely. The experience had brought about a change within him. Though he was loathe to admit as much out loud, his perspectives, his goals, were slowly changing. In his long life he himself had taken part in countless wars and crusades, great undertakings conceived with but one purpose in mind; to destroy the enemies of mankind. To conquer worlds and systems, to scour the stain of xenos filth from these places. How utterly redundant such a philosophy seemed to him now. It had taken moths for the realisation to hit him, but hit him it had, like a bolt round between the eyes. Through all of his experiences since awakening here in this time, despite the presence of three Ultramarine battle brothers, his closest companion had beena xenos. An alien, the very class of lifeform he had dedicated his existence to eradicating. Grungi was an enigma to him. His very presence warred with the countless years of Imperial dogma hammered into Codian. He was a Chaplain, a Master of Sanctity, a spiritual and inspirational leader of the Astartes beneath him. He was a living icon of those tenets and beliefs, and yet he could truly count the Demiurg a brother. The very notion caused his gut to twist, his body reacting to the thought. He realised then how deeply ingrained such ideals were within him, and that the greatest internal struggle within was not related to the secrets in his mind but to this one, simple fact. Since the beginning, Grungi had never once indicated any feelings of resentment or racial hatred towards him. He found this concept alien, inconceivable. He had never known what it was like, or that it was even possible, to regard another species with anything other than revulsion. The Demiurg almost seemed to fit by his side as easily as a holstered boltgun, and, try as he might, he found himself unable to resent that. This place, this time, was changing him. Then there was Cypher. He still knew little about the enigmatic character, which was a strange concept for him to grasp considering he knew everything about him. He had seen the warriors fall from grace, experienced as if first-hand the events that had led to his current, miserable existence. Cyphers crimes had been absolute, heresy of the worst kind. Such a being would have instilled a burning hatred within him had they met in a previous time, and Codian knew he would have given his life gladly in order to kill such a foe. Not so now. The gift had allowed him to see beyond the crimes of Cypher, to see the whole picture. He knew he would never be able to make the others understand, to see things as he saw them. They would see only a traitor, a heretic Marine, and they would rail against his presence. He knew he had the opportunity to save Cyphers soul and upon doing so bring one of the greatest miracles the Imperium had ever known into being, but he would have to do it alone. Chaplain? He looked up to see Ligur approaching, his scarred face unable to hide the revulsion in his soul. As he approached he continued to look about him, his eyes running across the gathered xenos thronging the

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cavernous bay. Codian steeled himself and stepped forward to meet the Librarian, pushing his internal turmoil to the back of his mind. Well met, brother. He said. The claws of the Librarians gauntlet withdrew as Codian took his arm in a warriors handshake. Well met, Chaplain. Ligur replied. There was little warmth in his voice. The two Marines each took a step back after their greeting and Ligur raised one hand towards the surrounding bustle, pointing to no particular area but immediately making his point clear. This disturbs me. All this He gestured again. This is wrong. Inherently wrong. These Eldar are our enemy, Codian. They made war with the Proscriptus and now they are here, filling this hold with He paused, his teeth bared. Beads of sweat ran down his thick brow, creating a sheen upon his twitching face. Hnn. I cannot describe what it is for me to even stand here in this place of death. Kryptman urged me to trust this xenos filth and I do so only at his behest. Czevak assures me that these caskets are shielded, and I believe him, but still it claws at my mind. I feel slick with death, as if the blood of innocents stains my skin. The Librarian leaned towards Codian, a wild light flickering across his eyes. Codian was no psychic but even he could feel the struggle of will inside Ligur. Thousands of them, Codian. Thousands upon thousands. Millions. I cannot hope to even guess. No blunt alive in this galaxy could ever hope to comprehend such a thing. I know brother. Codian answered after a long pause. I know what it is we take onboard. I understand how much this goes against the grain but we must remain strong. We must do what it takes to survive, and to ensure the survival of our Imperium. Our Imperium? You of all of us should know that there are worse fates than survival. Heretics survive, but at the cost of their very souls. Would the Emperor truly wish for this to happen if it guaranteed our survival, or would he rail against such heresy? Codian bit back his answer, despairing at the double-edged sword the knowledge within him was swiftly proving to be. How could he tell Ligur that all this, no matter how distasteful, was to directly benefit the Emperor of mankind Himself? How could he explain that such criminal atrocity had found its origins in the prophesised completion of the very plan they were currently undertaking? He knew he could offer no true answer to the troubled Librarian. All you can do is trust in Kryptman, as I do. He lied, feeling the burden of his understanding even more. These are desperate times. We must strive to endure, to see this dark night through and meet the coming dawn. We can do little else other than trust his guidance to see us through. Curious. Ligur answered, working the discomfort from his face. You sound more like a member of the Ecclesiarchy than an Astarte Chaplain. You should know more than most that the Emperor is no god, Codian, and yet you speak as if he is just that. And you, Librarian, should know more than most that the Emperor is more than mortal. Codian answered.

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He is our lord and master, He guides us from his seat on Terra, and watches over us as both patron and protector. Our fate is guided by his will, and this is his will. I wish I could offer you more, my brother. All I can do is ask you to keep faith in what we are doing. That is all I can do. Ligur answered, turning away. The Marine walked away from Codian, the claws that had withdrawn upon their meeting sliding free once more. He paused, turning to look over his shoulder. Faith is a positive thing, Chaplain. Blind faith is not. Be wary of such a distinction, and above all else, trust your instincts. Heresy takes root wherever it may find purchase. The blind are usually the first to provide such purchase. Codian watched the Librarian leave in silence. He knew that Ligurs words were wise, and he wished he could explain everything to the Librarian. He opened his hand and looked at the polished alien gem. No one present on the bridge had asked him what had happened when the thing had come to life and taken the dark soul within the Eldar Lords weapon. It was almost as if none of the others, not even Ligur, had witnessed the incident. He found himself grateful for this fact, whatever its explanations. He had enough to worry about at this present time, without having to try and explain how he did what he did. At the far end of the hold he could see several figures he recognised, including Czevak and Kryptman. He picked up the pace and moved to join them. This was the first time he had ever known Kryptman leave his private chamber, one fact alone that spoke volumes of the importance of what was happening here. The ancient Inquisitor sat, surrounded as ever by the shimmering blue life-support field, atop a mobile form of his usual throne. The dais was a simple tracked construct; a cumbersome thing that he imagined saw little use. The two men finished their discussion and turned at his arrival. Czevak spoke a few quick words to the Harlequin at his side and the figure left them with no further word, largely ignoring Codian as it passed. Do you know what this is? Kryptman gestured out at the massed piles of caskets before them. Codian looked out upon the endless mounds, still being added to by the lumbering Sentinel lifters. Each chest was identical in design; smooth and black, with a finish like polished glass. He nodded. Wraithbone. Czevak cut in. We can at least be thankful for that. The Eldar material serves to negate a good deal of the moreunpleasant side effects of the contents. Just dont touch them with your bare skin. We have already lost five members of the crew to madness. I know why this is necessary. Both men looked at him in silence at this, their expressions hardening. I know what the Caesus is and what it does. How..? Czevak began. Codian raised a hand. It does not matter how I know, only that I do. Chaplain, if you speak the truth then you must understand the importance of our mission. Kryptman said.

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All this, distasteful as it is, is necessary to ensure the survival of both mankind and the galaxy at large. Codian turned away from the Inquisitors and looked out across the wraithbone mountain once more, his thoughts unreadable. I have made my peace with what we must do to survive, and I understand. How soon before this delivery is complete? Quite soon. The Red Masque inform me that the last batch are arriving now. Good. Codian answered. There is still much to do. We are to set a course for Terra as soon as we can. Inquisitor Czevak, I would speak with you on matters that have been troubling me. Private matters. Czevak frowned as he heard this and looked at Kryptman. Both men seemed troubled by the mention of such privacy, Kryptman more so. Forgive me, but I have questions that concern the Eldar. Questions I feel must be answered before we continue on to Terra. I confess, I am finding these events hard to deal with. He looked to Czevak. I thought perhaps that you, given the years you have spent amongst them, would be able to provide the insight I need to help centre my humours on this endeavour. The hurt and suspicion left Kryptmans face at this and he waved a hand, his attention turning once more to the caskets before him. Ah, I understand completely, Chaplain. By all means, seek your counsel. There is still much to do before we are able to get underway. Codian nodded and began to walk out towards the wraithgates at the far end of the chamber, followed by Czevak. I understand your inner turmoil, Chaplain. Czevak began as he caught up. I know how hard it must be for you to deal with all this Codian held up his hand to silence the Inquisitor, much to the mans surprise. Forgive me, but I needed to speak with you in private. Oh? Yes. You are the only one on this ship I can turn to, Inquisitor. The only one who will understand what I have to do. Now Im intrigued. Czevak answered with a grin of anticipation. How can I be of service? You know the Eldar better than any of us here. There is something that I must do, but I cannot do it alone. Once we are bound for Terra I must embark on another journey, a private endeavour. No one else can know of it. I need your help. Czevaks eyes narrowed as he heard this. Codian saw the first flicker of suspicion pass over his face and knew he would have to tell the man the whole truth. I have learned great and terrible secrets, Inquisitor, secrets relating to this war. You know better than any that this conflict extends far beyond both humanity and the Tau. I know that you are in possession of an

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Eldar gateway, and that you know how to use it. He lifted his hand then and opened it, revealing the stone. Czevak let out a quiet gasp. There is a Craftworld adrift at the edges of the Eye, cold and dead. It is an ancient place of shadows and death, the Eldar that once resided within long since gone. Ulthwe. Czevak whispered without the slightest hesitation. Chaplain, you know of Ulthwe? How can that be? It matters not. What does matter is that I go there. This stone must be returned. I need to know, Czevak, can you take me there? Yes, I think I can. But you must tell me why. Codian nodded. Fair enough. +++ Kryptman watched as the two figures made their way towards the exit, a hand resting thoughtfully upon his chin. As they grew smaller and smaller he noticed movement beyond them and his gaze quickly turned to the large group of Eldar heading his way, a mixture of both Harlequin and pirate. He could not help but allow a shiver of apprehension to pass through him as he spied the daughter of Vect at their head. The Eldar Lord strode confidently before the Inquisitor and came to a standstill, sweeping her cloak aside. The rest of the Eldar ground to a halt behind her and waited in silence. Beyond them, Kryptman could make out something large and heavy, ferried by some means of humming suspensor dais. The tall female looked around her at the mountains of crates and then at Kryptman. We are done here. The delivery is complete. She snapped her fingers and the Eldar in charge of the hovering dais hurried forward, those before them parting. Kryptman looked on as the object came into view. It was a black wraithbone casket, identical to all the others except for its size. The thing was huge. It was covered in all manner of decoration, from skinned human faces to glowing crimson runes that hurt the eye to look upon. What is that? Vect smiled at the question. She stretched her arm out and let her open hand hover over the object, her delicate face tightening. A gift. She said finally, withdrawing her hand. One of my fathers most prized possessions. He called it the Archangel of Rage. It has served me well for so long, as it did Asdrubael before me. I am loathe to part with it but I sense it would better serve your cause. What is it? Rage. Vect answered with some annoyance, as though scolding a dim child. The fires of anger incarnate, the very avatar of rage, distilled and bound within an inescapable prison. A mighty and terrible weapon of war. I imagine the effect it would have on the filthy Tau. If only I could be there to see it. The Eldar moved the artefact away towards the rest of the haul and Vect turned to leave, her violet eyes lingering upon Kryptman for a moment.

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What now, Eldar? The Inquisitor asked, causing her to slow. What part are you and your kind to play in this coming war? Mon-keigh fool. She sneered. Our part is done. You think we would throw ourselves into a war such as this? You may have little idea what is to come, but we have known for an age. We will return to Commorragh, seal the webway behind us and wait for the storm to pass. When the fires of war blow themselves out we will return to haunt the stars, as it always has been. She smiled then, a dreadful, cruel smile. Watch the shadows, mon-keigh.

Chapter Fifty One: A Gathering of Might

+++THE FORTRESS OF AGES+++ +++CARIS ESTARUS+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Roboute Guilliman thrust the upturned tip of his sword into the ashen earth and smiled, taking in the sight before him. He peered out at the vast and ancient citadel, its mile-high walls quaking beneath every thunderous bombardment. The Fortress of Ages filled his vision from horizon to horizon, its massive basalt walls presenting a veritable, man-made mountain range. Bright and vast columns of light speared down from the unseen heavens and into the prehistoric edifice, ancient void shields flaring at the touch of each omnipotent lance. He knew those shields could not hold out forever. Sections of the powerful network had already failed, reducing miles of the formidable stronghold to blackened rubble. Smoke filled the skies, dark and oppressive, and the thunder of the innumerable artillery pieces far behind him drowned out all other noise. Likewise, the guns of the enemy barked back in retaliation. Tiny pinprick flashes of fire popped along the walls, glinting like temporary stars, vomiting their defiance out at the invading forces. A sea of bodies and armour poured across the plains towards the fastness, flowing and shifting as they negotiated the trenches. Aircraft filled the skies, creating a vast, colourful roof of armoured might. Barracudas and Thunderbolts screamed by overhead to pummel the gun emplacements, paving the way for the larger machines. Vespid Hiveships and Drone Factory ships touched down before the walls, braving the defensive fire in order to regurgitate their cargo. Crisis Dominators roved ahead of the foot soldiers in flocks, shield generators flaring beneath the assault. Mantas and Megalodons cast their shadow over the landscape, vast gun batteries shaking the craft as they opened up. Flickering bursts of witch-fire raked the battlements, ethereal winds tearing ancient stone free of its moorings. The Nicassar would show no mercy. He thought back to an age lost amid the mists of history, when last he had stood before this primeval citadel, his brothers Dorn and Peturabo by his side. The long-extinct inhabitants of Caris Estarus had fought to the last, defiant to the end, but they had fallen. They had razed the planet to ashes, unleashing

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dreaded viral bombs designed to scour life in all its forms from the face of a world, and they had succeeded. Both Dorn and Peturabo had protested this course of events. Both his brothers had been consummate experts in the field of siege warfare, and had railed at the prospect of defeating the enemy in such an underhanded way. To overcome the enemy, they had argued, without breaking the fastness of the Fortress had deprived them the honour of such a task. He had seen their actions differently, of course. He had argued the efficiency of their methods. To break the citadel would have taken months, perhaps longer. The Great Crusade could have ill afforded such a delay. No, the Emperor had decreed Caris Estarius to be beyond saving, the xenos populace too alien and corrupt to fall beneath the yoke of the Imperium. Standing here after so long, facing these ancient walls, he could see now why his brothers had argued their case. A part of him felt glad that they had never destroyed the Fortress of Ages. He took a deep breath; inhaling air that would have been unbreathable was it not for the eons it had spent circulating around this dead world. There were no plants here to regenerate the atmosphere. Dry and sterile it felt to him, like the air one would find trapped within a tomb. The command drone hovering by his side shifted, humming softly as it changed position. The shield drones accompanying him did not respond, and it was through this that he knew that whoever approached was not of the enemy. Warmaster. He straightened as he heard the voice, gathering his thoughts. Hydrion. He answered, turning to face the figure behind him. The blue and silver-armoured Astarte fell to one knee as the Primarchs gaze fell upon him. Tell me, how goes the siege? Well, my lord. The fleets efforts should sound the death-knoll of the void shields within the day. The enemy however, seem ignorant to this threat and thus continue their stubborn defence with utmost vigour. Their efforts matter not, lord. Even now I have squads moving to take advantage of the breaches made in the walls. The fleets efforts have been structured so as to appear randomised, but I have engineered it thus that the lance strikes will not come into contact with those places I have chosen for our infiltration. The Tau move against the main defences, diverting the enemys attentions away from us. It should prove simple for my forces to gain access. We have managed to establish contact with a number of potential allies within the citadel. We are working at this time to verify how reliable these contacts are. Should they prove to be genuine, we may be able to accelerate our success by weeks, maybe more. Good. Guilliman answered, gesturing for the Marine to stand. Hydrion did so, taking the opportunity to stand beside the Primarch, his eyes finding the distant citadel beyond. Guilliman regarded the smaller warrior by his side for a moment before turning his gaze back to the distant bastion. Have we a solid confirmation of the forces we face within? Yes, Warmaster. It is as we had expected. Good. The Primarch replied with relish. The fools. We could have spent years hunting them down, and yet we discover a great number of them hiding in our path.

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Hydrion nodded and stood in silence, causing the Primarch to sense something was amiss. Speak. Lord. You asked me to inform you when the fleets converge. I am pleased to tell you that the all the elements are now in orbit around Caris Estarus. The commanders have responded to your summons and await your audience via uplink. Very well. Guilliman answered. It is time that we coordinated the death of this world and pushed for Terra. Join me, my son. He retrieved his sword and the two warriors started out towards the waiting Manta, Hydrions warriors parting to allow them to pass. As they moved through the centre of the waiting forces the Marines abruptly tensed, bolters snapping around to face the distant fortress. A cold ethereal wind blew across his back and Guilliman paused, his face darkening. A sound like thunder rumbled through the air and a pale, flickering light played across the ash dunes before him, hot and radiant with each crackling pulse. Guilliman. The voice was deep and resonant, like the grating rumble of a rockslide, as ageless as the dust of eons and thick with power. The Primarch turned slowly, his black eyes falling upon the shimmering, hazy face that had formed in the air behind. The huge, smouldering visage regarded the Primarch with twin pits of burning crimson, a palpable malevolence blazing behind them. Ygethmor. He spat, recognising the apparition. What is this, sorcerer? The announcement of the surrender of your forces? Of course not. This is a warning, slave of the Tau A warning? Guilliman laughed, ignoring the insult. I would have mistaken such audacity for bravery had I not heard it from any other than a pawn of the Ruinous Powers. Spineless cowards, one and all. Once-proud warriors reduced to cowering dogs whining fearfully at the heels of their daemonic masters. I am surprised any of you found the backbone to venture forth from that hellish bolthole you call the Eye, and even more surprised you summon courage enough to imagine defiance is feasible. Before him, the sorcerer cackled, a low, booming din. Fools. Arrogant, supercilious fools. You see nothing beyond your own inflated sense of superiority. This conflict was no mistake, no auspicious accident on your behalf. This is a trap, servant of the xenos. You were lured here Enough. Guilliman commanded, pointing the tip of his sword out at the apparition. I care nothing for your claims of manipulation, nor if indeed they hold any truth. All that matters is that your very presence confirms one important fact, and indeed, affirms our presence here on this world. I know that you are the Despoilers lapdog, and that wherever you are, so must he be. At that the Primarch made his way over to the vision, followed closely by Hydrion. Both warriors came to stand before the smouldering face without fear. Hydrion. Ygethmor snarled as he regarded the Marine with clear disdain. It is no surprise to see you, Chapter Master. My lord has long suspected that the insidious Alpha Legion were beneath the yoke of the Tau.

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Hydrion bristled at this, though he retained the cold, calm manner of his voice. Alpharius once made the mistake of siding with the weaker force. His death at the hands of my lord was a fitting retribution for such a poor display of leadership. I will not allow my legion to suffer such foolish direction again. Guillimans appreciation at the warriors words was evident. He tipped his head then turned to face the sorceror once more. Tell Abaddon that were are coming for him. As the Emperor brought Horus low, so will he be brought screaming to his knees by the might of the Unity. His days are finally numbered, as are those of all the traitors still slaved to the service of the Chaos gods. Fool! Ygethmor raged, his craven image flaring for a moment. A low, rumbling laughter followed seconds later. The Despoiler sends a message, Primarch. An offering. Retreat while you can, for when our great works are complete the very heavens will quake with fear, and the dead soil beneath your feet shall sludge and weep blood. The summoning of the Unbound is almost complete, and when He comes, the rage of Khorne Himself shall follow. Non shall survive the onslaught. The image consumed itself then, dark energies folding inwards in a storm of shadow until the sorcerer was gone, the last vestiges of warp energy fading away to nothing. So, it is as we suspected, lord. Hydrion spoke. Our sources were correct. They seek to unleash the Lord of Bloodthirsters upon us, even if the ritual brings about their own destruction. So it would seem, Hydrion. Then it is time to send the Shadowed Ones among them. Recall the Nicassar immediately, and send our allies forth. The Alpha Legionnaire nodded and spoke softly into his vox-link as the two warriors turned and made their way to the waiting Manta. Beyond the far reaches of the deployed forces, previously unseen by all those taking part in the conflict, thousands upon thousands of dark, identical spheres began to drift slowly towards the distant citadel. +++ Guilliman climbed the ramp that led into the Manta command chamber, ducking low in the rather inadequate confines of the alien craft. The command seat had at least been fashioned so as to support his robust frame, and, with Hydrion taking up place beside him, he climbed into the seat and threw the Marine a nod. Activate the links. A brace of projector drones descended from the ceiling, activating as they did so. Emitters unfurled beneath their domed bodies and the air beneath them solidified and turned a pale blue, the outlines of two figures steadily taking form. Within seconds the links were complete and the two figures stood before him, almost as real as if they were actually there. BegelO Mogdrak. ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon. He spoke, reciting both their names flawlessly. It is good to see both of you here present for this latest undertaking. I find it fitting, essential even, that two of the Unitys most mightiest warriors join me in eradicating this great threat. Da Despoliah... OMogdrak answered with barely contained anticipation, his massive grey maw twisting into

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a salivating smile. Yes. Abaddon is here. OMogdrak let out a shuddering roar of exhilaration and began to beat his fists against his chest, the guttural sound intensified by whatever unseen Greyskins there were surrounding him on the bridge of his flagship, the Tauvamaw. Beside the Ork OKirlas scarred face tightened and he emitted a cluck of disdain. He folded his massive arms before him and lifted his chin. Is it safe to assume that there will be Astartes to slay in this citadel? It is long since my warriors and I tested ourselves against Marine opponents. Too long. Guillimans eyes narrowed at the Taus ignorant use of the word Astarte, for the traitorous scum who followed Abaddon had long since foresworn any right to bear such a title, but hid his displeasure well. Hundreds of them. He replied. OKirlas face tightened at his, a curious expression that the Primarch had come to learn of as delight dominating his face. Excellent.

Chapter Fifty Two: Vipers, To Kill a Primarch

+++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Grand Master Fraudator Regaas reclined in the vast, black chair, his gloved fingers steepled. The bank of ancient screens stretched before him, illuminating the pale skin of his face. Hundreds of screens of varying sizes created a wall of shifting activity before him. The information of thousands of clandestine investigations and furtive undercover research presented and laid out before him, a vast smorgasbord of secret data. All of it his and his alone to scrutinize. Of all the humans in the galaxy, few were allowed entry to the Grand Masters inner sanctum. The chamber itself was immensely psi-shielded, designed to keep out the insidious probing of psychic spies. Vast sentinel scrambler arrays ceaselessly worked to filter, decode and encode the information passing both into and out of the chamber, poisoning each burst with deadly counter-algorithms that would wipe the minds or systems of any adept or snoop-array monitoring the transmissions with immediate and total effect. To state that such information as was on display here was of a sensitive nature would be so gross an understatement as to be absurd. Regaas was not only the Grand Master of the Officio Assassinorum but one of the High Lords of the Imperium, and as a consequence one of the most powerful and influential individuals in the galaxy. Still, such information, even in his hands, would surely see the Inquisition declare him Hereticus and

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subsequently hunted with the utmost vigour. Regaas cast another data-slate onto the bank before him and sighed. He raised his hand and waved a brace of fingers in summon to the figure waiting behind him. Coordinator Reeze stepped from the shadows and into the soft light as if emerging from the air itself. Reeze was Regaass second and his most trusted aide, his main profession that of ensuring the coordination of the Assassinorums business. In truth he was involved more in the Officios activities than even the Grand Master. Reeze was the one who would usually sanction the use of the various operatives, and assumed overall command of each of the Temples. In short, he was without a doubt one of the most dangerous men in all the Imperium. Is it done? Yes, my lord. A selection of our most able operatives are underway as we speak. Reeze answered, passing Regaas a number of bio-encoded data-slates. We have the usual mix. Callidus, Vindicare, Venenum. Each of the agents were selected by myself for according to their success rates and individual talents, based on rigorous and meticulate studies on the target. The target? Regaas answered, looking at the man with unconcealed incredulity. Our target is Roboute Guilliman! A Primarch! Damn it man, how does one study such a mark? My apologies, lord. Reeze answered, quite without emotion. He handed Regaas several slates and the Grand Master regarded them for a moment before casting them aside, adding to the building pile before him. What do we know of the current state of the war, Reeze? Well sir, it would appear that events have taken a short turn for the better. The advancing Tau forces seem to have stalled in their progress and taken up orbit around a small, dead world at the outer reaches of our system, though our intelligence cant seem to pinpoint why. This is fortunate for us on two counts. The cessation has allowed the Warmaster to better coordinate his forces in preparation for Terras defence, and it also gives us an affirmative target location. Caris Estarus is where the first of our agents intend to intercept the target. Good. This endeavour must meet with the utmost success. We are about to undergo what is undoubtedly the largest coup that has yet taken place since Vandires reign. There are too many disparate elements involved here. We need to take this Imperium of ours by the reins and guide it towards a strong, positive future. He paused then, his gaze finding the silent Coordinator. You understand that, dont you? Indecision is killing our glorious Imperium from within, as the Tau does so without. We must ensure our survival, even if the cost is high. This has to be done. I understand, lord. Reeze answered simply, tilting his head. Though the man was always completely devoid of any outward display of emotion, his features seemed tighter and more set in stone as usual. Regaas nodded slowly and then turned back towards the screens, resting his lips against his bunched hands. Our actions are sure to send a shockwave through the other High Lords. It is regrettable that the temples have had to be deceived, regrettable but necessary. I need you to be sure that what we are about to do is

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for the good of all mankind. He turned to the man, his penetrating gaze unwavering and sombre. Are all the elements in place? They are, lord. The exact whereabouts of each target verified? Reeze responded to this by lifting a hand and activating the one slate he still had in his possession. Pale emerald light bathed his craggy face as he silently read the information before him. To the second, lord. Good. Regaas answered. Issuing a long, wistful sigh, he raised his right hand and offered the thick cygnet ring he wore there, the jewel set into it shimmering as it was activated with an apparent thought. Then there can be no more delay. For the soul of the Emperor, we do now what we must. Reeze offered the slate to Regaas and the Grand Master pressed the ring against the screen, causing the jewel to change colour from blue to a deep crimson. It is done. It is done. Reeze echoed, adding his own authorisation quickly. With that he pressed one more rune on the slates screen and then cast it to the floor, destroying it beneath his boot. Now there can be no turning back. For the good of the Emperor. Reeze paused, and for a moment there was only silence. It seemed the Coordinator had expected Regaas to echo the sentiment, for when he did not, he looked to the Grand Master. Regaas simply smiled. +++ Gregator Consolatin, Adeptus Supremus, Master of the Administratum, waved his taster-servitor away with an impatient hand, satisfied that the meal before him was safe. Had it been poisoned the unit would have suffered the consequences of whatever toxins were secreted. The meal was fine. The flitting servo-skulls buzzing around the dish affirmed this and then drifted away into the darkness. Consolatin waited for the servitor to pour him a good measure of Cardessi wine, the liquid already scrutinised, and then sat back, awaiting his dining implements. Both of which the emotionless servitor plunged into the back of his skull. +++ Grand Mistress Suni Mae Sing screamed. The terrified voices of her brothers and sisters carried through the chamber, creating a cacophony of pain and panic that tore at the souls of all those present. Betrayal! She cried, the single word carrying over the vocal agony of those around her. Every Astropath in the chamber writhed and convulsed on the floor as the dark shadow passed by, its single, malevolent eye glinting. The large iris set into the left-hand side of its face slowly opened, and an eternity of violent and soul-shredding pain swallowed her whole.

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+++ Lord Inquisitor Covenant was old, older than most other human beings alive. Centuries of fighting for the Emperors soul would have broken a lesser man, but all it had done to Covenant was instil in him a great desire to see his works complete, to fight the ravaging effects of time by whatever means he could find in order to direct the Imperium towards its manifest destiny. Even now, with the Unity so close to Terra, the Inquisition were striving to find some means of restoring mankinds power and ending the Tau threat. They would not fail the Emperor. They could not. He lifted the aquila hanging at his neck and kissed it. We will find a way, my Emperor. I vow it. Covenants shuttle exploded spectacularly seconds later, midway between the port and the waiting Black Ship, scattering the atoms of his ancient body to the void. +++ The Ecclesiarch smiled and withdrew his hand, the golden aquila ring glinting beneath the rich lights of the basilica. A quick glance beyond the retreating body revealed to him a seemingly endless line of waiting bodies, nobility drawn from across the length of the surviving Imperium. Refugees, almost one and all. More than ever now did the devout peoples of the Imperium seek spiritual reassurance. Kneel, child. He said almost mechanically, and offered his hand once again. He lowered his gaze as he felt the warm hands close around his and looked into the eyes of the young woman kneeling at his feet. Imperator dominatus. Imperator consolatio. Look to the Throne There his gaze remained for a moment, and he stared, transfixed, by the womans blazing eyes. Her response was quiet and unintelligible, only loud enough for the Ecclesiarch to hear. After a second he blinked twice and looked at her again. Thank you, my lord. The woman whispered and, kissing the ring offered to her, rose and stepped away to allow the next supplicant an audience. The aging noble before him looked on in bewilderment at the Ecclesiarch rose to his feet, his expression blank. Screams and cries of disbelief echoed through the ancient basilica as Von Winterthur calmly drew the ceremonial power sword fastened at his waist, activated it and took his own head from his shoulders. +++ The assassin twisted through the air and landed feet first against the wall, explosive fire stitching across the wall after it. The figures red robes fell away to reveal a lithe, black-clad shadow as pushed itself out and landed on one shoulder, throwing itself over and up onto its feet. Mechanicus adepts and Skitarii alike scattered like insect vermin beneath the thunderous, amplified voice of Achosyx. The Fabricator Generals rant was unintelligible, a scream of broken, guttural machine code understood only by those of the Mechanicus. The assassin tore its pistol free and quickly emptied its clip out at the massive shape bearing down upon it. The behemoth did not even break its stride. Undaunted and calm the killer raised its hands to its head and released a burst of coruscating psychic energy, the blast arcing out from it in all directions. Whatever machinery the energy touched exploded violently, power systems overloading. Skitarii fell to the floor screaming, augmetics sparking as they came apart.

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The Sentinel bore down upon the murderous psychic assassin, largely ignoring the questing arcs of ethereal power. The bolter in its metal hand came apart with a thunderous boom, shattering into pieces as if every bolt and fixture came apart as one. The assassin was powerful and deadly, but the ancient Sentinel was one of the Mechanicuss most prized possessions, unique and ancient, its origins lost to the mists of time. With a speed far belying its size the massive creation lunged forward and snatched the assassin around the throat, hauling it up into the air. It held the killer there, struggling and immobile. Mechadendrites slithered from its powerful mechanical arm to tear the crystalline circuitry and plugs away from its head, ending its murderous psychic rampage. +Regaas.+ Achosyx spat, his mechanical voice hissing the word as though it were venom. +Traitorous b-----d. So, at last the viper reveals himself. Kill it.+ The Sentinel tightened its grip and beheaded the assassin, letting the limp body fall to the floor. Achosyx regarded the shuddering body for a moment, a cold, ancient malevolence burning in his augmetic eyes. +Machine Empath. Hnn, pathetic. I would have expected him to try harder.+ He looked up at the silent, brooding creation at his side, the eyes there emotionless and unreadable. +It would seem, my powerful guardian, that the End Time is upon us. Praise the Omnissiah. It is time for the Cult of the Dragon to reveal its teeth.+ +++ Pugnus Imperatorius withdrew the shimmering sword and stood over the shivering body, disbelief writ large across his face. The other Custodes about him shouted and redeployed in all directions, a general incredulity charging the air. Nothing like this had happened in an age. How..? Was all the Captain-General could utter. Below him, Constantin Valedor, his most trusted warrior and brother, lay in a pool of his own congealing blood. Valedors bloodied mouth worked soundlessly, his eyes stricken with emotional and physical pain. How did this happen, Valedor? How did he corrupt you? The ancient warrior shook his head, unable to answer. The psychic conditioning was too powerful even for him to break. Imperatorius watched then as the life left Valedors eyes and he died, killed by the very man he had intended to assassinate. Regaas. Imperatorius whispered, his ageless eyes burning with hatred. I am coming for you, traitor.

Chapter Fifty Three: Loyalty

Chaplain.

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Codian heard the voice and paused, his body slowly relaxing. His was stripped to the waist, crozius was drawn and to hand, its field inactive, as was proper in adherence to the tenets of combat training set out in the Codex Astartes. So engrossed the Chaplain had been in his exercise that he had failed to notice the figures approach. Berolinus. He observed, carefully placing the weapon on the floor at his feet. The Marine approached, running a hand over his shaved scalp as he did so. Codian noticed almost immediately that he seemed on edge, anxious. Apologies for disturbing your meditations, Chaplain, but I feel compelled to seek your counsel. Codian nodded and took up the cloth at his feet. He swept the cloth over his broad shoulders and around the back of his neck, soaking up the film of sweat that glistened on his skin. What troubles you? Something which I suspect troubles you also. Berolinus answered, fixing him with a look that clearly suggested he expected the Chaplain to understand his point. After a few moments of expectant waiting the Marines face grew troubled and he took a step forward. The Gene-Father, Chaplain. Our Primarch. Codian felt his body tense as he heard this. The one thing he had not allowed himself to even contemplate of this terrible time was the current status of Roboute Guilliman. Berolinus exhaled slowly and shook his head. II cant imagine it, I dare not. To consider the possibility that the Primarch himself is roused at last from his slumber isis The Marines voice trailed off, his mouth working soundlessly in an effort to produce words he could not express. Perhaps it is best that you do not dwell on such possibilities. Codian answered, perhaps too quickly. Berolinuss face darkened. For all we know the restoration of the Primarch could be a lie, propaganda of the most profane kind. We have seen how these xenos work, Astarte. No Chaplain, it is more than that. I have spoken at length with the Tau captive. It told me of how the Tau revived him Listen to reason, Berolinus. Gormat told me also, and he could well believe his claims to be true. We have seen first-hand how the masters of the Unity influence and manipulate their own. Thiscreation, it is nothing more than a faade, a vile mannequin created to undermine the fastness of every loyal Astarte still fighting this war. What could be more debilitating than one of the greatest figureheads of our Imperium, risen from his half-death and turned against us? Berolinus bared his teeth and loomed closer, one hand closing into a tight, determined fist. But what if it is Guilliman? What if the Tau have somehow managed to achieve the impossible and brought him back to us? Not to us, Astarte. Who or whatever has assumed the mantle of the Primarch is utterly under the control of the enemy. We cannot think of such things now. We have no way to see for ourselves whether or not the Primarch has been revived and the fight for our survival must come first above all else. All we can do for

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now is keep the memory of Roboute Guillimans greatness inside us. Berolinus drew himself back and lifted his head, anger and hurt burning behind his eyes. Of all the people here on this vessel, I would have expected you to understand, Chaplain. you may be able to forget our Primarch, but I cannot. No true Ultramarine ever could. With that the Marine turned on his heel and strode from the chamber, leaving Codian behind and alone with his troubled thoughts. +++ He walked the arched deck towards the cargo bay area, the words of Berolinus still reverberating around his head. He knew only too well that, despite the Marines temper being dominated by the fire of youth, he was right. He had not dared to even consider whether or not the Taus claims were true, and perhaps, for the first time in his adult life, he felt genuine fear. He feared for his Primarchs sanctity, for he knew that, should the rumours prove to be true, sooner or later Guillimans apparent alliance with the Tau would have to be ended. How exactly they would go about this was another consideration he dare not think about. Bodies passed by him in small, staggered groups, most locked in quiet conversation. More than a few faces turned to regard him as he passed, heads nodding in acknowledgement. He would return the gesture now and again, but most of the time such respectful greetings would go unnoticed. As the next lone figure passed by he half-glanced the man and paused, turning. Cadian? The soldier slowed and raised his head. He came about and walked up to the Chaplain. Brother Chaplain. It is good to see you alive, Cadian. I had feared that you had fallen in the Eldar attack. He noticed immediately that the soldier seemed dishevelled, the dark rings around his eyes an indication of the stresses he had endured. The mans expression was sombre, devoid of any trace of contentment or happiness. It was almost as if he found it painful to continue to exist. You seem troubled. The attacktested me. Sorely. The Cadian replied, and he noticed that as he spoke, the soldiers hands and shoulders quivered despite the ambient temperature of the recycled atmosphere. It tested us all. A mans true courage cannot be measured by such foul means, Cadian. The pirates employed many vile weapons designed to invoke and heighten fear. Sorcerous things. I ran, Chaplain. The Cadian answered, and it was as if the effort of admitting this was a physical pain within him. His weathered face creased and he lowered his gaze. I ran, for the first time in my life. There are but two things a Kasrkin will never do. The first is surrender. The last is retreat. I have now done both, and I cannotI cannot Codian placed a hand upon the soldier, the thick gauntlet enveloping his shoulder. Listen to me. Astartes are created to withstand fear. Such things are purged from us, Kasrkin. You are a

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soldier of Cadia and of the Emperor, but first above all, you are a man. There are some weapons no amount of resolve and training can withstand, weapons that attack the mind as well as the body. Did you fight? What? Did you fight? Did you overcome your fear and fight? Yes Then there can be no shame in your actions, not here. I saw men prostrate and soiled with terror, Cadian, their minds lost forever to the horrors they witnessed. That you stand here now, before me, is testament enough of your worth. The fight for the bridge was won, and ultimate victory achieved. Do you see that? Do you understand? Yes. Codian nodded in satisfaction and withdrew his hand. The soldier took a deep breath and turned away to face the direction the Chaplain had come. We have entered the warp once more. He said over his shoulder. The journey to Terra is underway. Ligur seems to think that, according to the Navigator, we will make excellent time. He says the tides of the Empyrean have never been so calm as they are now. It looks as if the Tau are finally starting to succeed. Then their efforts serve to assist us. Codian answered, with some relief. In their fight to push back the Eye they are quelling the tempests that once raged through the Empyrean. In doing so, they are actually aiding us in our quest to join with Calgars forces. A pleasing irony. The Cadian nodded his head and turned away. Who was he? Beneath his helm, Codian frowned. Though he did not immediately understand the question, something inside him shifted, deep within his soul. Who was who? The man, the dark warrior. The spectre of shadow. I dont The one who brought you onto the bridge, Chaplain. The Cadian answered, his voice ominous and low. I saw you. I saw all three of you arrive. The Demiurg seems to remember nothing, and I thought it wise not to push the question. Codian did not answer. He could not. He shifted his weight and raised a hand towards the soldier, his mind fighting to offer a rational explanation. It doesnt matter. The Cadian finally said, dismissing the subject with a fatigued wave of his hand. Until we meet again, Chaplain. Codian stood in silence and watched as the soldier disappeared from sight into the gloom at the end of the hallway, his mighty hearts beating fit to burst. The Cadian knew. He knows. The voice echoed through his thoughts, each word a pulse of icy chill he could feel. Codian shuddered at

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the intrusive presence in his mind and pulled the Eldar jewel from its pouch after a quick check about him. I am aware of that! He hissed quietly. Use your mind to communicate. Speech is unnecessary, and could attract unwelcome attention. Then I will ensure to take particular care when I communicate with you. I will use my voice nonetheless. As you wish. I sensed his suspicions. He could be dangerous. Let me worry about that. All that matters for now is that we re-enter realspace soon. The sooner we do, the sooner Czevak and myself can set the plan in motion. Indeed. Ironic, then, that I should choose this time to communicate. Ironic? What do you mean, spectre? I mean that I can see that which you cannot, Daelo Codian. Even from within the ether I see them, so many, lights twinkling beyond the shifting walls of this environment. If you could see them also, if you were able to comprehend them as I do, you would know. I tire of your riddles. Indulge my crude considerations and explain to me what you mean. The souls, mon-keigh. The souls of the ones you call Navigators. A sea of them. Codian drew himself away from the shimmering stone and gasped. We have travelled further than even your own Navigator suspects. I can help bring this ship out of the ether if you wish it, but to delay for long would mean that we would pass them by. Do you wish for me to persuade the Navigators mind to comply? What? Can you do that? Of course. I am dead, Daelo Codian, but I am far from faded and done. Then yes! Bring us out! The stone in his hand responded immediately, its shifting colours intensifying to an almost blinding brilliance. The light spilled from between his fingers and Codian opened his palm, as if to set the entity free. Almost immediately the lighting above him changed in hue from white to a deep crimson. He felt the ship shudder around him as the warning alarms began to scream. The Proscriptus began to buck and thrash and reality swam before him, his stomach lurching. The floor and the walls became one, merging in a dizzying pattern of indistinct metal and spinning crimson light. They were about to translate. Revenant Silence. Silence, so deep it was deafening. Blindness, radiant and white, as if everything that ever was had been scoured away and all that was left was the underlying blank face of creation. Daelo Codian?

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The voice carried stronger than ever through his mind in the soundless void, more clear and distinct than physical speech could never be. Daelo Codian, we are here. Open your eyes and see. Codian responded to the voice and allowed reality to flood into him. The harsh light faded and the silence subsided, his burgeoning senses returning. Codian Brother Chaplain? The shadows above him slowly sharpened, outlines hardening into distinctive humanoid proportions. Several dark faces hung over him, and as his eyes began to focus at last, he recognised the figures to be indeed human. A trio of the ships security officers stood over him, concern weighing upon their faces. I think he is stirring What happened? The men rose and stepped back, startled by the Chaplains sudden recovery. Codian rose in their midst like a mountain range, vast, dark and imposing. I must have blacked out. What happened to the ship? Were not sure. One of the men answered hesitantly. We justwe just fell out of the Warp. It is a miracle. Another interrupted, his face alive with wonder. The Emperor Himself gave us a miracle. We have found them, sir. We have found the Alliance.

Chapter Fifty Four: The Awakening

Codians every footfall rang as he thundered down the deck, the thick metal quaking beneath him. The Alliance. At last, they had found the Alliance. Sir! One of the soldiers called after him. You are heading the wrong way! Chaplain, that way leads to the hold Codian did not listen. Alarms still wailed through the corridors around him, different from the translation klaxons but just as ominous. He knew he had little time. Even amongst the original crew of the Proscriptus, there were those who did not realise the inherent danger in what he had done. There was good reason behind the fact that both Calgars Alliance and Kryptmans Deathwatch were separated, a galaxy apart. Though fighting the same root cause, they were still enemies, distinct and independent factions torn by their beliefs. Such a reunion would not go easy, and could well result in conflict. He could not allow that, and he could see only one course of action open to him in order to prevent that. A very dangerous course of action.

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He sprinted past a small group of maintenance adepts and passed into the cavernous hold, his arrival causing the scattered individuals there to turn away from their efforts and witness his entrance. The walls and arched ceiling spread away from him, opening up into a vast, echoing space. Down at the far end of the dimly-lit cavern he could see the xenos caskets the Eldar had brought for them, piled high in their thousands. A number of Sentinel lifters still worked there, continuing in their efforts to stack the items into some semblance of order. He made his way over to the storage end as quickly as he could, his advance strident and sonorous. Clear this area! He commanded, sweeping a hand out before him. The gathered faces merely stared back in bewilderment. Codian came to rest before the casket-mountain and drew his crozius, the low boom of its activating field resounding through the space. Clear this hold of you wish to live. I will not command you again. This was enough for the majority of those present. There were few men in the galaxy foolish or brave enough to risk the wrath of an Chaplain of the Adeptus Astartes. The small bands of Mechanicus and Administratum adepts left quickly amid the sound of rustling robes. Codians gaze found a brace of power-lifters, powering down as their pilots prepared to exit the machines. Stay. He urged the men. I may have need of your services. There was something about the Chaplains request that set the nerves of both men on edge, an ominous tone that suggested danger. Still, they seemed unwilling to disobey the imposing Chaplain and so they promptly settled back into their seats and proceeded to refasten their safety harnesses. He nodded his thanks to the men, for he alone knew the true nature of the danger they were about to be placed in. I will need you to follow my orders to the letter. Do exactly as I say, and keep your hearts and your wits as hard as steel. What is happening? One of the men cautiously asked, his expression clearly betraying the fact that he feared receiving the answer. We are about to awaken something old. Codian replied. His eyes were drawn to the huge obsidian casket standing at the front of the stack. And I dont think we will be received gladly. He walked towards the artefact, reaching towards the small iron cross hanging against his chest. Laenar had presented him with the repaired rosarius shortly after the Eldar attack. At this moment in time he felt even more gratitude at receiving the protective device, for he knew he would sorely need it now more than ever. He activated the rosarius and the small crimson jewel at its centre illuminated, a flash of shimmering light passing over his eyes as the field enveloped him. The casket stood before him, stripped to its smooth surface of the hideous decorations the Eldar had adorned it with. Gone were the desiccated skins, and the angry runes had been scoured from its alien exterior. Despite the absence of the inimical adornments he could feel the squirming entity within, raging against its

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imprisonment. A daemon, the Eldar witch had called it, an avatar of rage. The mere presence of it sent waves of pressurised anger coursing through him, igniting his own emotions. It was all he could do not to allow those emotions to erupt and smash his crozius against the smooth substance. I need to open it. He whispered, so quietly his voice was inaudible to the men behind him. I sense a request rather than a statement. I assume that you have no concept of how to achieve that. Of course I dont. I only know what is held inside. Can you do it? You know I can, Daelo Codian. The question is, are you prepared for the consequences of such an action? Do you even know what will happen when the Fury finds release? I have a good idea. It does not matter, this needs to be done. There is a good chance that the Alliance will respond violently to our arrival, and we need a good argument to convince them that You have the device your kind call the Caesus, Daelo Codian. What better evidence than the possession of the soul-engine would you need to present to them in order to validate your intentions? To simply present the Caesus is too much of a risk. They may not believe us, and even if they do, they may try to take it by force. Then you seek to use the Fury as a weapon against them? I must confess, I see no logic in such a course of action. Why would you seek to act with aggression if you wish to collaborate? That is not my intention. There is little time left to explain, and I have no idea what will happen here. Just open it. Very well. I would advise that you stand away from the wraithbone prison. Its release may consume you. Do not allow yourself to fall, mon-keigh. There is still much work to be done. Codian did not answer. He stepped back away from the casket and tensed, drawing the stone from his pouch as he did so. This was a reflex action, for he had no idea whether or not the entity needed to be revealed to perform its task. Probably not, he considered, though the truth of it was that it mattered little. He was ready. The cautious murmuring of the two Sentinel operators rose in pitch as the stone began to glow, a warm light spilling from its smooth face. Tendrils of ghost-energy snaked towards the casket, shuddering and hazing as they neared, almost as if in repulsion. He heard one of the men ask him with a fear-filled voice what to expect, but he knew he could not answer. There was nothing he could say that would serve to have any effect other than to worsen their fears. Just be ready. Was all he had time to say. The snaking energies found the obsidian casket and touched it, flowing like liquid across its surface like a glowing web. The energy continued to shift and form, coalescing into a large and clearly Eldar runic shape. The wraithbone construct shuddered and began to melt, and before Codian even realised what was happening the substance dissolved into thick, swirling shadow. At its centre, something roared. The xenos soul-spirit retreated in the wake of the darkness, swirling like mist as it was drawn back into the stone in his hand. The Sentinels behind him whined and hissed, their metal limbs moving as their pilots responded to their own fear.

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Codian centred his mind and prepared to meet the being within. The entity that thundered out of the mist stole his breath, and it was all he could do to raise his arms instinctively as the red mass slammed into him and hurled his armoured body through the air like a stone. He landed hard on his back, pain flooding through him. The rosarius fizzed and crackled, its powerful field fighting to dissipate the kinetic forces unleashed upon its bearer. The sound it made was terrible, palpable and disorientating, enough to blur his eyes with pain. He heard the terrified shouts of the Sentinel pilots and fought to haul himself to his feet, knowing that to delay would mean certain death for the unprepared men. Hold! He shouted, rising as fast as he was able. In the Emperors name, hold! The hulking creatures rage was total, an all-consuming, blinding and deafening thing. It did not respond. Instead it bounded across the hold to where the Sentinels waited, the machines roiling and pivoting as their pilots attempted to run. Now he could see it, it seemed as if the Eldars description had been accurate. The entity was a huge and crimson monstrosity, much larger than himself, and so scarred and twisted his mind could scarcely make sense of what his eyes saw. It lunged at one of the Sentinels and tore a servo-arm free with ease, casting the sparking limbs aside. Seize him! Seize him now! He called to the other pilot. The man fought back his fear long enough to make a grab and the thick metal of a loading claw clamped around one massive arm. The beast roared again and shrugged the Sentinel away, sending it lurching across the deck so violently it struggled to remain upright. His mind is gone, Daelo Codian. He will not listen to you. He must. Codian snarled, starting forward. He will kill you. Then help me. Help me to bring him back. That may not be possible. The Dark Kin have visited much pain upon him and for so long. The presence of an Eldar mind would serve only to aggravate him further. The Archangel of Rage, Vect had called her most prized possession, and at this moment Codian could see that the name was well-founded. The feral hulk grabbed the stricken Sentinel before it and raised the machine above its head. It smashed the Sentinel into the deck with such force that the machine came apart, limbs spiralling away. The pilots body slackened as every bone in his body was shattered, killing him instantly. As it began to tear the remains of the walker apart Codian continued to advance, fighting his instincts. Too much was at stake to falter now. Son of the Emperor! Father of the White Scars, hear me! End this rampage! The creature lifted its head as it heard his voice, its long black hair streaked across what was left of its twisted features. Shredded metal hung from its oversized fingers, and Codian saw for the first time that the beast before him was not clad in flesh, but in armour, armour that was chipped, pitted and twisted, covered

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in a film of viscera so thick that it took on the appearance of tortured, inhuman flesh. A huge metal claw lunged around from behind the thing and grabbed it by the throat, hydraulics hissing as it tightened. Jaghatai Khan! Remember, Primarch! Remember! It took the armoured leviathan a second to break the Sentinels grip. It prised the claw free and drove an elbow into the chassis behind it, sending the machine staggering back. Before Codian could respond he found himself hauled clear of his feet and into the air. The crozius was sent spinning away by a swift backhand swipe and the next thing he knew he was driven bodily into the deck, his armour squealing in protest. Remember He managed to say before the hand around his throat tightened so harshly he felt his spine creak. Then it spoke, with a tortured voice as deep and feral as the growl of a felid. Each word was broken and pained, its accent so guttural and heavy that the High Gothic was rendered almost unintelligible. Howcould Iforget.

Chapter Fifty Five: The Alliance

+++THE PHALANX, FORTRESS MONASTERY+++ +++ALLIANCE IMPERIALIS SOLAR MOBILE HEADQUARTERS+++ +++THE EDGES OF THE TERRAN SYSTEM+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ +++TWO DAYS AFTER THE TRANSLATION OF THE PROSCRIPTUS+++ The Phalanx was renowned as one of the true wonders of the Imperium, a magnificent space-born edifice constructed by processes long since lost to the Mechanicus. If so, then the mighty Void Eye was by far the most spectacular of the Phalanxs wonders. The chamber itself defied description. The vast space dock stretched as far as the eye could see, and from its most central point, a man could look all around him and be unable to distinguish the surrounding bulkhead walls. The Void Eye was actually the name given to the huge opening at the head of the dock, a vast oval of seemingly open space with no blast shutters or bulkheads. A network of ancient and complex void shields protected the interior of the dock from the effects of the cosmos beyond, the shields so effective and meticulous in their cycling patterns that ships were able to enter the dock and come to land within, all without the port space suffering any atmospheric decline. No adept of the Mechanicus had ever been able to explain or even hypothesise just how this archaic system worked, but then again, much of the Phalanx was mystery to those who held her in silent awe. Marneus Augustus Calgar stood facing the black and twinkling void, watching the approach of the shuttle. The artificers had worked upon his armoured body for days, restoring the ancient sarcophagus to its magnificence. The winged eagles that were his exhaust vents shone beneath the lights, golden and sparkling. Every chip and dent had been meticulously repaired, no matter how insignificant. A vast ceremonial cape of white and gold hung over the Warmasters shoulders and the heavy bolters that hung

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beneath his fists had been finished in a gold plate. Finally, the sensor-helm of Calgars sensor-helm had been replaced with a golden visage of the Warmasters own face. The commanding officers of the Alliance stood by his side. Cassius, huge and imposing in his Terminator armour, said nothing. Ancient Ventris was silent too, and though his armour had been restored and he himself stood awaiting the arrival of the shuttle, the banner of the Alliance in his arms, it was clear that his body was still suffering. The Ancients face was tight and pale, his lips curled slightly. This Codian, he speaks the truth. I sense its presence. A powerful augmetic voice said. Tigurius towered over the Ancient and the Chaplain in his Dreadnought armour. The physical presence of the Chief Librarian was a rarity, and his presence here today was enough to validate the importance of the meeting that was about to occur. You are sure? Calgar asked, his emotive state unreadable beneath the thick layers of his armoured cocoon. To his side, Tigurius stirred. My brother, twice now I have been roused from my slumber ahead of the Final Day. The first was a rude and harsh awakening, the death-call of the Saint ringing in my mind. Awoken by a scream. This time, it was a roar. The Caesus is here. Hmm. And what of theserenegades? Calgar asked. They are Kryptmans people. Can we trust them? The Chief Librarian shifted his bulk, the force runes set into his vast arms shimmering. They are loyal to the Emperor. Indeed, it is fortunate that events placed them in the path of the Caesus. It was always a risk to leave the device so far from Terra, and we always knew Ryza would eventually fall. Still, we could not have predicted the Unitys attack to happen when it did. OMogdraks vile legions would have probably had no idea that the Caesus even existed, and it would have undoubtedly been destroyed along with Ryza herself. Ankarzoth was left with little choice but to pass the device on, but even so he would not have done this unless he was sure of their intentions. The shuttle came in to land, coasting through the cycling void shields, the powerful fields rising and falling in sequence one after another. A gentle breeze shifted the Warmasters cape as the air of the dock was disturbed and displaced, shifting in response to the rising and falling of the energy barriers. What can we expect? Cassius asked the ancient psyker. Like the others, he subscribed to the belief that the Emperor guided Tigurius in his divinations, and trusted the word of the Chief Librarian implicitly. Intrigue. He answered, an obscure and unexpected response. There are many mysteries surroundingII cannot understand much of what my mind sees. So much displacement. I see time, the expanse of millennia fractured like glass, certain pieces drawn together and melded. That which should not fit does. Impossible alliances have been formed, unions dictated and written at the dawn of our history. Can you explain further? Calgar asked. Not sufficiently, brother. I can only interpret and communicate what I see. I seeI see destiny. The hundreds of Marines standing in wait around the dock snapped to attention as one, the single collective step sending a thunderous boom through the vast space. The shuttle had landed now, its thrusters cooling. A spit-hiss of escaping steam announced the ratchet-fall of the landing ramp, and the curved metal hatch touched the deck with a resonating clang.

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Several bodies descended the ramp, observed by the Warmaster and his Marine brothers. As they approached Calgar shifted, surprise animating him. Most of them were Astartes, that much was obvious. What seemed to be strange about these warriors was the fact that, from what he could see of their colours, they looked to be Ultramarines. What do we have? Cassius asked, lifting his head a little. Given the amount of facial damage the Master of Sanctity had sustained over the centuries, the augmetic senses he had been provided with were not as sharp as their original counterparts. It was Ventris that answered. Mostly Astartes. A Chaplain, a Techmarine and a number of others. There also seems to be a robed figure with them, perhaps some adept connected with the Caesus. A presence Tigurius whispered, his voice causing the others to regard him. Ancient and alive with power Codian reached the waiting figures and slowed, feeling his hearts alive and hammering inside him. Though his eyes barely recognised the beings before him, a part of him knew each one of them as sure as if they had announced themselves. Calgar. Ventris. Cassius. Tigurius. The masters of his Chapter. The ancient was the first to greet the group. His bruised face tightened first and then slowly slackened, his eyes widening. Despite the passing of centuries, a slow glimmer of recognition passed over his face. Codian? Daelo Codian? Captain Ventris. Codian answered, stepping forward. His eyes found the banner at his shoulder and he corrected himself. Ancient Ventris. By Macragge, brother, I always knew that you would aspire to greatness. Their arms met and locked in a warriors handshake, much to the surprise of both parties. The centuries that have passed since Tarsis Ultra, Chaplain Young Codian. He stepped away from Ventris and bowed his head as Cassius stepped forward. Master of Sanctity. Cassius approached him, the latent buzz of his rosarius net pulsing with each step. It is you. I never forget an initiate, Codian. How can this be, brother? You were lost with the Guillimans Wrath, six centuries ago Fate decided to give meusone more chance. He answered, gesturing behind him at Laenar, Umbras and Berolinus. The Apothecary and Techmarine said nothing and simply bowed their heads. Berolinus stepped forward and fell to one knee, consumed by a sense of reverence. My lords. He whispered, bowing his head. This is such an honour. Rise, Ultramarine. Calgar uttered. Berolinus did so immediately and stepped back, bowing again. He rotated slightly to look upon Ligur and Czevak, the only non-Ultramarine figures in the gathering. He clearly

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did not recognise the Inquisitor and must have taken him for a simple adept, but his hidden gaze lingered on Ligur for a protracted moment. Warmaster. The Librarian said, bowing slowly and respectfully. I know you. Came Calgars reply, low and ominous. Epistolary Ligur. Tiguriuss voice held even more weight than the Warmasters, and Ligur turned to the second vast Dreadnought and bowed his head again. Master Tigurius. It has been a long time. It saddens me to see you interred within this shell, yet I am pleased that you live still. I hadI had thought you lost on Cadia. Had you stayed with the Alliance you would have known different. The Chief Librarian spat, cold energy flaring around the vast psychic hood crafted into the crown of his sarcophagus. Instead you chose to side with Kryptman and in doing so you and your kind destabilised the Alliance enough to potentially sign the death warrant of the Imperium. Cassius stepped forward and raised a hand in an attempt to diffuse the situation. Tigurius, please. This is not the time Cassius? You would stand the presence of this traitor here, despite the consequences of his actions? He was an Ultramarine, Chaplain. He was an Ultramarine and he spat on his allegiance at the fall of Cadia. Codian could not believe what he was hearing. Ligur had been an Ultramarine? He had never talked of his past, and Codian had never suspected. The Librarian lifted his head and looked at Tigurius, calm and without fear. We were all Ultramarines once, honoured Tigurius. You talk of allegiances? We all spat on our oaths the moment we left our Primarch behind on Macragge Enough! Ventris snarled, turning on his heel. Anger reddened his face, and for a moment he looked a if he would strike out at Ligur. Codian sensed an anger borne of guilt within his old comrade. Every single Ultramarine feels the stain of what we did in their hearts still. How can we not? The decision was made in haste, and had we delayed, the Chapter itself would have surely fallen that day. What else could we have done, Ligur, tell me that? Destroyed him ourselves? Could you have deactivated the stasis field and put his body to the torch? He raised a hand and ran it past the gathered warriors. What true Ultramarine could have done that? none of us, renegade. And where are the Ultramarines now, Ancient? Ligur answered. Show me. Ventris fell silent then, his eyes still burning. Ligur turned to Codian and his few men. Here. Here is our once-proud Chapter. Here is Guillimans legacy in its entirety.

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He pointed to Calgar, who had up to now remained silent. Our Chapter Master achieved something that every other enemy of the Ultramarines could not. He destroyed us. I have heard enough! Ventris roared, tearing his power sword free. Ancient! This time it was Cassiuss turn to speak and he moved forward, his hand laying on the Ancients own. This feud has gone on long enough. There is too much at stake now to hold these grudges. Let him speak. Chaplain? Enough. The voice froze every figure present. It was as if the sound held such weight that it squeezed the air from the dock and petrified the warriors standing there with the freezing void of vacuum. All eyes turned to the armoured giant standing away from the gathering, in the space between them and the shuttle. Light of the Emperor Tigurius uttered, his voice little more than a low, metallic breeze. It is you. How can this be? No one else spoke for a good few moments. Every gaze was fixed upon the being, frozen in awe at the sight of the ornate white armour now restored to its original lustre as well as the artificers of the Deathwatch could achieve. The vast animal pelt he wore was no longer a thing of matted filth and viscera plastered about him like some twisted suit of flesh. Now it was resplendent and regal, flowing over his shoulders. The titans scarred face looked down on the Marines before him with a stern expression. His long black hair was tied above his head in a topknot, serving to add to his already feral yet somehow majestic appearance. Is this some trick? Calgar uttered, shifting with unease. It is not, Astarte. Jaghatai Khan answered. It is long since I last walked among the realms of man, and now I am returned. Codian had spent the last two days with the Khan, helping to rehabilitate the lost Primarch as best he could. His physical and mental recovery had been astounding to say the least. Where Codian might have imagined the Primarch to be devastated by his long centuries of capture and torture, the Khan had proved him absolutely wrong. It had taken less than an hour before the legendary warriors speech had fully returned, and no more than a day for his physical ailments to heal. His body had repaired scars and rejected xenos poisons with astounding speed, and there were no obvious signs of the mental stresses that usually came with such horrific and protracted torment. He had not spoken of his ordeal at the hands of the Eldar, and the Chaplain had been sure not to try and prise the information from him. All that had truly mattered to Codian was the sure knowledge that the being before him was Jaghatai Khan, a living, breathing son of the Emperor. It surprised him, then, to witness the reaction of the Warmaster and his brethren. Both Ventris and Cassius said nothing as they slowly lowered themselves down onto one knee, heads bowed in veneration. Astonished by this unexpected display, Codian looked to Calgar.

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Khan. The mighty warrior uttered. Jaghatai Khan. Primarch of the White Scars. Codian held his breath as a tense silence followed, the air charged and thick. After what seemed like an age, the Warmaster spoke again. If I could bend my knee before you, father of Astartes, then I would. As would I. Tigurius seconded. For there can be no doubt, no qualm of identity. Such perfection cannot be emulated, Primarch. Today has seen a miracle. The Khan of the White Scars is returned to us. The Khan nodded slowly, satisfied by the display of obeisance. He swept the pelt away from his feet and moved to join the gathering, crossing one arm over his chest in salute. As he reached the Warmaster and the others he bade Cassius and Ventris to stand, before gesturing towards Codian. Sons of Guilliman, I salute you. I have learned much since my arrival here, and all of what I have learned darkens my soul. Codian has explained all he can, but there are still many mysteries that must be answered, mysteries that vex the Chaplain also. I need to know... He paused and turned to Calgar, his ancient eyes twinkling. What of Chogoris and the White Scars? My lord. Calgar answered, quietly and hesitantly. The Khans features stiffened as he seemed to sense the hesitance in the Warmasters voice. Chogoris is lost.

Chapter Fifty Six: Cadia's Fall

Lost? The Khans voice took on a quiet disbelief, totally at odds with his powerful and fearsome appearance. Tell me how. By the blood of the Talskars, this cannot be. My lord, it is so. Calgar answered. The planet was destroyed by the Tau, as were many Astarte homeworlds. Like Macragge before her, Chogoris was scoured from space by the extinction fleets of the Unity. And the White Scars? There are White Scars among us, Khan. Many Chapters have been decimated by the Unity but most still exist within the Alliance. The Khan nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Her seemed pleased by this at least. Though the news of the loss of his world had clearly weighed heavy upon him, the Khan seemed to take it extraordinarily well. Codian could sense the anger behind his eyes, though the Primarch remained outwardly calm. These Tau. How is it that they have sundered my Imperium so? Xenos empires rose and fell during the Great Crusade, and none were able to match the might of the Imperium. Yet here I stand, free once again after millennia for incarceration, and I find the worlds of mankind lost or conquered, the Emperors guardian

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forces scattered like leaves before a storm. He gestured at Ligur. Astartes, loyal to the cause, nonetheless fighting the enemy with separate agendas. Where is the cohesion such a war effort needs to maintain effectiveness? Why does brother rail against brother, even now? He looked to Calgar then, regarding the unfamiliar markings upon his sarcophagus. I have heard of the rumours surrounding my brother. They tell me these alien Tau have done what the b-----d Horus could not. Is this why you reject the colours of Roboute Guilliman? Was it shame that caused this division, even now, when the walls of our borders quiver and crumble? Much has come to pass since you were lost, my lord. Calgar said with almost implacable calmness. That, the Khan uttered, is an understatement. The Khan looked out into the surrounding space, at the rows upon rows of armoured bodies standing in silence there. So many warriors, and all I see are the markings and colours of this Alliance. What happened to the founding Chapters, Calgar? Schism. The Warmaster replied. And destruction. The Khans eyes narrowed. The Wolves were the first to fall. A great crusade headed into the Ultima Segmentum in order to meet the Tau threat. Unknown to us the Unity had deployed a separate fleet created to specifically hunt and destroy Chaos, Leviathan. By the time we realised the Taus intentions for Cadia, it was too late. The Unity were dug in, and only the Space Wolves were at hand to meet the threat. Leviathan sent the Vespid in their millions against Fenris while the Wolves engaged the main fleet in the Cadian system. Vespid? The Khan looked to Codian, his scarred face twisting in bemusement. One of the may races that fight for the Tau. The gambit worked, Khan. Calgar continued. The Wolves withdrew to defend their home and thus allowed the Tau fleet to overpower the remaining Imperial forces. By the time they arrived at Fenris, it was a ruin. As ever, the Chapters headstrong temperament won through and the Space Wolves vowed revenge against the enemy. No one knows what happened to them after that. Those few Sons of Russ who remained to fight Leviathan were incorporated into the Alliance, but they will not speak of the fate of their brethren. All they will say is that the Wolftime will come. The Khan nodded slowly as if digesting the information, his expression betraying a deep thought. So, all but the Space Wolves were gathered and formed into this Alliance. Calgar remained silent for a moment then, and this was enough for the Khan to deduce that what he had presumed was not the case. No, Khan. Not all. Though I have many Astartes under my command, the majority of these warriors are either descended from the Ultramarines or one of the successor Chapters. Indeed, most of the Astartes here were either indoctrinated after the formation of the Alliance or were absorbed from the successor

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Chapters of all the later foundings. I see. So what of the other first founding Chapters? Most have been incorporated into the Alliance, Khan. The Iron Hands serve as our tech support, along with the remnants of the Mechanicus. The Salamanders constitute the bulk of our Devastator element. The Raven Guard, our assault aspect. Your White Scars, together with the Ravenwing of the Dark Angels, serves as our combined mobile company. And the others? Again, Calgar paused, clearly hesitant to answer. It was only beneath the Khans steel gaze that the Warmaster found the voice to continue. Dorns Fists and their successor Chapters chose not to embrace the Alliance. For the last century they have dedicated themselves to preparing Terra for what they see is the Unitys inevitable attack. Starting with the Imperial Palace itself, they have worked outwards, fortifying and bolstering all defences to extreme levels. This vessel, the Phalanx, was dedicated to our cause by the Fists, and represents the sum total of their role in the fight against Unity. Another successor of the Imperial Fists, the Black Templars, left our retreating forces after Cadia and swore an oath to journey to the Taus home system to bring retribution to the heart of the enemy. No one knows their fate. Again, of the fate of the Dark Angels, little is known. As I said, only elements of the Ravenwing still exist amongst us. The death of Venerable Azrael on Cadia hit them hard, and the loss of the Deathwing in trying to defend him doubly so. The Chapter was decimated as they threw themselves upon the Unity in a frenzy of retribution. Only the Ravenwing survived. Which leaves only the Angels of Sanguinius. The Khan uttered darkly. The Blood Angels. Cassius answered, seeming to tense at the very mention of the Chapter. The Blood Angels suffered more than any of us at the fall of Cadia. They were destroyed? Cassius shook his head. They went mad. The Chaplain stepped forward, his gleaming skull glinting beneath the lights. Though he had no features with which to exhibit emotion, it was clear to all present that the very mention of the Blood Angels stirred up something dark within him. The entire Chapter fell on Cadia, though they were not destroyed. The Black Rage took them all, Khan. Every single Astarte. Perhaps it was our proximity to the Eye, or maybe the sheer weight of loss that our forces endured, no one can say. All that we know is that the creatures that fled from the conquered planet were far removed from the Astartes that we knew. They say that Baal is a haunted, nightmare world now, a planet where even the Unity fears to tread. The realm of Lord Mephiston and his savage blood-drinkers is a place none will venture. The Khan emitted a deep, rumbling sigh and lowered his head, absorbing what he had learned. He began to pace before the gathering, his face tight, considering what he had heard. Finally, he spoke. This is a pitiful situation. All I see before is despair. The Imperium lies in ruins. Perhaps I am partly to blame for the disorder and ruin I have returned to. So tell me, Warmaster, where do we go from here? Calgar was obviously thrown by this question, a fact betrayed by the time it took him to respond.

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Codian sensed the tension building between the warriors and decided to intervene. He looked to Laenar and made to speak. Honoured Primarch. His voice died in his throat as he heard Czevak speak. All eyes turned to the Inquisitor, who had up until now observed the meeting in absolute silence. The Khan looked to Czevak, and though he did not speak of it, a clear disdain dominated his face. I do not believe that we have been introduced. Jaghatai said. This fact obviously troubled Calgar and his men, that much was apparent. Though they had mistaken the man for some form of menial, it was obvious by their reaction that they had not expected the Primarch to have been unacquainted with the man. Inquisitor Czevak. The mention of the mans title sent a whisper of disquiet through the Alliance members. Czevak turned and bowed to Calgar and his men, as if in an attempt to diffuse the situation. Khan, as glorious and fortuitous as your return is, there are more pressing concerns behind this meeting today. You see, he gestured towards the Techmarine, our brother here holds something very special about his person, something so important that it could very well change the course of this war. An artefact known as the Caesus. Another stifled gasp passed through the present Astartes of the Alliance. The Caesus. Tigurius uttered, the tone of his mechanical voice heavy with disbelief. You have it here? Laenar bowed his head and stepped forward, the limbs of his servo-harness unfolding from behind him to reveal the object they had previously secreted. We do. Czevak answered, gesturing towards the device. After all, our mission was and always has been to deliver this device unto you. He looked to Calgar. I myself was party to the creation of this wonder, Warmaster. Like the Khan, I was held by the accursed Eldar for an age. He glanced then at the Khan, and Codian recognised the ploy immediately for what it was. Czevak intended to endear himself to Jaghatai, through the similarity of their previous circumstances. Clever, he thought to himself. My incarceration, it seems, had a purpose. That I live yet to see the Caesus delivered to you is a blessing. Please. He gestured towards Laenar and the Marine complied, offering the unassuming artefact to Calgar. The Khan watched this and seemed to reach a conclusion within his mind. He nodded slowly. Ah yes. I have heard of this thing, this Caesus. So this is it? Cassius stepped forward quickly and took the device, and as he did so a group of Techmarines emerged from the gathered warriors around them to spirit it away.

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Laenar looked first at Codian and then at the Warmaster. I will not leave it. He simply said. Codian nodded and turned his gaze to the Warmaster. As you wish. Calgar answered, and at his approval Laenar left with the others, the group quickly making their way out of the dock with the important artefact. At last. Tigurius said quietly. At last we have it. Of all those gathered, only the Khan seemed generally unmoved by the transfer. So, my original question remains. He said. Where do we go from here? We head for Terra, to prepare for the final war. Calgar answered. The Unity have pursued us as far as Caris Estarius. Whenever they finish what it is they are doing there they will move upon Saturn first, then Terra. The defences around Saturn and her moons are powerful and they should hold the advance for a time, long enough for us to do what we must. The Conclave and the Grey Knights have vowed to hold them for as long as they can, and fight them to the last man if need be. Good. Then we are bound for Terra. The Khan said. At this, Cassius glanced at Calgar. Of those present, only Ventris was blessed of readable features, and it was clear to look at him that whatever was on his mind was shared by the rest of the gathering. The Khan looked to Codian and then turned his attention back to the former Ultramarines. I sense disconcertment. Allay your fears, Warmaster. I have no desire to challenge you for leadership. You would have every right. Cassius answered, and despite the tone of his mechanised voice there was a clear surprise in his answer. You are a Primarch, and as such there is none among us more qualified The Khan held up a hand and shook his head. I have no interest in upsetting the balance of this organisation. It would be enough for me that I take the reins of the mobile assault element. Of course, Khan. Calgar answered. Consider the command yours. Jaghatai tipped his head at this, satisfied. Then I would be grateful if you could show me to my warriors. There is much to be done before we meet this Unity on Terras shores. Cassius stepped forward and offered to guide the Primarch, and at this the Khan regarded Codian and the others with a nod of his head and made to follow the Master of Sanctity. After a few steps, he paused, turning to Codian. My gratitude, Chaplain. He said. For all you have done for me. He smiled then, a astute and predatory expression. Lucky for you, the Eldar were unable to break me.

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He tapped a finger against his brow. They tried. They tried everything they could to take my mind and my spirit. Hnn, all they succeeded in doing was to refine and focus my hatred in all that they are, but I have learned from my incarceration. I have learned patience. Every single they inflicted upon me, my body has healed. He gestured then at the ritual, self-inflicted scars across his face. But these scars have not, and they never will. These are mine. He looked then to Calgar and his men. They serve to remind me of my origins, of Chogoris, and I will carve their likeness into the flesh of every Tau I encounter. The Khan of the White Scars will have his vengeance before this war is through. And make no mistake He raised a finger and pointed it slowly across each Ultramarine in turn. When I meet my brother on the field of battle, he will be most sorely brought to task for the Destruction of my world. A heavy silence descended at the Khans departure from the dock, and hung there for a long time after.

Chapter Fifty Seven: Assassins

+++THE FORTRESS OF AGES+++ +++CARIS ESTARUS+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Guillimans eyes remained hard and unreadable. The head of the staff held in his hand crackled with power, pulsing softly in the half-lit gloom of the command bunker. That will be all. He said. The Fire Warrior standing before him blinked twice, utter bewilderment written across its smooth features. The warrior lowered its arm and stared blankly at the pulse pistol in its hand. It handed it back to the waiting Marine beside the door, turned and left without a word. The Primarch looked on as the next candidate entered, glancing either side of it at the hulking Alpha Legionnaires standing guard. The warrior stepped into the floodlit spot at the centre of the chamber and looked at Guilliman, saluting briskly with an arm across its chest as it did so. Remove your helmet. The Fire Warrior obeyed without question, shaking its scalp lock free as it pulled the helmet from its head. A look of clear disquiet on its face, the Tau stood and waited to hear why it had been summoned. Take the gun. One of the Marines stepped forward and opened his hand. The Tau saw the pistol there and its eyes found the Primarch once again. Take the gun. Guilliman repeated, this time with a little more force behind his voice. The Tau swallowed

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hard and did so. Guilliman nodded slowly. The energy at the heart of the staffs head shimmered and shifted in hue to a rich orange glow. Put the pistol to your head and pull the trigger. I command this. The Fire Warrior hesitated, its features slackening. Do not delay further. There is still much to be done and this matter must be resolved. Take your own life. Now. The Fire Warrior shivered, slowly raising the weapon up to its head. Its mouth worked as if trying desperately to communicate, but no sound came. Honoured lord, might I ask Now. Guilliman snarled, his grip on the staff tightening. The Fire Warrior pressed the pistol to its head, a look of terror on its face. Behind it, the Marines tensed. Guillimans eyes narrowed. I hold in my hand the power of the Ethereals themselves. He uttered. The power to exude absolute obedience to those Tau under my command. Fool. The fact that you have not pulled that trigger already is enough A snarl of contempt distorted the Fire Warriors face and it lunged forward faster than any of those present had expected, thrusting the pistol out at the Primarch. It pulled the trigger again and again Nothing happened. Guilliman rose sharply and threw the staff aside to draw his sword, the blade thrumming and energised in the blink of an eye. A collective shout of alarm rose up from the Marines at the door as the Fire Warrior sprinted forward. It cast the decoy pistol aside and its forearm flickered, a sickly green emerald light bathing the limb. The aspiring assassin was incredibly swift, more so than the Legionnaires that responded to its attack. The warrior leapt up and flipped gracefully over in the air, lashing out with the shimmering blade of energy at its arm. Guilliman stepped back and then rolled past the hurtling would-be killer, bringing his sword around and down. The Fire Warrior cried out and fell onto its knees, its arm parted at the elbow. The energy blade spun away into the gloom, and the Primarch kicked the injured figure hard in the back, sending it skidding across the chamber. The Primarch bounded over to the warrior and grabbed its scalp lock, hauling it up violently. Pathetic. He snarled, his teeth bared, his black eyes alight with rage. Another pathetic display. Without a word the warrior clamped its jaw tight and then fell slack, issuing a quiet, final exhalation. Guilliman snorted and threw the body away from him, rising slowly to his feet once again. He looked out at the Marines. Six, so far. Guilliman spied the severed limb on the floor, the emerald blade shimmering still. He marched over to it and picked it up, carefully disarming it. The phase sword deactivated with a whisper and the glow subsided.

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This damned inconvenience has caused enough delay. Find whoever was in charge of fleet orbital security and have them executed, as publicly as you can. He walked over to the seat at the end of the room and cast the bloodied limb into a pile of other such equipment, weapons and body parts. I want you to arrange a message drone to carry these trophies before us to Terra. I want them to see how useless their attempts are. Organize this now. Yes, lord. One of the Marines answered with a bow of his head. On his way out of the chamber he passed Hydrion, who slowed as he took in the scene before him upon entering. Another attempt. Guilliman said. Hydrion stared at the dead assassin for a moment and then bowed. The assault is well underway, lord. The Umbra have breached the walls and have engaged the enemy. The Tau are ready to follow at your word. Send them in. Guilliman ordered with a casual wave of his hand. Let Abaddons forces expend themselves upon the legions. Communicate the confirmation of the advance to OMogdrak and OKirla, let them sate their bloodlust. We will follow as soon as the opportune moment presents itself, and I will take the head of the Despoiler personally, as destiny decrees. +++ Excellent news, Warmaster. Excellent. Calgars visage bowed before the gathered High Lords and then spoke once more. Indeed. Given the events surrounding the Unitys unexpected halt at Caris Estarius, the remainder of the Alliance forces should be able to make good time for Terra, our return unhindered. We can only hope that the forces of the Despoiler hold the Unitys attention long enough for us to establish ourselves there in preparation for the invasion. High up in the audience chamber, High Lord Krieusius Magmador shifted his ancient form. He spoke. And the Caesus, Warmaster. You are sure that the device is authentic? I am without doubt. The soul-engine is in our possession and bound for Terra. The Master of the Astronomicon clapped his skeletal hands together and rocked back in his seat as he heard this, clearly animated by the confirmation. Praise be to Him. He wheezed, his voice as old and dry as dust. Grand Magos Achosyx leaned forward against the carved handrail upon hearing this, his hooded form hidden and shadowed. The heavily-augmented figures literally saturating the space around him stirred empathically as one at his reaction. You realise, of course, that the Caesus must be submitted to me the moment it arrives. He hissed, his own voice a harsh and inhuman tone. My priests and I are the only ones who can truly say for certain whether or not this device is genuine. Better to be sure, for all our sakes. As he spoke he addressed each of the assembled Lords in turn, though his gaze lingered upon both

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Regaas and Imperatorius in particular. The hulking Custodian said nothing in reply. He simply glared at the Magos, a cold, harsh stare mirrored by the small army of Custodes gathered about him. Regaas, however, alone in his seat, leaned forward and smiled, his gloved hands clutching the burnished railing before him tightly. Of course, honoured Magos. What better confirmation could we receive than the confirmation that our most precious counter against the advance of the Unity is genuine? I for one support this course of action most vehemently. A murmur of accord passed through the rest of the gathered High Lords, and at this Calgar bowed his head in acquiescence. My lords, until the next communiqu. He said, and with a shimmering flicker of light his holographic visage dissipated, and the Astarte heralds withdrew, leaving the gathered High Lords to themselves. For a long moment there was only silence, and after the tense pause, it was Regaas who spoke. So, the final stage of our plan is upon us. The Caesus is recovered and is on its way at last. It will soon be time, I think, to show the Tau the true meaning of Unity. Indeed. Uttered Imperatorius darkly. Regaas turned to the Custodian. Captain-General, you have something to add? Imperatorius ignored the Assassinorium Grand Master and turned to Covenant, the gatherings Inquisitorial representative. Lord Inquisitor. I trust you are well? The mans lined face creased as he heard this and he looked to the Custodian, frowning deeply. He nodded. As well as one can expect, given the circumstances. Im not sure I understand your inquiry, Lord Imperatorius. The Captain-Generals gaze remained fixed upon the Inquisitor, and even the implacable Covenant seemed slightly disconcerted by this. I had heard disturbing rumours that your personal shuttle had been destroyed on route to your ship, Inquisitor. My apologies, it seems that my fears were mistaken. Indeed so. Covenant answered, dismissing the report passionately. Imperatorius glanced at Achosyx and found his gaze met with the same underlying suspicion. It was clear to all present that the Fabricator General and the Custodian High Lord shared no love for one another, yet they seemed to share something. Whatever it was, it was palpable. Imperatorius shifted his gaze to look upon the newest face amongst them. Ecclesiarch Vancill. Your appointment followed the strange and very public death of your predecessor. Surely questions have been raised as to why he took his own life? Vancill shrugged. The will of the Emperor is oft beyond understanding. Was all he offered in reply. Pugnus Imperatorius made to stand then, the Custodes surrounding him mirroring his actions.

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Duty calls once again. He said, bowing his head at the other High Lords. Until the return of the Alliance, I bid you all farewell. Before he left, The Captain-General looked once more to Achosyxs podium, his eyes finding the silent and hulking form of the enigmatic Sentinel standing behind the Magos. There his gaze hovered for a moment before he turned and left, the rest of the Custodes close at his heels. Achosyx made his excuses and left moments after, nigh buried beneath the mass of machinery and pallid flesh of his companions. The rest of the High Lords shifted their gaze as one to look at Regaas. He uttered a single word. Soon. +++ Now. Czevak looked up from the spread of dataslates before him at the shadows that had fallen across his door. Chaplain? It is time, Inquisitor. Of course. Come in. Codian entered the small chamber and allowed the door to slide closed behind him. Czevak stood, placing the stale collection on the desk by his cot, and took a deep breath. You have the waystone? Yes. Codian answered, producing the stone from its pouch. Czevak nodded. With that he walked over to the dormant wraithgate generator and dragged it into the centre of the floor. Codian watched this in silence. The Inquisitor seemed tense, though this was only to be expected, especially given the abruptness of his arrival. Are you sure you are ready for this, Czevak? Hah, as Ill ever be. He answered, a slight nervousness in his voice. He finished shifting the weighty object and sat down on his cot, his cheeks puffing with the exertion. I will confess, Chaplain, the prospect of this journey has me fairly animated. I have never visited an Eldar craftworld before. I assume, of course, that you know what to expect. No. Codian answered, quite to his surprise. All I have learned relates only to the course of this war. I know that we must journey to this Ulthwe in order to fulfil some part of our collective destiny. Beyond that, I have no idea what to expect, just as you. Czevak accepted this and turned his attention once more to the preparation of the portal generator. No one else knows of this escapade, I take it. That is how it must be, Inquisitor. There are some things our allies cannot know of, and our intentions with the Eldar craftworld have to be kept from them. However much I dislike secrecy, it must be this way. I understand, of course. Perhaps now you can see why my own investigations into the Eldar generated

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such discern amongst the more puritanical elements of my organisation. The pursuit of knowledge can be a precarious endeavour. Codian simply nodded in reply and closed the door behind him, observing the freshly repaired frame where Umbras had attempted to seal the door shut following the Eldar attack. The replacement door provided came with a manual locking mechanism, and he pulled the lever down, sealing the hatch shut. The Inquisitor did what he had to do to prepare the portable gateway for use and the rose, sweeping his raven hair back over his head. He looked to the Chaplain. I have done all I can. The wraithgate is set to travel to but a single destination, and I do not have the knowledge it requires to seek an alternative. That will not be a problem. Codian answered, raising his hand. The jewel there looked to brighten and shimmer as he spoke. The voice drifted through his mind unbidden. Home.

Chapter Fifty Eight: Uthwe

Czevak could not speak. Illuminated by the glow of the rippling gate, he took his first tentative steps into the vast reception hall and sank slowly to his knees, his hands running gently across the smooth floor. Magnificent. He whispered, finally finding his voice. Codian passed through the warp tunnel and into the ancient hall behind him. Seconds later the wraithgate shuddered and receded with a thunderous clap that echoed and overlapped through the endless space beyond, rolling away to be suffocated by the gloom. Please remember, Inquisitor, that this is no excursion. We are here for a specific reason. Czevak reined in his emotions and rose, making his apologies by way of inclining his head. He swept the long folds of his black cloak away from his feet and came about to take in the huge curved ribs of the now-dormant gate behind him. The gateway was actually one of several here, and by far the smallest. It sat at the right-hand side of a particularly massive portal, clearly large enough to deliver whatever the Eldar considered to be the largest of their war machines, an immense edifice as grand as it was daunting. The main assembly platform. He observed, taking in his surroundings. This gateway would have been where the main Eldar warhost would have gathered prior to any large undertaking of exodus or war. See here? Every entranceway and access arch has its own retractable screen. These served to protect the spaces beyond from the back-thrust of the Eldar aircraft. Even the flyers would have been launched from here. Codian did not answer, though he decided to not deride the Inquisitor either. In a way he could relate to Czevaks fascination, for although he did not share it, he could empathise with it. For him, this was one of lifes dreams realised, and Codian was not so far removed from emotion and desire as to find such a realisation alien to him. He regarded his surroundings for a brief moment, taking in the silent statues that lined the vast space,

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striking and regal despite the alien origins of their creation. Unknown Eldar champions stared down at him from their lofty bases, enigmatic and haughty even in their immortal depiction. Even for an Astarte it was a challenge not to be left in awe of this place. Czevak looked out into the distance before them and gestured towards a series of high, sculpted porticos, the spaces beyond them bathed in only the palest of ghost light. To him, none of the exits leading out of this chamber seemed distinct in the slightest, but hew knew well enough to trust the Inquisitors judgement on this sort of thing. I believe we should be heading in that direction. Czevak said, the observation tentative despite his best efforts at making it seem otherwise. No two Craftworlds are the same, but I have studied such environments in length. The Eldar are uniform enough in the aesthetics of their construction to allow for reliable judgement. There seems the greatest sense of space beyond the central arch. It would therefore be pertinent to assume that this way lies the living spaces of the craftworlds occupants. Inquisitor. Czevak had already taken his first few steps in the direction he had indicated when Codian spoke, and the Chaplains voice caused him to halt in his tracks. Yes? The silence. Czevaks expression deepened further, and it took several moments for Codians point to sink in. the Inquisitor looked to tense then, despite the all-pervading sense of desolation, and glanced about him, elation subsiding to be replaced with a sense of canny suspicion. Though the spaces surrounding them were clean and free of any signs of abandon, the sheer bleakness of the craftworld hit him all at once. This isthis is a tomb. Czevak said quietly, drawing his cloak around him with an instinctive shudder. In my anticipation to journey here I never considered such things, damn me for the fool I am. Where are they? Where are the Eldar of Ulthwe? He looked to Codian. This is a craftworld, yet we know the craftworld Eldar fled the galaxy. The Harlequins of the Red Masque held me in their timeless domain for an age, but they never spoke of the fates of their craftworld brethren other than to tell me of their exodus. I never dared push that information, I just assumed thateveryone had left. He took a step back, drawing himself closer to the Chaplain. I never considered it before, in my eagerness to come here. It never dawned on me to question how it was that we were planning to journey to a place that shouldnt even be here, given what I thought I knew. Why is Ulthwe still here, Chaplain? She should have crossed beyond the void. Codian lowered his head and strode past the Inquisitor, motivated by the mans curiosity. Czevak rotated on his heel and followed the Chaplains progress, surprised by his reaction but far from discouraged. Chaplain, answer my question. Why is Ulthwe still here?

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Sacrifice. Codian answered, reluctance heavy in his tone. +++ The pair continued to negotiate the alien environment for hours, passing through districts and spaces neither of them would have imagined. Codian had declined to go into further detail on what had happened here, and as curious as he was, Czevak had managed to refrain from harassing him. In truth, the surroundings had thus far managed to steal away the most of the Inquisitors attentions. Codian seemed to have an idea of where he was going, as if he was being guided towards his destination. The Chaplain paused many times, as if listening to some unheard voice, and Czevak was sharp enough to realise that the Astarte was being guided by the soul within the stone in his possession. Codian paused as they reached a wide elevated causeway, the translucent crystal high above their heads allowing a commanding view of the heavens. The whole vast space was bathed in an unnatural violet glow, and his heart hardened as he recognised it immediately for what it was. The festering glow of the Eye stained everything before him a hideous mauve. Everything the corrupt radiance illuminated seemed distorted and forlorn, as if sickened by it. The Eye itself was not visible from this position, mercifully hidden from view by the angle of the dome. Codian found himself glad of this at least. Give us strength. He heard Czevak whisper behind him. The Inquisitor moved past him and placed his hands upon the carved handrail to look out across the vast dome, his eyes narrowed in forthright revulsion. It is said that those weak enough of will are driven mad by the very glare of the Eye of Terror. I can well imagine that to be true. He mused, the tremble in his voice betraying as much. I cannot comprehend how a man can bring himself to journey into that hellish maelstrom, corrupted by the Ruinous Powers or no. The glow itself leaves aa taste in my mouth, bitter and repulsive as poison. My gut churns and my mind reels. Take heart in that sensation, Inquisitor. Codian answered. It is the natural and instinctive action of the soul to quail and fight the influence of corruption. When the soul ceases to resist, corruption floods in. Wise words, Codian. Czevak rose slightly and exhaled, taking on the appearance of a man refusing to succumb to the effects of a terminal sickness. He shook his head and gestured out into the done, his outstretched finger pointing out the various sights to be seen there. This area looks to be some sort of biosphere dome, one of many I imagine. See the trees down there? They are Iolar. Natives of the original Eldar homeworlds, believe it or not. By the looks of things this entire forest has been dead for hundreds of years. The atmosphere of the dome is still perceptibly intact, yet all the plant life is dead, almost mummified. Strange. Codian moved forward and joined him at his vantage point. He stared out across the expanse, the glowing eyes of his helm regarding all before him. His emotions were, as usual, physically unreadable. Sacrifice, you said. Czevak uttered after a short silence. He shifted to look at the Chaplain. When I asked you why Ulthwe had not left, you said sacrifice. What did you mean by that? The Chaplain placed a hand on the rail and leaned forward, his gaze still held by the vista before him. I am not entirely sure, truth be told. I hold many answers in my mind, Inquisitor, though I know precious little of the questions they relate to. This Ulthwe, this sentinel domain, could not leave with the others. One

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had to stay, to ensure the millennial plans of the Eldar came to pass. There is a sense of sacrifice, a deep sensation of altruism and loss. I thinkI think the Eldar of Ulthwe ended their lives here, and they did so of their own accord. It was clear by his reaction that Czevak understood little of Codians explanation, but then again he was familiar enough in the enigmatic ways of the Eldar to have learned to accept information without instinctively trying to assess its meaning. I feel it too. It is like a heaviness upon the soul, a saturating sadness, a hollow sense of loss. From what I know of the Eldar and their technology, this is a literal thing. The wraithbone structure of Ulthwe must be steeped in the empathic passion of such a sacrifice. That is why we feel as we do. The very fabric of the craftworld itself is saturated with residual emotion. At that, Czevak stepped back and sighed, shaking his head slowly. Do you even realise just how large such a craft as this is? It could take us days to find wherever we are going, maybe longer. The longer we spent here, the more prominent our absence will become. I agree. Codian shifted his body to face him and patted the pouch at his waist. Czevaks eyes fell to the small leather pocket. He nodded. The waystone. When I gave that to you, even I did not know why the Harlequins required you to have it. I had no idea the soul within was connected to this place, nor did I ever imagine that it would communicate with you. He turned to look out over the expanse once more, distant and thoughtful. Had the plans of the Eldar simply required that the stone be returned here, the Harlequins would have returned it. Why did this task specifically require your participation? It makes no sense. Sacrifice. Codian said again, almost instinctively. He twisted and peered out into the distance then, movement catching the very extremes of his vision. Something was moving down one of the lanes between the dead trees, fast and silver as a darting fish. After a few moments, Czevak noticed it too. Chaplain He began, caution heavy in his voice. Codian held a up a hand. It is all right. Our request has been answered. A small hovering craft darted its way towards them, rising sharply as it neared. The two figures rotated as they followed its quick progress and it rose up above the walkway to come about, its alien propulsion systems humming softly. It came to a stop before them, continuing to hover close to the floor, like some faithful canine companion. Mystified, Czevak looked to the Chaplain. What is this? Our chariot. Codian replied. +++ A series of large archways blurred past, the tone of the skimmers engines lowering as they passed by each opening. Codian watched the arches passing by, drawn to the space beyond. They looked to open out into a particularly massive chamber, a huge and dark space too large to accurately comprehend. At the distant centre of this space he could see many pyramid shapes, translucent and frosted. Bright columns of power stabbed up and out from the shapes, ascending in soft, rhythmic pulsations into the

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hidden heights beyond. Hazy lightning played about these edifices, leaping from one structure to the next. He shifted to look at Czevak, expecting to see the Inquisitors attention drawn to the same sight. Power core. His companion answered rather flatly, grimacing as the skimmer shifted sideways once again. Most probably... He added, tensing once again. Czevaks hands were tight around the rail before him, and even the incessant flapping of a few strands of loose hair across his face couldnt seem to persuade him otherwise. Codian could understand his discomfort completely. The craft was travelling at great speeds, negotiating each turn and junction without the slightest deceleration. He could feel some form of localised dampening field reacting to every movement of his body, partially negating the sharp motions of the ride, but still the sheer speed was disconcerting. He had little idea of the distance they had already travelled, though he knew it had to be great. They had passed through so many different environments he could not recall many of them. Habitation zones, plazas and grand avenues flew by in the blink of an eye, too fast to appreciate if one was of the inclination. Once-verdant forests and groves littered the vast alien maze, though the flora that had once flourished there had long since died. Shimmering pools and lakes were now lifeless, and nothing that remained to be seen hinted at the presence of life. The craftworld was clean but sterile, like a preserved tomb. Devoid of life, but not, he suspected at least, of presence. The craft entered a long tunnel, inbuilt illuminator strips flashing to life and then back into dormancy as they hurtled past. The noise the skimmer made here was low and shuddering, a vibration in the chest. The change certainly animated Czevak, who stiffened instinctively as the intermittent gloom and illumination closed in. We are close. Codian said, raising his voice above the din. A second after the noise faded as another unknown system cut in, affording them protection from worst of the din. A quiet and almost calming perpetual note drifted through the air in its place, and continued to do so until the skimmer began to slow. Up ahead the tunnel branched out, emerging into yet another huge chamber. The structure there at its centre was a magnificent thing, superlative multi-domed edifice that looked as if it were carved out of illuminated ice. Glowing wishbone archways interlaced one another in complex and impossible positions, and Codian found his mind clouding in reflexive response to what he saw. Czevak remained silent, struck dumb by awe. The craft whispered to a standstill and froze, hovering gently inches from the ground. The Chaplain pushed himself free and dropped to the ground, followed closely by Czevak. Both of them allowed themselves a moment to take in the spectacle before them. This Czevak gestured loosely at the edifice, as if it were somehow possible for Codian to miss the structure. This place, II never imagined I would You know where we are? Czevak nodded, unable to keep his jaw from loosening. Yes, I think so. This is incredible. The Dome of Crystal Seers. It has to be. And you know what we will find here?

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The questions Codian asked seemed genuinely sincere, as if he truly did not know of the place. Czevak lowered his gaze to look at Codian, wonder in his eyes. Perhaps. Each craftworld is reputed to have a Dome. It is here that the most ancient Farseers come towell, to die. As a Farseers powers increase with age, their bodies start to slowly crystallise. Eventually they come here to see the completion of this process and join with the Infinity Circuit, the soul-collective of the craftworld. Codian looked to concentrate for a moment and then nodded. Lets get this over with. He removed the jewel from his pouch and stepped forward. Chaplain? He slowed and glanced over his shoulder. Czevak seemed hesitant. What is it? Are you sure about this? Such places are very old and steeped in power. The Dome of Crystal Seers is the hub of a craftworlds Infinity Circuit, a private and unknown place to our kind. There could be danger here, power beyond our understanding. If only you knew. Codian answered quietly, and continued without a further word.

Chapter Fifty Nine: The Revenant

The Inquisitors every step was tentative and cautious as he slowly traversed the crystalline grove. The internal light here was a soft and ghostly glow, with no obvious source, and it caught the twisted figures surrounding them and caused them to sparkle like diamond. Czevak paused as he passed another of the crystalline figures, and ran a hand gently across the translucent material. Such age. This place is steeped in it. Generations upon generations here, stretching back to the Fall itself. Such a spectacle defies the imagination. Some of these figures are positively antediluvian. I suspect we may be the first non-Eldar ever to set foot here. Codian slowed and then backtracked, in order to regard the object of Czevaks attention. Like all the others, the shape before him was distinctly humanoid, and had about it several features just distinct enough to recognise. These were Eldar? Once. Once they were the greatest of the Eldar of Ulthwe, the Farseers of ages past. What happened to them? Czevak frowned as he regarded Codian, as if unable to understand how the Chaplain did not already know

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this. Death, Chaplain. That which finds us all eventually. The oldest of the Farseers, those who make it through the trials of life to a millennial age, come here to die. You see, as an Eldars mind grows in power, his body begins to slowly crystallise. The physical form grows more and more redundant as the mind matures. When a Farseer finally decides that it is his time to leave the mortal plane, he comes here to take root. Here his consciousness will leave the physical form behind and he will join the Infinity Circuit. He fell silent for a moment, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. I would have thought perhaps that you knew all this already. Codian shook his head slowly, realising at once exactly what the Inquisitor was getting at. He raised his hand and showed Czevak the waystone. The jewel was alive with power here, a ghostly light spilling from between his fingers. It hasnt spoken since we first arrived here on Ulthwe, though I know it has heard and responded to my thoughts. As I told you, all I know is what I am here to do. Beyond that, only your expertise and my own blind faith guide our actions. So, what exactly are we here to do, Chaplain? Deliver the final piece of the puzzle. He replied, and after a moments pause he stretched his arm out and cast the waystone away. The stone spun through the air and landed amongst the crystal statues, still pulsing brightly. Both watched as the light streaming from the jewel rippled like water and then dimmed. The stone itself ran like melting ice, liquefying as it was absorbed by its surroundings. Within seconds it was gone, with no trace of it ever having existed. Czevak watched this happen and raised his eyebrows. Hmm. So, we came here to deliver a lost son or daughter of Ulthwe to the Infinity Circuit. Did we achieve something by doing this, Chaplain? I hope so. Codian answered, stepping back. Either way, we have done all we can. Now we wait and see what happens. Moments passed and nothing changed. Then, both figures tensed, looking at one another. They became aware of a sound, a strange and unusual noise, more felt than truly heard. The sound reverberated and grew louder, like a reverse echo. As it did so it began to form, each wave sharpening and forming into recognisable speech. A single word rolled through both their minds. Home. Czevak seemed more shocked by this than his Astarte counterpart. He flinched and looked around him, as if it were somehow possible to locate the source of the voice. Home. He echoed softly. To Ulthwe. No. Not Ulthwe, mon-keigh. Home. Czevaks brow creased further, though he knew enough of the enigmatic ways of the Eldar not to press the question further.

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Around them the wraithbone grove seemed to come alive with vigour. Codian put a hand to his head unbidden, a sudden dull pressure building behind his eyes. It was clear that Czevak experienced the same phenomenon, given his reaction. The air filled at once with an all-pervasive whispering, a living breeze of sound gentle enough to be almost missed but for the absence of all other noise. The gentle cacophony continued for several minutes and then died away as abruptly as it began, leaving the chamber once again silent. Then the voice spoke again. I am gratified that you have delivered me here, to where I truly belong. Now, at last, I am whole once again. Who are you, spirit? Czevak asked. Are you him, king of the Farseers? Are you Eldrad Ulthran? There followed a moment of ominous and tense silence before the voice spoke again. I am not. The Inquisitor cursed beneath his breath and shook his head. If he had tried then to hide the disappointment in his manner, he failed. No, of course not, damn me for a fool. Eldrad died in the war against the damned Abaddon. It would have been too much to hope Ulthran did, and I am all that remains, but you may address me as such if it pleases you. I am less and yet more than Eldrad Ulthran, Czevak of the Emperor, and I know you. There are few of your kind so blessed to have been allowed to glimpse inside the Black Library. Such individuals are well known to us. So you are him? But it was thought that you had perished, consumed by the corruption of the greatest weapons of your race. The mortal flesh that once clothed my essence was consumed long ago, mon-keigh, but I had seen this and more come to pass in the skeins. Such a sacrifice was necessary in order to achieve a greater objective. Now that the last surviving splinter of my essence is returned here I am whole again, as whole as I can ever be. Do you not see that, Czevak of the Emperor? I was once the master of possibility, the king of the myriad path. You cannot begin to comprehend what it is to know what I know. There are plans now coming into fruition that were rooted millions of years before your kind existed, before the world you call Terra even supported life. It was I who counselled the Webway Kin of your potential, and warned the guardians of the Black Library to safeguard you from the attentions of the Sorcerer. You? Czevak answered, quite unable to believe what he was hearing. You were the one who sponsored my entry into the Black Library? That I was, for I had seen you standing here in this sacred place. Warrior, it was I who persuaded the Swordwind of Biel-Tan to spare your escape craft, and who manipulated its course into the drift you know as the Wash. You needed to live to see this day, and my divinations of the currents predicted the exact time and place of your emergence into this reality. Codian visibly bristled in anger as he heard this, and with good reason. You mean to say that you had a hand in my being stranded here? It was your manipulation that saw my ship destroyed and my brothers put to death. You tell me this now, after I carried you all this time and

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protected you I regret that such revelations cause you anger, Prophet, but I do not apologise for what was done. Can you still not see the significance of what is happening to these stars? This is the nadir of creation, when all the young races stand together, shoulders turned as one to the coming storm. Fate decreed that you would be present to play your part, and the only way to ensure that was to place you beyond the predations of those who would seek to destroy you. Many are the eyes that have studied you since you came here, Daelo Codian. Many are those who seek to destroy you even now. Codian began to pace through the grove, his fists bunched. Why? Why me, spirit? What am I in this great scheme? I am an Astarte and nothing more. I hold no power other than that I wield with crozius and bolter. Not true. You hold the knowledge inside you, imparted by the Displaced One. You alone have been chosen to bear witness to all this, in order that the lessons yet to be learned will not fade into the mists of ignorance. Whether you realise it or not, Daelo Codian, you are the catalyst and the lantern, the guide of the fates. Do not sell your role short. It is not a willing role. He growled irritably, continuing to pace. And I will not pretend that I accept any of this readily. I do not welcome manipulation. That I am here at all is a situation I would never have imagined myself in. Again, do not mistake destiny for manipulation. You were the only one who could have brought me here. No other Eldar has set foot on Ulthwe since the departure of her sisters, for to do so would mean certain death. This is a craftworld no longer. It is a tomb, and the only ones of my kind that can enter are the dead. No, you had to bring me back, and you alone. Why me? Why not some other unwitting fool? Look not to the destination for your answer, Daelo Codian, but to the journey. Destiny is a complex puzzle, far too much so for any mon-keigh to understand. To attain certain goals one must be meticulous in placing each and every piece. Everything you have done since my waystone came into your possession has had an effect on this war, and that is how it had to be. No other could have achieved this. Never disregard the path in favour of the objective. Codian slowed to a standstill and opened his hands, glancing about him as Czevak had done, instinct urging him to locate the source of the disembodied voice. So then, what now, Eldar? Is my part done here? You speak of objectives, so I ask you this. What have I achieved? I know that I was meant to bring you here, and I know that in doing so I have set in motion events that will help shape the outcome of this war. Am I done? Can I return to my people and continue this fight? Eldrad did not answer. Codian waited a few moments and them looked at Czevak. The Inquisitor shrugged and shook his head, clearly as in the dark as the Chaplain was. Farseer? Answer me. There was no answer. Codian sighed in frustration and looked around him at the silent wraithbone trees and the more distinct crystalline figures of the supposedly younger Eldar that had come here to end their physical lives. Nothing. There was no sign of life here now. Fair enough. He said, and set off towards the exit of the dome.

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Chaplain? Czevak called after him. What now? Have we done what we came here to do? Apparently. Come I have had enough of this tomb. We have a war to win. That we do. Both men stalled in their tracks as they heard the voice, shock freezing them in place. The voice had changed drastically in tone, become stronger, resonant with power. As one they looked to the chambers exit and tensed, sensing the presence of something huge and monstrous blocking their way. Emperor preserve us Czevak breathed, reaching for the ornate laspistol he carried at his hip, as though the weapon would somehow provide a measure of protection against the terrible entity before them. Codian said nothing. He darted to one side and drew his crozius, the ancient weapon flashing to life in his grip. Find cover! He shouted, his combat instincts taking over. The burning daemon came striding through the opening into the chamber, its fiery head ducking low as it passed beneath the tall arch. Azure flame licked about it, an ethereal fire that seemed to emanate from deep within its glowing iron body. Codian looked upon the abomination and knew then with utter certainty that he had never seen its like before. The thing was massive, and as it advanced the fires that raged about it illuminated the surrounding crystal so much so that each statue took on the visage of an inferno, dancing and writhing beneath the unnatural light. The things eyes burned as they found Codian, and the entity regarded him with an ageless and unfathomable gaze. Somehow, he stood firm against its advance. The Avatar. He heard Czevak exclaim behind him, though in truth, his voice barely registered.

Chapter Sixty: The Dead

As the Avatar advanced on Codian the crystal ground shuddered beneath every step. So many thoughts and instincts warred within him, though somehow he managed to suppress them all and stand his ground. The daemon carried in one hand a huge spear, its flaming head screaming and shuddering as if alive and thirsting for blood. It terrible eyes regarded him as a child would a toy, and he knew then that he did not have the strength it would take to destroy this abomination. Fall back, Chaplain! The Avatar of Khaine will destroy you! Czevak shouted. The Inquisitor sprang from his hiding place and fired out a volley of ineffectual shots at the blazing monster, only to have the las bolts turned aside by the thick, molten armour. Codian did not flee. He knew there would be no point. So, it ends in treachery then, Eldar! He roared, awaiting the blow that would end his life. As the daemon closed he felt the wash of ethereal heat buffet his armour. The Avatar came to a stop before him and

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lowered itself onto one knee, placing the hilt of the spear against the wraithbone floor as it did so. Not treachery, Daelo Codian. A demonstration. Codian stood before the terrifying entity for several moments until he finally lowered his weapon, reason seeping through the burning instinct to defend himself. No matter how warped and powerful the voice was, he recognised it. Farseer? Czevak cast his pistol aside without a thought and stepped forward, his face a mask of confusion. As his own initial fear began to cautiously subside, reason began to slowly take its place, and he looked upon the Avatar with new eyes. Though he had never witnessed the awakening of such a creation in person, he knew a great deal about the living gods of the craftworld Eldar, enough to know that the example here before him was somehow different, somehow wrong. The flames that wreathed its towering form were ghostly and pale, far removed from the raging fires and belching black smoke that such a daemon-shell usually exuded. In place of the distinctive, blood-slicked hand was a fist of shimmering energy, literally dripping with crackling power. This Avatar was something else. Something that had never been seen before. See what I have become now. See the power I hold. You asked me what difference your efforts have made. Kaela Mensha Khaine is gone from this realm now, but I am here to take his place. Both Codian and Czevak stepped back in shock as the Avatar suddenly grew cold, the fires at its core dimming. The ancient shell creaked and grew cold, locked in its current position. The all-pervasive whispering surrounded them once again and died away, as if an army of souls had passed them by. What have we done? The Inquisitor whispered. What have we unleashed? The sound of movement attracted their attention and they watched as something emerged from behind the Avatar. Though much smaller than the god-like being, the figure was tall and organic, its artificial body smooth like glass. Wraithguard. Czevak said, recognising the construct for what it was. A soul-shell, a wraithbone automaton. Codian did not recognise the alien form but he knew at once that, whatever it was, it wasnt a living thing. When I told you I was not Eldrad Ulthran, I spoke the truth. I am no longer an individual, but a part of a greater entity. I am the seed and the herald, like you, Codian, the catalyst of works greater and more ancient than you can comprehend. I have demonstrated to you my ability to possess and control the various soul-bearing engines of my people. The powers of all the Eldar dead are now much greater than they ever were. This is the legacy of Ynnead. The last and greatest god of the Eldar stirs now, the time for his birth fast approaching. I am his voice, and when he awakes, the God of the Dead will bring destruction and ruin to the despoilers of life. Ynneads time has come. Let his enemies tremble. Neither Codian nor Czevak recognised identity of the god the dead Farseer spoke of, and though this came as no surprise to the Chaplain, the Inquisitor seemed vexed by this. Czevak seemed anxious, as if worried at the mention of something so potentially powerful and yet unknown to him, for he prided himself as being an authority on the Eldar. What happened here, Farseer? Why is Ulthwe dead? Why did the craftworld not leave with the rest of the

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Eldar? One had to stay, mon-keigh. One had to stay here to bear witness. The power that binds Ulthwe here is total, absolute, and you are honoured that I have allowed you both to escape its effects. All that set foot on Ulthwe are doomed to die, for she is a tomb, a place of death. Ulthwes people sacrificed themselves for a greater cause. The souls of the dead are to play a pivotal role in this war. Ulthwe herself is now the crux of the Infinity Matrix, and she will bear witness to the birth of Ynnead. The gods of old will tremble at the birth of their destruction. This god, this Ynnead. I have heard of nothing in Eldar lore that relates to such an entity. Of course not. Mon-keigh such as yourself are rarely entertained, and when they are whatever they learn of our ways is closely governed. Ynnead is our last, greatest hope. We are a dying race, a fact any Eldar would be foolish and ignorant to deny. The death of the physical form is but a transition for, just as matter cannot truly be destroyed, only converted, so too the souls of my kind do not dissipate. In ancient times the souls of the departed would pass into the warp to be reborn, but the birth of the Thirsting One changed that. Now she hungers for the essence of the Eldar, and would surely consume the souls of all my kind were we to allow it. There is one thing that you must understand. The Tau may be the greatest and most dominant mortal force in this galaxy, but it is the upheaval their rise to power has created that will shape the destiny of us all. Such a rise could not fail to attract the attentions of the most powerful entities. Even the birth of the Tau made such an impact that it stirred forces as old as the stars themselves, and awakened an ancient evil so powerful that even the Unity will pale before them when they are finally revealed. Mortals and gods alike war over the dominion of these stars, and the Taus advance for Terra will play but the central part of this greater drama. Perhaps it is better that you cannot comprehend the scale of what is happening, mon-keigh. Such considerations would only bring despair. Codian sensed the weight of the Farseers revelation as if it were a palpable thing. Though he could not begin to understand all that the entity had revealed, he nonetheless felt the significance of his efforts now more than ever. So, we are done here? That we are. You may return to your people now, Daelo Codian, and pay no further consideration to the resolution of our acquaintance. Take with you he knowledge that, when the time comes, the Eldar will play their part, both living and dead. Concern yourself with the mortal threat that the Tau pose. Play your part. I will play mine. Farewell then. Codian said, and made to leave. He didnt relish having to spend a minute more aboard this space-borne tomb than he had to. Wait. Czevak said, stalling him in his tracks. With that he turned to the silent Wraithguard. The Talismans of Vaul, Farseer. The mighty weapons my kind called the Blackstone Fortresses. You met your physical end onboard one such edifice. What of them? Exactly my question. No one knows what happened to them following Abaddons thirteenth incursion into the Imperium. Most were lost following their discovery, but the fates of a few have never been discovered. Does the Despoiler still hold them? Such weapons could prove disruptive to our efforts, to say the least.

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Abaddon no longer holds the power of the Talismans. Such ancient and perfect weapons can never truly be seized by those who were not intended to utilise them. Before they left, the Eldar made sure that all the Talismans were secure, and moved away from the attentions of all who would seek to corrupt them. They are safe. Safe? How can that be? Most are gone, as I understand it. Those captured by the Imperium destroyed themselves after the conclusion of the Gothic war Not true, it was simply made to appear so. The Talismans are too powerful to be destroyed by mortal means. They were spirited away beyond the attentions of those whom they were created to destroy, back beyond the Dark Gates of Rhidhol to the place of their creation. The Dark Gates of Rhidhol? Yes, an area you know of as the Gates of Varl. They are held far beyond this mortal realm, safe from the attentions of the enemy. When the time comes, they will be awakened once again, and the stars shall quail beneath their might. Before Czevak could answer the kneeling form of the Avatar ignited once more, ethereal fire wreathing its vast form. Both he and Codian stepped back, the conflagrations intensity disturbing them. The powerful creation rose slowly and, regarding them both with one lingering final look, headed out of the chamber, followed by the Wraithguard. The azure glow quickly subsided and then faded completely, and the rumbling rhythm of the footsteps followed a moment after. Czevak exhaled deeply and placed both hands on his head, slowly sweeping them through his hair. May He on Terra deliver us. Did all that really just happen? What exactly did we just learn? Codian did not answer at first. He stood in silent contemplation, his face hidden from view. It seemed to be a long time to the Inquisitor until he spoke again. We learned that there are gods warring for supremacy amongst the stars. This war is bigger than the Unity, far bigger. This knowledge is ours alone to bear, at least for now. We must ensure that we are as ready as we can possibly be. Czevaks answer lingered for a moment, as if he found it difficult to convey. Cancan we do that, Codian? Can we keep this from the rest of the Alliance? We must. The Chaplain replied darkly. There are too many risks involved; too many questions to be raised were we to admit what we know. No, we must keep this to ourselves, for now. +++ The reflection of the shimmering energies on Codians polished armour quickly dissipated as the warp portal degraded into a controlled collapse. He watched as Czevak began to the process of packing the wraithgate away as swiftly as he could. Given the vast expanse of emptiness they had encountered on the alien craftworld, Codian realised he felt the restrictive confines of the Inquisitors quarters more so than ever. We took a great risk. Czevak said over his shoulder. Especially now, given our joining with the Alliance. It would not bode well for us were it discovered where we went and what we did. Codian nodded slowly in agreement and unlocked the door, relieved at least to see that no one had attempted to force it in their absence.

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What is done is done. All we can do now is continue as before, and hope that the dead Eldar witch keeps his end of the bargain. Ah, I believe he will. The Eldar are an aloof and selfish race, Chaplain, but in matters of such importance and against an enemy as powerful as the Unity, they will stand shoulder to shoulder with us. They will do this if only to serve themselves, but they will do it nonetheless. We have an ally in Eldrad Ulthran, or whoever the being now claims to be. Czevak finished secreting the alien device and then rose, turning his attention towards the small wall-mounted dataslate by his cot. Activate. Give me a full run-down of every call or entry attempt to this chamber, if you please. Listed data will suffice. Thank you. He added after a moments pause, taking care to pay the machines spirit the proper respect. The Inquisitors brow furrowed slightly as he absorbed the information flowing before his eyes. Hmm. It would seem that we have indeed been missed. There have been several attempts to contact both of us. Codian activated the door and it slid open before him. Dont concern yourself. We will simply say that we have been holding private counsel in order to discuss The Chaplains voice died away as he entered the corridor beyond. His eyes fell on the waiting figure, which rose from its slouched position against the far wall and stood as if to attention. What is it? Czevak called from inside. Company. Codian whispered in reply. Chaplain. The Cadian bowed his head and stepped forward, emerging from the half-gloom into the light of the overhead illuminators. He looked beyond Codian at the face of Czevak who had appeared at the door, and then turned his attention to Codian once more. Weve been looking for you, sir. I am back now. He replied, moving past the soldier. There has been an incident Codian slowed. Something in the tone of the Cadians voice warned him to expect the worst. Your brother, the Marine called Berolinus. He has gone. Gone where? He asked, his fists tightening. At that the Cadian fixed him with a stare that did not waver. After Guilliman.

Chapter Sixty One: Defector

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A host of solemn faces met him as he entered the bridge, the sounds of activity surrounding them fading into quiet ambience. Chaplain. Ligur greeted him, stepping forward. We have been looking for you What happened? Codian answered sharply, striding up to the Librarian. Beyond Ligur he saw Umbras, who shook his head slowly and then lowered his gaze. He slowed, taking in the faces of those around him. He gestured to the soldier at his side. This man tells me that my brother has gone. What happened? It is true. Ligur answered. He opened his mouth to continue but before he was able to do so, a small and familiar shape pushed itself forward and marched to up Codian. Longshank. Grungi snarled, sweeping his long red braids back up over his face. Your boy has taken leave of his faculties. Hes gone bloody mad! What happened? Codian asked again, far more intently this time. Grungi raised his hands. Hes gone off after your traitor Ancestor Lord, the hot-headed fool! Codian lowered his head, feeling his pulse quicken. He knew Berolinus was young and brash, but he had never expected this. Not this. They were so close now, days away from Terra. How could he have let this happen? He looked up and took in the faces around him. Can someone tell me how this happened? Did anyone try to stop him, or did you let him take a ship and fly off on some ridiculous and futile suicide mission? His question was met with an uncomfortable silence. There was a clear collective reluctance to answer that only served to strengthen how wrong he thought this situation was. It was Grungi who answered. You misunderstand, warrior priest. He didnt go to try and stop your wayward Guilliman. Your man means to join him. Codians world jarred to a standstill. What It is true. Ligur said, stepping forward. Your brother seeks to ally himself with Guilliman. We didnt stop him, Chaplain, because we didnt know of his intent. No. You must be mistaken, all of you. There has to be an explanation. There can be no mistake. Umbras uttered, moving past Ligur to place a hand on the Chaplains shoulder. We all knew how strongly he felt about the awakening of the Primarch, but none of us suspected anything like this. I see it now, looking back. Ever since he found out that Guilliman had been restored, the concept has been eating away at him, taking him over. Over the last few weeks his mood had been steadily darkening, as he grew more and more frustrated with our refusal to take the matter further. What matter?

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The matter of the Primarch. Umbras answered. Dont you see? Guilliman is risen. We all felt what an idea like that did to us in here. He tapped a finger against his breastplate. Berolinus is the youngest among us, barely out of the Scout companies, with years of doctrine still fresh in his mind. Little wonder such news hit him hard, brother. To be told that the object of ultimate Ultramarine perfection is suddenly more real than he has ever known, real enough to reach out and touch, real enough to kneel before, how else could one so young and brash have reacted? With restraint, Umbras. Codian answered, unwilling to hide his anger at the Astartes bold actions. With temperance and decorum. Not every situation can be resolved with reckless determination. No Ultramarine, no Astarte, throws himself into a situation he knows will see him dead unless any positive outcome can be achieved. What can Berolinus possibly achieve, save for his own fruitless death? What is his intent? Umbras shook his head sadly. We cannot guess. It seems that his meeting with Lord Calgar was the final straw. For one he held in such regard to dismiss him as all others had proved too much. He couldnt believe that the former Chapter Master of the Ultramarines would not be willing to seek to rescue the Primarch from the clutches of the enemy. We all know how futile such an attempt would be, but it would appear that the youngest among us could not see that. Perhaps he seeks to change the Primarchs mind, so somehow see him restored to us. And perhaps he simply wishes to serve him, whatever his allegiance. Grungi interjected, his comment gaining cold looks from the Chaplain and the Apothecary. The Demiurg was clearly unapologetic. What? Ah, look to history, stalk-leg. Infamy and legend breed charisma. The more iconic a character, the more potential there is for that figure to become far more than the cause he serves. The past is riddled with such men. This Guilliman clearly represents the ideals of your League given form, made flesh. I have seen it many times in my own past. If the lord of the clan shifts his favour, what cause is left for his men to fight for? Codian dismissed the aliens words with a sweep of his hand. How could he be allowed to slip away without being challenged? He hasnt had the training needed to pilot a ship. He stowed away, Chaplain. He stowed away on Andrasis ship. Ligur answered. Now that we are on our way to Terra, Captain Andrasi decided it was time for he and his crew to take their leave. He didnt say much but I suspect he didnt want to be on or around Terra when the Unity came. We let him go, though we never once suspected that Berolinus would leave with them. B-----d. Codian snarled, his armoured fingers creaking as he curled them into fists. Rogue Trader scum, we should never have trusted him. Grungi glowered as he head this, his barrel chest swelling. Hold your judgement and your tongue! Captain Andrasi is not the one at fault here. He is a honourable trader, and even if that were not so, do you really think he would willingly sail off into the midst of the bloody Unity to deliver your boy? The Hellrunner was taken. How do you know this for sure? Codian asked. Ligurs gaze lingered on the Chaplain for a moment, and then he looked towards the bridge crew.

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Show him. +++ The circular hatch slammed into the rubble-strewn ground with a resonating clang, throwing up a cloud of choking dust. Guilliman leapt from the Devilfish and landed, drawing his sword. Abaddon! He roared, his powerful voice rising over the clamour of battle. Abaddon! I have come for you, heretic! I am here! Hydrion and his men descended behind him, quickly taking up defensive positions. Hundreds upon hundreds more armoured transports came to rest around him, the collective thrum of their anti-grav engines creating a low, resonant rumble. He looked towards the huge breaches lining the towering walls before him. The roiling shadows beyond could just be seen, churning masses of void that snapped and swirled, alive with malice. The Umbra were making excellent progress. An airborne sea of Tau aircraft screamed overhead, massed contrails bright against the smoke-darkened skies. Barracudas danced and twisted as they countered the attack craft of the enemy, the Hell Blade and the Hell Talon, vicious and sleek craft as deadly as they were swift. Tiger Sharks barged through the churning battle to assail the vast walls, punishing them with missiles and railgun shot. Mantas and Megalodons followed in their wake, disgorging a hundred Crisis battlesuits and five times that number of shield drones a second, seeking to exploit any and every weakness in the defences. He took all this in and felt his chest swell with pride. The Great Enemy. He whispered. Finally. The ground shuddered, snapping from his reverie. A glance to his left saw the Korvesa Factory Ships touching down, fat landing feet digging into the rocky earth. The taller, more conical Vespid Hives came down around them, the air surrounding the vessels already thick with buzzing bodies even before the colossal engines had started to cool. Give the order to advance. He said, turning his head only slightly. Everything. I want everything we have to move for the walls. All ordnance is to cease with immediate effect, and all aircraft to pull back or concentrate on engaging the enemy flyers. The assault happens now. My lord. He came about to see Hydrion bow his head and step back, allowing a number of short and stocky Tau to make their way towards him. These were Earth Caste engineers, and with them were a small number of other xenos, ape-like beings covered in thick orange hair. Accompanying them was a human, a bald and aging man dressed in the robes and finery of an Imperial of some standing. He alone regarded Guilliman with a knowing smile of anticipation. OGuilliman. The Fio commander began, kneeling before the Primarch. He offered up a small jewelled device, an oval of flawless obsidian set into a functional magnetised frame, clearly designed to be fixed to the breastplate of armour. The Jokaero have helped us finalise the design, commander. This example is our finest and most potent work, fashioned specifically for you. It gives me pride to present it.

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The Primarch took the object and placed it at his breast, where it clamped eagerly in place. The vile energies of the warp wont be able to touch you now, my lord. The man said with a predatory grin. Similar null devices are being passed out to the rest of the forces as we speak. The Factory Ships are on hold and ready to disgorge null drones on your command. At your word, we will suffocate the presence of the damned Empyrean from this world. That we shall. Guilliman answered, nodding his thanks to the man. You have my gratitude, Inquisitor. Inquisitor Maturin Ralei tipped his head and smiled again, clearly flattered. Please, my lord, your gratitude is not needed. To know that we are culling the insidious presence of the warp is reward enough for me. For the Greater Good, of course. For the Greater Good. Guilliman echoed, drawing his prized rail pistol with a barely contained relish. With that, he spun on his heel to face the gaping rend in the walls of the fortress. Ezekyle Abaddon! Son of Horus, am coming for you! +++ This is taking too long! The voice thundered through the cavernous chamber, carrying over the tumult of the conflict outside. Every visible flame flickered, as if fearful of the Despoilers wrath. The vast hall shuddered again, dislodging ancient dust from high above that drifted down in streams onto the cracked flags. Abaddon turned his accusing gaze to the shimmering visage hovering before him. The face at the centre of the living smoke looked to shiver at his attentions, as if afraid of the huge warriors wrath. My lord, this is no ordinary ritual. The summoning of Anggrath is a massive undertaking. It requires Enough excuses, fool! The Despoiler roared, his rage seeming to ignite his pallid skin. I did not bring you back from the oblivion of the warp to fail me, Ygethmor. And I will not, lord, but we must take extreme care in this endeavour. The Deathbringer is by far the most powerful of all Khornes servants. He has been summoned forth from the warp only twice in the past ten millenia. Do not presume to lecture me, spirit. I fought alongside the Unbound before the very walls of the Imperial Palace. The Four Winds have shown us both the power of the true enemy, and we know that we cannot win this war, not without the power of the Unbound at our disposal. Abaddon hissed through bared teeth and rotated slowly, taking in the activity around him. The eight Khornate champions continued in their bloodletting with insane abandon, each warrior literally slick with blood. The screams of their bound and helpless victims carried through the vast space, each pained sound causing the smoke-filled air to shimmer and haze. Far above, the black smoke began to churn and billow, the first flickering of ethereal flame boiling at it centre. It is working. Ygethmor uttered, the eyes of his daemonic visage shining in anticipation. Abaddon nodded, satisfied. He lifted his gaze to look up at the building maelstrom above him, catching the

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first scent of sulphuric fumes as he did so. Then this is really it. He said. The Final Crusade begins here. Summon the others, sorcerer. It is time. Ygethmors face flickered and blurred briefly before returning to its original state. Minutes later, the roiling mass of warriors thronging the chamber shifted and parted, allowing a quartet of figures to approach the dais. Brothers. Abaddon greeted them, regarding each towering figure in return. It is time for us to put aside any differences and strive to bring the glory of the domination of chaos to this galaxy. No longer will our forces cower deep within the Eye. Our personal goals must be combined in order to realise a greater plan. No more do we fight for our patron alone, but for the pantheon. Horus was weak, but his ideals were sound. Through unity he brought the hammer of chaos down on the walls of the Emperors Palace, to the very threshold of the seat of Imperial power. That same concept now sees the Tau and their allies ready to do the same. We all know the true goal of the Unity, for we have seen for ourselves what is happening to the Eye. There can be no more internal strife amongst our numbers. Together, let us destroy Guilliman and his followers here on Caris Estarus and go on to bring this galaxy to its knees. With the power of the Unbound at our head, we can achieve this. What say you? I accept. The Betrayer growled, the first to answer. Kharn lifted his gaze to the smouldering mass above him and let out a long, hungering sigh. Almost lost amid the thick smoke, a pair of burning eyes met his own. I will take the power of Anggrath as my own, and reap a glorious and bloody toll for my lord. The Unbound will consume you, World Eater. Abaddon warned. You must realise that. Kharn lowered his gaze and thrust his mighty chainaxe, Gorechild out at the Despoiler. Of course I do, Abaddon! It is my life to seek the blessing of Khorne, and there can be no greater and surer way of doing that than accepting The Unbound with my flesh. My death matters not, for I will reap a hundred skulls with each strike with the power of the Deathbringer as my own. I cannot imagine a more glorious death. Abaddon nodded and then turned his attention to the others before him. Guilliman. Lucius rasped, his scarred face tightening. A long serpentine tongue snaked from his mouth to moisten his filed teeth. I will finish what Fulgrim started. The Eternal One said, his voice thick with anticipation. I will take the head of Guilliman, for there can be few greater challenges in this galaxy than a Primarch. My Emperors Children are yours. I seek only to bring the glory of the Lord of Decay to the seat of the Emperor. Typhus said, his voice a choked, rattling whisper. The massive warrior took a single step forward and slammed the haft of his manreaper into the floor. The flags beneath blackened and cracked, a cancerous filth spreading across them. My lord Nurgle has tasted the soil of Terra once before. He hungers for it once again. All eyes turned to the final figure, standing alone and in silence at the rear of the group. You have yet to speak, sorcerer. Are you part of this, or do you intend to run back to the Eye and wait for

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the tau to banish our gods forever from this realm? Ahriman stepped forward and gestured angrily at the growing morass of smoke and shadow above. You ask that I throw my lot in with you, and yet you intend to summon a creature absolutely opposed to sorcery in all its forms. You walk a dangerous path, Abaddon, one that will see you sever your worship of the pantheon to favour Khorne alone. To join you in this would be to risk the wrath of Tzeentch. The Despoiler held the sorcerers gaze for a moment and then lifted the Talon of Horus up, pointing out into the darkness. Do you hear that, Ahriman? That is the sound of our doom approaching. This is our chance to tear the Unitys heart out before they consume us all. Let the Primarchs tremble and hide in the warp. We have the means to take what power is rightfully ours, but to do so we must be unified. What then, Abaddon? What if we succeed, and the galaxy is ours for the taking? We are ultimately rivals, all of us, and that can never change. The Despoiler raised the Talon and slowly closed its massive fingers as if to crush some unseen thing, a murderous expression on his ancient face. To the victor, the spoils. He hissed, grinning malevolently. As it always has been. On that day, the strongest shall prevail. For now, we must fight side by side. Your patron god must not be denied his chance to feast on the souls of man and xenos alike. Ahriman bowed his head, persuaded. This is a dangerous path. He said again. But one we all must walk. Abaddon grinned again.

Chapter Sixty Two: Into Legend

Guilliman vaulted the heaped rubble effortlessly and slid down the incline, his boots carving twin furrows through the loose rubble. Hydrion and his warriors followed closely behind, engines roaring as they rose up over the lip of the mound to pour down after the Primarch, the thick wheels of their bikes churning the debris beneath them. Gone were the symbols and adornment of their former allegiances. Now they wore simpler and more functional Marine armour, decorated with the symbols of the Unity. The Primarch came to rest at the bottom of the incline, swaying slightly as he arrested himself. A brace of devoted shield Korvesa hovered to his sides and he turned to swat them away with the flat of his sword. Begone! I will face the Despoiler on my own terms! He snapped. The drones flitted away without protest, soon disappearing out of sight. Hydrion left his men and his mount and jogged over to the Primarch. My scouts report that the Umbra are advancing well but they are slowing, lord. They have reached the first pockets of determined resistance. Guilliman nodded. What do we know thus far?

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The enemy are thick on the ground. It is starting to look like the discovery of the occupation of this edifice was more than simple good fortune. I think that we were drawn here, lord. I think that this was meant to be a trap. I know. Guilliman growled, looking towards the breach once more. I dont care how desperate they think the situation at the Eye is becoming, the heretic legions would never realistically abandon their gods and attempt to strike out and establish a base here in this domain. You yourself once served the Ruinous Powers, Hydrion. How likely is it that they would be willing to attempt such a feat? The Alpha Legion commander shifted uneasily at facing such a question. My lord, you know that it was circumstances and a weak leadership that severed us from the Imperium, not the worship of false gods. My legion has always shunned such things, therefore I cannot accurately determine the ways of the heretic hordes. I can however say that in all my time, I have never known such a bold move. This has to be an attempt to catch us unawares, to halt our progress before we reach Terra. That Abaddon did not wait until we had spent ourselves against the defences of the Palace before he struck speaks volumes of his desperation. The situation within the Empyrean must indeed be dire. Guilliman nodded and then smiled, his black eyes catching the light of the fires raging about them. Abaddon is a fool, then. Better for himself if he had fled when he had the chance. Let us spring this trap. Give the order to push forward. Everything we have. He allowed himself a little smile. And try to keep up, if you can. The Primarch watched as the wrath of the Unity fell upon the Fortress of Ages like a hungry predator, a living tide of bodies and armour so thick it was as if the ancient fastness was hit by a storm surge. The breach before him was a particularly massive rend, easily a full quarter of a kilometre across. Landers suffocated the ground as they came to rest before the rift, quickly filling his vision as far as he could see. Tau and human alike spilled from the craft and charged towards the walls, issuing a collective roar of determination. The Fortresss defences answered with deadly effect, ancient guns of unknown pattern turning Orcas into raging plumes of fire and smoke and tearing huge gouges through the armoured mass. Forward! The Primarch cried, and set off sprinting towards the battle. Within minutes he was deep within the advancing forces, hurtling through armour and warriors like some vengeful, hunting arrow. He passed between lumbering XV88-2 Broadsides, their massive arm-mounted railguns thundering. Each released shell left a glowing spiral contrail in its wake, and soon the air before him was a mass of vertical cris-crossed lines. He continued on, covering the flat and rocky expanse at a tremendous rate. The roar of bike engines and he knew then that Hydrion and his warriors would be struggling to keep up, but he did not care. Victory against the forces of Chaos was so close now he could almost taste it. Abaddon! He cried, his voice rising over the all-pervasive clamour. You are mine, heretic! At last, your traitorous head will be my trophy! He ran so fast now that everything around him started to blur, the deep shadows and the blinding light merging and seeping into one another. He felt bodies being hurled out of his way, scattered like stones before the feet of a god, but he could not concern himself with their fate, this battle was too important. Thousands would die here, maybe more. It did not matter. Up ahead, a vast collective of armour was spearheading the Tau assault into the breach. Devilfish and

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Hammerhead conflagrated spectacularly, pounded into burning debris by the chaos defence. A quick assessment of the shifting shapes beyond revealed the familiar silver and black/yellow chevron markings of the Iron Warriors, and he knew then that the attacking forces would be hard pressed to break through to the inner sanctums of the Fortress. Press on! He commanded, knowing his communications link would deliver his voice directly to each and every warrior on the field. Do not falter in the face of the enemy, not even for a moment! Give your lives to push them back! Embrace the Tauva, and you will know no fear! The scene before him was one of total bedlam. The first wave of armour stood little chance of achieving anything save for death, and they knew it. Tanks expired by the score, torn to pieces by the determined chaos defence. Fire Warriors flung themselves free of their transports, only to be consumed by the explosions as the vehicles were destroyed seconds later. Guilliman gritted his teeth and bore on, the harsh ground shaking beneath his feet. The engines of the Alpha Legion bikes screamed behind him, pushed to their tolerances in their attempts to keep pace. The gap was closing. Several Dominators descended ahead of him, their multiple weapons systems raining death down into the defenders. Artillery barked in reply, Earthshaker cannons quickly elevated to deal with this new threat. A few of the massive battlesuits crashed to the ground, broken and shattered by the fusillade. Most made it safely though, and soon the most powerful combat units of the Tau were amongst the heretic legions. OGuilliman. Even as the familiar voice crackled over his comm-net, he sensed the presence of something above him. A quick glance at the skies over his head confirmed his suspicions. OKirla greeted him with a nod as he sailed by, the flare of his jump-pack mirrored by the hundreds of those around him. Good hunting, my lord. Good hunting. Guilliman echoed, raising his rail pistol in readiness. The Shas Kayon touched down beyond the wall seconds before the Primarch reached the gap. He hurled himself up and onto the base of the shattered wall, slowing enough to take stock of the terrain before him. It took less than a second for him to find his first victims. Gathered behind the wall was a burgeoning mass of Iron Warriors, a swelling carpet of warriors and armour that stretched as far as he could see. The enemy were embroiled in countering the Unity forces, and though hard pressed by the various elements attacking them, were nonetheless standing firm. He spied the crew of a captured Basilisk, the warriors seemingly ignorant of the clamour about them as they strived to reload the vehicles massive cannon. He aimed at the loader and disintegrated the Marines head with his first shot. With his second he punched another Marine off his feet, opening the warriors chest like the petals of a flower. He cursed his own eagerness as he gathered his thoughts, the prospect of engaging the most hated enemy clouding his better judgement. He spied the heaped artillery shells piled on the flat bed of the vehicle and sent a third whining shot through them, causing a spectacular detonation that tore the machine to pieces along with every living thing surrounding it. The force of the resultant fireball swayed him and he dug his heels into the ground, weathering the howling maelstrom.

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The warriors of the Alpha Legion arrested their advance around him, bikes churning the ground beneath as they shuddered to a halt. Bolters chattered as the Marines engaged the enemy, cutting swathes through the heretic forces. A bolter round sparked as it struck the Primarchs shoulder, sparks coruscating from the blow. Hydrion lunged forward in the seat of his bike. My lord! Guilliman threw him a harsh, chastising glance. Push on into the heretics! We cannot allow our attack to falter! OKirlas hunters were amongst the enemy now and making a good account of themselves, pulse staffs flashing bright in the gloom. The commanders voice carried across the battlefield as he urged his warriors on, fearless in the face of the corrupt enemy. Guilliman knew that, like all the other Tau, OKirla did not understand the true concept of chaos. The influence of the Ruinous Powers was utterly alien to them, despite the fact that they hated the agents of chaos more than any other. This was a positive thing, as the Tau did not fear the corruption and the sorcery of the enemy. OKirla and his warriors would not be swayed by the unimaginable horrors that awaited hem. A flash of sudden movement caught his eye and he was drawn to the flurry of activity beyond the roiling battle. A burst of sickly light illuminated the conflict and he sensed the air thicken and charge. The deep crimson armour of the sons of Lorgar could be seen beyond the cold silver of the Iron Warriors, and as he spied the Word Bearers he concentrated, filtering out the general cacophony. He could hear their guttural voices as they chanted, agitating the barrier between the dimensions with their repulsive prayers. He knew only too well what these foul followers of the Empyrean gods were striving to achieve. The air churned as several dark figures rose up from the morass, screeches and howls raking at his ears at their arrival. Daemons! He heard one of the warriors call behind him, as if the presence of such abominations needed to be detected through sight alone. Furies of the warp, twisted things as monstrous as they appeared. Borne aloft on ragged and membranous wings, the daemons trailed oversized limbs beneath them, vicious claws raking the air in readiness to strike. Guillimans gun arm snapped up faster than thought and he literally turned the first of them inside out, the force of the rail shot dragging much of the Furys fur-matted body back through the gaping wound. The ethereal creature shrieked as it spun apart, unravelling into a greasy smoke. Hydrions men opened up behind him, the chattering roar of their mounted bolters hammering against the Primarchs temples as they countered the threat. Warp filth! Guilliman shouted, striding forward. Another shot sent its victim screaming back to the Immaterium. As he neared the approaching Furies the beasts slowed, their bodies quivering. The void of shadow at the centre of the null field generator at his breast deepened, the edges of the obsidian jewel hazing as its influence began to work. He met the abominations without hesitation, barging into their midst, his sword flashing about his head. Two of the daemons came apart immediately, their separated bodies dissipating amid howling ethereal winds as they came apart. Foul ichors coated his armour briefly before smouldering and evaporating, the stuff no longer able to hold its place in the material universe. The pack swarmed around him, circling with vicious intent. Claws swept at him, drawing sparks across his

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armour, though none could penetrate. The closer the fiends came, the more they seemed to rail at his presence, their debased bodies smouldering, the fire in their many eyes guttering and losing its potency. Guilliman pivoted sharply and fired into the mass again and again, each whining shot punching through crowded daemon flesh. Soon the ammunition clip of his pistol emitted a flat whine and ejected itself, spent. He thrust his sword through the belly of another monstrosity and drove blade and daemon down into the ground and then let go as his victim came apart, falling to one knee. The Primarch worked almost as fast as the eye could follow as he used the second of distraction to produce another clip from his belt and slam it home. A dark shape loomed from the circling mass and descended towards him, issuing a rending scream as it opened its maw wide. The Fury thrust its claws forward eagerly and prepared to strike. The terrible sound continued even after its twisted body disappeared, engulfed by something black and abominable. Every last pool of shadow within a five-metre radius ascended, drawn towards a central point above the Primarch, gathered and moulded, reformed into terrible and ravenous things of nightmare. A huge fang-laden maw closed around Guillimans attacker and swallowed it whole. He started and turned, quickly retrieving his sword. More shadow-limbs lashed out from the hovering orb above him, lancing through daemon bodies or shredding them like paper. He looked on as the entity took the remainder of the daemon pack apart in seconds, its intangible extremities carving through the creatures with unsettling ease. Guilliman rose as the last traces of daemonic substance dissipated into nothing and the blinding glow of the Umbras spherical form faded into deep obsidian. A simple nod conveyed his gratitude. He did not speak, but merely raised his arm and pointed out towards the inner defences. The mysterious orb hovered above him for a moment and then drifted ponderously away, leeching away the shadows as it went. We push on. He said to the warriors behind him. Ahead, the first of the heretics awaited him. The combined Tau forces were embroiled in fighting back the traitors, and though OKirlas gen-enhanced warriors were holding their own, the Fire Warriors were suffering greatly. Guilliman leapt clear of the shattered base of the wall and broke into a sprint, the Alpha Legion bikers hot on his heels. A quick glance told him that the enemy defence consisted of many varying loyalties, the warriors of each legion distinct in their differences but united under one foul banner; that of Abaddon. Strike them down! He cried, racing forward. Every last one of them! Purge this bastion of filth! Up ahead, the first of the enemy noticed his advance. The defence line was suffering, punished by the Umbra and the Tau alike, but even now more and more faces turned his way. None could mistake the Primarch. The first bolter shots hammered against his armour, scoring deep grooves across the ancient ceramite. He ignored the questing fire and returned the murderous gesture, sending rail shot through the massed Marines before him. A deep base roar drowned out the noise of the bike engines, loud enough to snatch his attention. One of the Iron Warrior tanks spun on its axis to face him, its tracks throwing up a cloud of dry rubble debris as it shifted its position. The vehicle revved its engines, emitting a noise like a ravening growl. Rattling chains shuddered against an armoured bulk thick with rust and unidentifiable ichors, and Guilliman noticed quickly

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that every hatch and access panel had been welded shut and reinforced by those same chains. The thick metal hull flexed and shuddered as if trying to tear itself apart, and thick black smoke bellowed from its exhausts. The predators turret squealed as it twisted towards him and unleashed a blinding lascannon blast in his direction. Guilliman threw himself to one side fast enough for the burning lance of energy to bypass him and sear on of the Alpha legion bikers from existence. No matter how fast his reactions, however, the possessed vehicle would have eventually ended his life there and then had it not found itself suddenly and viciously barged out of the way with such force that it was flipped up and over onto its side, crushing several of its smaller Iron Warrior brethren in the process. The Black Legion Dreadnought barged past the tank and set off in a lurching run towards him, unleashing a guttural metallic roar that shook its surroundings. Guilliman saw this and lowered his head, bringing his sword up to his chest in readiness. Nothing would stop him from bringing death to the Despoiler. Nothing.

Chapter Sixty Three: Inexorable

The berserker machine thundered towards him, the bass thrum of its roar shaking the air. Broken chains whipped about its powerful limbs, chains that were used to keep the insane creation bound until it was time for it to be unleashed. The Alpha Legion bikes roared past the Primarch to engage the machine, weapons blazing. One of the Marines possessed a plasma gun and wasted no time in using it. The blast slammed into the Dreadnoughts thick armour, illuminating the black sarcophagus for a split second. The thing bore on, unperturbed, and smashed one of the bikers as it charged through the squad. Marine and bike cartwheeled away, both breaking apart as they went. The bolters mounted beneath its arms came alive, muzzles wreathed in flashing fire. Guilliman waited until the Dreadnought was almost upon him and then broke into a run, firing off a brace of shots as he went. The Primarchs preternatural aim proved true and the machines sculpted deathmask distorted, the metal caving inwards with the force of each shot until the leering face was an undistinguishable mess. Whether this proved enough to blind the machine was not immediately determinable, as it continued in its maddened charge towards the Primarch, bellowing and firing and swinging its massive fists. Another Alpha Legion Marine fell, his helm split open by a stray round. Guilliman gritted his teeth, thrust his shoulder forward, and met the abomination head-on. The two combatants slammed into each other with crushing force, the resultant noise like a thunderclap. Both stopped dead and then took a few stumbling paces back, staggered by the collision. Guilliman needed no time to recover. He ran forward and swung his sword down, the blow carving deep into the shoulder joint of a massive arm. He pulled the powerful sword free and lunged again. The Dreadnought reacted instinctively to the attack by rotating sharply on its axis, spreading its arms wide to sweep everything around it away. The punished arm came loose and twisted away, hurled like a stone into the battle lines beyond. The Primarch ducked low and rolled away, coming to his feet in one smooth motion far enough away to escape harm.

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A huge shape barrelled into the Dreadnought, almost as large as the machine itself. Enveloped in thick armour so vast it gave him the appearance of a Crisis warrior, OMogdrak bellowed a challenge at his opponent and lunged head-first at the berserk walker, driving his skull into the things frontal armour. He smashed his massive axe again and again into the buckled sarcophagus, the blue-hued blade carving great rends into the thick shell. Da Greata Good! He screamed over and over again, the phrase echoed by the thousands of Orks pouring through the breach behind him. The air itself seemed to charge as the chant rose in crescendo, and in turn each and every Ork visible became agitated with an almost fevered excitement, caught up in some irresistible furore of elation. A wave of brief but powerful residual emotion washed over Guilliman, heavy and irresistible, before his mind quashed the unbidden sensation. Kill them. He ordered. Kill them all. The huge Ork worked his weapon free of the tangle of shredded armour at his feet and kicked the disabled machine, his black eyes alive with bloodlust. The Primarch raised his pistol and fired a round into the leaking chasm at the centre of the Dreadnought, a cold and accurate shot that caused the metal beast to cease in its defiant spasms and lie still, its augmented limbs falling slack. OMogdrak regarded Guilliman with a stare of angered disbelief at the stolen kill, only for a second, and then his grey features slackened, his biological subservience asserting itself. Kill em all. He echoed, his gaze shifting towards the enemy. Kill em all! Kill em all! With that he realigned his armoured bulk and charged towards the chaos lines, the rest of the horde hot on his heels. Guilliman watched the Greyskin tide hurtle towards the enemy with no small amount of satisfaction. The Orks were as powerful as they were numerous, and he knew that they would reap a heavy toll no matter how badly the enemy mauled them in the process. It did not matter to him how many Orks were killed here today. He would not mourn their loss, for that was not the way of the Tauva. The Ork surge overwhelmed the enemy defences within moments, the sheer weight of the attack causing enough initial disruption to absorb the weight of the chaos resistance. The immediate threat of danger suppressed, the Primarch found himself a small window of opportunity in to take a moment to rest and assess the situation. He raised a hand and flicked his finger, and within seconds Hydrion was by his side, his bike slewing to a standstill beside the Primarch. The warrior dismounted and jogged the few paces over to him. The attack goes well. The Shas Kayon and the Orks should soon push through to the inner citadel. Indeed, lord. Hydrion answered. The warrior hesitated then for a moment, the pause noticeable enough to cause Guillimans eyes to narrow. What is it, warrior? Our spies within the citadel report of grave machinations, lord. This is bigger than any of us suspected. The champions of the Four Winds have gathered, and between them they plan to unleash a terrible entity here, one that may prove too powerful even for us. I see. Then we must strive to break into the heart of this cursed place as soon as we can, and put an end to whatever foul sorceries are occurring.

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It will take time to gain entry into the sanctum of the Despoiler. Ahrimans cabal guards the gates, and they are amongst the most powerful of the Change Gods servants. They have woven great and powerful hexes into the gates themselves, potent enough to tear the soul from the body. These enchantments will weaken over time as the influence of the null-energies grows. Until that time, it is simply too dangerous to try and attempt to enter. Unacceptable. Guilliman answered, turning his gaze towards the distant edifice beyond the conflict. Ralei will break this nest of filth wide open for us. +++ Far behind the front lines, Inquisitor Maturin Ralei started and rose slowly. The Earth Caste engineer collective fell silent and the Jokaero accompanying them scuttled away, casting nervous glances behind them. The Primarch calls me. The Tau bowed their heads and backed away, the most senior among them waving their arms as they directed the others away. Prosper Inquisitor, for the Tauva. One of the Fio commanders said. Ralei simply regarded the being with cold and unreadable eyes. Without any further word he set off towards the distant conflict, his departure watched by the rest of the engineer collective. Maturin Ralei was an enigma to the Unity forces as a whole, his name spoken only in whisper. Little was known about his past, only that he had joined the Unity along with a large collective of the Imperiums forces following the Gathalamor Suppression, and had quickly rose through the ranks to become one of the Primarchs most trusted advisors on xenos tactics and biology. Many feared Ralei, the Nicassar most of all. Some said he was soulless; a black void of a man, something the Inquisitor had never readily disagreed. Ralei began to pick up speed. He swept the long folds of his greatcoat back and broke into a jog, his unblinking eyes fixed upon the distant struggle before him. Within moments a black miasma began to form about him, the hazy void thickening fast, and within moments it had enveloped his running form. Almost as soon as it had appeared, the veil dissipated. Ralei was gone. Voices fell silent in their incantations as the wall of darkness spilled into the space before the gateway, the sudden appearance of the anomaly animating them. They looked on as a figure stepped from the void and the shadows shrank away around it, revealing a man, apparently alone and unharmed. The nine sorcerers of the Cabal of Ahriman repositioned themselves to form a wall of armour before the gates, weapons slowly rising. Arrogant fool. One of the warrior-mystics uttered, with a voice like rolling thunder. His blue armour shimmered with nascent power as he took a step forward and raised the quivering glaive in his hands, a sheen of building power coruscating around the daemonic weapon. None shall pass these gates, by order of the Despoiler. Children. Ralei answered, his face displaying not a single trace of emotion. Your vile existence offends my lord. I am here to resolve that. The warrior did not answer. He raised the glaive and sent a burning column of blood-red fire twisting out to

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consume the Inquisitor. Ralei stood firm as the warp-fuelled conflagration broke around him, curving harmlessly around his body, much to the astonishment of the gathered sorcerers. You have no idea what I am. He said, his eyes glowing with a sickly green light. He raised his hand and a long staff shimmered into being, as if vomited from the air itself. He is a sorcerer. Another member of the Cabal hissed, the hundreds of tiny eyes set into his helm glistening. Swallow his soul. All nine of the sorcerers raised their hands as one and the air quivered, a howling ethereal wind rising from nowhere to buffet everything in sight. Ralei ignored it and began to advance, the head of his staff glowing with an ever-increasing crackle of emerald power. A storm of multi-hued energies hammered into him but as they did so the man looked to grow incorporeal and hazy. The incoming fire passed through him as if he were but an illusion, unable to connect with anything solid. Ralei brought the staff forward and unleashed a blast of bright at the nearest warrior. The sorcerer raised his weapon and turned the shot aside with a pained howl of effort, staggering back several paces. One of his brethren drew a bolt pistol and fired, apparently hoping that cold, inert steel would prevail where warp power had failed. The bolt hammered into Raleis chest and exploded, an occurrence that seemed to surprise everyone. The Inquisitor slowed, staggered a little, and then continued to advance. The wound shifted and squirmed as if alive with activity and as each second passed grew smaller and smaller, as if the punished flesh was re-knitting itself. Kill it! The blue-armoured warrior shouted. Raleis eyes burned brighter than ever. The darkness came again and swallowed him, and in a second he reappeared less than a metre before the assembled sorcerers. He swung the bladed staff and parted one of the warriors from shoulder to hip, bright, multi-hued energies spilling from the separated cadaver in place of blood. Children. He uttered again. +++ +++THE ETERNITY GATE+++ +++THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++ +++TERRA+++ Pugnus Imperatorius pushed his way through the sea of golden armour, literally towering over the other Custodes surrounding him. There was no panic here, but the sense of disquiet was palpable. Imperatorius reached the massive gates and drew his golden sword, the ancient blade ringing as it was pulled free. Its power field ignited unbidden, the ancient technologies interred within its hilt sensing its masters intent. He stepped through the gates and slowed. The two massive Gatekeepers shifted their bulk to allow him to pass, literally groaning beneath the sheer weight of the weapons systems they held trained on the figures before the gate. Captain-General. Achosyx and his ever-silent guardian stood alone before the vast gates. The huge metal creation towered over the smaller Fabricator-General, its ancient metal body marred by the patina of age. Easily as tall as the

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Captain-General and possessed of a far greater bulk, the Sentinel stared silently at Imperatorius, its augmetic eyes cold and unreadable. It bore no visible weapons, but he had heard whispers of the machines potent abilities. It could call up many forms of weaponry from within its ever-changing form. Its huge arms were able to reconfigure and transform to become guns or even blades, brought forth by the unfathomable will of the sentient creation. He knew better than to underestimate the enigmatic machine. What business is it that brings you here, Achosyx? He asked, shifting his gaze. The Grand Magos lifted his head and Imperatorius caught but a fleeting glimpse of two twinkling red eyes, lost amid the void of shadow beneath the folds of his hood. Magnificent machines. He said, nodding at the towering golden behemoths standing either side of the Custode. Wonderous creations of an age long since past. He raised a hand and gestured at his own metal giant. Such examples surround us wherever we go, Imperatorius. Reminders of a glory lost to the mists of time. Our Imperium is but a shadow, an after-image of what it once was. We have lost so much, and now we are gasping our final breaths. What business is it that brings you here? Imperatorius repeated, dismissing the Grand Magoss rant. Achosyx looked past the golden giant as if trying to catch a glimpse of the secret spaces beyond. The last bastion of our Emperor. You shut the doors and lock yourselves away, as though in doing so it will prevent the inevitable. Regaas holds sway here now. You and I are all that is left of the old Imperium. I am here to offer a truce, guardian, that we may yet see a way of ending the impostors reign. The Taus advance is implacable, and there is little we can do to prevent them descending upon Terra. We alone have known of the duplicity of Regaas for many years. We have been forced to sit back and watch as the insidious usurper has grown powerful enough to take the reins of our empire for himself. He will make his move when the Unity come, and we both know that his actions will sign the death warrant of our race, no matter the outcome of this war. We have to stop him. Imperatorius sneered, a look of utter hatred twisting his face. You offer a truce? How foolish do you think I am, Achosyx? You scheme and plot just as he does. We both know why you hate Regaas with such intensity, and it has nothing to do with the Emperor. You would see the Tau destroyed only to bring a far greater evil into power, an evil that would utterly consume us all. I know of your true allegiances, traitor. Go and fight your masters secret wars. I exist only to protect the father of us all, and I will do that unto death. Achosyx nodded slowly, as if he truly expected no other response. Very well, Custode. Sit here and die when the Unity comes to claim this world as their own. Perhaps it would be better that his existence was ended before the coming of my lord. The Omnissiahs hunger is a vast thing. You are a blind fool, Achosyx, who doesnt realise what darkness he meddles with. Ah! It is you who is blind to the truth, ancient one. I understand exactly what power my god holds. There were those among my order who feared the true face of the Omnissiah, who kept His magnificence locked away like some dirty, secret shame. When the puppets of the Unity came for Mars, the fools tried to destroy

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Him, rather than see His full glory released. The Omnissiah cannot be destroyed, Imperatorius. The death of Mars merely stirred and nourished him in equal measure. He waits now, beyond the realms of mortal comprehension. He waits for the ships of the Unity to come. Then he will feast. Imperatorius did not answer. He pivoted on his heel and strode back through the gates, leaving the brace of silent Gatekeepers to close the gap behind him. Thats it! run and hide! Achosyx called after him, his augmetic voice resounding through the vast space of the Eternity Gate. It wont do you any good! You failed him once when the servants of the Ruinous Powers came to shatter the defences of the Imperial Palace and he fell, never more to rise! You will fail him again! The Emperor is dead and done, and there is nothing you can do to prevent that! Behind him, he heard the potent weapons systems of the Gatekeepers powering up and he paused, his eyes widening. Stand down! He commanded, striding back towards the opening. The ancient Dreadnoughts obeyed without question. A vile chuckle of amusement drifted from the robed Grand Magos. Wise, Imperatorius. It pleases me to see that you at least have a rudimentary understanding of how to prevent a terminal mistake. And I sense, turncoat, that you would like nothing more than to goad me into a physical confrontation. Do not waste you time. He lifted his head back and deactivated his sword, placing it back in its scabbard. His gaze found the ever-silent Sentinel and lingered there. Your loyalties will destroy you, Achosyx. I promise you that. Remember those words when the Caesus comes to Terra and fulfils its destiny. The Sentinels implacable gaze remained fixed upon the Custode as he entered the gates once more and they closed behind him.

Chapter Sixty Four: Visions

None of you understand. None of you have the courage to face him. Damn you all, then. Damn your Alliance. Damn your cowardice, I will not abandon him. I go to him as a true and loyal Ultramarine, and he will love me for it. Berolinuss face lingered there in his mind, his last words echoing over and over again. The young warriors eyes were wide, his teeth bared. His expression was one of utter desperation and almost insane determination. As a Chaplain, Codian could read the hearts of those under him well. He knew then that Lurom Berolinus would surely use the bolter in his hand should he need to, and the terror writ large across Andrasis face told him that the Captain believed this too.

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He sighed and paused the vid, the sudden cessation of audio throwing the deserted bridge into silence. He stood and bathed in the peace for long moments, unable to tear his gaze away from the frozen face before him. Berolinuss eyes bored into his own and he found he could not shake them. His brother was lost, and perhaps, if he had but realised what was going on inside the Marines head, he could have prevented that. He ran the recording back and played it once again, as he had done for over an hour now, as if reliving the scene could somehow alter the situation for the better. The Marines spiteful words drifted from the vox speakers once more, each word a cold knife to the heart. None of you understand. None of you have the courage to face him. Damn you all, then. Damn your Alliance. Heed this message, no matter the hatred that burns within. Damn your cowardice, I will not abandon him. I go to him as a true and loyal Ultramarine, and he will love me for it. He paused the recording once more and made to rise, placing his hands within the deep folds of his robe. This was the first time he had removed his armour in a long time, but he had always found that it helped him think. Did you hear that? What he said, it was different. Codian lifted his head and glanced over his shoulder to see Czevak standing in a small pool of light at the centre of the empty bridge, his hands down by his sides. The Inquisitors gaze was fixed upon the frozen image, and like Codian, he wore the simple robes of night-hour dress. Inquisitor. The Chaplain said, rising slowly to greet the man. I did not hear you enter. Czevak shifted his gaze from the screen and looked at Codian, an expression of confusion changing his face. He started forward and pointed to the screen. Heed his message. Thats what he said. We have watched this transmission over and over again, and that was the first time I heard him say that. We have? I was alone here for hours, Czevak. You must be mistaken. The Inquisitor shook his head as if tin an attempt to clear his thoughts, still outwardly confused. II dont remember. I dont remember coming here. Fatigue. These last few weeks have been testing for us all. I suggest you return to your quarters and rest. Czevak shook his head, his long black hair hanging loose. No, no, dont you see? The message, it was different. Listen to it again. Codian withdrew a hand and made to place it upon the mans shoulder, but this only served to make Czevak pull away. This is wrong, Chaplain. What am I doing here? I dont remember coming here. His eyes were wild now, his tone anxious. Codian began to grow concerned; worried that the Inquisitor was starting to succumb to the stresses they had all been placed under. Please Chaplain, hear me. Look around you. The bridge is empty, deserted. This bridge is never deserted. Codian stepped forward and opened his mouth to answer, and then he paused. Czevak was right. They were the only two on the bridge. The thought had never occurred to him until this

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point, but the Inquisitors observation was correct. Play it again. Czevak said, walking towards the pict screen. Play it again and you will see. Codian nodded and moved towards the rune bank, his own intrigue fuelled by the mystery. The more he thought about it the more he saw that Czevak was right, his words ringing true for both of them. It was only as he reached the controls that he felt a hand upon his shoulder and he looked behind him to see the Inquisitors face, and the mounting fear there. Perhapsperhaps it would be better if you didnt. Perhaps we should leave this place and return to our quarters. I am afraid to be here and I do not know why. Codian felt no fear, but he did have a troubling sense of apprehension at playing the recording once again. the sense of wrongness that the Inquisitor had commented on now weighed heavily upon his own soul, and he knew, despite the feeling, that he had to resolve this bizarre situation. To gain answers, one must face his fears. I am not afraid to seek those answers. He pressed the rune and the recording started to play once again, continuing from the moment it had paused. Berolinus twisted his head and spat, a gesture of unmistakeable contempt. He increased his grip on Andrasis shoulder and thrust the barrel of his bolter closer to the Captains head, increasing the wild fear that seized the man. Help us. Andrasi whispered. Hell kill us all. The Marine snarled and thrust his face down into the Captains own, his lips drawn back over his teeth in a snarl of burning disdain. Be silent, you snivelling waste of life! You were willing to flee the coming war like the coward you are, reluctant to take a stand against the xenos filth that have ruined our once-glorious Imperium! You dont deserve to live! He looked towards the screen, his eyes wide and alive with an unstable danger. You would not listen to me, Codian. You forced me to act this way. We opened our eyes and found ourselves in a nightmare galaxy, an insane and pitiful realm occupied by a dying race, a race gasping its final, pained breaths. Our race. The Tau have killed us, Chaplain, they have hounded us to extinction. In our absence the xenos have bested us, and you dont give a damn. You stupid, blind fool. Of all of us, I had expected you to understand. No, it was your damned duty to understand! You have forgotten yourself and all you stand for, just as that b-----d Calgar has! The day the Ultramarines left our Primarch to the mercy of the Tau was the day our Chapter died, and not even you had the courage to face that fact. I hate you for that, and I spit on your name. I am the only one left who has the courage to try and reach Him and I will do it, even if it means my life The Marines voice trailed away then, and his burning expression calmed. We need to leave this place. Czevak said, backing away from the screen. His hands were shaking and his face was pale and drawn. Please The truth hurts, does it not? Berolinus said to the screen, leaning forward. His voice had changed now, deeper, ominous and charged with eons of power. It matters not. You must hear it. No matter how hard it may be for you to accept, accept it you will. Heed

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this message, no matter the hatred that burns within. Heed it or die, as I am destined to do so. Behind him, Czevak let out a quiet whimper and stumbled, falling to the floor. Codian looked behind him in time to see the Inquisitor crawling towards the exit. The gloom beyond him became void and sealed the bridge closed. Czevak cried out and began to sob. No. Please, not him. Not him Chaplain Codian glanced towards the screen and staggered back, raising his hands instinctively. The image of Berolinus filled the screen and then began to warp, reaching out. He looked on in astonishment as the Marine pushed his way into the bridge, shimmering with an ethereal light as the flat image became real. Listen to me, Daelo Codian, for time is short. The entity said, its familiar image blurring and distorting. I have travelled far to find you, and my power cannot sustain this illusion for long. A great darkness is destined to eclipse these stars. We cannot stand against it. Our power has diminished, too much so to counter that which hungers for the death of gods and the mortals alike. The Star Vampires stir, ready to unleash their hate upon creation. The Tau have weakened us enough to ensure that we cannot win. Only you hold the power to defeat them. Ahriman He heard Czevak whimper in the darkness. Emperor preserve us all At hearing the Inquisitors words it was as if a veil was lifted from his eyes, and as Codian looked on the image transformed, taking on an altogether more sinister appearance. The warriors carapace became gnarled and corrupt, sporting the sigils of the damned. His face sank beneath a many-horned helm, a glowing eye set into its centre. His stomach lurched as he took in the true visage of the wraith. Servant of chaos. He snarled, his own robes darkening almost instantly. His vestments shifted and changed, first thickening and then solidifying into carapace. Within less than a second he was clad in his familiar artificer armour, his crozius drawn and to hand. Leave. Leave now. I will not repeat myself. The figure raised the staff in his hand and swept it before him, the gesture causing the Chaplains weapon to dissipate into dust. Dont be a fool, Codian. Listen to me, or listen to your own mind. I come to you not as an enemy but as an ally. That Fool Abaddon thinks he has a chance to achieve victory but he is as lost as any of us. He has but glimpsed at the horrors that rouse from their millennial slumber, and even then he knows nothing of their true potential. We know, Codian, both you and I. We have seen. I have quested for an age for the knowledge required to defeat such ancient foes, and I know now that I cannot achieve what must be done. It is too late for us. Even now, there is one of the agents of the primeval powers among Guillimans forces. An ancient lord of the lost Necrontyr, one of the few blessed by his gods to retain that which the others have sacrificed. He will manipulate and influence the direction of the Unity to ensure that his masters plans are realised. As powerful as we are, we cannot hurt him. Enough! I have not seen this. Codian answered. And I do not know you. This is an illusion, nothing more. The intrusive nightmare stepped further into the bridge and Codian found himself being pushed back unbidden with each step the abomination took, his feet sliding on the polished surface. Heed my warning, Chaplain, for the good of life itself. For an age I searched for a way into the Eldar

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webway, in order to warn them of what they had created and in doing so what they would unleash. No matter how hard I tried, I could not reach the hidden and mysterious Black Library of the Harlequins. I did the only thing I could. I took your colleague, a man who I had seen had glimpsed its wonders for himself. I kn He paused then, seeing the Chaplains struggle to assert himself. The sorcerer raised a hand and black tendrils of shadow twisted around Codians struggling body, holding him fast. He tried to speak but found he could not, the miasma as suffocating as it was restrictive. You will hear me. I knew that the only way to reach the Harlequins would be through Czevak. I knew they would come for him, for the secrets he holds within his mind are too valuable to be revealed. It worked. The warning was implanted into his mind and when the Eldar took him they saw then what they had done and what would come to pass. I found favour with my father once more, the deed done. I bring to you now one final message, in the hope that this may save your kind from extinction. The Tau have a weapon, secret and terrible, and though it will not be enough to stop the most ancient gods of the enemy, it could prove to be the undoing of mankind. This great work even now comes close to completion, and when they reach Terra they will unleash it upon you. A vast and powerful army slumbers at the heart of the Unity fleet, awaiting its collective birth. Millions strong, it will tip the balance in favour of the Tau if it is unleashed. Ahriman stepped back and spread the fingers of his free hand, the air swimming fluid in the limbs wake. The entire wall behind Codian and Czevak altered, light running into the darkness until the shadows were diluted and washed away. The tendrils holding Codian fast rotated him slowly and then released him, before shrinking back to dissipate into nothing. See them. See the cold-blooded legions, the engineered, slumbering monsters destined to blood themselves against the defenders of Terra. You must bring light to these abominations if your Imperium is to survive. You have a Tau among you know, I have seen it. You must look to him and others like him if you are to find your way to the heart of the Unity. You have the seed, so plant it and let it grow. The Caesus will take care of the rest. Stunned by the vision before him, it took Codian a great deal of mental strength to pull away from what he saw and turn his back to the illusion. Slow and silent, Ahriman was walking away from him towards the screen once again, his long cloak billowing as if caught in some ethereal wind. You Lie! The Chaplain called after him, though even as he did so his voice wavered with an underlying uncertainty. You fear for your own existence and so you lie. You seek to manipulate us, as is the lot of your traitorous kind. There is no greater objective for the servants of chaos than to see the Imperium finally fall. This is a trap, nothing more. The sorcerer paused as he heard this. He turned his head slowly, the eyes of his helm pulsing with vibrant and insidious power. Manipulate? Of course I seek to manipulate you, Imperial. But I do not lie. I told you before; the forces of chaos cannot win this war. The power the Unity uses to close the Eye is an unsubtle thing. The passing of every day sees the barriers between the realities strengthened and the burgeoning powers of the Immaterium calmed. If the Tau succeed, and they will, then the warp will become a prison for my god. Tzeentch needs you and your kind. Without His cattle, he cannot feed. I would not see my lord starved. It does not matter what happens after this war, Chaplain, only that we survive it. None of us can vie for the domination of this realm if all are but dust and memory. Remember.

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The glowing image came alive then and enveloped the sorcerer, spilling forth to consume his shimmering body. As the fluid light retreated it took Ahriman with it, and by the time the image flattened and stabilised he was gone, the recognisable face of Berolinus in his place. The numbing shock that had held Codian immobile subsided and the Chaplain stepped forward, his armour quickly unravelling into insubstantial shadows that twisted away to join with the gloom of the half-lit bridge. With that, the gloom intensified and the darkness closed around him, every last trace of light quickly fading. Ahriman. He awoke with the name on his lips, trembling and drenched in sweat. His chamber was lit only by the merest glow of flickering light, and a glance at the chron beside his simple cot told him that the ship was still deep within the quiet hours of the night cycle. He sat up and swept his hands over his head, feeling the limbs still shaking. He had never known them do that before. He had never known such apprehension before. The vision had been so vivid it was as if the afterimage was still burned into his mind. He closed his eyes and found he could still see the endless slumbering legions of the enemy, as clear as if he were there. Codian rose from his bed and smoothed his robe down, taking a deep breath. His mouth was dry and his head heavy, as if he were suffering the side effects of illness or inebriation, or at least thats how he imagined it. He had to get out of the confines of his chamber, he knew then, in order to push himself and clear his thoughts. With that in mind, his thoughts turned instinctively to the sparring cages, and the mental clarity a night of practice and exercise would bring. His fist hammered against the door release and he shifted forward. The face at the other side rose slowly, the eyes that regarded him dark and bloodshot, the skin surrounding them pale and half hidden beneath long strands of loose raven hair. The figure rose and fell, each breath heavy, exaggerated. Damn him. Czevak whispered, struggling for breath. Now the b-----d haunts my dreams.

Chapter Sixty Five: Power Struggle

Dear Sasham, it has taken me a century to insinuate my way into your Inquisition. There are few of my kind capable. Most are mindless, pure, undistracted by personality. But there are those of us who remember. Lords and ladies of another age, converted and purified but not cleansed of memory. Excepted from Xenology, by Si Spurrier. +++ No soulno soul The wind itself seemed to speak the words over and over again, rising and falling in pitch as it swirled around the combatants. The emerald-eyed man stood defiant before them, not a trace of emotion upon his face.

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Weakness. He uttered. That is all I see. The foolish and the weak, filled with delusions of grandeur and ideas above their station. Tainted as you are, your kind has no use to my master. Better that you are scoured from this existence. He is no sorcerer. One of the warrior-mystics snarled. He is nothing but void, a black hole where life should be. The warrior stepped forward and shuddered, his ornate armour groaning as it began to flex. He snarled with pained effort as his arms and torso expanded, the ancient carapace warping to accommodate the rapid increase in size. Within seconds he was a giant, at least four times the size of his brethren, his altered physique simian and exaggerated. The titan lumbered forward and slammed his fists into the ground, shattering the ancient flags into dust. Ralei was already gone, moving faster than his opponent could compensate for. He took a step back and twisted as the sorcerer nearest him erupted in a flash of azure flame, his body combusting. The Inquisitor pivoted brusquely and fixed the burning heretic with a gaze of depthless horror, the very air about his head thickening and blistering like paper beneath a flame. The burning Thousand Son hesitated, the fires that raged about him guttering briefly, and Ralei thrust his staff into the inferno, teasing a howl of pain from the entity. He shuddered violently and tensed, the flesh of his face cracking and beginning to bleed. One of the heretics spoke a single word to cause this, the phrase as much a feeling as it was sound. It echoed and reverberated around the location, each overlap shaking dust from the surrounding walls. Bright power arced from the Inquisitors twisted form and he lurched back. A huge fist swung into his field of vision and sent him twisting away, his limbs flailing at awkward angles. The Inquisitor came to rest a good many metres from the Cabal, twisted and broken but still holding his weapon. Not enough. Another of Ahrimans Chosen hissed, his arms twisting before him in complex and serpent-like motions. His fingers glowed as they traced searing runes into the air before him, each forbidden symbol a screaming rend in the very fabric of reality itself. As he worked his foul sorcery he chanted, the words heavy and acidic, as if they held the power to scorch the ears of all who heard them. Many of the runes unfurled and slithered through the air like serpents, radiating malevolence and murderous intent. A twisted abomination clad in bright golden carapace lurched forth, his hands enveloped in a blinding white miasma that crackled and sputtered. He reached forward with both arms and closed his hands, the resultant noise like a thunderclap. Impossible! He screeched. He has no heart to freeze! No blood to boil! There is no life within him! No matter. Another said, the speaker of the forbidden. He will succumb nonetheless. Ralei began to rise, his every extremity realigning as he hauled himself to his feet. His arms snapped back into place and his neck straightened, as if he were a broken marionette repairing its own damage. The flesh of his punished face gathered and reformed, covering the merest glint of tarnished silver as his features became whole once more. His distended jaw slotted back into place and he smiled. This must end. He said, the last of his shattered body slotting into place. It will, soulless one. The speaker answered, and the air about his face began to thicken and writhe once again. Something huge and swift slammed into the golden warrior and took his head from his shoulders with a flash of blinding sliver, sending the horned helm rolling away. As the body fell to the floor the figure darted

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forward and punched the speaker away with the pommel of his sword before barging the giant off his feet and sending him crashing into the thick walls of the Inner Sanctum. Abaddon. Roboute Guilliman uttered, raising his sword in challenge to the heretic warriors around him. I will have his head, and there are none among you powerful enough to stop me. The black jewel set into his breastplate hazed and shivered, countering the foul sorceries worked into the walls of the damned place. The Primarch grunted softly as though experiencing no more than a slight discomfort, twisted at the waist and fired a shot that punched through the burning sorcerer, sending a column of fire spiralling out after him. Ralei turned away and the light in his eyes dimmed. When he looked back towards Guilliman there was no trace of his former mystery. My lord! He shouted in warning, and sent a shimmering lance of emerald energy out past the Primarchs shoulder. A sorcerer whose arms and torso were a single mass of squirming pink tentacles lurched back, the hydra-like appendages writhing about him. The Inquisitor froze and glanced about him, rising suddenly as if snatched by the invisible hand of some powerful god. He hovered there for a moment and them pitched back like a stone, impacting against the wall with such force that the surface layer of the thick fortification cracked and crumbled. Ralei! Guilliman shouted, and took no more than a single step forward before the sword in his hand ascended with lightning speed to block the blade screaming down to cleave him from shoulder to hip. He pivoted and countered the second and third attempt at his life, the living blade howling and shivering with impatient bloodlust. Eyes and mouths formed along the twisted metal, and cacophonic voices chattered around him, demanding his death. It seemed it was all his opponent could do to hold on to the wild daemon weapon, and each powerful lunge and thrust threatened to tear it from its wielders hands. Ralei was airborne again, struggling against the attentions of his unseen foe. Guilliman spied one of the sorcerers uttering words of forbidden power at the edges of the conflict and twisting his hands as if to control the Inquisitors mysterious plight. He pushed forward and countered another series of murderous attacks by the swordsman. The tentacle-thing was rising again at the edges of his vision and he ducked swiftly, only just avoiding the long iridescent sinews that speared past overhead. He swept his sword out as he descended and struck the swordsmans legs away from him, sending the warrior crashing to the floor. A short but thick burst of overlaid chatter in his ear turned his gaze to the skies above as the first huge dark shadow passed by. The aircraft of the Unity were still thick in the air, unleashing their deadly payloads against the fastness of the Fortress. The first falling shapes were just visible above as he lowered his eyes once more and put a rail round through the puppeteers face. The heretic flailed wildly and fell back, his telekinetic grip on Ralei failing with his death. He didnt have time to warn the Inquisitor to brace himself as the first Tau sentry drone came down amid a storm of heat and noise, its built-in thrusters bringing it to a heavy but controlled stop in the space between them. The domed lid of the automated unit rose and brought with it a pair of multi-barrelled guns. The extremities begun to cycle even as they emerged and righted themselves. Multiple markerlights stabbed out into the conflict, selecting the drones potential targets with a cold intelligence. A hail of azure energy spun from the burst cannons and into the enemy. The hail of shot lanced through the Cabal, scattering bodies and felling at least two of their number. The ward-weaving Marine took a single step back as the fire exploded prematurely against the writhing shapes before him, his voice rising in volume and his gesticulations intensifying.

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More of the turrets touched down, cracking the flags and raising plumes of dust at their arrival. Guilliman could sense the insidious power that saturated this place waning steadily as the Tau forces pushed closer, the collective influence of the null devices suffocating the debased spell. A massive giant clad in glowing electric blue carapace bounded forward and swung his huge arms, weathering the punishing fire long enough to smash one of the drones away. The automaton came apart as it tumbled out of view, shedding armour plate as it went. He shifted his aim and fired, the shot punching the behemoth off his feet and sending him reeling back into the walls. The daemon sword and its wielder still thrashed at his feet and he swept his sword down as he passed, ending the sorcerers defiant efforts. He kicked the weapon away and sent it skittering across the flags, shuddering and squealing in angered denial. Ralei was on his feet and had moved aside as another turret opened up before him, ion streams stabbing out from its twin armaments. The beams scoured the tentacle-thing and sent him screaming back, appendages dissolving beneath the powerful blast. The gates were in reach now, the profane powers that guarded them diminishing. Finish this and progress! He ordered, striding over the cooling corpse. Enough of this distraction! Abaddon awaits his end! He headed towards the ward-weaver, watching as the burgeoning fire broke itself against his magicks. Though the influence of the warp was thinning here, the wards still burned with a power strong enough to block all attempts to bring him down. It was time to close the net. Execute surge. Now. He spoke into the comm-net. Within seconds the horizon behind him thickened, as a sea of null drones passed over the heads of the fighting forces and headed towards the gates. Many fell from the air as the enemy turned their guns to the emerging automatons, but the horde pressed on undaunted, fearless in its advance. Bodies shimmered into being all around him, solidifying as they stepped forth from the air. The weapons of the stealth suits opened fire, adding their might to that of the sentry drones. The fire-sorcerer roared in pain and denial as he was brought down. Many fell to his final, desperate death throes, but the sheer weight of fire broke him apart ands scattered the flaming pieces to the four winds. Guilliman spied an XV-25 sniper de-cloak amongst the stealth teams, his drones emerging about him. Without a word he gestured at the warrior and then pointed out at the ward-weaver, his orders clear. The drones immediately dispersed and headed forward, each railgun arming with a sharp, rising whine. Rail-fire punched its way towards the sorcerer, each bright spiral contrail screeching by the Primarchs gaze. The first salvo shattered itself against the runic wall, causing the wards to squirm and roil as if in pain. The assault continued without quarter and soon the sorcerer began to falter, his own anxiety mirrored by the flickering shapes before him. Guilliman looked on as the warrior staggered back, his shoulder disintegrating. The wards flickered and then died, and another shot sealed his doom. Several of the stealthsuits pushed past him and headed for the open gates, firing as they went. Hold! The Primarch called after them, but his warning came too late. The warriors gave a collective shriek and fell, a bright ethereal energy leaking from each one to be dragged into the walls themselves. Despite its ever-weakening state, the foul hex worked into the gateway still held its power. Null drones forward! He commanded, thrusting his sword out towards the opening. Cleanse the cancerous stain of the warp from this place!

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Hydrion and his warriors roared into the compound, their bolters adding to the melee. Only two of the witchheretics remained now, and it was clear that they would not be able to hold back the invading Unity forces for long. Go! Warn the Despolier that Guilliman comes! The giant bellowed. He clenched his fists tight and grew again, his mass increasing further. Burst cannon fire pattered against his armour and he lunged for the sentry drone responsible. He lifted it off the ground and hurled it through the stealthsuit lines, the machine smashing apart bodies as it bounced across the flags. The speaker nodded and retreated fast, uttering another abominable un-word as he departed. The Alpha Legion bikes screeched to a halt as one of their own lifted from the ground and crumpled, bike and all, like paper in a fist. Guilliman watched the sorcerer retreat and lowered his gun, allowing the heretic to flee. He would allow the fool to warn his corrupt master, for it would make little difference to the outcome of the war at this stage. My lord! Hydrions call alerted him to the dark shadow that crept over him, and he shifted his position slowly to see the titan towering above him. You cannot destroy Tzeentch, son of the Emperor. He growled, hands as large as mortal men opening up to snatch him. No, perhaps not. But I can and I will lock the filthy powers of the warp away for all eternity. He answered, raising his sword. That which I cannot kill through outright force, I will starve. I swear this by the Tauva. The enraged sorcerer plucked him from the ground with such violent force that the Primarchs armour groaned beneath the vice-like grip. Guillimans face twisted into a rictus of fury and he thrust his sword through the giants helm up to the hilt, ending the defiant defence once and for all. Primarch and heretic crashed to the floor and Guilliman rolled away from the dead abomination and up onto his feet, shaking the accumulated dust from his shoulders. At some unheard command several shapes drifted down from the advancing drone squads. DX-4 technical units, larger and more complex than their more standard cousins, and at their centre came something much larger still. Perpetually hardwired into the hovering dais, the Fiovesa Uasho regarded Guilliman with emotionless augmetic eyes. The Earth caste engineer, or what could be seen to be left of the dried, emaciated flesh interred within the large hovering dome, appeared no more than a shrivelled corpse. What is your wish, commander? The cybernetic being asked, his unnatural voice flat and monotonous. Send in the drones, Fiovesa. All of them. Secure control of all those not currently under your command, by my direct order. I want to strangle the warps hold on this place, and I want to ensure that the null units are adequately protected. Yes commander. Your will is my imperative, by the Tauva. With that the amalgamation of flesh and machine rose and hovered away, every drone within sight breaking free of its previous association to drift after it, in many cases much to the surprise of its previous owner. Hydrion joined the Primarch and watched as the converged korvesa squads began their push into the Inner

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Sanctum. We close on the Arch-Fiend, my lord. My spies inform me that the Despoilers plans are already underway, and that the Betrayer has been bound to the entity. We must continue with caution now, for Kharns power will be great indeed. Now that he is bound he possesses the strength of the entity, and if we cannot break the warps hold here soon then he will be consumed, and a great and powerful terror will be born into this realm. Guilliman looked to the shrinking corpse at his feet and then lifted his head to breathe in the air. He exhaled and opened his eyes, a look of satisfaction on his face. It is safe to continue. I vow to you that the end of this day will see Abaddon broken and dead at my feet. For the Greater Good. For the Greater Good, lord Primarch. Ralei echoed, stepping forward to join the gathering. He nodded a greeting to the gathered Marines but the Alpha Legion commander and his men simply stared back in silence and palpable hostility. The rebuke did not seem to sway the Inquisitor at all, and he turned his attention to the Primarch. The sooner we see the warp-worshipping filth scoured from this place, the better. I am at your side, commander, as always. Then it is time. Guilliman answered. To cleanse the influence of the Ruinous Powers from this plane. He looked to the waiting gates, and the filth that awaited them within. Forever.

Chapter Sixty Six: Titan

The sound of laughter broke the thick, dust-laden silence. It was youthful and wild, the laughter of the young and the innocent. As he walked towards the glow he bathed in the sound, taken aback by the unfamiliarity of it. He knew it, he recognised it for what it was, but he had never heard its like, not as far as he could recall. It stirred within him some deep, hidden recognition, a reminder of a time long lost, a time he could never hope to remember. Innocence was a concept alien to him, for he had never known it, never experienced it. Conflict was his life, as it had always been, and he could imagine little else. The perpetual gloom began to subside as he neared the doorway, and he caught sight of the flickering illumination beyond. He realised then that perhaps discretion would be best, as the realisation of what he was about to witness pushed its way to the front of his mind. He entered the chamber as quietly as he could and laid eyes on the hololith quite unexpectedly, despite his suspicions. He caught but a fleeting glimpse of the figures it portrayed, a female surrounded by a small brood of what he took to be her offspring. There was something immediately peaceful about the scene, a contentment that quite threw him with its unfamiliar manner. A heartbeat later the image flickered and then died, the light illuminating the chamber decreasing substantially at its deactivation. A face wheeled around to confront him in the shade, wild and angered, the augmetic eye set into it glowing with zealous rage.

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Longshank! Grungi roared, springing to his feet. The Demiurg sprang towards him and was upon him faster than even he had anticipated. It was all he could do to grab the wrist of the arm that lunged for him, the black paint of his armour bubbling beneath the heat as the augmetic fist he held back activated. Grungi! He shouted. Stand down! It is I, Codian! Why are you here, stalk-leg? What did you see? By Thors beard, answer me! What did you see? Codian flung the Demiurg away from him and stepped back, raising his arms in readiness for combat but at the same time taking care not to allow his instincts to urge him to reach for his weapons. I saw nothing. He answered, the lie burgeoning its way to the surface even before he could think about it. I saw a flicker of light and then it died, nothing more. Grungi rose and took a step forward; his scarred face a mask of rage and uncertainty. Why are you here, Imperial? Why did you follow me? Codian approached him with caution, revealing his hands as an indication that he was unarmed. II came looking for you. I searched the ship and could not find you. I guessed you would have come here. He gestured around him. You gave me the impression when you brought me here and showed me how to gain access to this ship that the invitation was unconstrained. If I had been aware that this was not the case I would never have come here. Grungi cursed beneath his breath and shook his head, snorting through his nose like an angered grox. He began to pace around the chamber, and it was clear from his body language that he was struggling to hold back his legendary rage. Damn it! Is there no place sacred? Can there be no respite from this bloody war? I am the last of my kind and still I can find no haven of peace. Codian chanced his luck and carefully moved forward, mindful of inciting the Demiurg into further anger. My apologies, Grungi, but I came to find you in order to let you know that we are passing by Saturn. The Demiurg slowed and looked to Codian, clearly still struggling to control his breathing. When he spoke, he did so through bared teeth. So? What consequence would that have for me? Codian exhaled deeply and lowered his hands, his crimson cloak falling to envelop the limbs. Saturns moon, Titan, is the outermost bastion of the Terran system. I am told that it is now the home of the Inquisition as a whole. Do you know of the Inquisition? Should I? In short, yes. It is the Inquisitions role to police the Imperium as a whole. No one save the Emperor Himself is powerful or important enough to escape their attention. You are an alien, Grungi. I He paused, as if almost discomfited enough to continue.

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I count you amongst my closest allies, and yet I cannot guarantee that the agents of the Inquisition would accept you as I do. This war has opened my eyes enough to see beyond race or creed, but I know the Inquisition of old. Both Kryptman and Czevak are valued comrades, but even they have been declared excommunicate by the very organisation that they serve. There are those amongst the Inquisition that would see you executed without quarter, simply for the fact that you are not human. Grungi heard this and smiled, the expression both ironic and utterly devoid of humour. Hnn. How little you know me, bone-priest. How little you truly understand of my origins. Perhaps it is fortunate that my kind are all but extinct. Codian frowned beneath his helm. He knew he had caught the short warrior in a private moment but he little understood his reply. He shifted back towards the doorway. I would not loose an ally to misplaced bigotry, Demiurg. I am told that we will be making a stop at Saturn to meet with representatives of the Inquisition. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed here for a few days, amongst the memories of your people. I will come for you when it is time to return. Grungi did not reply and he had not expected him to. As Codian disappeared through the doorway the short alien watched him go and then turned his attention back to the dormant screen before him. He activated it once more, though this time the picture that came up was far different from the one the Chaplain had glimpsed. A scale representation of the galaxy unfurled before him, and he regarded the many blinking red icons spread about the scene, a patchwork of scattered lights that spread from one end of the vista to another. His eye drifted towards one in particular, sat right at the furthest reaches of the eastern quadrant. Grombrils Wrath. He said, and the image localised upon the area in question. Somewhere within the bowels of the huge vessel, there could be heard a distant and low rumble of power. With that, Grungi spun on his heel and left the chamber, and the screen deactivated unbidden behind him. +++ TWO DAYS LATER. Saturn. She filled the viewing port from end to end, immense and angry like, her vast circumference raging with unfettered power. Codian regarded the orb with silent wonder, unable to tear his gaze from the bloated gas giant. Now he could look upon her with his own eyes he felt as if their progress was finally real, real enough to reach out and touch. Just visible at the lower right corner of the viewport he could see the swollen orange orb of Titan, her largest moon. Dotted across her emerging surface like an infection were vast areas of gunmetal grey, like patchwork repairs to her surface, shrouded but nonetheless still partially visible even beneath the thick layer of gaseous atmosphere. He had spent the past two days learning as much as he could about the Saturn blockade. Titan was the largest of her moons, and home to one of the most powerful Astartes Chapters in all the Imperium, the Grey Knights. All he had ever known of these secretive and enigmatic warriors amounted to little more than hearsay or myth. He knew of their existence well enough, but beyond that he knew almost nothing about them. There were those who whispered that the Knights were hunters of the daemonic and those who would dare to summon such unspeakable creatures, the mere thought of which sent a wave of disgust through his soul.

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Czevak had been his counsel these past two days, and though he felt a steady bond of trust growing between himself and the Inquisitor, he could sense the mans reluctance to delve too deeply into the jealously guarded secrets of this small sub-empire. More so, it seemed that even his confidantes knowledge on this bastion of the Emperors Inquisition was outdated, as Czevaks investigations had subsequently discovered. Following the onset of the Unitys rise to power, the various ordos of the Inquisition had converged, relocating to the moons of Saturn in order to consolidate their power and better protect their secrets, a move triggered in no small part by the loss of Mars. The quiet hiss of an opening door snatched his attention and he looked behind him to see Czevak enter. The Inquisitor straightened and nodded to him as he did so. Chaplain. A shuttle has been despatched from the citadel on Enceladus. Our guests will be arriving shortly. Codian returned the gesture and looked to the viewing port once more. Czevak joined him there, in order to take in the vast defence network for himself. Impressive. He said, slowly shifting his gaze so as to look out over the thousands of defence asteroids orbiting the mighty rings of the planet, a sheer carpet of metal that glinted in the suns light. They had passed the first outpost array almost a day ago, and from that moment had been forced to negotiate a complex path through the countless defence platforms, star ports and minefields that made up the outer layer of the blockade. Indeed so. He answered, genuinely respectful of the sheer supremacy the mighty defences suggested. Let us only hope that they prove enough. Czevak looked at him and smiled weakly before turning his attention back to the scene. If they can buy us time, even a few months, then it would make a difference. The Inquisition has suffered since the Tau rose to power, I cannot doubt that, but they are still a very potent and dangerous force, especially now they are unified. If Roboute Guilliman truly is at the head of the invasion fleet then he would not dare to move upon Terra without first attempting to engage the Inquisition here. And what would stop the Unity from simply bypassing this whole area and making directly for Terra? Codian asked him, noticeably refraining from mentioning the Primarch. Because to do so, Chaplain, would be dangerous in the extreme. The moon of Iapetus houses a fleet of considerable size, possibly large enough to harass even Prometheus. Should the Unity simply ignore this region and push for Terra they would be effectively inviting the Inquisition and the Grey Knights into a counter-push that would see them trapped between the anvil of Terra and the hammer of the Saturn fleets. No, however distasteful it may be to them, they will have little choice but to run this gauntlet first. And what if they decide to split the fleet? At this, Czevak smiled. A consideration. Then again, would you make a move to conquer a planet as powerful as Terra with anything less than absolutely everything you have? Besides His smile faded a little then, as he realised at once the weight of his own deliberations. We have to take into account that there are three main fleets at large. We know that elements of Kraken at least are moving west away from the Ultima Segmentum towards us, perhaps to bolster Prometheus. If the Tau believe the Eye to be secure enough, they could disengage and move against Terra as a way of buying Guillimans forces time to suppress the Inquisition forces here.

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It is a possibility. Codian concurred. We have it on the authority of Calgar himself that the Unitys advance has slowed to meet the forces of chaos. II have seen this. Czevak looked at Codian then, his eyes narrowing. We both have. He said quietly, almost guiltily. In a sense. The Inquisitor lowered his head and moved away from the thick armourplas screen, the memories of the shared dream hard to bear. The Chaplain sympathised with him, for neither of them had shared the experience with any of the others. Codian himself turned his back to the view and paced across the floor, his hand resting in the hilt of his crozius. The silence between the two men was conspicuous, and it was clear that neither of them found the subject of the sorcerers dream invasion tasteful. Inquisitor, what we saw Codian began, his voice trailing away. Czevak looked at him and shook his head, as if the memory of the vision left a foul taste in his mouth. Yes, Chaplain. The answer is yes. The image of that xenos army is burned into my brain. I held a meeting with the Tau, OGormat, to try and determine the truth. It would seem the sorcerers warning holds an element of truth. Hearing this clearly incited Codians interest. The Tau has confirmed it? Czevak nodded. The Shais Montda, he called them. It seems few Tau even know of their existence. He could tell me little of them, to be truthful, but there are whispers of a mighty slumbering army being kept at the centre of the Prometheus fleet, heavily protected and off limits to all but those with the highest clearance. An army of monsters, powerful xenos warriors brought forth from the very precipice of extinction by genetic manipulation. It is my guess that, whoever these creatures are, they have been somehow corrupted by the Taus ability to genetically subvert other species to their own ends. He could tell me little more on the subject. I suspect A quiet chime cut the rest of the Inquisitors sentence short. He reached into his pocket and produced a small slate device. The shuttle has arrived. Soon the members of the Conclave will meet with the Warmaster to discuss where the war effort goes from here. I would have thought that perhaps you of all people would have joined him. I have it on good authority that there are at least two Lord Inquisitors that are very keen to meet with you. Codian shook his head. The Inquisition have nothing to learn from me, Czevak. The Caesus has been handed over, so I can see no reason for me to attract further attention. Besides, you of all people know how precarious a path I have walked these past months. Better for me that I stay out of their way, just as I have warned the Demiurg to do. Fair enough. Czevak answered with a shrug. But I warn you, the Inquisition can be quite insistent, especially in the pursuit of information. Lady Orechiel and Lord Scarn are amongst the oldest and most powerful of all the lords of the Conclave. If they seek answers from you, whatever those answers are, they will find you. You have to realise that people are starting to notice things, Chaplain. Sooner or later they will start to question your mysterious knowledge. Codian knew the man was right. The knowledge that Cypher had imparted to him was a double-edged

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sword, as dangerous as it was beneficial. That he had even associated himself with the mysterious warrior was enough to guarantee an automatic death sentence, and he knew without a doubt that even Calgar would not hesitate to label him a heretic of the worst kind if he found out. He paused, a thought forming in his mind. Cypher. Czevak looked at him, his face tightening. What was that? Nothing. Codian answered quietly. Just a thought. The Inquisitor made to reply when the small slate chimed again, and this time the noise was echoed by Codians own suit-mounted comm-channel. The Chaplain listened to the message for a moment and then replied, clearly masking his displeasure. Yes, of course. I am on my way. Czevak placed the slate back in his pocket and glanced at the Astarte, a look of inevitability upon his face. It would seem, Chaplain, that a meeting with the Conclave is now inevitable.

Chapter Sixty Seven: Dangerous Attentions

For the first time since coming face to face with the Khan, Codian found himself in awe another being. The warrior was huge, standing a good head taller than the Chaplain. The powerful Terminator armour he wore served to enhance his already powerful stature rather than to cause it, for the armour seemed to fit him snugly rather than envelop him. The warriors silver-grey armour shone with a flawless magnificence, and by appearance alone Codian could tell the suit was far more ancient and rare than his own. The mighty warrior swept back his crimson cloak and hammered the flat of his fist into his breastplate. Well met, brother. He said, bowing his head to Codian, his steel-blue eyes never once leaving the Chaplain. Codian returned the gesture, and it was Ventris who stepped between them to formalise the introduction. Codian, this is Grand Master Reinhold, the commander of the Grey Knights and member of the Inquisitorial Conclave. Grand Master, this is Chaplain Daelo Codian, the warrior responsible for bringing the Caesus to us. Reinhold smiled, a surprising expression from one so imposing. Of course. The stories of your exploits to date have been followed closely since we first received word of your visit to Ryza, Chaplain. You and your comrades have done well to reach this far on your own. It is good to meet you in the flesh at long last. Reinhold moved on then, allowing his gaze to linger upon the Chaplain long enough to give Codian the

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feeling that there was more beneath the surface of the Grand Master than he outwardly revealed. Reinholds striking eyes narrowed and for a moment he hesitated there. Finally, thankfully, he shifted his attention to greet Chaplain Cassius. Psychic. He heard Czevak whisper in his ear. Codian looked at the Inquisitor. I felt as much. He wasassessing me. Czevak smiled and nodded discreetly, his hands clasped before him. That was my guess. I wouldnt dwell too much on it. If he had found anything disagreeable, you would surely have experienced his reaction to that in the most brutally direct way imaginable. Hearing this made Codian immediately uneasy. If anyone present here had anything at all to hide, it was him. Ah Codian noticed Czevaks gaze divert away from him and he followed it, watching as a brace of figures made their way through the gathered Inquisitorial and Alliance members towards them, issuing only distracted and cursory greetings as they advanced. I would say, in my humble opinion, that someone has set their sights on you, Chaplain. The Inquisitor observed. Codian watched the two figures closely as they approached. One was a female and quite striking, her white hair plaited into two braids so long they almost touched the floor. Beside her was a smaller, hunched individual, so ensconced in its voluminous brown robes as to be totally indistinguishable in sex. The second figure walked with the aid of a cane, and Codian noticed the incredible artifice of the augmetic hand that clutched the silvered skull head of the stick. The woman is Lady Jena Orechiel. Czevak whispered to him. Ordo Xenos. You wouldnt guess to look at her, but she is hundreds of years old. I knew of her only briefly before the Eldar took me into the webway and she was a young and Impetuous thing. Back then she had quite an obsession with the origins of the Necrontyr. Hmm, I do admit to being surprised at seeing her elevated to the position of Lady Inquisitor. She did display some quite radical leanings. And her companion? Scarn, it has to be. Now he is an enigma. No one seems to know his true identity or which Ordo he works for. His voice fell further then, as if he was fearful of the decrepit-looking figure catching his gossip. He disappears for decades at a time, only to re-emerge unexpectedly. He has a plan, that one. No one knows what it is and it would seem that none dare call him to answer for his intrigues. He is a master manipulator, Codian. Be mindful of whatever answers you give him Czevaks voice died away as the approaching figures neared, and he straightened, ready to receive them. Czevak. The woman greeted him with a wily smile. By Ophillas halls, it is you. She bowed politely and Czevak returned the gesture, returning the smile out of politeness. By the Emperor, Ill have to spend a few years in the webway myself! You dont look to have aged at all.

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My lady, it has been long since we last spoke. Czevak answered, turning on the charm. You have come far since our last meeting. Lady Inquisitor, no less. My congratulations. Most kind, Czevak. With that she turned to Codian, and laying eyes on the Astarte her expression subtly altered, although she kept the dazzling smile. And this has to be the Astarte of the hour. It is good to meet you, Chaplain. Welcome to the end of days. It was clear from his reaction that Codian did not really know how to gauge the woman. Perhaps it was her frivolous nature, for she had a temperament quite at odds with her role. It somewhat disconcerted him and he made no attempt to disguise that. Inquisitor Orechiel. He greeted her. With that he turned to the hunched man by her side. There he waited in silence, his gaze fixed upon the old mans gnarled face. Beneath the shadows of the hood, eyes alive with cold cunning returned his stare. Scarn. He uttered, no more, no less. Orechiel threw Scarn a sideways glance and then stepped forward. She wrapped her hands around Codians arm and leaned in close to him. We need to talk, Chaplain, you and I. Please, walk with me. He remained rooted to the spot, utterly opposed to the Lady Inquisitors attempts to urge him into motion. If you have questions to ask me, then ask. I will oblige as much as I am able. Orechiels flawless face tightened and her lips pursed. It was clear that she was a woman who generally expected to get her own way. Hmm. Fair enough, Chaplain. She let go of his arm and stepped away from him, placing her hands on her hips. What do you know of the Ctan, Codian? Nothing. He replied sincerely. Orechiel was clearly dissatisfied with this answer. She bunched her fists and stepped forward. Come on, Codian, we both know better than that. I am well over six centuries old, Chaplain. you wouldnt begin to believe what it takes to keep oneself alive and healthy for that long. It is my lifes work to uncover the secrets of the Ctan and their nefarious schemes, and I will do so no matter the cost. You are a man with secrets, Chaplain. We have been following your progress with great interest and we know that there is more to you than meets the eye. Believe me, I have walked among the Eldar many times and as a consequence I have known of you for a long time She looked at Czevak. Inquisitor, you of all people cannot deny me this. One cannot spend so long in the company of the great enemy of the Necrontyr gods without learning the greatest of their secrets. I know that they are somehow behind the Taus rise to power. Who, lady? The Eldar or the Ctan?

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Dont play games with me, Czevak. Orechiel sneered, all traces of her former blithe personality fading. What do you know? Tell The enigmatic Scarn raised his cane and Orechiel fell silent. Please, compose yourself. He whispered, sweeping the stick out before him as if to draw her attention to the interest their meeting was beginning to attract. With that, the Inquisitor stepped forward and moved to join Codian, his gaze lingering upon Czevak as he passed. His progress was almost painful to watch, and it seemed an age before he finally stood before the Chaplain. When he finally did so he paused and raised his eyes to meet him face to face. Chaplain. He began, his voice quiet and insidious. Forgive my colleagues eagerness. He glanced at Orechiel. Her zealousness does her credit, of course. Ones conviction in ones work is both holy and commendable, no matter who we are, for how can any of us hope to be true servants of the Emperor unless we are stalwart in the pursuit of the answers we crave? She does, however, have good reason to ask you these questions. Codian straightened as he heard this. Elaborate. Scarn smiled, the expression so slight as to be almost imperceptible. You are an incredible individual, Daelo Codian. Quite unique. Plucked from the mists of time to sow discord throughout the forces of the enemy. Entrusted with the Caesus, the greatest hope the Imperium has. Rescued from certain death by the Eldar, creatures thought to have long abandoned these harried stars. Spared from certain death by the Eldars dark kin. How does one escape such a sealed fate, Codian? How did you know that the Primarch of the White Scars lay within your possession? Indeed, how did you release him? There are so many questions surrounding your activities, Astarte. Too many to simply dismiss. What are you hiding? Scarn moved closer then, so close his shrouded face almost touched the Chaplains breastplate. Astarte or no, you walk a dangerous path. Not even your Warmaster would dare to deny us should we express an interest in detaining you with a view to seek the answers to these questions. So, please, if you are able to answer my colleagues questions, then do so. What do you know of the Ctan? At this, Codian deliberately rested his hand upon the hilt of his crozius and slowly lowered himself so that he was at eye level with the wizened man. As he spoke, he did so with a slow and ominous tone. Inquisitors, let me make something perfectly clear to you. I cannot answer your question. I urge you to accept that. An uneasy silence fell over the small gathering then. Scarn regarded Czevak and Codian with his unflinching gaze. Finally, after what seemed like an age, he nodded slowly. Very well. He raised the cane to point at the two figures accusingly and with deliberate slowness.

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The Inquisition is watching you. With no more to say he turned away and left the gathering, the slow and rhythmic tap of his cane upon the floor announcing his exit. Orechiel watched his go and then shrugged her shoulders, dismissing the enigmatic man with a shrug of her shoulder. Pay him no heed. I believe you, Codian. WeIhad to be sure. The Chaplain accepted this with a curt bow, though he made a show of keeping his hand on the hilt of his holstered weapon. If we are done here, Lady Inquisitor, then I must take my leave. Whatever plans have to be discussed between the Warmaster and your Inquisition forces are no concern of mine, and I have plenty to prepare for myself. Good day. He swept his cloak back and pivoted sharply, making a clear show of the fact that he intended not to stay for a moment longer than he needed to. Czevak, clearly taken aback by the Chaplains abruptness, smiled and tipped his head in a gesture of farewell and then made to follow Codian. Orechiel raised her eyebrows at this, swayed by the abrupt departure. Her expression of surprise soon faded and her eyes narrowed. She glanced about her and then set off after the two men. Chaplain? Codian let out a long sigh of frustration and slowed, his fingers tightening. I thought I made my position clear? He said, fighting to keep his voice steady. Orechiel smiled and took his arm once again, much to the Chaplains chagrin. You did. I merely wish to walk with you as you leave, so we may discuss one or two things before we part ways. I would be flattered if you could do me that courtesy. Codian did not answer but neither did he protest. Together, the Chaplain clearly uncomfortable, the two headed towards the exit. The Eldar do seem to have taken an interest in you. Orechiel observed after a short silence. Indeed, it would seem that both the webway dwellers and their dark kin share a commonhow can I put itrecognition of you? You must forgive my interest in such a curious fact. She looked at Codian then and smiled, clearly taking a measure of delight in his noticeable lack of response. It is an Inquisitors job to uncover the truth, Codian. The first thing I did when your fleet arrived was to investigate your activities to date. I know about Vanphilos and your miraculous rescue. I have reviewed your ships internal vid-logs, Codian. I have seen everything that has happened onboard the Proscriptus Rex since you first set foot on her. Your colleague Kryptman may be rogue in the eyes of the Inquisition but he is a brilliant man, and I am a firm believer that his dismissal was unjustified. I vow to you that I will do all I can to fight his case but I am only one voice, Chaplain. My influence is sadly limited. Codian slowed and turned to the Inquisitor. Am I missing something? That almost sounded like blackmail. Orechiel smiled and patted her hand against Codians upper arm.

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Good gracious, please. I dont do blackmail, Chaplain. I leave that sort of distasteful thing to Scarn and his ilk. No, I simply wish to help. You see, we are a rare breed, Codian, we who are possessed of knowledge beyond those who surround us. You see, I know a great deal more about this whole sorry war than most. I know that the Ctan are behind it. The Eldar know it too, and they are ashamed of it because they helped to bring to fruition the plans of the very enemy they are sworn to fight. The very enemy they were created to fight. Codian had heard enough. He shook her arm free and turned to face her, the glowing eyes of his helm radiating his anger. I have heard enough. Our meeting ends here, Inquisitor. It does not! She spat, rising to bring her face as near to his as her height would allow. The Ctan are stirring as we speak, and they will bring death and ruination to this galaxy when they rise. The Tau are not our true enemy, they are merely pawns in a greater plan, pieces to be manipulated and directed to realise the plans of a far greater power. They play us for fools, Codian, and they are winning. It is the Ctan who seek to close the Eye of Terror, and they are succeeding. I know it. He knows it. He? Codian echoed, sweeping her hands away once again. Cypher. She replied. The fallen one. I have seen, Chaplain. I have seen what happened on the bridge. We will be discussing this further.

Chapter Sixty Eight: An Unexpected Ally

Cypher. Hearing the name uttered by another froze him to the spot. Orechiel had spoken only softly, just loud enough for he and Czevak to hear. She glanced around her nonetheless, as if ensuring that their conversation had not been overheard. Ah, just the kind of response I had anticipated. She said, the merest trace of a grin twisting the corners of her mouth. Now, Im the last one to accuse you of harbouring any notions of heresy, Chaplain, but I have to say, the Despoiler himself barely keeps more questionable company. Demiurg, Eldar, renegade Inquisitors and even prime enemies of the Imperium. Perhaps you can see now why a meeting with you would greatly interest one in my profession? Should we take that walk I suggested? Codians hand tightened upon the hilt of his crozius, and one finger gently flicked the holding clasp open. Orechiel saw this and shook her head. It isnt like that, Codian, not yet. Please, just come with me and I will explain. Czevak, you too. The Chaplain grudgingly complied, and together the three of them made their way out of the chamber as discreetly as they were able. They passed through the arch and into a cool corridor, the illuminators set into the high arched ceiling providing only a paltry glow. As the double doors hissed to a close behind them the woman raised her hand and displayed a large jewelled ring. Auresian shroud technology. A beautiful piece. While ever it is activated our conversation is private, gentlemen. What we have to discuss cannot go beyond this gathering.

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Cypher. Codian said. I will not insult you by trying to deny a connection with this individual. Orechiels expression widened then, as if she were genuinely surprised at hearing Codians admission. She glanced at Czevak and his face betrayed her suspicions instantly. At that she smiled, an expression of clear vindication. Ah. So the venerable Czevak is involved in the intrigue also. And there are those amongst my peers who would be happy to see me labelled a heretic. Codian did not respond to this. He simply issued a deep and quiet sigh and turned his face away. Czevaks face tightened and he stepped forward, raising a finger at the woman. You do not understand, Jena. You havent the slightest idea how deep this goes, believe me. Yes, I know about the fallen one, but I have seen the bigger picture in all this. I have seen the necessity, no matter how bitter a taste its consequences would leave in the mouth. If you see heresy or sedition here then so be it, report your findings and be done. Orechiel stepped back and raised her hands. Be calm, old comrade. If I had intended to do so it would already have been done. I have purged the logs, gentlemen. I did so the moment I stumbled upon the surveillance data. Believe me, we share far more in common than you realise. Please, we cant risk talking further here. Come with me to my shuttle and I will show you. Please. +++ The Lady Inquisitor stepped into the ship, causing the armoured warriors standing guard there to stiffen. Leave us. She commanded, standing aside to allow Codian and Czevak to enter behind her. We would not be disturbed until I give the word. The black armoured Storm Troopers did immediately as they were commanded and quickly filed out of the vessel, the deck ringing beneath the sound of their boots. As the last figure left the small chamber she closed the ships hatch behind her and turned to her guests. I anticipated that you would agree to come here. She admitted, raising a hand towards the nearest access hatch. I haveprepared something for you to see. Hopefully I will be able to get you to understand exactly why I needed to bring you here, and why I could not risk turning you over to the rest of the Inquisition. Through here. Orechiel entered a series of numbers onto the mounted security slate and then pressed her cygnet ring against the pad, causing the hatch to slide open amid a series of deep rumbling clicks. She stepped into the chamber and the others followed as the gloom beyond faded away at their arrival. Merciful Throne Czevak breathed quietly, astounded by what greeted them. Orechiel turned and smiled at him. I thought that you would approve, Czevak. Though quite small, the chamber was literally packed to the ceiling with a literal treasure trove of xenos artefacts. No surface remained free of clutter, whether it be stacks of dataslates or piles of crumbling parchment. Though Codian seemed generally unmoved by the vast collection, Czevak was utterly

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overwhelmed. Whatwhat is all this? He asked, stepping almost furtively into the chamber. He moved over to the nearest pile of artefacts and began to rummage carefully through them. He picked up a small tablet of clearly ancient origin, finished in a pitted silver and blank save for a single, unrecognisable rune at its centre. The Lady Inquisitor sealed the hatch shut behind them once more and then activated a series of runes set into the wall beside the door. A low and resonating hum preceded this action, and it became apparent enough that the woman had activated some manner of augur protection. Necrontyr. She finally answered, her voice low as if laden with caution. That piece itself is thought to be millions of years old. There are literally hundreds of examples of xenos archeotech here, and most of it is Necrontyr in origin. Czevaks brow furrowed and he replaced the piece. I admit, I know the Necrontyr but I never did study them in much detail. The notion of such ancient and mysterious beings did stimulate my interest, but the Eldar that I came into contact with were always unwilling to discuss them. Orechiel nodded in understanding and stepped back into the centre of the chamber. The Necrontyr are hardly beings in the normal sense, Inquisitor. They are constructs, soulless and without will. At least, most of them are. It is their insidious masters that pose the most serious threat to our collective survival. She spread her hands as if to present the collection in its entirety to her two companions. Within moments her demeanour had altered. She seemed on edge, almost fearful. It was as if she hardly dare speak of the terrible things she knew. The Ctan. The pursuit of these mysterious beings has been my lifes work for centuries now, and it has taken me that long to merely begin to piece together an idea of what they are and what they plan to do to this galaxy. Tell me, Czevak, what do you know of the Ctan? Czevak regarded the surrounding collection and sighed, mulling over the question. Little, as I say. To the Eldar the Ctan are the creators of the Necrontyr, their gods, as it were. The Black Library of the Harlequins does hold many references to these mysterious beings, but much of what I learned was fragmented and vague. The Eldar were mostly reluctant to assist me in the interpretation of the data available. One obscure reference I was able to glean was that the Eldar believe that the most ancient of the Chaos gods were somehow created by the terrible wars between the Ctan and the First or Old Ones. Close. Orechiel answered, a mirthless smile passing over her lips. She began to move around the room, gathering up seemingly random parchments and objects. As she did so she whispered softly to herself, causing Czevak and the Chaplain to exchange cautious looks. Emperor, for so long I have endured the painful weight of the knowledge I possess, unable to dare risk its general exposure to the Inquisition as a whole. These are dire times, gentlemen, dire times. There are few we can trust; even amongst those we would count as allies. They will erode us from within like a cancer before they consume what is left, mark my words. They are already doing so, little by little, piece by piece. Jena Czevak began, moving forward and raising a hand. Aha! She exclaimed, pivoting sharply to meet the Inquisitors advance. Here we are. Now I will show you. I will show you the true horrors that wait to devour us.

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She stepped forward and thrust a handful of scrolls and documents into Czevaks hands, much to his disconcertment. He opened his mouth to speak, only to have her cut him off. It is all here, hundreds of years of research and study. I have everything I could find on the Necrontyr and the Ctan. Here, recognise this? She handed a piece of parchment to Czevak, roughly unfurling it for him before he had time to protest. Recognise this? Look here, you should do. An Inquisitorial alpha-level document so secret it should have been destroyed as soon as it had been read by the recipient. As you can see, fortunately it was not. It is a transcript taken from a vox-record of a particular mission undertaken by an Ordo Xenos Deathwatch Kill Team. These Marines actually undertook a successful raid on a Necron Tombworld named Berien, authorised by one Inquisitor Czevak. Your orders, Inquisitor. Czevaks face first fell slack and then tightened once again. He screwed the parchment up in his fist and cast it aside. I remember, Orechiel. What consequence does this transcript have? It is proof, Inquisitor, that what I hold in this chamber is far more than simple myth and speculation. It is solid and concrete proof that I am skilled enough to have obtained information that, by rights, should not exist. These Ctan, Inquisitor. Codian answered. If they are truly so powerful then how is it that they are so unknown? Orechiel shook her head slowly, more through pity than frustration. Chaplain, the Ctan are little more than legend because that is exactly what they want us to believe. They are ageless, so old they descended into their monolithic tombs and entered into the slumber of ages long before Terras evolutional cycle even hinted at the human race. Only the oldest of the sentient races recall the abominations that once brought these stars to their knees. She stepped forward and began to sift through the information in Czevaks hands. Here. My research leads me to believe that there are four Ctan currently known, or at least recorded, in our galaxys history. This is a translation of an incredibly ancient Eldar text, thought to be at least five million years old. Here it mentions four of these supposed Necrontyr gods. The Vaul-Moon shall bring forth the Dragon. The Master of Death will drink deep from Ishas Eye. That Which Lies Outside will be drawn to the harvest. And the Jackal-God shall turn brother against brother. See? Four clearly distinct references to four separate entities. Of all the information I have been able to collect over the centuries these four names, or names similar in meaning, keep cropping up. I believe that there are only four Ctan left. Little is known about any of them, and only two of them, the Master of Death and the Jackal-God, are thought to have risen from their tombs once more. The Outsider is thought to slumber still somewhere at the eastern edges of the galaxy. And the Dragon? Czevak asked, a glimmer of interest twinkling in his eyes. The information available suggests that the Void-Dragons lair to be some form of forge world, as there are no reports of its awakening to be found. The most heretical texts even go as far as to suggest that world to be Mars itself. This of course has to be folly, as Mars no longer exists. If it were true, then it would mean

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that the most powerful of the Ctan is now at large somewhere amongst these stars. Upon hearing this, even Codian seemed to grow apprehensive. Czevak exhaled through bared teeth and looked away. He began to pore over the information in his hands, each piece he considered seeming to disturb him further. He came across a small, ragged piece of parchment, what seemed to be very old stencilled drawing of yet another Eldar text. Below it was scribbled a hasty translation. They will seek to harvest us at first, for they will be hungry after their long sleep. Then they will turn their efforts to enslaving the survivors. The galaxy will bleed the stench of death into the void, and it will attract the others of their kind. We must choose unity or death. He lingered upon the last line of the text, considering the words. Unity or death. He shuffled the papers and came across another text, one that caused his eyes to widen slowly. Codian He looked to the Chaplain and offered him the sheet, the slightest tremble visible in his hand. What is it? The Chaplain moved to join him, sensing the Inquisitors discomfort. This report. I think you should read this. Codian took it and began to read. He considered the script for several long, silent moments before looking to Orechiel, his expression hidden and unreadable beneath his helm. Uriel Ventris. I know this man. He said. Orechiel nodded. I know, Codian. If you doubt my word then I urge you to consider whether you would dismiss the experiences of a comrade so easily. She moved to join them then, clearly eager to explain whatever was written on the paper in the Chaplains hand. Another secret Inquisitorial report, this time concerning the events on a planet named Pavonis. Events that directly involved your own revered Ancient. Uriel Ventris was a captain of the Ultramarines at the time. The being described in the report is a Ctan, Chaplain. The Master of Death, the Nightbringer. Known to the Eldar as Kaelis Ra. Ventris was present at the rebirth of this abomination, and he barely escaped with his life. I would urge you to speak with him if you wish to uncover the truth for yourself, Chaplain, for if you cannot trust the account of one of your own, then what can you trust? Codian passed the sheet back to Czevak and folded his arms, a clear sign of defiance. Cypher. You still have not explained what connection he has to theseCtan. Ah. She answered, gesticulating with her finger. I was about to get to that. Now, amongst the evidence there is an account of one Explorator Majoris Doreth, concerning a research mission to a dead world named Cthelmax. The Explorator team there stumbled upon a running battle underway between what seemed to be warriors of the Necrontyr and members of the Adeptus Astartes.

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It goes on to describe conflict between a golden-skinned being and a dark armoured, pistol-toting Marine. The combat was never fully resolved as the two were swallowed by a veil of shadow and subsequently disappeared. Cypher. Codian said. Yes, I believe so. The golden being was the Jackal-God, the Deceiver. He is believed to be the weakest but most active of the Ctan. It would seem then, Chaplain, that your mysterious companion knows something about the Ctan. I am beginning to suspect that you may have your theories, Jena. Czevak mused. Orechiel nodded and gestured for the Inquisitor to sift through the evidence again. There. Read that. She instructed him. There we have a piece of lore concerning the Dark Angels Chapter, dated approximately four hundred years before the former incident. The Dark Angels had pursued an Eldar force to the very same planet, suspecting them of being responsible for raids across the surrounding systems. It describes an epic battle between the Master of the Ravenwing and a Mighty Eldar Warrior it calls the Flame Dragon. The Master of the Ravenwing defeated the powerful warrior and exterminated the Eldar warhost there before leaving their remains scattered around the ancient edifices as a warning to all other Eldar of the might of the Emperors finest warriors. Here, pass me that. This is a particular passage that you may find quite intriguing, Czevak. The champion of the thrice-damned Eldar strode forth to meet the charge of the Ravenwing alone, debased in his defiance and pride. His burning axe cleaved the armour of the righteous with ease and his lance scoured the brave brethren of the charge and their mounts alike, fusing armour and flesh. Many righteous bolt rounds found the implacable xenos fiend, and though they did stagger him, he would not fall. Proud Baphael rose to meet the challenge of the Eldar Champion, his black blade unsheathed and ready to strike the killing blow. The two warriors met then and the ancient structures around them trembled beneath each blow traded. For hours they fought, each Enough. Codian demanded. All this means nothing to me. Fuegan. Czevak whispered. Codian fell silent and looked at Orechiel. The Lady Inquisitors response was confirmation enough. Yes, Czevak. The Phoenix Lord. The account goes on to describe how he fell that day to Baphaels blade. There he remained for centuries, lost to the Eldar, alone and lost. But not forgotten. Codian had heard enough. We must return to our comrades, Czevak. I fear we are already noticeable in our absence. Not yet. Czevak answered sharply, his retort enough to surprise the Chaplain. At this, Orechiel could see that her point was finally beginning to sink in. I see you are starting to understand, Czevak. We have a pattern of sorts emerging now. This evidence raises a number of questions. Was it coincidence that the Phoenix Lord found his way to Cthelmax, a tombworld of the Necrontyr, or was it more than that? I believe that the Deceiver followed his trail centuries later. I believe he came to find the remains of Fuegan with intent to destroy them, and that Cyphers attack was an attempt to stop him. It all falls into place, Czevak. It all makes sense. Then will someone explain it to me? Codian snapped. For I am finding this whole conversation somewhat bewildering. What significance does any of this have?

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The Gothic war. Orechiel answered, shifting her attention towards the Chaplain. That terrible conflict saw the destruction of entire star systems, and it was all brought about by the machinations of the Deceiver to ensure his own survival. The Phoenix Lords of the Eldar pose a real threat to the Ctan, or at least to the forces they would intend to unleash upon us. They cannot truly be killed, for they are far beyond mortal, but a Ctan would have the power to destroy them for all time. His intentions are clear. The Rhana Dandra. Czevak said. The final war. This Deceiver seeks to prevent it coming to pass. He did, but he was unsuccessful. Orechiel answered, a predatory smile spreading across her lips. For Fuegan will rise again. Czevaks dumbfounded silence was all the answer he needed to convey.

Chapter Sixty Nine: From the Flames...

Czevak stared at Orechiel, stunned by what he heard. Howhow can you be sure? Because I had an unwitting hand in his rebirth. She answered. It is a long and complex story, and I wont trouble you with the finer details. During my centuries of investigation I have often utilised the aid of the Eldar, a race who, as I have demonstrated, share a common interest in the Ctan. One such creature, a young outcast named Auethril, sought me out when I began my quest to locate the planet and accompanied me to Cthelmax. We found him there, cast adrift amongst the bones of his people on that dead, airless world. Auethril took him. Hebecame him. What significance does this have? Codian asked. It was Czevak who answered. The Phoenix Lords of Eldar legend are ancient and mighty warriors, the first and greatest of their kind. Many believe that they are no longer mortal and can never truly be killed. Hence their collective title. Eldar legend states that Fuegan, the Burning Lance, will be the one who will call together the Phoenix Lords for the Rhana Dandra, and that he will be the last of their kind to die. The Rhana Dandra? The final war against chaos. Orechiel continued. The Rhana Dandra is mentioned frequently throughout Eldar history, though its translation has often been misinterpreted, an unsurprising occurrence given the sheer complexity of the Eldar language. The phrase used has several translations, including the Ending of Free Life and the Death of the Soul. I think that the Rhana Dandra of Eldar legend is actually a reference to the second coming of the Ctan. Codian considered this. Though it was clear that he still regarded the whole affair with a palpable suspicion, it seemed that the supposed involvement of his old comrade Ventris in this new and complex aspect to the Great War had instigated a spark of aggrieved interest within him. So then, if any of what you claim holds any truth, answer me this. What involvement has the Tau in all this? It may have somehow escaped your notice Inquisitor but they are currently on the verge of conquering this entire galaxy. Are you suggesting that the Unity are actually slaved to the designs of these Ctan? I have personally witnessed a Unity fleet actively hunt down and destroy a craft that was identified to me as a Necron vessel, and they showed no mercy.

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No, I do not believe that to be the case. The Tau fight for their own cause, Chaplain, that much is clear. If I can confirm one undeniable fact it is that the Tau and the Necrontyr are mortal enemies. The Tau work to subjugate all opponents with a view to integrating them into the Unity. The soulless Necrontyr simply cannot be conquered, and the Tau soon realised that. Early into the onset of the Unitys expansion they initiated a vigorous purge of the Necrontyr tombworlds, so potent that many if not most of those known have been destroyed. You see, the Tau have somehow been able to do what no other race could, not even the Eldar. I cant even begin to imagine how, but they devised ways of eradicating the Necrons utterly, and so effectively as to ensure that they could not return. Czevak blanched at hearing this, an expression of disbelief draining the colour from his face. That cannot be. Surely Orechiel confirmed this with a nod. I speak the truth. Many tombworlds were obliterated by the Tau with an unnerving swiftness. Somehow they have been able to unlock the secrets of the ancient Necrontyrs ability to regenerate and survive. The Jokaero helped the Tau to master wide gain field technologies designed to disrupt the Necrontyrs ability to phase out upon sustaining critical damage, and others to degrade the potent effects of their mysterious power matrix. The latter is believed to be an extra-dimensional phenomenon. The Unity seem to have unlocked its secrets. I do suspect however that at least one or more of the Ctan has been working from the beginning to subtly manipulate the Unitys advance. All the signs are there. In truth, despite how powerful the Tau have become, I believe that they arent even aware of the existence of the Ctan. The oldest of the races amongst them, such as the Jokaero, know the truth. In the case of the Tau however, I believe that they are ignorant of the reality. Here, let me show you this. She walked away from the others over to where a cluster of brass-faced machines sat dormant against the bulkhead. She activated one of the machines and began to manipulate the controls there, soon causing it to produce a sphere of weak, shimmering light. Here are the findings of a comprehensive study into the techniques of a typical Necrontyr-configured Extinction Shanal, or Coalition. The screen shifted and altered as green-tinted images began to pop up, quickly filling the threedimensional sphere. Schematic diagrams of Tau warriors and armour blinked into being, lines of text flickering across each of them as lines pointed out feature after feature. Surprisingly simple and yet brutally effective. The basic hunter squads are comprised of XV-22 stealthsuited warriors, with a standard armament mix of fusion and plasma weaponry. Specialised drones accompany these individuals, modified and equipped with the Jokaero tech Enough of this. Orechiel fell silent at hearing the Chaplains voice. She scowled with displeasure and deactivated the hololithic projector. Codian spread his arms wide and stared at the Lady Inquisitor. I find none of this relevant. What exactly is it that you want of me, Lady Orechiel? It makes no difference whether or not I accept your claims. If these ancient gods exist then they exist, I cannot change that. It does not matter how complex the politics of this war are, they do not affect my own destiny. I am no slayer of gods. I am but mortal, and it is my lifes task to slay those mortals who would seek to undo the ideals I fight

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for and the Imperium I serve. I think that our association has reached its end. He turned to leave then, signalling for Czevak to follow. Though clearly intrigued by all that he had been known, the Inquisitor complied. Wait. Codians initial pause spoke volumes of his irritation. After a moment he swept his cloak aside and spun slowly on his heel, the lights of the chamber catching the smooth polished midnight void of his artificer armour. You do not understand, do you Chaplain? You still fail to comprehend how deep this ancient and malefic evil is rooted within our own society. Please, open your eyes and allow your instincts to judge my words instead of the cold, hard logic that steels your soul. The Deceiver has been at large for an age, and he has penetrated our society with an intent to destabilise us, to wrest control from the Emperor and harness our Imperium as his own. He is the weakest of them and he cannot win on might alone, Codian. He needs us. He needs us and he will enslave us to his will to ensure that he has power enough to dominate these stars, mark my words. We cannot ignore that. You cannot ignore that. Save your breath, Orechiel. I must and I will focus on those enemies that I can see with my own eyes and kill by my own hand. Damn you, Codian. Orechiel hissed. Listen to me. Dont you see it, even now? He knows you. He is the master of manipulation and deceit and he would destroy entire star systems to achieve his aims. You cannot trust anyone, Chaplain, not even those who would fight by your side. Both Scarn and Reinhold do not trust you. There is little I do not see or hear, and I know this without doubt. They do not intend to allow you to leave this place. Codian, they plan to seize you. At hearing this the Chaplain froze. Czevak looked first to him and then to Orechiel, his eyes blinking rapidly with mounting distress. What do you mean? Orechiel started forward and raised her hands, as if she believed that she was stating the most obvious point possible. God-Emperor, Codian, think about it. Reinhold is a psyker. He sees the secrets of the soul. One look inside you and he saw everything you had to hide, Chaplain. This craft is aegis-shielded and is possibly the only place on this vessel that the specialised augurs of the Grey Knights are unable to detect you. He is most likely already minutes away from storming this vessel and taking you. Scarn is a manipulate b-----d, even for an Inquisitor. Not even I know of his true motives but I promise you this, he will have made sure that Reinhold is convinced of your guilt. I am sorry, Chaplain. Codian tore his crozius free and strode up to the woman, animated by anger. You knew all this and you brought me here! Damn you! Why? What did you hope to achieve? Orechiel retreated until she found the solid bulkhead behind her, the thick plasteel arresting her withdrawal. II needed you to see. Whatever unknown force has driven you this far, I cannot guess, but its influence is clearly evident. I have no one else to turn to, even here. This is my lifes work, Codian, and I had to ensure that my efforts were not in vain. You have a destiny here, a purpose. Somehow I know that you will see that destiny fulfilled.

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Chaplain Czevak was standing by the doorway, concern writ large across his face. His eyes were fixed to a small screen panel by the hatch, and the data that blinked tenaciously there. We do have company. It would seem a manual override of the shuttles security systems is in progress. Codian listened to this and thrust the head of the ornate weapon against Orechiels throat with just enough force to snatch her breath away. The woman issued a quiet gasp and closed her eyes, her forehead moist with perspiration. Please, consider your immediate future. Dont allow the enemy to goad you into signing your own fate. While ever you still live there is hope, Codian. A good warrior knows when to fight and when to concede. Already he could hear the sound of the outer hatch grinding open, and though an Astarte could not feel fear, his hearts began to quicken, the memory of those formidable silver-armoured warriors pushing to the forefront of his mind unbidden. Please. Orechiel begged him, all traces of her former arrogance drained away. Trust your instincts. You will survive this. As the inner hatch began to rise slowly into its recess, Codian withdrew the crozius and placed it back in its holster. Thunderous voices burgeoned their way into the chamber, quickly followed by a violent onrush of activity. You had better pray that you are right. He said quietly, a second before he disappeared beneath a tide of shining silver armour. +++ +++THE FORTRESS OF AGES+++ +++CARIS ESTARUS+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Roboute Guilliman bared his teeth and inhaled, drinking in the heady sensation of the vast conflicting energies assailing the very reality of Caris Estarus. The skies above were in turmoil, fluid and alive, churning as if in pain. The power of the warp raged against the growing influence of the burgeoning null stratum, thrashing and enraged, as would be a suffocating beast, fighting its fate with every last vestige of effort it could muster. They were succeeding. He had always known they would, for it was the unquestionable destiny of the Tau to dominate all others, and more so, to eradicate the stain of chaos from true existence. That victory was manifest and palpable, the collective effect of the suppressive drones dull and heavy. One could taste it in the air. He lifted a hand up to his face and observed with muted interest as the ceramite gauntlet vibrated softly, the sharpest edges seeming to blur. He could feel the conflict in his mind, a thick and heavy sensation clawing at the very centre of his brain, the same sensation one would experience at the building of a storm, only much more potent. My lord. Ralei moved to stand by him, taking up position beside the towering Primarch. You have fought well, Inquisitor. I commend your courage.

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Ralei bowed his head appreciatively. You honour me, Primarch. Indeed, it would seem that every faction fights with unmatchable zeal and determination. The enemy are on the back foot and retreating further. We should have bored our way through to Abaddon and his foul cohorts within the day. Guilliman nodded and watched as the combined Unity forces assailed the chaos defences before them, punishing the vast walls of the Inner Sanctum. Already the gates that the sorcerer Cabal had held were broken and crumbling, punished beyond tolerance by the sheer brute power of their advance. Orcas and Devilfish continued to descend through the choking columns of fire to land before the shattered gates, the defences that had held them in check smashed and ablaze. Dominators waded through the charnel and the rubble, weapons systems blazing as they pushed their way through the towering arch and into the edifice. Huge clouds of Vespid twisted around the smoke and the flames of the conflict and swarmed after them, the sickly light cast by their neutron blasters bathing the forces below them in a pale luminescence. The Primarch allowed himself a slight nod of satisfaction and then touched a hand against his armoured collar. Commander Shadowblade. Report. Within moments his keen senses caught the approach of whatever he had been waiting for, and he watched as the holo-drone descended through the twisting smoke like a meteor, its thrusters burning brightly. As it neared the ground the drone slowed and came to a perfect halt. The thick plate shielding protecting its outer dome fell away and it rolled over smoothly, several extremities unfolding along its artificial form. Both Guilliman and Ralei looked on in silence as the korvesa hovered over to them and slowed. It rose to around head height and then activated, emitting a shimmering pool of light below it. At your service, my commander. The emerging Tau figure uttered, resplendent in her ornate armour. ShasO Tashvar Korstla Larshivre was the commander of the Fire warrior forces of the Prometheus fleet, a fierce and courageous warrior the line troops had named Shadowblade. A descendant of the infamous Shadowsun, she had carved out her own reputation as a consummate leader and warrior. Kaiguela Ilporrui Guilliman. She spoke, falling to one knee. The first and second Tiove are expended, lord, for the glory of the Greater Good. The third and forth work as we speak to punish the defences to the point of critical collapse. They will do their duty. I wait with the fifth, sixth and seventh to drive the blade into the heart of the faltering defence. There will be no quarter. This citadel will be yours by the setting of the sun. Excellent. Guilliman answered, bowing his head. Then I will not keep you from your work, honoured warrior. Return to your efforts. Shadowblade crossed her arm over her chest and lowered her head, ending the transmission. Ralei turned and looked out towards the walls where he could see the familiar armoured shapes of the Alpha Legion, directing the aggressive assault. The conflict goes well. He observed. We should have his nest of filth cleansed in no time. Aye. The Primarch answered. We must strive to end this before the heretics complete their nefarious schemes. Ralei, we are at our most critical point in this leg of the crusade. He looked at the Inquisitor, his piercing blue eyes alive with purpose. I trust that other events have been set into motion.

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I assure you, lord, all is in good order. The cleansing of Caris Estarus will see the threat of chaos purged from this galaxy and the path to Terra laid open to us. It is our destiny, Primarch. None can stand before the Greater Good. Of course. Guilliman answered. With that, he looked back towards the burning walls, and smiled.

Chapter Seventy: Traitor

There is much darkness awaiting us, yet the Emperor lights our path. Falsehood surrounds us at every turn, Yet no Traitor shall confound us. Excerpted from the The Canticle of Absolution of the Grey Knights. He blinked. The thunderous tumult surrounding him seemed distant, muted somehow. Vision was little more than a nauseating daub of light and colour smeared across his eyes, shifting and spreading as if manipulated by the fingers of an invisible god. He heard a voice call his name somewhere in the distance, and it was as though the mouth that issued the sound was gagged, gasping its final, suffocated breath. The colours began to sharpen then, his senses firing to life as if awaiting his command. There it was again, the voice, calling his name. Screaming his name. He inhaled then, as one would after awakening from a temporary death. He lowered his gaze to see his crozius down by his side, the leering skull head fizzing and crackling as it cooked the thick viscera that coated it. The fist that held the weapon was crimson and slick, literally coated on blood. The shock of this unexpected situation hit him like a wall then, seizing him in its vice-like grip. He took a step back, his mind reeling even as it awoke to the situation, and he began to realise that he had no idea where he was or how he got here. Something large and burning screamed past overhead, so close he felt the temperature within his armour rise in response to the unexpected phenomenon. He pivoted sharply on his heel and watched as the Land Speeder spiralled into the immense walls of the fastness behind him and exploded, transforming into a phoenix of searing, burning light and noise. Emperor deliver me He uttered, staggering beneath the force of the vehicles explosive demise. What hell is this? Vast edifices towered all around him, punished and ablaze. Everywhere he looked he could see conflict, desperate and violent. Bodies lay everywhere, a sheer carpet of death. Codian! Chaplain! Again the voice screamed for his attention and he shifted his position again to find the source of the plea.

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There, a shape emerging from the thick smoke to his right. The Astarte shot him a determined glance and shouted something he did not catch before turning his attention back to his efforts, growling like a predator as he dragged his comrade behind him. Both wore the armour of the Imperial Fists, and the Marine on the floor was gravely wounded, both his legs ending in blooded stumps above the knee. Despite his injuries he wielded a brace of boltguns, which he fired out into the smog on full auto, shouting and cursing the name of the enemy as he did so. Codian started forward on instinct as he saw this, his free hand rising as if in an attempt to aid the stricken warriors. Bright azure fire blazed out of the obscuring smoke and cut both Astartes to shreds, peeling ceramite away like ash as it took them apart. He watched the bodies fall to the ashen earth and cried out, already breaking into a loping sprint. Shapes loomed through the smog and he leapt out to meet them, swinging his power weapon through the armoured silhouettes without quarter. He landed and blood fountained before him, coating his armour like red rain. His armours auto-senses fought to cut through the murk as he continued the slaughter, shattering the quailing forms with his every strike. The Chaplain bellowed prayers to the Emperor as he strode through the smaller figures, parting flesh and armour alike with each irrepressible lunge. Return fire hammered into his breastplate and he staggered back, feeling the sting of the assault causing the surface temperature of his armour to rise sharply. The rosarius field flashed again and again, dispelling the energies of the attack. Fire warriors charged through the smoke and met him, a disciplined line quickly forming. The sheer ferocity of the attack kept him on the back foot, the weight of fire testing his rosarius and pushing him back again and again. Alien shapes came sprinting out of the rubble behind him, whooping and hooting, each noise a strange and deep blast of low sound. The yellow-skinned xenos creatures lurched past him, long arms swinging before them. Throats swelled and deflated, and the resultant blasts of sonic energy punched Tau off their feet, warping armour and shattering bones. The Chaplain watched as the two forces tore into each other, his mind reeling. He fought to understand where he was and how he had come to be here, and he found that his memory would not aid him. Frenzied shouts snatched his attention and he watched as a large squad of Astartes charged from the ruins towards one of the running battles, bolters roaring. He started out after them, intent on joining his brethren. He had advanced no more than a few paces when the entire squad disappeared beneath a thunderous explosion, the massive fireball obliterating every Marine instantly. Something huge and mechanised stomped past and kicked him almost dismissively in passing, sending him crashing through a section of punished wall. Darkness closed in around him and he thrashed, fighting to emerge from the rubble. The first thing he saw as he pushed the last stone away was the skies. Thousands upon thousands of craft fought high above him, the sheer weight of the firepower being exchanged casting a multi-hued glow across the choked expanse. No two looked the same, and many of them he did not recognise. Then he saw him. You. He growled, hauling himself out of the rubble and onto his feet. The hooded figure stepped back and raised its head. Scarn. Codian hissed, feeling hatred rise within him. The Inquisitor seemed unperturbed by the raging war around him. He raised his arm and gestured about him with his ornate augmetic hand.

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So, this is the fate of Terra, Chaplain. This is your guilty secret. A terrible knowledge of the future, imparted by a hated traitor to the Imperium. Tell me; was your soul a worthy price to pay? Have you gained more than you have lost? I suspect, perhaps, that even you do not know the answer to that one. Codian noticed then that the sounds of death and conflict had ceased. He looked around him and the landscape was silent and deserted now, and the skies were empty. They were utterly alone. Psyker. Codian spat, realisation burgeoning within. None of this is real. Scarn shook his head slowly and waved his hand back and forth. The air seemed to quiver and distort around the limb, as if the Inquisitor ran it through water. I am no psyker, Chaplain, not even close. The influence of the warp disgusts me, no matter the intent of its application. Oh no, Daelo Codian, I am far more than that. Codian had heard enough. He stepped forward and raised his crozius. None of this may be real, but that would not stop him from defending the integrity of his own mind. Get out of my head. He said. Scarn stood his ground and shook his head once again. Simple fool. The Inquisitor uttered, and raised the palm of his hand towards the Astarte. A cold ethereal wind rose up from nowhere and buffeted the Inquisitors robes, stalling the Chaplains advance. Try as he might, he could not push himself forward. Technology, Codian. Technology can achieve any goal. Orechiel thought she had beaten me to the security logs of the Proscriptus, foolish girl. With the technology at my disposal it was simplicity itself to steal them from under her nose. I do not need psychic abilities to enter your head to read your most secret thoughts. I can pull them out, examine them at my leisure. I can dissect your psyche if I so choose. I have been waiting for you, Astarte. I have been waiting to see what the Fallen One pushed into your mind. I am pleased by what I have seen. You see, mankinds destiny is manifest, and I will ensure that it is driven in the correct direction in order to fulfil my agenda. The Tau are nothing but a mistake, a genetic error, and I take offence at their existence. That they have served a necessary purpose I cannot deny, but like all tools, once they have fulfilled their role, they can be discarded. I will see to that. Who are you, Inquisitor? Codian asked, still struggling against the howling winds. I am the one who will unravel all that is and rewrite existence to suit my own ends. Do not trouble yourself with any further consideration, your feeble mind is unable to comprehend much of what is happening beneath the surface of this war. All you need know is that everything is progressing exactly as it should. The influence of the warp dims ever further, and the current events on Caris Estarus should see that particular problem finally resolved. The Unity will destroy the slaves of chaos and in doing so will weaken itself. It will then move on Saturn and degrade its power further. Success against the Inquisition at Saturn will be at best a pyrrhic victory at best. Scarn paused then as if considering something. There are now only two real problems to solve. The first is that of the Caesus. I cannot allow it to be activated, Codian. I cannot allow it and yet I must find a way of destroying those who would pose the greatest threat to my plans. The activation of the Caesus would doubtless provide me with the most effective way of dealing with the others, but at the same time I myself would becomecompromised. The second problem I have is that of the Grey Knights. After the Emperors Custodes they are the most powerful warriors humanity has, and it pains me to admit that even I cannot guarantee that they could be manipulated enough to ensure that they follow my devices. No, they must be dealt with accordingly. That, Chaplain, is where you will aid me.

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The Inquisitor pivoted slowly and looked out into the horizon behind him, his mysterious augmetic limb pulsing with unknown energies. Even memories can be rewritten, if one has the knowledge to do so. You and I have seen the future together, the real future, but I must alter that if I am to succeed. Tell me, Chaplain, what do you know of the Despoilers plans in all this? Codian did not answer. Scarn merely shrugged his shoulders and continued. In the distance, the skies began to grown dark. Enough, Ill wager, given what I have already found locked away within you. You know, many legends surround Reinholds kind, Codian. They say not one Grey Knight has ever fallen to corruption. He looked to the Chaplain once more and the merest hint of unknown, iniquitous power flashed across his eyes. We cant have that, can we? Behind him, the ominous darkness continued to form, as if a sliver of night itself had begun to seep into the pale light of the day. Codian imagined he could see something shift at the centre of the phenomenon. They are preparing to transport you and your comrades to the Inquisition prison on Mimas. Once you are there, even I would struggle to reach you. Of course, it matters little. Our association will come to an end soon enough, and whatever they choose to do with you there is of no concern to me. You are but a tool to be discarded after use, nothing more. By then you will have served your purpose. In truth, Codian was paying little attention to the Inquisitors words. Though he knew that none of this was real, he found himself unable to tear his attention away from the burgeoning maelstrom behind Scarn. The air began to grow hot and heavy, and an acrid odour gained potency with the passing of every moment. Cinders drifted past his face, though there was no clear indication of where they had originated. Anggrath, they call him. There are few entities terrible or powerful enough to cause a Grey Knight to feel dread more than he, and this Anggrath has power enough to crush worlds beneath his cloven hooves. The Ordo Malleus fear him, Codian, but they do not know as much as you or I. Abaddon intends to summon him as both herald and champion on Caris Estarus. It is clear that he hopes to destroy your Primarch and restore at least in part the power that the Unity has taken away. He will fail. This warp-spawned abomination will never set foot on Terra, I know this as sure as you do. It will, however, work to my advantage to make the Grey Knights believe exactly the opposite. Codian saw it then and reeled, his soul quailing at the sight beyond them. Some part of his mind cried out for him to dismiss the emergent horror as illusion, and yet despite his better judgement he could not help but to recoil before the horrifying abhorrence squirming its way into reality at the centre of the smouldering portal. He could taste the blood in the air, smell the reek of sulphur on the hot wind. He knew with all his soul that this was not real, that this was a vision of the future corrupted and altered by the mysterious abilities of the individual before him, and yet he was unable to convince his instincts to trust his reason. Scarn saw this and was pleased. Good. Exquisite work, even if I say so myself. These are your own memories, Chaplain, and if they are seemingly authentic enough to influence you, they should prove more than adequate to sway Reinhold and his cohorts. At that the sneering Inquisitor strode up to him and raised his hand up to the Chaplains face, the artificial

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limb pulsing with a nauseating emerald light. Thank you, Daelo Codian. You have served me well. Let the play begin. With that Scarn withdrew and waved his hand before him, the gesture causing everything around him to quiver and run fluid. Codian cried out with rage and struggled against his invisible bonds, his anger welling to the surface. Time and again he had been used, assailed mentally as well as physically. This last affront proved too much. The illusion of reality swam around him, colours and definition losing all cohesion. He opened his mouth and unleashed a cry of rage. Treachery! Scarns voice echoed in his ears. The disorientating sound of reality unravelling itself ceased almost immediately. He fought to control his breathing and opened his eyes. What he saw before him pushed the air from his lungs once more. Scarn stumbled into the centre of the chamber. A shimmering projection flickered before the Inquisitor, depicting a vision of utter horror no Emperor-fearing man should ever have to witness. The thing was little more than a projection and yet he could not help but recoil before it. The surrounding Grey Knights reacted to the projection with even more disdain. Every warrior present visibly flinched at the emergence of the projection. Codian attempted to rise from his sitting position but found himself unable to do so. Thick restraints held his arms fast to the chair, restraints clearly designed to hold down an Astarte. He looked on as Scarn withdrew, sinking into the shadows behind the appalled Grey Knights. This is what I found, Grand Master. Thisthis filthMy mind reels Reinhold strode forward and tore his nemesis sword free of its scabbard, whispering catechisms of detestation instinctively. This must be a mistake, Scarn, an error of reconstruction. He thrust the sword out at Codian, his blue eyes burning. The Chaplain felt his skin grow cold beneath his armour. You have not seen this abomination blight our future. I will not accept it. It is as I have seen it, Reinhold. I can pull the deepest, most secret memories from the minds of men. This is more than mere memory, Grey Knight. This is a vision, a portent. A dark, cancerous sliver of heresy pulsing at the centre of this fallen ones mind. See for yourself if you doubt the validity of my cerebral divinations. Brother Lorkas. Reinhold called, stepping back. Another Grey Knight stepped from the gathering behind him and made his way over to Codian, bowing his head to Reinhold as he did so. the Chaplain watched his approach and felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He had quickly guessed that all these Grey Knights held certain mysterious abilities, and it soon became clear that this particular individual was a mind-seer. It is a lie, brother. He said, feeling a strange pressure begin to build behind his eyes. Do not believe him. He is the traitor here. He woul

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He arched back, a shard of utter icy cold stabbing deep into his mind. The restraints creaked beneath his convulsions, and as he groaned with the effort of trying to fight the effects of the psykers presence, his voice echoed and distorted, changed by the Grey Knights powerful mental intrusion. A pale brilliance filled his vision and at once he felt naked, as if a cold wind blew about his body. Within seconds the phenomenon faded and as his vision cleared once more he saw the warrior backing away, clearly fearful of what he had seen within. No. Do not believe it. Codian urged him. The Grey Knight would not listen. Anggrath, the Deathbringer. Favoured of the Blood God. Lorkas spat, almost choking on his own words. Faith preserve us all. He will walk the soil of Terra. The air will burn with the stench of sulphur and blood, and the skulls of the faithful shall make mountains as tribute to him. The Grey Knight tore his helmet free and a hushed collective gasp rose at what the rest of them saw. Lorkas eyes were bleeding, a physical manifestation of the traumatic vision he had witnessed. The Knights hands were shaking. I have seen it, and there can be no mistake. The portents were true, Grand Master. The Third Coming of Anggrath is upon us. Reinholds eyes were ablaze with disbelief. His anger was a palpable thing, causing the air of the chamber to thicken and charge. This changes everything. With such a powerful entity unleashed, Abaddon may yet succeed in defeating the Unity on Caris Estarus. Anggrath is the most powerful daemon the Imperium has ever encountered. Powerful enough to destroy us all. Scarn moved forward then, pushing his way through the Grey Knights like a shadow. Then we must redouble our efforts to bolster these defences, Grand Master. The only foreseeable course of action available to us is to allow the two forces to destroy one another. Whoever emerges victorious will be weakened, perhaps critically so. Perhaps this will provide us with the best chance of destroying whoever survives the conflict. No. Reinhold answered. We cannot risk allowing this abomination to leave Caris Estarus. Only the Grey Knights have a chance of ending the rampage of such an abomination. Do not listen to him! Codian called out, his outburst gaining him the angered attention of all those present. It is a lie, Grey Knight! Scarn is a traitor to the Imperium! Reinhold marched up to the Chaplain and punched him square in the face, the blow so powerful that it buckled the skull mask. Silence, filth! Reinhold spat, his face looming close to Codians own. I will not hear the words of one who would consort with the servants of the Ruinous Powers. I can see into the hearts of men, Chaplain. The taint of chaos leaves a lingering stench behind, a black imprint upon the soul not easily expunged. I sensed you association with the fallen Dark Angel the moment we met. I will not deny it, Reinhold. I only ask that you turn that same judging gaze upon Scarn and see him for what he truly is. Reinholds hand sprang forward and armoured fingers closed tight around Codians neck, choking away any further attempts at speech.

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Scarn is free of any chaos influence, I see that clearly and without doubt. You, however, are not. Such evidence speaks for itself. Then you are blinded to the truth! Open your eyes and see, Grey Knight Reinholds fist ended Codians protest. The Chaplain silenced, Reinhold rose and looked to the Inquisitor and the others. Transport this heretic and his associates to Mimas, and ensure that they suffer greatly before they are put to death. Scarn nodded. And what of our predicament, Grand Master? If this entity is as powerful as you say, and what has been seen will come to pass, what can we do to stop this happening? The Grey Knights will be our most powerful weapon against the Unity fleets once they reach these defences. Anggrath s summoning cannot be ignored. Reinhold answered. I agree, Grand Master. However, moving against Abaddon would be a highly dangerous course of action. Perhaps a direct strike against those responsible for the ritual could work. The Unity could be the very distraction we need to push straight to the heart of the chaos forces on Caris Estarus. The Grey Knight considered. Scarn gave the appearance of being unconvinced. True. But surely, such a bold move would require the full strength of the Grey Knights? To risk any less would be to consign those undertaking the mission to certain death. I agree. Reinhold answered. This is a huge risk, but one we must take. The Grey Knights must stop the Deathbringers birth, even if it means the death of every one of us. Scarn absorbed this consideration slowly, the weight of its implications telling on his face. If such an occurrence came to pass and the Grey Knights were lost, then the Imperiums power to defend its final borders and repel the advance of the Unity would be critically compromised. The efforts of the remaining Inquisition forces to prevent the Unity from reaching Terra would ultimately fail. Then we must pray, Grand Master, that it would not come to that.

Chapter Seventy One: Condemned

This is it for us. We are dead. Dead and done. Orechiel slumped forward against the thick bars. As she did so she immediately realised her mistake and pushed herself back, her face contorted with effort. Ah! Ststupid She fell back onto bare floor of the containment cell and Czevak moved to aid her, falling to one knee as he did so.

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Kinetic leech containment. He said, glancing up at Codian. He shook his head and hauled the woman into a sitting position, placing her back against the wall as gently as he could. Touch those bars and they sap your strength. Assault them and the backlash would most probably kill you. He rose, leaving the Lady Inquisitor to recover her strength. Codian looked away and peered through the bars and out into the small chamber, feeling the movement of the ship as a low rumble beneath his feet. Mimas will be our final destination. Czevak continued. There will be no escape from that terrible place. The prison there is one of the most heavily guarded penal institutions in the galaxy. He shrugged then at the considerations of his own words. Still, I cant imagine that ours will be a long stay. If what we know is true, the Tau will destroy us along with everyone else. Codian heard this and curled his hand into a fist. It hovered there, inches away from the potent bars, and it seemed that it was all he could do to stop himself from driving it into the metal. Damn it. We have been used, Czevak. We have been made to look like traitors and chaos sympathisers by this Scarn. He shifted to look at the Inquisitor, the fires of anger burning in the vision slits of his helm. Who is he? He played us all, manipulated everyone around him into acting exactly as he intended. What manner of man is so adept at deceit that he is able to sway even the Grey Knights. This whole situation isis inconceivable. Czevak shook his head slowly. I cannot guess, Chaplain. Whoever he is, he is insidiously clever. When they took you away he made sure to destroy Orechiels barge and every scrap of evidence she held. The Warmaster and the others protested at our incarceration but He paused then, a look of defeat crossing his face. They could not deny the evidence against us, Codian. Scarn had somehow managed to steal the recordings taken by Orechiel. He saw you with Cypher. He saw you with his own eyes. Faced with such damning evidence, he had no choice but to turn us over to the Ordo Malleus. They were still searching the Proscriptus for Grungi as we were transferred to this vessel. They will not find him. Codian answered. I have made sure of that. Then he at least will be spared our fate. Our part in this war has reached its end, Chaplain. All we can do now is pray to the Emperor that the Imperium will survive this inevitable final conflict. We are not done yet, Czevak. Codian answered. I refuse to give up, even now. The Imperium is in the process of being betrayed on a grand scale and I will not let that happen. I am not ready to lie down and die, not while ever there is hope. And what hope do we have? We are on our way to Mimas, Chaplain. We have already left the Proscriptus and our former comrades behind. We cannot escape this cell. Even if we could, and we somehow managed to overwhelm the crew of this vessel, we would be obliterated within minutes. If through some irrefutable miracle we somehow escaped the millions of gun emplacements that saturate this region, we would never be able to make it to the nearest habitable port of sanctuary. This is a shuttle, designed only for satellite to

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satellite transportation. The Inquisitor raised his hands and exhaled deeply. This is it, Codian. The end of the road. There are simply no more paths open to us. Wrong. Codian passed by the Inquisitor and wrapped his fingers around one of the reactive bars. Almost immediately his armour began to give of a decreasing whine as its power was leeched away by the vampiric influence. He retracted his hand and let out a hiss of frustration before looking back to Czevak. They have my crozius. No one takes a Chaplains crozius from him. We do have more pressing concerns to worry about. Czevak answered morosely. Codian nodded. I know. Defeat is never accepted, not by an Astarte. The beating of the hearts is the ward of defeat. Guilliman wrote that. While ever I still live, I am not beaten, Czevak. Hope lives on. Forgive me, Chaplain, but I fail to see how. Just answer me this. Where have they taken my crozius? Czevak raised his hands to his face and groaned. We have been declared heretics. Such venerable weapons are usually transported back to their relevant place of origin. In this case I would guess that the weapon has been handed over to your Master of Sanctity In order to have it reconsecrated and returned to service. Thats what I thought. Here, help me. He walked over to where Orechiel lay propped up against the bulkhead and hauled her ungraciously to her feet. Take her weight. We still have plenty to do, and now it would seem that we will have to do it alone. The unsteady woman opened her eyes and peered at the towering Chaplain. HnnW-whats going on? I am about to take you seriously. Codian answered. With that he urged the two Inquisitors to push themselves back against the cold metal. Czevaks brow furrowed. What good is this? Codian turned to face the space before him and spoke a single word. Cypher. Darkness descended upon the chamber. The shadows thickened and intensified, pooling at the centre of the open area. There followed a sound like that of escaping air, and the three captives looked on as a hazy ball of blackness quickly formed, pulsing and swirling like an impenetrable mist. The phenomenon dissipated as swiftly as it had formed, and as the last vestiges of void sank away to nothing, a figure stood in its place, dark and hooded. Twice you have spoken my name, Daelo Codian. Twice I have come to deliver your salvation. The Fallen One. Czevak whispered, pressing himself closer to the cool plate of the bulkhead. Cyphers

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hooded face turned to face him and the Inquisitor caught a fleeting glance of the pale skin beneath the shroud. Targeted by that unknowable, ageless gaze, he shivered. Quite the situation, Chaplain. Cypher observed, glancing about him as he started slowly forward. You seem to have a knack of finding trouble. I am in this very situation because of you. Codian replied harshly, advancing to meet the mysterious fallen Astarte. By our association I am now labelled a heretic by those I would call allies. Given the evidence against me, I can hardy blame them. Cypher heard this and slowly shook his head. Such is the way of our Imperium, Codian. Sometimes our flaws and mistakes can condemn us. Other times, a simple and base desire to fight for what is right and just, even when to do so would see us damned in the eyes of those we strive to save. The concept of sin is one of very delicate interpretation. This is no time for philosophy, Dark Angel. We need to escape this place. Cypher slowed then, and lifted his arms in question. So I see. Where do we go from here? Back to the Proscriptus. At hearing this Cypher smiled and drew the pistols at his belt. Codian raised a hand. There will be no killing this time, Cypher. We are not among enemies. The Dark Angel lowered his guns and leaned forward, the smile on his hidden face fading. No? Perhaps you need to rethink that statement, Chaplain. Look around you and remind yourself where you are. I do not need to. I do not intend to stay here one moment longer than is necessary. Get us out of here. As you wish. Cypher answered. The shadows came back once more and swallowed the four figures up. +++ Lights blinked and dimmed the length of the long corridor, and as the shadows retreated they left behind four silent figures. Codian stepped out into the cool space and took in his surroundings. Where are we? Exactly where you requested to be. Cypher answered. He spread his arms and began to sweep his guns slowly about him, covering every possible angle. What now? Nothing has changed, Cypher. War is coming to Terra, with or without us. I intend to do all I can to ensure that the Imperium is ready to meet it head-on.

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Orechiels strength had begun to return to her, and with it came reason. She pushed her way free of Czevaks supporting arms and staggered over to the wall, her eyes fixed upon the green armoured giant who had saved them. Emperors light, it is you. The Fallen Angel. Cypher regarded her almost dismissively before turning his attention back to his surroundings. Orechiel raised a shaky hand and pointed at the warrior, her eyes wide and accusing. You fought him. You fought him on Cthelmax. You know his plans, dont you? What now, Chaplain? Cypher asked again, ignoring the woman. We cannot stay here forever. We must leave this ship before you are discovered missing. Codian nodded. I know. Before we do I must ensure that Scarns treachery is revealed. We have to try and prevent the Grey Knights from falling foul of his machinations. You waste your time, Chaplain. Cypher answered. The Grey Knights will fall. There was something in the warriors voice that told him Cypher knew this as certainty, and he felt his soul grow heavy at this. We have to do something, Cypher. We cannot know all we know and not attempt to prevent such a waste of life. The warrior lowered his guns slowly and leaned closer to the Chaplain. Fate is a game, Chaplain. Imagine the multitude stands of destiny as the pieces. Many forces seek to manipulate these pieces, indeed, they do so as we speak. There are things that have already happened and things that have yet to come to pass that we cannot prevent. We must accept that. You are renegade now. You must forget everyone you know here and let go, move on. The Grey Knights will go to Caris Estarus and they will fall. Try to warn them and they will kill you on sight. Calgar and his warriors cannot help you know, no one can. You are lost to them. Better to move on and fight your own battles, there is still much for you to do. Codian lowered his head and curled his fists tight. Cypher was right. No matter how badly he wished that there was something, anything, he could do, he knew that there was not. Everyone he knew and counted as a comrade was now lost to him. To even try and meet with them now would surely condemn them as he had been condemned, and he would not allow that. Help me, Dark Angel. He whispered quietly. I am lost. I dont know where to go from here. Cyphers gaze met his and the two warriors looked into each others eyes for a long moment. Deep beneath the pervasive shadows of the renegades hood, Codian caught sight of eyes that were both ageless and cold as the void. I will help you, Codian. I will guide your path one last time, but my help will come at a price. Remember our first meeting? I told you then that you, and only you, have the power to save me. I call upon you now to answer that debt. If you agree, without pause or question, I will guide you this one last time. You have my word. Codian answered.

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Cypher nodded and then rose to his full height, satisfied. Good. He looked towards Czevak and Orechiel. Wait here for me, Chaplain. I shall deliver your comrades to safety and then return. Codian watched as the mysterious warriors influence began to leech the light from the corridor, and he felt the familiar sensation of ominous discomfort that came with it. Where do we go from here, Dark Angel? He called, watching as the darkness began to envelop the three figures. The Dark Angels answer echoed through the air for several lingering moments after the shadows cleared once again. To see. +++ The huge chamber was silent except for the unremitting bass whisper of the ships mighty engines. The soft illumination of the glow globes above shimmered and pooled upon the smooth surfaces of the casket mountain. The air was thick and heavy here, charged with a perceptible energy. The silence was absolute and yet somehow false, a thin veil of calm that held beneath it a suggestion of saturation, of whispers and sighs not audible but felt. Displaced. Scarn inhaled softly and stepped forward, the fingers of his glistening golden hand spread out before him. A fine mist seemed to rise from the flawless obsidian caskets as he neared the base of the towering stack, a twinkling evaporation that swirled and eddied around his outstretched hand. He bared his teeth and lifted his head, the exposed skin of his face shimmering with a barely perceptible inner illumination. Deep within the folds of his hood, his eyes pulsed with a depthless hunger. He leaned forward and placed his hand flat on the smooth surface of the nearest casket. The black wraithbone reacted to his touch immediately, frosting over around the golden fingers. Scarn opened his mouth and let out a long, lingering breath, a sound as deep and cold as the creaking of glacial ice. The slightest breeze disturbed the silence as it caught his robes, shifting the heavy material only faintly. He withdrew immediately and stepped back, his face tightening into a sneer. Recognition glistened in his eyes, though no sound or presence made itself immediately known. He turned slowly to look out into the gloom at the two figures that stood regarding him. Figures he knew and recognised. Daelo Codian. So, you escape the attentions of the Ordo Malleus, Chaplain. Now you keep the company of ghosts, I see. Codian took a step forward and glanced around him; dearly wishing he had a weapon. He recognised the chamber almost immediately. The mysterious gift of the Eldar lay all around him. This was the place he had released the Primarch of the White Scars. What is this, Cypher? Why have you brought me here? Revenge?

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To see. The warrior said again, regarding the Inquisitor with a look of utter hate. To see those things that are beyond even my power to show you. Only then can you begin to understand what lies beneath all this, Codian. Only then will you have the strength of mind and the conviction to do what must be done to save our Imperium. To see what, Cypher? Before them, Scarn shifted. He raised his hand up before him and the golden metal shimmered and ran fluid, elongating and reforming. Codian looked on in quiet astonishment as some manner of glowing blade formed within the mans artificial hand, as if grown from the very metal of its construction. Recognise this, ghost? I took this from you once. Cypher did not answer. He tore both his pistols free and fired.

Chapter Seventy Two: Deceiver

Time seemed to slow for Codian as he watched the murderous brace of shots hammer into the unprepared Inquisitor. The bolt round opened up a gaping wound in the mans chest that the plasma ball bored into a wide hole, the assault punching Scarn back. The Inquisitors robes fluttered about him as he lurched backwards, cinders and ash billowing around him. There was no blood, not even the heady scent of it, as the mysterious Scarn fell against the floor of the chamber, with a sound like that of dead meat being flung to the abattoir floor. The knife he had produced from nothing skittered away across the smooth deck, spinning and clattering to a standstill against the caskets beyond. The strange emerald blade quivered as if insubstantial, as though it consisted entirely of energy rather than solid matter. Cypher, what is going on? Why have you brought me here? He asked, watching as the warrior remained frozen, his guns held out in readiness before him. I told you, Codian. To see. To understand what it is we fight. Foolish phantom. You should never disturb a predator when it is about to feed. The voice rose as if from nowhere, assailing him from every angle at once. It was a voice he did not recognise, deep and resonant, saturated with power. Codian watched aghast as the body of Scarn rose sharply, as if lifted by invisible hands, to right itself. His robes billowed and flapped as if caught by some ethereal wind, the same force that now held him upright and aloft, his feet a good few inches above the floor. Your companions essence is thick and diseased, heavy and stinking with the filth of the warp. I would not pollute myself with it. But yours, little warrior, will be mine. Codian was alert and invigorated, adrenalin coursing through him. Still, he was in no way prepared for the sheer ferocity and speed of the Inquisitors advance. Scarn looked to literally ignite, his skin blazing with a golden sheen as he lunged forward, his arms spread wide. He felt Cypher slam into his side and bowl him out of the way as the shining being reached for him, the mere presence of his outstretched hand tearing at his soul. Cypher pivoted sharply and unleashed a hail of fire out at the wraith, each shot perfect and true. His bolt

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pistol looked to do little to harm the thing and even the plasma pistol caused little more than a distraction. After the initial attack Scarn, or whatever the creature truly was, seemed to have grown impervious to sustaining further injury. The damage that had been done by Cyphers pistols was gone, lost amid a glow of shining brilliance. The radiant being twisted in the air and raked at Cypher with long claws, missing him by a hairs breadth. Though Codians mind still reeled at the unexpected presence of the thing, he somehow knew with utter certainty that its touch would mean instant death. Indeed, watching the being that had once been Scarn grow more and more inhuman with the passing of each moment, he felt his own resolve begin to weaken. Never before had he faced such an unknown and monstrous foe. The fallen Angel dropped low and thrust his arms up as the glowing Scarn-thing swept overhead, unleashing another salvo of shots that hammered into the passing creature. Boiling plasma splashed against the entitys golden skin, the searing energy dulling and then dissipating almost immediately, as if absorbed. Cypher realised this almost at the same time as the Chaplain and rolled away to come back up onto his feet. Pathetic. The creature sneered, a blazing light shining from its eyes. Why do you persist, dark soul? You know you cannot harm me. I know, life eater. I satisfy myself with defiance, and the knowledge that even you misunderstand this encounter. The Dark Angel stood over Codian as he began to rise, and as the Chaplain hauled himself to his feet, he felt the familiar presence of the dark powers of his companion. A distant and familiar scream echoed in his ears, and for a second, all was void. Then they were back, standing this time at the very edge of the vast Chamber. Look upon the truth, Codian. Cypher said, deactivating his guns. He placed them back in their holsters and pointed out at the abomination turning their way. See what it is that we must defeat to save our Imperium. The Ctan. Gods that walk amongst men. They cannot be killed, Chaplain, not by mortal means. This war is far beyond the Tau and their efforts to enslave our kind. This is what we must fight to ensure our survival. This is why we must sacrifice all to achieve victory. He looked to Codian then, his ancient eyes blazing. Now you will see what it is we must do with utter certainty. Only now will you understand what I ask of you. Beyond them, the thing that had been Scarn let out a cry of burning anger and began to advance, an avatar of fury intent on their destruction. I lied. Codian turned to look at Cypher as he heard this. The warrior reached around his back and drew the sword fastened there. The obsidian blade rang as it emerged, a protracted keening sound as sharp on the senses as the blades own edge. He felt a pressure push against his temples as the sword was released, a deep and insidious sensation. A sensation of unknown power. I can hurt him. Cypher brought the sword around and started forward, his outline quickly blurring and becoming hazy. One moment he was there and the next he was not, swallowed by the darkness. He reappeared a second later before the glowing being and swung the sword. The black blade passed through its glowing body, creating

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as blinding rend across its golden skin. Raw energy spilled from the wound, blinding and hot. The thing let out a cry of pain and launched itself back and up, rising almost to the ceiling of the vast chamber. Cypher had done something to it, Codian could tell. Energy crackled and bled from the lesion, arcing away from the shining entity to strike and destroy glow globes and consoles. Damn you! The thing screamed, its voice terrible and omnipotent. Its outline looked to shudder and blur, and Codian could sense the abominations anger and surprise. The fallen Angel turned away from the scene and grabbed Codians shoulder. We leave. Now. With a roar like that of some world-consuming maelstrom, the shining thing spread its arms wide and pulled itself back together, absorbing the escaping light and energy with one almighty effort. The surviving lights within the chamber dimmed and went out for a moment, and when they came back on, the thing that looked back at Cypher and Codian with utter and complete hatred no longer resembled the former Inquisitor Scarn. Every fibre of Codians being railed at the sight before him. The creature had almost doubled in size, and though it resembled some parody of humanity, it was utterly alien. Its golden body shimmered as if made of metal. Its head was elongated and crowned with vicious curved horns. He caught the merest sight of its terrible gaze and turned away, a crushing wave of despair and revulsion coursing through him. I see your thoughts, little Codian. You are right to fear me. This is far from over. With that the beings radiance intensified to such a degree that Codian found himself immediately blinded. Even his enhanced senses failed to counter the brilliance of the light. It was almost a blessed relief when the cold darkness claimed him. +++ Chaplain. He opened his eyes and found Czevak and Orechiel staring back. The terrible entity was gone and he was in the holding bay no longer. He shook his head and looked around him, immediately recognising the small room. These are the Demiurgs quarters. He observed, turning to the dark warrior standing behind him. Cypher nodded. Correct. The next leg of your journey begins here, Chaplain. Once you leave this ship you will not return. The next time you see Calgar and the others, your feet will be touching the soil of holy Terra. At that Cypher looked towards the Grungis creation, the machine that had transported them once before across the galaxy to the Demiurgs ship. Activate it. Quickly Codian, before your options finally slip away. The Chaplain found himself bemused by the warriors tone but he did so nonetheless. It took several frustrating moments for him to remember how the short xenos had achieved this, but soon his efforts were rewarded by a low reverberating thrum. The space at the centre of the curious contraption flashed with burgeoning energy and then ignited, a wall of pure light filling the gap within seconds. Codian stepped away from the device and looked back to Cypher.

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Thethe thing that was Scarn Gone. I hurt him, Chaplain. It was nowhere near enough to cause him lasting harm, but enough to force him to reveal himself. His deceit is revealed, and as a consequence the part of Scarn is no longer viable. He has retreated to continue his insidious plans elsewhere. I see. So, what now, Dark Angel? You know where that leads. It is the only place you will be safe, and you must stay there until it is time for me to come for you. Remember our pact, Daelo Codian. Watched by the two Inquisitors, Cypher reached around and behind him to produce a small box. He unhooked the golden chains that had kept it fastened to his belt and passed it to Codian. The Chaplain gasped, recognising the object immediately for what it was. The Caesus! I took it. Cypher answered. I stole it after I had brought your companions to this chamber. It was a necessary action, one that will ensure both your escape and your survival beyond this day. The Chaplain stepped back and raised his hands to look upon the casket. Though it was quite small and far from heavy, the weight of its importance was a conspicuous thing. The future of the Imperiums survival literally rested in his hands. Are you mad? He whispered. His mind was still reeling from the encounter with the golden phantom, and now this. There is no time, Codian. Remember Cypher tapped a finger against his head. Use what you know. Until our final meeting. With that the dark warrior vanished in a haze of blackness, and as the void dissipated, he found himself standing before Czevak and Orechiel. The expressions on their faces told him immediately that there was something badly wrong. What? What is it? They did not answer. Instead, he followed their gaze to the door of the chamber, and watched as it slid open. The expression on the familiar face that entered made his heart grow cold. Uriel. Ventris entered the chamber and paused, his eyes falling upon the container in the Chaplains hands. The Marine tensed, his hand reaching slowly for his bolt pistol. Damn you, Codian. It is true. I would not have believed it had I not seen it with my own eyes. The ancient warrior uttered, each word spat from his mouth as if poison. It took Codian several moments to realise exactly what it was that the Ancient suspected. When he did, he slowly shook his head.

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No, brother, you assume I do not need to assume. Ventris answered, anger growing steadily within him. I see your treachery with my own eyes! I vouched for you, brother, when even the Warmaster and the Master of Sanctity had conceded that you could not be saved. I refused to believe that one of our own, one of the old Chapter, could be compromised. Yet here I stand, the evidence before me irrefutable. You, Daelo Codian, are a traitor. You are lucky that the decision to comply with your demands was beyond my power to either authorise or refuse. I would have seen you struck down without hesitation or mercy. Codian heard this and shook his head. No, Uriel, you have been deceived. Look inside yourself, trust your instincts. Look beyond the obvious and see the truth. Here. He stepped forward, an action that caused the Ancient to tear his bolt pistol free of its holster and thrust it towards the Chaplains head. Codian remained calm and raised his hands. Here. Take it. Ventris hesitated, suspicion creeping across his face. Take it, Ancient. This is no trick. Ventris snatched the box away quickly and then moved back once more, the pistol still trained on Codians face. He turned his neck slightly to call behind him. Laenar. The shadows behind Ventris shifted and Codian watched with surprise as another familiar form pushed its way into the chamber. His Techmarine brother regarded him with a cold stare and took the box from Ventris in order to examine its contents. If I was a traitor, brother, then why would I have come so far, only to steal the Caesus now? Do not believe the CtScarns lies. Do not let the Grey Knights leave this place. It is a trap. The Knights are gone, Codian. Neither I or nor anyone else could have prevented that. No! Scarns claims were false, Uriel. He is the enemy, not I. He seeks to undermine the strength of the Imperium, to lay open the path to Terra for the Unity. He has lured Reinhold and his warriors into a trap, one that will see them removed from this war for good. Ventris backed away, his eyes narrowing. He lowered the pistol and clutched the casket tighter to his chest. It was clear from his expression that his emotions were in turmoil. None of what you say makes sense, Codian. Why would an Inquisitor, any agent of the Imperium for that matter, seek to betray us? What would Scarn have to gain from allowing the Tau to destroy us? Scarns plans are far-reaching and vast, Uriel. I cannot explain them to you, my brother. All I can tell you is that he seeks to gain power from his machinations, and that Scarn himself is more than any of you realise. He is no man. With that, Codian looked to Laenar, his brother of old. The Techmarine stared back, cold and dispassionate. Codian shifted his gaze and found Ventris once more. Orechiel told me something of you, Uriel Ventris. She showed me a secret, one that you have kept from us

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all. Pavonis. Ventris blanched as he heard the name of planet spoken aloud, as if it stirred some deep and long-forgotten memory. Codian saw this and nodded his head slowly. Yes, I see it in your eyes. The creature you encountered there Death. The Ancient whispered, a distance falling over his gaze. Do not press me, Chaplain. I will speak no further of what I saw there. Fair enough. Then listen. I have seen the truth behind Scarn. I have seen his real face, and he is no human, no living man. The thing that attacked us was far from mortal. A being of golden metal skin, borne aloft on unseen ghost winds. An ageless hunger in its eyes, so powerful it could be felt by the soul. To look upon it, a lesser man might tear his eyes from his own face, or put himself upon his sword. Ctan. He heard Orechiel whisper behind him, the utter conviction in her voice sobering and ominous. Lifevampire. Codian confirmed this with a slow nod. You were present to witness the birth of an abomination, Uriel. How is it that such knowledge could be hidden away, kept from even those of your own Chapter? Why was your encounter with this creature stricken from history so? Because of him. Orechiel stepped from the space behind the Chaplain to join the two warriors. She looked up at Ventris and laid a hand gently upon his vambrace. The Deceiver. He is a master of manipulation, Ancient. Look how he has sent the Grey Knights to their doom. Call them back, Uriel. Please. Codian urged him. Do what you would to me, it does not matter, just call the Grey Knights back. Ventris paused for a moment and then looked over his shoulder at Laenar. The Techmarine tilted his head and stepped forward, the massive metal arms of his servo-harness creaking forth to brandish a number of ominous tool-weapons at the Chaplain and his companions. With that the Ancient sank back through the doorway and out into the corridor beyond, speaking hastily into his suits collar-mounted communicator. There will be no resistance. Codian said to the towering Marine. Laenar did not answer. Orechiel looked to Codian then, folding her arms around her waist as she did so. I have a theory, Chaplain, that the Destinies of the Ctan and the Tau are inextricably linked, based on the evidence I have collected over the centuries. The Eldar believe that the star gods slumbered for millions of years, awaiting a time when the galaxy would hold enough life to stir them from their tombs and satiate their boundless hunger. The first reports of an encounter with a Ctan, believed to be the Deceiver, coincide with the discovery of the Tau homeworld. More recently, the awakening of the Nightbringer occurred as the Tau began their expansion proper, or as it is known, their Second Sphere. The movements of the Necrontyr can also be worked into this theory quite soundly, though it would take some time and much evidence to show this properly, evidence I no longer possess. The link may be highly tenuous, Chaplain, but we cannot afford to ignore it. The activities of the Ctan and

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the Necrontyr follow a pattern. As the Tau have grown in power, it is as if that growth has somehow triggered the awakening of the Ctan. Codian took a moment to consider this. A moment was all he had, however, as movement at the door of the chamber snatched his attention and he looked up to see Ventris re-enter, his face dark. It is too late, Codian. The Grey Knights are gone. The warp between here and Caris Estarus is so calm that the transition of the fleets will happen in days. Then they are lost. Codian answered, his voice heavy with regret. And we may yet be undone. Ventris lowered his head and exhaled deeply, anxiety clear upon his face. He thought for a moment and then looked at Codian once more, beckoning Laenar back as he did so. One question, Chaplain. I have but one question to ask you, and then you may leave. Why did you ask for me? Codian hesitated in giving his response. In truth, he could not answer. Cypher was the one who had brought him to this chamber. He could do little but guess at what the mysterious warrior had done in the minutes that had followed his retreat with the two Inquisitors and his return for Codian. He had not called for Ventris, not had he engineered the theft of the Caesus to force the Ancients hand. Nonetheless, he found himself now in a situation that he could not have devised alone. Things were now starting to become clear, and the more they did so, the more he began to see just how astute and cunning Cypher really was. II knew, of all those I have counted amongst comrades here, you and I shared a common bond more than most. We have both seen the terrible truths that lie hidden beneath it all, Uriel. We have both glimpsed the unspeakable horrors that exist, nightmares made real. Anyone can be told these truths, brother. You and I share more than that. We know them to be real. The Ancient nodded slowly and stepped aside, revealing the door. Then may you find achieve whatever it is that you seek to do, Daelo Codian. The fleet moves for Terra within the day. Perhaps you and I will meet again there. I would wish that. Codian replied. He watched as Ventris gestured at Laenar and the Techmarine moved aside to allow a number of figures standing beyond him in wait to enter. Everyone you requested is here. Beneath his helm, Codian frowned.

Chapter Seventy Three: Blind Loyalty

Think. Think. The vox link chimed again, and this time the sound was accompanied by a deep and resonant crackle. They were trying to force the pict-link open. He knew nothing about these creatures or their technological abilities, but he had no doubt in his mind that they could achieve this.

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The communications officer shifted uneasily in his seat and glanced over his shoulder at him, his sweatbeaded brow furrowing. They demand an answer, Marine. If we ignore their hails much longer they will turn their weapons on us. Berolinus bared his teeth and cursed beneath his breath. He should have expected this. He should have thought this through to the letter. One look at the faces surrounding him on this bridge told him that the crew of the Hellrunner had expected nothing less. We are dead men, Marine. Andrasi uttered, spite burning in his eyes. You have condemned us all. Berolinus cast around to where the Free Captain sat, fixing him with a look of anger. We will survive this, Rogue Trader. I give you my word. The small cutter shook beneath some huge unseen blast as Berolinus looked back towards the screen. Open the pict-link. Let them see that we have nothing to hide. The officer before him frowned as he heard this; though it was clear that there they had little to lose from doing so. He complied, and the large screen came to life moments later. The face that formed before him was Tau. A grey skinned and scarred visage regarded him, its expression stern and unreadable. Behind the face he could see more Tau, tall and lean like their counterpart. KorO Vashya Telcor Oran Sha of the Larshi Shieldi. What business have you here, guela? Berolinus fought back the revulsion inside him, and replied. I am Lurom BerolinusCaptain Berolinus, a quick glance over his shoulder ensured the silence of those accompanying him, warrior of Guilliman, and it is my business is to be here. I bring warriors faithful to the Primarchs cause, warriors dedicated to fighting the foes of the Unity. I seek to join him in this most glorious campaign. The Taus eyes narrowed at hearing this. The alien raised a hand to its head and spoke quietly and with an inhuman swiftness, and then looked back towards the screen. A good portion of the bridge of the xenos craft was visible in the pict-screen and for a moment the space beyond looked to grow brighter. A second later and an ominous rumble carried over the connection, swiftly followed by a wash of static and a disorienting quake in the visual link. The alien ship seemed to be under attack. The Hellrunner had speared free of the warp as close to Caris Estarus as her crew dared, and from that very moment of translation Andrasi and the others had fired cautious protests his way. He cared less than nothing for the cowardly admonitions of the brigand crew. Guilliman was his only concern. The Larshi is under attack. The communications officer confirmed. Aggressor confirmed as obsolete Executor class. Shes a Grand Cruiser. Augurs identify her as the Blood Royale. Throne, she is a listed traitor vessel. I can confirm positive lance emissions. Railgun batteries are responding Berolinus dismissed the officers near-monotone assessment and rose, feeling his fingers tighten around the grip of his chainsword. He resisted the urge to tear it free of its scabbard and vent his frustrations upon the surrounding machinery, to activate its bite and unleash it upon the metal and flesh around him.

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He had been tested to his limits since the moment he had first opened his eyes here in this dark and hell-cursed time. Torn from the life he had known, Lurom Berolinus had fought and killed as was his role, his reason for existence. There had been no saving graces to this abominable future that he had yet uncovered, save one. The Primarch. Guilliman, the father of the Ultramarines. To even dare consider that the father of them all walked free and tall amongst these stars, unfettered by the constraints of stasis, was a consideration he barely dared to dream. Guilliman. His reason for being. Guilliman. To even say the name in his mind incited a surge of elation within him. The worship of gods was the domain of those Astartes long since fallen from grace, damned by association millennia before his birth. Even so, Berolinus dared to compare his own passions to theirs, for to imagine blessed Guilliman standing before him was a vision he could scarce envisage. He would tear his soul from his breast if it were possible, just to bathe in the Primarchs presence. Marine The hail wrenched him from his reverie with a cold and harsh forcefulness, causing his anger to swell within him once again. He looked first to the concerned face of the communications officer and then to the screen. Guela ship, your request is refused. By order of the Kaiguela himself, all unauthorised craft The screen ignited unexpectedly, the image blurring and distorting with interference. Through the morass of feedback he could make out the shuddering rumble of explosions The Taus face swam in and out of focus several times in quick succession. Though he could not hear its words, the aliens mouth worked in silence, its attention largely unwavering. Im reading positive weapons signatures! The tactical officer called, working the controls before him furiously. Target locks have been acquired. They are under attack and still they challenge us Gun servitors activated. The weapons officer chimed in. Multi-lasers cycling, augurs probing. Logic engine will complete its assessment of priorities in five, four Enough of this! He spat. Deactivate the link. Take us in. Even as the screen shimmered and deactivated, Andrasi had risen from his seat and was on his feet, anger and disbelief sweeping the apprehension from within him. No, Marine! This must end here! This is madness Berolinus threw himself around and snatched at the Free Captain, his armoured fingers closing around the mans neck. He hoisted Andrasi up clear of the deck and flung him across the bridge without a trace of effort. The ring of steel grating on steel played herald to the drawing of his chainsword. Though he refrained from activating the powerful blade, the menace in the gesture alone was enough to warn off any further outbursts. The Astarte looked on as several members of the crew leapt from their posts to aid the unconscious captain. He shook his head and shifted his attention to the fore of the bridge. One of the figures was busy shouting orders to the others, his face red with effort.

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Get the Navigators chamber sealed tight and the Choir shut away! This is not a drill! Warp-flux here is off the chart! Damn it, this will kill them You. He pointed to the stern-faced man. First Mate. Luudas. Sir. The man replied, making no attempt to mask the hate in his tone. Can you pilot a ship? After a short hesitation, the man nodded. Aye. At that, Berolinus looked towards the chaos beyond the frontal bay and the warring leviathan shapes sliding through the void. He pointed a finger out at the dull grey ball below. If you want to save this vessel and her crew, you will take me there. +++ The Clarion rocked with sudden and violent force, enough to send Berolinus crashing into the bulkhead. Luudas glanced over his shoulder and then back at the screen. You should secure yourself. Your armour will do you little good when your bones are turned to jelly and sloshing around inside. Concentrate on the descent! The Astarte snapped, hauling himself back onto his feet. He glanced around as the thick armour of the Aquila Lander rang, unseen fire pattering off her hull like rain. Dark, elongated shapes screamed past the screen, spitting death and leaving contrails of crimson fire. Cruel slivers of rusting crimson, sleek and deadly as they appeared. Hellblades. The First Mate uttered. Deploying chaff A resonating staccato crackle erupted from the small craft and the air before them popped and flashed. The angle of descent is going to get pretty steep, Marine. I suggest you hold on. Berolinus cast around, looking for some point of purchase. He spied the central observation chair and grabbed on to it. The seat was already in its raised position, and above it he could see the raised bubble dome of shielded glass. The Aquila was a dedicated personnel carrier, in this case the Rogue Traders personal shuttle, and its primary role was to transport dignitaries and other such individuals from orbit to surface and afford the individual a commanding view of the planet below as they descended. He clambered up the raised chair and wedged his bulk into it, the harassed seat squealing and rocking beneath his weight. The steel armrests groaned and spread as he forced himself between them and he grabbed on to the thick ring of metal that held the observation dome in place. With that he wedged himself in as best he could as the landers nose dipped sharply, and the craft threw itself into a steep dive. From here he could see the planet below expand and begin to flatten out as they neared, the horizon losing its spherical curve second by second. Even from this height he could easily make out the steadily forming shape of a vast structure below, and it was then that it first struck him how massive the edifice was that they were headed towards.

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Tracer fire spat high into the air, indiscriminate and heavy. Craft of every shape and size wheeled and thundered past, spitting death. Each and every one he saw looked different to the last, and he didnt even attempt to try and identify any allegiance. All that mattered was that he get to the ground intact. All that mattered was that he reached his Primarch. Luudas shouted something that he did not catch, and by the time the words reached his ears the Aquilas descent felt to hasten further and become even wilder. The flyers autocannon opened up with a furious hammering, the sound filtering through the bulkhead and quaking the deck beneath his elevated seat. He saw the rounds lance forward and spread from the nose of the craft, questing for the streaking shapes spinning past them. Fire blossomed and burned his vision white for a second, and by the time his enhanced vision had compensated for this they had passed through the fireball, burning fragments of enemy craft pattering against the reinforced glass. As they continued to near the growing complex the air seemed to churn and thicken, bright questing energies cracking across the vista. They passed through banks of rolling cloud, black as the void, and as they did so the systems of the lander stuttered and failed, only briefly, but it was enough to send a surge of caution through him. Something dark and insidious had to be taking place below them, he knew that. All the atmospheric signs were there. The closer they drew, the more ominous the situation became. If anything the skies were even more choked with warring fighter craft here, and other, more exotic kinds of flyers and airborne war machines. He saw something that resembled a small flying titan spin past and smash a corrupt Thunderhawk from the skies with one sweep of a charged limb, the blow shattering the crafts wing and sending it spiralling away out of sight. The machine passed by overhead so close its cloven feet almost caught against the dome, close enough to cause him to flinch away. The darkness seemed to close fast, shifting in huge, fluid clouds, black as night yet charged with lurid coruscating energies. He could see from his vantage point that there was no way around the maelstrom. They would have to go through it if they were to reach the ground. He felt a sudden pressure in his head as they swept through the morass, a nauseating heaviness, cold and disquieting. Shapes swam before him, half-glimpsed visions of tooth and claw shifting through the murk. He imagined a scream, depthless, unending and terrible, a sound like razors sliding across glass. Frenzied, hungry, insatiable. Roiling ethereal lighting raked the craft, each strike shaking the solid bulkheads. Luudas screamed and started to claw at his eyes, thrashing in his seat as if possessed. Berolinus let go of his purchase and raised his hands instinctively, reacting to the sudden phenomenon. A blinding flash struck the Clarion and filled the compartment with violet light, so intense it burned his eyes. Pain. His every nerve came alive with it, more intense and sudden than he had ever experienced before in his life. He convulsed as the screaming energies first passed over the pilot and then slammed into him, striking him with the force of a lascannon blast. Snaking lightning crackled across his armour, blistering the blue paint. He felt his consciousness sliding away, darkness billowing in his eyes, spreading as if to suffocate him. The scream of the punished craft trailed away and then there was nothing. Nothing save for darkness and silence. The shattered Aquila had begun to cool by the time Berolinus crawled free of the gaping rend in its side and staggered out onto the surface of Caris Estarus. His face was a mess of thick congealed blood, he could feel that without seeing his reflection. He wiped the back of his vambrace across his forehead and blinked, struggling to see. Despite the pain-countering agents flooding through him his every breath burned, and every muscle movement sent a hot lance of pain through him. His armour was punished in a dozen places, warped by the impact of the violent landing.

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He was dazed and disorientated, and he knew from this sensation just how bad the landing had been, for it took a great deal to perplex an Astartes senses. Even so his bolter and chainsword rose instinctively, activated and ready for use before even he had realised it. The sound of the war raging around him hit him at once, surging in like a storm front. It was a white noise, so thick as to render any one distinct sound indecipherable. As his vision cleared he looked around him, his body tensing and adopting a combat stance though habit. The pilot, Luudas, was dead. He knew that without even bothering to check the mans welfare. The violent landing had all but shaken him apart, and he was an Astarte. Without the aid of an enhanced physiology and the protection of ceramite, the man hadnt stood a chance. The Aquila itself was little more than a broken wreck, he could see that now with his own eyes. The nose and pilot compartment had more or less separated from the body of the craft, splayed in an upright angle like the shattered snout of some punished beast. He shook his head and looked back at the flyer, following the trail it had left behind on impact. The evidence told him they had slammed nose-first into one of the imposing stone fortification and skimmed its roof before slamming into the dry earth. This at least had saved his life, he was sure of it. A renewed purpose surged through him and fired his limbs into life once more. He drove his boots into the ashen earth and set off, quickly assessing his surroundings. His body worked to bring him to full combat readiness, his adrenaline triggering many biological changes within him, countering pain and increasing awareness. He sprinted across the open terrain and came to rest behind the smouldering shell of a Tau war machine. A quick check of the surrounding terrain told him he was in some vast compound, one of many that stretched further into this huge fortification. In the distance he could see the outer wall and a pair of massive gates, or at least what was left of them. Vehicles and bodies littered the compound, so thick he could barely see a patch of clear ground. He could see the remains of Tau and humans, as well as many other races and factions. Over to his left a hulking thing of rusting armour plate jutted from the dead earth, its rear thrusters still smouldering. The construct had all the characteristics of some crude flyer, and the bodies of the grey-skinned Orks he had fought on Ryza lay scattered around it, leaking and broken by the impact of the crafts emergency landing. More than a few sported gunshot wounds, the damage consistent with bolter fire. These creatures had survived the crash. Survived, only to be killed by Marine weapons. He heard a shout and pivoted, raising his boltgun like a pistol with one hand. Across the death-laden landscape he spied movement. A small squad of soldiers had emerged from behind a crippled xenos skimmer and were pointing his way. The weapons in their hands began to raise and by the time he realised what was happening the first bright pulse round glanced off his thigh with enough force to stagger him. He regained his balance and fired a shot. His aim proved true and one of the traitors fell, limbs flailing, his chest disintegrated. The others spread out and began to advance, shaken but far from deterred. Pulse fire screamed his way, flashing by too close to ignore. Another shot hit him square in the shoulder guard and pitched him back, almost bowling him from his feet. He decided to fall with the force of the hit and went down into a roll that carried him back down behind the blackened shell and out of sight. The feint allowed him valuable time to assess the enemy squad. As they advanced her could make out their leader, marked out by his white helmet. The soldier was urging his men forward in the name of something he called the greater good. Whatever that was Berolinus had no idea but he could tell that these men were seasoned soldiers, perhaps even veteran traitors of the Imperial Guard. He had fought human foes before, but these men were different. Their guns were far more powerful than

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lasguns or autoguns, and they were accurate with them. One good headshot would likely bring him down for good. He would not allow that. The traitor soldiers were advancing slowly, picking their way over the body carpet. The leader held up a hand and checked his pistol before creeping forward. Berolinus rose and fired, punching a fist-sized hole through the soldiers helmet. He shifted his aim and put another man down, the shot sending a mist of glittering blood out after it. Pulse fire hammered into him and he raised his arms up defensively. Shots smashed into his vambraces with the force of thunder hammer blows but he rode the attack and drove forward, gritting his teeth against the pain. Seconds were all he needed. He uncrossed his arms and activated his chainsword as he did so. The teeth of the weapon found their first victim almost immediately. They tore through carapace and flesh and cut the soldier in two from waist to shoulder. Hot blood pattered against his vision slits as he twisted at the hip and beheaded another man. The decapitated body held its stance for a second, gun raised ready to fire, as if it had not realised its fate. Then it sank to its knees, blood fountaining from the wound, and as it did so Berolinus kicked out, driving his boot through the ribcage of another Tau auxiliary. This was enough for the surviving soldiers. As one they turned on their heels and made to run. The Astarte saw this and felt his gorge rise. Not a chance, filth! His bolter roared again and each shot punched a soldier off his feet. The gun barked four times in total, and as the echo last shots bark faded away, the enemy squad was dead. Berolinus bounded forward and began to stab his blade through each of the fallen soldiers in turn, carving bodies into pieces in order to ensure each kill. Finished, he turned his gaze to the skies and spoke as if to the air itself. You will have to do better than that! Nothing will keep me from my father! If I have to slay every opponent on this planet to find his side, I will do so! He opened his eyes then, and saw the shape above him growing larger. As if to mock his claims, the skies answered.

Chapter Seventy Four: Allegiance of One

Berolinus lowered his gaze and threw himself forward, driving himself out of the path of the falling object. He launched himself through the air and fell into a roll, and by the time he had pushed himself back up onto his feet the hulking shape landed amid the thunder of impact and the scream of thrusters. The towering machine was of the same specification as the one he had seen high in the air, a vast humanoid slab of thick off-white armour. The machine seemed to be literally festooned with armaments, bristling with cannons and weapons systems. Wherever there was a hard point set into its thick back, shoulders or arms, there was a weapon. The titan rose slowly to its full height and what passed for the things parody of a head twisted and then

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lowered to face him, a score of harsh crimson lights shining his way. Scores of craters were gouged across its metal body, red-hot and smouldering, an indication of how extreme the war above was. Berolinus saw the merest indication of movement as the vast battlesuit began to raise its arm. The tri-barrelled cannons mounted there began to cycle, the whine of their rotation increasing to a shrill scream. Berolinus threw himself to one side as the weapons erupted, throwing of a stuttering azure glow. He rolled behind the vehicle shell as the white-hot pulse fire trailed after him. The rounds peeled armour plate away in strips as they hammered into the shell of the tank, drawing a violent and destructive trail across the already punished wreck. The blackened frame rocked beneath the onslaught and Berolinus tightened his body into a ball, trying as best he could to avoid those shots that managed to pass through the armour. Something powerful and explosive slammed into the tank and lifted the broken shell, throwing it into a spin. Berolinus felt himself tumbling and held on to his weapons for dear life, determined not to lose them as he was thrown violently around. The groaning wreck rolled one last time and came to a stop, the tortured metal squealing in protest. Fresh pain flared through his body but he struggled to stand nonetheless, expecting the killing blow to come any second. He fought to push the red haze from his eyes, to see his opponent, to be as defiant in death as he had been in life. What he saw as the haze dissipated cause his breath to catch in his throat. Screeching shapes descended upon the towering construct, falling from the skies to surround it. The familiar sound of bolter fire hammered in his ears, chattering as it cut through the collective roar of jetpack thrusters. The creatures had been assault Marines once; he could tell that from the twisted and desecrated armour they wore. Other than that, there was little similarity to the Astartes he knew. The warriors wore leering grotesque helms and baroque brass armour. The disgusting symbols of chaos were carved into or daubed across their ancient armour, vile sigils that caused the eyes to sting and water. These were traitors, true traitors, far removed from the cowardly, self-preserving filth he had slaughtered minutes ago. The creatures before him were the first, turned from the light by the abomination that had once been counted as brother to his Primarch. Unlike Guilliman, Horus of the Luna Wolves had been turned to the darkness by his own weakness and greed for power. His was a treachery of personal choice, not one forced upon him as he lay prone and unable to resist. Seeing the product of such weakness and lack of faith in the Imperial Truth sent a surge of disgust through him. He was determined more than ever to see his mission through. The traitor-things surrounded the Tau machine quickly, some firing their bolt pistols, others hacking and slashing with twisted versions of Astarte combat weapons. He looked on as, quickly and with cold efficiency, the warriors brought the machine down. One of the traitors carried a meltagun and he used it to great effect, quickly shearing one of the machines legs at the knee joint. The battlesuit retaliated even as it fell, its powerful cyclic cannons tearing one of it attackers to bloodied bronze shreds. The outcome was inevitable nonetheless, and as Berolinus watched the warriors descend upon the downed machine he broke into a sprint, his eyes fixed to the glowing, jump pack-laden back of the wielder of the meltagun.

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He had spied the commotion high above them as he had picked himself up. Even now the companions of the Tau machine-warrior were circling and descending, searing fire stabbing forth in herald to their arrival. The servants of chaos glanced back to see him approach, and for a moment he expected to be cut down. Thankfully, amazingly, they did not attack him. The figure he took to be the champion of the fiends nodded his way and then barked some harsh, rumbling order he did not understand. As one the packs of the squad flared and the warriors made to rise back up into the air, to meet the coming fight. They thought him a comrade, he thought to himself, intrigued and disgusted by the prospect in equal measure. In truth, he could understand how they made such an assumption. He was, after all, a Marine, and when they had arrived he had been locked in combat with a Tau opponent. He found himself thanking fate as he charged at the rising warrior before him and leapt, wrapping his arms around the figures bronze legs. The searing backwash of the jump packs thrusters washed over him and he gritted his teeth, the surface temperature of his ceramite rising sharply. The warriors ascent slowed immediately and he glanced back and down, caught unawares by the sudden attack. Berolinus had less than seconds to make his efforts count. Already his grip was slipping on the smooth surface of the ancient armour. He released his grip just enough to elevate the barrel of his boltgun and fired a single round. The bolt shell hammered though the warriors faceplate and detonated, taking his head from his shoulders. His grip on the meltagun released and Berolinus let him go, snatching at his belt as he did so. The Marine fell to the floor, a grenade-laden belt in his grasp, and allowed the dead Traitor Marine to spiral up and away. He shook himself, rose and hooked his bolter to his belt, snatching up the fallen meltagun as he did so. As he regarded the stolen weapon he nodded to himself, pleased enough with his prize. No matter how corrupt and heretical its visage, he knew well enough that its bit would serve him favourably. Now he had gained his new armaments, all that remained for him to do was acquire a more potent means of progress. He had already decided exactly how he would approach that problem. He had spied it almost the moment his vision cleared, lying where it had fallen at the death of its rider. Along with the scattering of corrupt Predators and Rhinos that sat broken and burning amongst the wholesale charnel, this had been his first visible confirmation that the forces of chaos were present here. Now, as he headed towards his destination, he felt revulsion rising within him. The procurement of traitor weapons was one thing, but this was something else entirely. This would test him. He reached the object of his intentions and slowed, regarding the object with a mounting distaste. It was a wicked thing. He knew that almost instinctively, despite the fact that it was apparently no more than an inanimate object, a construct. Like the stolen weapon in his hands, it seemed to almost exude an aura of age. He reached the bike and regarded the dead Alpha Legionnaire with a sneer. A glance at the threeheaded Hydra upon the Marines shoulder guard stirred a hatred within him, for although he did not immediately recognise the warriors affiliation, something about the symbol caused an almost mnemonic disdain. He placed his weapons on the floor and then hoisted the bike into an upright position, a testing task even for an Astarte. Done, he placed the vehicle on its stand and retrieved his arms, placing them securely within the gnarled leather holsters strapped the bikes flanks. He started the engine and the bike roared to life, an unnatural, bestial growl rumbling from its engine. It

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shuddered beneath him, almost as if aware of his conflicting loyalties. For a moment he felt as if he were upon the back of some wicked warp creature, his hands locked around the things horns, and he dismissed the consideration with a shudder. His task was too important for him to allow himself such foolish concerns. He would find his Primarch no matter what he had to do to achieve this. Looking out towards the distant inner gates at he other end of the compound, he pulled back on the throttle and felt the wheels of the bike shudder and spin in the loose earth. Even from this distance he could see that battle still raged there. With a roar, bike and master lurched forward and was gone. The sounds were wet and disgusting, the tearing of armour and flesh. The throaty roar grew louder and louder, and soon it was enough to attract the attention of the abominable creatures. Thick bestial heads the colour of freshly-spilled blood rose as one as the bike screamed past. Green eyes that glowed with the power of lamp packs regarded the progress of bike and rider. Inhuman growls rumbled through the air. Passing between the monstrous beasts. Attracted by the scent of living flesh, the hounds twisted to watch he speeding shape hurtling towards the distant gates, the cadavers spread across this vista of death no longer enough to sate their bloodlust. As one the pack unleashed howls of lust and bounded out after Berolinus, arrows of glistening slab muscle, claws and fangs. In their wake, the air shuddered and darkened, reality itself stretching and growing thin. Billowing black fumes poured from the blackness, hot and reeking. More of the beasts tore through the breach and spilled out into the compound, shaking the thick viscous fluids of their unnatural birth away as they did so. Anggraths birth was upon them. +++ The Primarch cut a magnificent figure stood astride of the smouldering Iron Warriors Vindicator, the warriors of the Great Enemy scattered about his feet. He stood looking out at the final gates of the Inner Sanctum, one hand resting upon he pommel of his sword, the other punched into a fist at his waist. Magnificent. God-like. A breathtaking sight. The hot breeze caught his crimson and gold cloak at his back, causing the material to flap about him, as if eager to advance. Ralei joined him without a word. The smaller man negotiated the lilting vehicle with ease, his ascent practised and dignified. He stood by the Primarchs side and watched as the combined forces of the four commanders, Hydrion, OMogdrak, OKirla and Shadowblade threw themselves against this final fastness and, like his commander, not a flicker of emotion crossed his face. The skies above were dark, choked in shifting shadow. Hundreds upon hundreds of jet-black spheres were drifting away from the citadel beyond in vast shoals, creating an unnatural darkness. The Umbra were retreating in the wake of the null-drone attack, their part in this campaign done. What do you make of them? Ralei asked, disturbing the stark silence of the moment. Guilliman turned his head and lowered his gaze as he heard this, almost dreamily. His implacable expression remained. The Umbra. Ralei explained, gesturing out at the enigmatic creatures above. They are an unknown force in this universe, as alien and enigmatic as any we know. They attack and kill with living shadow, and yet they do not communicate. I suspect that they are even incapable of such interactions.

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Guilliman turned his attention back to the distant gate and shrugged his colossal shoulders. They are none of my concern, Inquisitor. Do not trouble yourself with things you can neither explain nor understand. They are what they are. The Ethereals are the masters of all. It is their way to know. However they managed to reign these creatures in to our glorious cause is immaterial. That they serve is enough. Ralei mirrored the Primarchs gaze then, taking in his own fill of the destination beyond them. You must forgive me, Primarch, but it is my way to suspect and to question the motives of all. They seem to me to be insentient things incapable of comprehending the concepts we adhere to. I cannot help but imagine some ulterior motive behind their internment into our coalition. Dismiss such thoughts. Guilliman answered with a wave of his hand. Trust in the judgement of the Ethereals. Consider that an order. Yes lord. Ralei bowed his head and spoke no more on the subject. The silent host continued to glide through the skies overhead, as soundless as the void. Though they were some distance away the Inquisitor raised his head once again and looked out at the black mass, as if somehow unable to resist observing their steady retreat. A deep and barely visible light played across his eyes, the merest flicker of ancient recognition. Far off to the east, high in the skies, one of the countless orbs slowed. Ralei averted his gaze immediately, almost guiltily, and quickly resumed his former vigil of the final fortress. Guilliman seemed to sense this exchange and looked down at the man by his side, his vast brow creasing softly. Does something trouble you, Maturin Ralei? No, my lord. Came the mans reply. Unseen by the eyes of either, the lone Umbra remained where it was for several moments until it finally began to drift away once again, rejoining the unremitting retreat. Several seconds later, Guilliman drew his head back softly, as if startled. What did you say? I did not speak, Primarch. Guilliman raised a hand up to the vox stud at his collar and tapped it several times. As if to mirror his question, the link came alive with chatter, a incoherent garble of overlaid questions and responses from what seemed to be every faction out there. All asking the same thing. Who spoke? The Primarch deactivated the link with a harsh snort and returned to his vigil once more, perplexed yet unwilling to let the occurrence sway him. Foul sorcery. The whisper of daemons, nothing more. Indecipherable noise. What did it say? Guilliman looked at the Inquisitor for a moment and then towards the citadel, raiding a hand to his brow in order to scrutinise the advance of the Tau forces. Qah sees.

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Indecipherable noise. Ralei echoed, a little too quickly.

Chapter Seventy Five: Quickening

Abaddons pallid features contorted in rapt wonder as he looked upon his final, magnificent work. He closed his eyes and inhaled, drinking deep of the heady bouquet of fresh blood and pungent sulphur that saturated the vast temple, literally breathing in the success of his efforts. The three lords of Nurgle, Tzeentch and Slannesh stood behind him in silence, watching as the ritual neared completion. They had been so close to being undone here, the damned power of the Tau threatening to nullify the very primal energies required to empower the ritual and bring forth the Destroyer of Ages. Such was the Blood Gods incalculable rage and lust for war, and his unquenchable desire to see his greatest champion unleashed upon all the life of the galaxy, the efforts of the Tau had thus far proven insufficient enough to undo his scheme. He stepped back, bathed in light the colour of blood, and smiled. He had spent so long in the presence of the warp that he shared an empathy with its ebb and flow. He could sense the Empyrean around him as keen as he could see or hear. The warp was in turmoil. Not the kind of turmoil that would break apart the mightiest of ships, or tear a screaming hole through the fabric of reality. No, this was a different sensation. Like some vast and incomprehensible presence, a thing far beyond the mortal ken of such considerations as sentience or being, the warp was fighting for its very life. To be more accurate, the unfathomable denizens he served in their pantheon were railing against the efforts of the Tau, fighting to dispel the suffocating anti-energies that were being poured into their realm. He sneered malevolently as he thought back to the days when the raw and uncontained power of the Immaterium had been a raging and primal force, ripe for his own exploitation. Such power, such potential. The kind of power that could allow a man to remake existence in his own image were he strong and fearless enough to attempt it. Ezekyle Abaddon had been that man. Born of mortal flesh, he had risen of his own volition and aptitude to be more than any earthly man could ever aspire to be, a demi-god, with the power of both great creation and destruction at his fingertips. Abaddon, the Despoiler. That was what they had named him, for ten thousand years, and they had done so with fear in their eyes and a tremor upon their lips. Not so now. Now the legions of the Ruinous Powers were reduced to cinders where once they had been a raging inferno, an inferno with power enough to consume any foe. Reduced and hounded by this implacable foe, the Tau had hurt them, and it was a killing blow. The Eye was closing, dying, like some old, spent star. This was to be his final death-throe. One last, glorious lunge into the heart of the enemy. The sacrifices lay scattered about the dais in glistening heaps, a carpet of charnel thick with inconceivable gore. The atrocity of the offering was palpable, a thick and heavy feeling that permeated everything, oppressive and sickening. He had spared no effort in his supplications, for only the greatest of sacrifices would even attract Khornes pleasure in the summoning of his greatest creation.

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Hundreds of World Eater corpses lay cooling around the ancient stone platform, their heads taken by their own hand willingly and without pause. A good few still knelt, bodies locked rigid in death. He smiled as he thought back to the thrill of the sacrifice. Only he and those utterly dedicated to Khorne understood its true and potent significance. Kharn! He called, spreading his arms wide. He stepped forward and looked upon the silent figure standing at the centre of the dais, held aloft by the mountain of skulls at his feet. Speak, brother! Do you feel it? Do you feel his power? The daemon sword Drachnyen shivered in his grasp, the possessed blade squirming and alive. Iridescent colours writhed across the twisted metal, each pulse sending a wave of powerful thirst surging through the ancient chamber. Rage banners writhed and flapped, tearing eagerly at their mounts like hounds straining at their chains. The air about them was hot and charged, hazy with dark power. It was said by some that the Blood God was the most dominant of all the terrible denizens of the Empyrean, his powers more raw and elemental than any other. To kill in hatred was to empower Khorne, and this was a galaxy saturated in murder, and built on foundations of hatred and conflict. Abaddon drank in the burgeoning power and felt his dark soul burn with expectant zeal. He had spent his entire existence as the champion of the Four Winds ensuring that he never favoured any one patron. This was the first time in his service to the Pantheon that he had ever turned his attentions to a single power, and he knew the risks such a course of action involved. He looked upon the figure kneeling at the centre of the dais and knew then that his actions would be worth it. Kharn! He called again, louder and more commanding this time. The crimson warrior lifted his head slowly and looked out at the Despoiler. A blazing crimson fire burned within the Betrayers eyes, with an intensity too potent to put to words. When he spoke, his voice was impossibly heavy and potent, as if the Sea of Souls spoke though him with one single, unified voice. He comes. The Lord of Bloodthirsters, the Deathbringer. He burns in my veins Kharns fingers were dug deep into the back rock beneath him, and where they sank into the stone there flowed streams of black, bubbling blood, the substance pooling about him as it oozed its way across the platform. The Betrayers thick arms were shaking, his muscles bulging as if through some titanic effort. RageExquisite rage, so dark, Khorne be praised. I see Him, I see Him seated before me, bronze perfection, iron hateMy lungs burn with his magnificence Abaddon smiled again and stepped back, casting around to look upon the champions behind him. Both Typhus and Lucuis were unreadable to him. Neither of the two seemed elated in any sense of the word to witness the ascension of a scion of Khorne, though at the same time, neither of them seemed disquieted. He took this to be a positive sign. Ahrimans disdain, however, was as obvious as it was expected. The Thousand Sons manner was dark and brooding, as if he were being forced to witness something inimitable to his very existence. In truth, Abaddon knew that this was exactly the case, but he did not care.

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Turn your gaze this way, sorcerer. See our destiny take shape. He uttered, the predatory smile upon his lips growing. This is the day that shall herald the dawn of rebirth, that shall see our kind ascended to ultimate power once more. Rejoice in it, drink deep of it, for this is momentous and predestined. We are destined to rise once again, and these upstart Tau will quail before our restored power. You of all of us must know that the old ways are gone, Ahriman. No longer can our gods afford to squabble and vie for dominance. This is a fight for survival. The Four must join as we have joined. They see it even if you cannot. Anggrath will play herald to a new age, and we will join him in painting this galaxy red with the blood of those who oppose us. Ahriman held the Despoilers gaze for a moment and then turned away. Abaddon sneered and turned his attentions to the hulking champions of Slaanesh and Nurgle. Both Typhus and Lucius regarded the sorcerer with unmasked disdain. Forget the Thousand Son. Typhus gurgled, his voice deep and wet. There is life enough amongst these stars to for us to share. As our gods came together to bring war to Terra all those thousands of centuries ago, so shall they do so again. Victory was never stolen from us when Horus died, merely delayed. Destiny cannot be denied. Nor shall it be. The Eternal One hissed, sibilant and predatory. Not even Magnus would be fool enough to dismiss this opportunity. As you say, Abaddon, there will be a time for our legions to vie for dominance. This is a time for unification. Abaddon nodded his head slowly, pleased at what he heard. At that, he turned to the brooding Ahriman once again. Your pleasure and blessing at what we are doing is not required here, Ahriman, only your compliance. You claim to possess the knowledge of an incantation potent enough to infuse the daemon with the power to sustain his hold in this realm indefinitely. I expect you to deliver that. The Despoilers eyes burned with an unfathomable suggested malice, and it was clear that he would accept nothing else. Ahriman looked to the towering commander, his own hidden eyes blazing. As it was promised to you, Abaddon, so shall it be. I will set loose upon this realm a power that no mortal may stand against. A god reborn. You have my word on that. Watched by the others, the ancient sorcerer turned his back and walked away from the gathering, the arcane staff in his hands knocking against the worn flags beneath. Abaddon watched him leave in silence, a malevolent smile creeping slowly across his lips. Let him sulk. Lucius sneered, sweeping a hand before him. It pains him greatly that he should be forced to conspire with us. He will deliver his promise. My lord! Abaddon cast around to look upon the dark ethereal face of Ygethmor, his former sorcerer. The spirit shimmered and seethed at the centre of the boiling black smoke, the writhing of the entity and the tone of his voice suggesting a sudden and ominous displeasure. What is it, spirit? Ructions within the Empyrean, lord. The entity warned him. A boiling light approaches Caris Estarus, scattering the mightiest denizens in its wake. The currents are calm and strong, they have not the power left to forestall it

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Speak plainly, imbecilic phantasm! Abaddon raged. Knights of the cursed Emperor, lord! The hunters of our kind! Abaddon lowered his head and spat onto the floor at his feet. So, Titan makes her play. Let them come, I say. Twice they have banished Anggrath from this realm. This time they will fail. He looked back to the shaking warrior upon the dais and bared his teeth. I can promise you that. +++ Ahriman, sorcerer of the Thousand Sons picked his way through the milling Marines and Acolytes thronging the chamber and made his way into the shadows. The darkness soon swallowed him up, until the only light that was visible was the guttering illuminations of the candles surrounding them main space of the summoning chamber. He glanced around him, ensuring that he was alone. Satisfied, he lowered himself slowly onto one knee and struck his staff against the ground nine times, slowly and with purpose. On the ninth strike the skull-topped head of the staff flashed with a brief but intense power. Snaking tendrils of hazy red power twisted their way through the darkness and began to form a shape before him. The twisting light swam into a pulsing ball, and within moments a dark slit formed at its centre. My lord. Ahriman said, bowing low before the phenomenon. The blazing eye shuddered as if in answer. The ritual is near completion. Abaddon and his cronies are blind to the truth still. Good. A voice whispered in answer, disembodied and without depth. Let them bludgeon their way through ceremonies of senseless summoning. Abaddon is a fool to place his trust in a force of mindless violence. The blunt and unsubtle juggernaut that is Khornes wrath will not succeed against the Tau. The sorcerer lifted his gaze then to look upon the apparition. All the pieces are in place, I trust? Yes. My brother and his xenos legions lumber ever onward, ignorant in their lust for victory. As it was seen, the Grey Knights move even now to join this melee. I have ensured that the warp is calm and manipulated the currents accordingly as to ensure their speedy arrival. My work here is done. All that remains now is for you to fulfil the promise you made to Abaddon. Ahriman did not speak for several moments then, and when he did, his tone was hushed and hesitant. My lord, what we propose to do His words trailed away, as if he were literally afraid of speaking what was on his mind. The eyes balefire intensified at his hesitance, glowing brightly for a lingering moment. Be strong, Ahriman. Know that what we have planned and prepared for this long will come to pass. No longer will we cower and hide, for it goes against everything that we were created to do. We will rise again,

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more powerful than ever. There shall be no more failure. Let us make ourselves great in the eyes of our master once again. As is your wish. Ahriman answered, rising slowly. Even if it means the end of physical life. I failed you once, my lord. In my arrogance and folly I turned my brothers to ashes and dust. I have spent millennia questing to undo that wrong. I will give myself to ensure that the Sons of Magnus are restored to greatness once again, the one true greatness. Let Abaddon and his plans be damned. Loyalty comes first. Thy will be done. The eye shimmered again, responding to the Lord of Sorcerers proclamations. Until we meet again, then, at his side. Let us rejoice in the great changes that shall be wrought by our hand, and know that he is pleased. None save for us can truly know of his millennial schemes, Ahriman. He will be master of the Empyrean, as it was always destined to be. Until that time. Until that time. Ahriman echoed, sweeping his staff before him. At that, the entity quivered and then dissipated, unravelling into nothing. The sorcerer drew his staff close to him, stepped from the enclosing darkness and was gone.

Chapter Seventy Six: Old Faces

Chaplain. I hear you are in the habit of keeping questionable company these days. Codian stepped back, genuinely taken aback by the familiar face before him. Ligur entered the chamber and threw him a nod. I hear you requested the presence of my company. I take it I should feel flattered. Codian did not answer. It was only as the Deathwatch Librarian strode up to him and offered his hand that he found the fortitude to respond. Ligur. He answered, taking the aging Astartes arm in a warriors handshake. It is good to see you. Ligur smiled and stood aside in order to allow the other figures behind him to enter the chamber. We are with you. He whispered with an affirming nod, suggesting that he knew more of the curious situation than even Codian did. + And I have learned to trust you, whatever your motives. We all have. + Codian started a little as the voice brushed across his mind. The Librarians eyes twinkled, bright and vibrant, and he smiled. With that he stood aside and allowed the rest of the waiting figures to enter. Codian watched this, and though he remained silent, he found himself taken aback by the familiar faces filing their way into the chamber. Brother. He said, eyeing the familiar white ceramite of his battle brother. Umbras greeted him with a slap against his shoulder guard. What have you got us into now, Chaplain? The old warrior asked him, though there was a warmth in his voice. Codian dearly wished he could explain his motives to his comrade, but the truth of the matter was that these were not his actions.

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Every familiar face that followed was both welcome and unexpected in equal measure. Torvus, the assault Marine, ducked his way through the doorway and simply greeted him with a nod. Next came the Cadian, who bowed his head but did not seem as warm to him as the others. Codian picked up on this immediately and took the mans manner to be the result of what he had witnessed during the xenos pirate attack. Next came the Tau, Gormat. The tall alien genuflected his way without a word and then ushered himself into a corner of the room, watching the rest of the gathering with quiet interest. Czevak and Orechiel remained silent, bewildered by the unexpected gathering. Ventris, who had been standing in silence as the small group had entered, cast around the faces one last time and then looked to the Chaplain. You have been given a lifeline, Codian. I cannot guess why these people are here and I will not ask you to explain. I will trust you. He took the casket from Laener then and glanced at the doorway briefly before turning back towards Codian. Wherever your journey takes you from here, may the fates guide and protect you. Will we meet again on the soil of Terra, to fight for the seat of our Emperor side by side, as brothers? We will, old friend. You have my oath on that. Codian answered. Ventris tipped his head and made to leave, affording himself one last glance at the faces surrounding him. Farewell, brother. The Ancient slipped through the entryway and into the corridor beyond. My lord. He heard Ventris say quietly, as if speaking to someone. At this, a dark shadow fell across the doorway. He felt his pulse quicken as a huge and familiar shape clad in bone white armour negotiated the opening and pushed his way through into the small room. Chaplain. Jaghatai Khan uttered, his deep and powerful voice rumbling through the enclosed space. It would seem that you owe me an explanation. Codian struggled to maintain his composure before the ancient Primarch. What explanation could he offer the Khan, or any of them for that matter? This meeting, all of this, was as unexpected and sudden to him as it was to the others. Whatever Cypher had intended here he had never explained, and so it fell to him to rake control of the situation and try and interpret what to do next. Khan He began, his mind working overtime. Before he could utter another word the massive warrior held up a hand to silence him. Why ever it is that you have gathered us here, you will have to wait to explain it. I am led to believe that you are a wanted man, Codian. It is clear that you intend to leave this ship with us, however you plan on doing so. If we dally here much longer, your plans will never be realised. At that, he lifted a hand and swept it out slowly before him. I would suggest haste. +++ +++THE GRUDGEBEARER+++ +++LOCATION UNKNOWN+++

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+++ONE DAY LATER+++ He stood before the matt grey bulkhead, feeling the vibrations of the xenos ship as a constant sensation all around him. He hesitated then, raising his hand up slowly until it hovered an inch away from the featureless surface. Slowly, tentatively, he moved his hand towards the vast slab of metal. Then he touched it. The bulkhead shimmered briefly and then was gone, dissipating like mist in the blink of an eye. The stars stretched out before him, the cold void of space seemingly close enough to touch. He inhaled, an instinctive and involuntary reaction, as if expecting to be suddenly sucked out into the airless void. Khan. Jaghatai Khan responded as he heard the voice. He turned to look over his shoulder and the stepped away from the starscape. Chaplain. Codian joined him, taking in the view behind the Primarch. The Khan noticed his interest and allowed himself a subtle smile. Impressive, no? Fashioned by xenos hands, maybe, but still impressive. He gestured around him at the surrounding ship. A remarkable ship. Even more remarkable was our escape from the Proscriptus Rex. The last time I threw myself through a xenos gateway I found myself taken by a foul and abominable enemy. They destroyed my brave warriors, Chaplain, body and soul. They caged me like an animal, and subjected me to tortures no mortal man could ever imagine or describe. As I am sure you can imagine, following you to this place was an action I did not take lightly. The Chaplain did not answer. The Khans implacable eyes narrowed and he turned back to the stars before him. If you brought me here to impress me, Chaplain, then you have succeeded. I suspect, however, that there is more to your actions than a simple desire to astonish me. At that, the Khan pivoted slowly to look upon Codian and raised a hand towards the remarkable viewing wall. He placed the hand upon the invisible barrier. When he spoke, there was a deep and regretful sadness in his voice. Look to this unending vista, Codian. Somewhere out there is the world that I called home. I have learned that Chogoris is but a memory now, scourged by the Unity, my people exterminated by the Tau. From what I have been led to believe, Macragge too has suffered the same fate. The world that you had called home is gone, Codian. Codian nodded and looked out across the expanse. I know. He replied sadly. My lord, I ask that you forgive me this situation. I have a confession to make, and I fear that what I am about to tell you may sour our association further. Speak. The Khan commanded him, the tone of his voice suggesting that he would accept nothing else but the truth. I have placed a great deal of faith in you, Codian. You had better validate that faith. Codian had expected no other response. He knew that no positive outcome could come from admitting the

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truth, but he knew that he could not hide it. He could not continue this under falsehood. II do not know why we are here. The Khans expression hardened, the skin of his scarred face darkening with the colour of anger. Explain. Codian steeled himself, took a breath and then told the Primarch the truth. He told him of the mysterious Cypher, and how the renegade had seemingly engineered all this, from stealing the Caesus to arranging for everyone here to be brought to the Demiurgs chamber by the one member of the Alliance Codian knew he could trust. The Khan listened intently, never once interrupting, his gaze hard and sharp. Soon the Chaplains explanation had ended and he fell silent, awaiting the imposing warriors response. The Khan exhaled and bared his teeth. He turned his attention back to the stars once again, and it was several moments before he spoke. So, we are all pawns in some greater game. For all you know, this Cypher, this renegade and traitor to the Imperium, could be working to bring ruin to what remains of the Imperium. All this, and you trust him? I do. Codian replied. I cannot explain why, Khan, but I do. Cyphers sins are ancient As ancient as I. The Khan interrupted him. If he is what we suspect him to be. The sons of the Lion bear a terrible shame, Codian. Betrayal and treachery blights their past more so than any other Chapter. The Dark Angels. Jaghatai nodded slowly. Yes. When Horus revealed his duplicity, fully half of the Emperors legions turned from the light and sided with him. Those I had called brothers betrayed us, Codian. The Lion remained loyal to his father, but there was to be some great and terrible disaster that followed the conclusion of the Heresy. Lion ElJonson was lost, never to be seen again. the only person in this galaxy who could have demanded the truth was the Emperor. The Khan fell silent then, considering his own words. Codian absorbed all he had been told, but although he had opened up to the Primarch and confided in him about the situation, he did not dare speak the truth about what he knew deep within, of the vast knowledge the renegade had imparted to him. Though little of what he had learned involved Cypher in any detail, he knew enough to trust that what he said held more truth than his reply suggested. So, you suspect that Cypher may be in some way connected to the disappearance of the Lion? Perhaps. The Khan answered. In truth, none save for a Dark Angel may know the answer to that. I fought alongside the Lions warriors as both during the Great Crusade and after the Heresy, and whatever those circumstances surrounding his disappearance were, they changed the Dark Angels. They are laden with guilt, Codian, a guilt so dark and consuming it drives and defines them. The Khan stepped back from the wall and banged his first against it as he did so. The vista before him flickered and then faded away. Burnished metal crept over the void like frost and solidified, and within seconds the bulkhead had returned, sealing off the stars from sight once again. So, you know little of this Cypher or his plans, yet you trust him. Very well, Codian. I will place my trust in your judgement, and I will give you the benefit of the doubt. You see, you were the one who saved me, who released me from my prison. I do not know how you did this or how you even knew that I was entombed within. For that act alone, as a son of Chogoris I am honour-bound to you.

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Codian was heartened by this. He bowed his head and made to reply when his vox link chimed, startling him. +Brother Codian? This is Umbras. Come in, brother.+ Codian here. What is it, Apothecary? +He has returned, Chaplain, moments ago. The damn fool almost killed Czevak and the Tau. He must have thought we were intruders. Sir, I think you had better join us+ We are on our way. Codian out. He severed the link and turned to the Khan. The Demiurg. He has returned. Returned. Jaghatai answered. So, it would seem that you have spent a day searching a ship for this xenos in vain. Where do you propose that he has been? Let us find that out. Codian answered. +++ +++THE FORTRESS OF AGES+++ +++CARIS ESTARUS+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Magnificent. Abaddon spread his arms and took in the sight before him, his teeth bared, his eyes twinkling with elation. Before him, the crimson figure slowly rose to his feet. He lifted his head and the Despoiler could see the burning fires that raged in place of his eyes. We are one. A thunderous and terrible voice uttered, shaking the surrounding walls with its intensity. I am blood. I am murder. I am the Destroyer, and I thirst. Each word spoken by the daemonhost hit him like a wave, hot and painful against his mind like burning glass. He savoured the sensation, bathing in the palpable rage. Sure pure hatred for life, such utter malice for all that was corporeal. Such boundless thirst. He was pleased. Kharn. Abaddon spoke, stepping forward. Yes. No. I am more than either. The host replied. I feel his power unravelling me, atom by atom. I cannot hold him for long, Abaddon, and I do not care. I am murder now, enclosed in flesh. I can attain no higher state. The Despoiler heard this and recognised the persona of the World Eater beneath the power and the presence. Kharn was still with him, but for how long he did not dare to guess. That the Betrayer was destined to be consumed body and soul by Anggrath was as inevitable as the passage of time, and so he knew that they would not have long before the daemon consumed the meagre sack of flesh it wore and awoke into this reality. Time was of the essence. It is time, Champion of Blood, for this wolf to show its fangs. Abaddon smiled. With that, he turned to the shifting sea of bodies behind him. What say all of you?

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The tumultuous roar that answered him shook the walls of the chamber like an earth tremor. +++ My lord! Guilliman shifted his gaze to look upon the approaching Marine, one of several Alpha Legion figures currently sprinting across the ashen soil towards him. He recognised the voice immediately. We have received word from within the fortress. Hydrion informed him. The Marine commander reached the Primarch and knelt, though not before casting a disdainful look at the Inquisitor by Guillimans side. The ritual is complete. The Marine informed him darkly. The champion has received the daemon into his flesh. They move to face us as we speak. Guillimans face hardened and he nodded slowly. So, our efforts to suffocate the warp here were too little, too late. No matter, our plans are far from exhausted. He looked to Ralei then. The Inquisitor turned to meet his gaze, his expression as neutral and unreadable as ever. Can you be sure that the Grey Knights have answered? Yes, my lord. My contacts within the Inquisition have confirmed that the Grey Knights are on their way. Good. Everything is proceeding as planned. Before him Hydrion rose, clearly agitated by the ominous situation. My lord, you must understand, we cannot hope to fight so powerful a daemonic foe. The entity they have summoned is powerful, more powerful than anything we have. Our best hope of victory here would be to pull back and assail the thing with every null device we have left The Primarchs withering gaze squeezed the breath from Hydrions lungs, suffocating his protests. He held the Marine with his stare as he tapped the vox stud at his throat. This is Guilliman. All units pull back and consolidate. Assume the Ores Rmyr formation and await further instruction. With that, he deactivated the link once again. We will strengthen our perimeter and await the emergence of Abaddons forces. We no longer have to concern ourselves with breaking this fastness open to get at him. He will come to us now. And what then, my lord? Then we will attack. We will drive our blade at the rotten heart of this foul army. We will hold these traitors here, no matter what they throw at us. We will not give an inch of ground until the Grey Knights arrive. Hydrion hesitated only as long as he dare and then bowed curtly, unable to hide his anxiety. As my lord wishes.

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Indeed. Go then, Hydrion, and prepare your forces to meet this foe. The Marine did as commanded, rising to leave. One more thing. Hydrion turned as he heard this to see Guillimans burning eyes upon him, terrible and menacing. Question my orders again, warrior, and I will kill you where you stand.

Chapter Seventy Seven: Drowned in Blood

The deep and resonating sound cut through the silence like the bellow of some vast and terrible behemoth, resounding across the towering walls surrounding them. A primal, bestial noise, the horn caught the attention of every living figure standing in the defence line. A sea of heads turned as one to greet the sound, and voices hushed, paving the way for a pall of silence to descend. Guilliman looked to the distant gates as the single note rumbled on, his ice-blue eyes narrowing. He drew a long breath in and then exhaled once again, the air hissing through bared teeth. There is blood on the wind. He uttered. Ralei did not respond. Instead, he stared silently out across the expanse to where the gates had begun to slowly grind open. Hydrion nodded in agreement. I smell its stench, even through the filters of my helm. It is not a corporeal odour. Guilliman readily agreed. I concur. He said, reaching for the vox stud on his collar. We could have expected no less from this vile enemy. They seek to weaken our resolve, hoping that terror and mystery will succeed where force has not. One word from me will ensure that no warrior in service to the Greater Good shall falter. He activated the link and drew his head back, assailed by a sudden blast of unexpected noise. Screams howled forth from his link, agonised and horrific. They were sounds of slaughter, of terrible pain, and yet all who heard them knew that they were not of mortal origin. Guilliman tapped the link again and sneered, severing the sound abruptly. He turned to Hydrion. Send word out amongst the legions. By order of the Primarch, not one soul will falter in the face of this enemy. Not one. Make this unmistakeably clear. Above, the roiling skies had begun to darken; as if night itself had come in curiosity to witness the birth of this terrible thing. What light still remained had taken on a rich crimson hue, as if the distant sun was stained with blood. The air was hot as well as pungent, close and heavy with charnel-house stench. Guilliman felt the ground beneath him tremble and he steadied himself, holding out a hand as if to reassure the others. Hydrions anxiety was visible in his body movements and ever Ralei seemed disturbed by the increasing phenomena. Crimson energies snaked from the boiling, smoke-black clouds to strike the uppermost points of the fortress. Each time it did so, the Inquisitors eyes darted to the point of impact. The power of the Immaterium builds. He uttered.

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It matters not. We hold. Came the Primarchs indubitable reply. Below him, the vast curved wall that was the Unitys main force on Caris Estarus shifted uneasily, but remained firm. +++ Blessed Ultramar Berolinus whispered, bringing the bike to a slewing standstill. Grey dust billowed up as the vehicle ground to a halt and he waved a hand before him, trying as best he could to banish the obscuring cloud. High above him, beneath the rolling black clouds, the things drifted out into the dead wastelands beyond the fortress. Hundreds of them, perhaps more. Identical, as far as he could see from this distance. They looked to him like black spheres, perfect and weightless. They were invisible against the darkness but each time the unnatural lightning raked across the skies he saw them, a vast blanket of black void that seemed to swallow the light of each strike. He could not guess what they were, or what manner of power motivated their implacable progress. There was something about them, something supernatural and ominous that caused his gut to twist inside him. Something ancient He tore his gaze away and looked out into the distance. A huge army was visible from here, illuminated against the growing darkness. He could see no telltale signs to indicate their allegiances, but in truth he knew it mattered little who they were. Every living thing here on this forsaken planet was an opponent to him, and would doubtless remain so until he finally reached his Primarch. He hauled the bike upright and gunned its engines, sending a fresh cloud of ash out behind him as the rear wheel spun through the loose powder. With a roar the bike accelerated and Berolinus continued out towards the waiting lines, intent on an audience with his gene-father. Minutes after his departure several speeding shapes bounded by, slavering and growling. Loping crimson arrows of feral intent and savage bloodlust, the Flesh Hounds had the scent of their prey, and they would not rest until they tasted its flesh. +++ Ahriman watched from the shadows as the Betrayer marched out into the vast compound at the head of an immense army, proud and eager for combat. Around him the Blood Gods presence was an all-pervasive thing, suffocating and thick like choking smog. It disgusted him, repulsed him in the basest sense. It had always mystified him how a god borne of the warp could rail against the use of its power. Khorne detested sorcery, despite the fact that the practice of it employed the very same energies that gave him existence, that empowered and defined him. Khorne was a brute-deity, a blunt and unrefined cancer of negative, murderous force. He had no true right to exist. Ahriman considered all this and it served to fuel his intent, to validate his objectives in his own mind. Magnus was right. He had always been right. He could see no other future open to him save for one of ruination and despair. He had been so sure, as had his patron, as had all those of his brethren with an affinity with the ways of the Empyrean, that he would gain mastery over the infinite and raw powers of the warp. He had scoffed at the Emperors claims that such a path could lead no nothing save for inevitable damnation. How blind he had been. He could see that now. Tzeentch was the puppet master and he was the marionette, dancing blindly to the tune of the master of fate. He looked out at the gathered champions of

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the Ruinous Powers and felt his gorge rise within his throat. They were filth. Cattle, blind and stupid, too blinkered by personal desire and self-worth to see the truth. Puppets, dancing to the tunes of their masters, the same as him. He would stand such an existence no longer. He picked up the pace once more and rejoined the advance, bringing his staff up as he did so. He swept the potent object before him and the crowds parted in order to provide him a clear path, unaware of his subtle manipulations. All the pieces were falling into place, just as his lord had predicted. He had sent his warning to the displaced champion. The Last Great Work was close to fruition, and all that remained now was to see the powerful rubric unleashed upon this unsuspecting theatre of war. Some part of him pitied Abaddon. Some part of him envied him. The Despoilers role was simple and direct, though his existence was driven by a terrible, unquenchable thirst for revenge. Ahriman could see into the hearts and minds of any man, mortal or otherwise, and he knew the Despoiler was little more than an engine driven by hate and bitterness, though in truth, he was a creation of his own shortcomings. Like so many others of the fallen sons, Abaddon had created his fate, had forged his own path by following his Primarch. Weakness and misplaced loyalty had damned the Despoiler, just as it had damned them all. None of them could see the truth. None save for him. Kharn marched forth, proud and unrivalled. He could see the abomination that writhed within the World Eater champion, the black and crimson void of utter destruction given form that was Anggrath the Unbound, scion of Khorne. Unseen by all but the most sensitive of eyes, the daemon coiled and twisted about the warrior, a vast ethereal tumour of palpable, raw force. Anggrath screamed for release, and only he could see and hear that. Abaddon and his cohorts marched behind the Chosen, bellowing their supplications to the Four Winds, unfettered and exultant. He found their unrestrained cacophony crude, almost adolescent. He almost felt embarrassed for them. He resisted the urge to start forward and quiet them, to reveal the truth of their folly. They would learn to their cost how utterly pointless this last stand was to be. He raised his staff and created a shimmering bubble pf power around him, a shell of displacement so subtle and potent that no other being around him was the slightest bit aware of its presence. Master, it is almost time. He whispered softly, the bestial skull at the head of his staff leaking dark, mist-like energies. The spell churns within me, questing for release. It will have its way soon enough. High above him, the skies seemed to rumble and flicker in response. +++ Roboute Guilliman raised his head sharply, so response so sudden and unexpected that it caused the warriors around him to start. Hold. He commanded, taking a step forward. Both Hydrion and Ralei were taken aback by this. Guilliman looked at them both in turn Something is coming. I feel it.

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Almost as soon as he spoke the air before him began to shimmer and distort, darkening like ink in water. A sea of weapons whined and clacked around him in instinctive response. The Primarch witnessed this and chided those responsible. Compose yourselves. Let the enemy see that we are strong and resolute. The phenomenon took shape, forming swiftly into a large, rippling face. A multitude of eyes stared out at the Primarch, regarding those about him with unhidden disdain. Prepare to receive my lord. Ygethmor spoke, the entitys voice resonating and displaced. Guilliman bowed his head and stepped back. The phantom dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. Seconds later there was a deep and resonating rumble, a sound that rose quickly in pitch until it became a shrill whine. The loose earth began to shift and vibrate, agitated by the phenomenon. Hold your weapons and steel yourselves! Guilliman commanded. Not a single shot will be fired until I give the command! A flickering pool of light shimmered into being in he air before him, expanding and spreading rapidly until it reached the ground. It began to form and solidify, taking in shape and definition. Within seconds the blinding light folded back on itself and dissipated, leaving a towering figure standing facing the Primarch. Guilliman. Abaddon the Arch-Fiend smiled a lipless predator smile and stepped forward to meet with the Primarch, amid a hushed sea of gasping breaths. Abaddon, son of Horus. Guilliman answered. He made no attempt to attack, though the hand that had been resting upon the hilt of his sword tightened. At last we meet. The two massive warriors moved to face one another. Abaddon was a vast creature, larger than most other Astartes and made larger still by the hulking and baroque Terminator armour he wore. Guilliman nonetheless stood a full head taller than him. The Primarch still had to lower his gaze to meet the eyes of the Despoiler. Audacious. Guilliman uttered. And courageous. So, Luna Wolf, you still retain some of the qualities that define an Astarte. Perhaps there is hope for you, Abaddon. Renounce your gods and join this crusade. Before him, Abaddon threw back his head and laughed, a harsh and humourless sound. Guillimans expression remained unchanged. My loyalties are irrevocably bound, Primarch, as I had once thought yours to be. Why are you here, Abaddon? Guilliman asked, the merest traces of anger edging his words. To see. To see with my own eyes what thisfilth, he gestured around him at the sprawling warriors and war machines of the Tau, could offer you that the Emperor or the chaos gods could not. What manner of lure or promise turned you away from the light of the Imperium, Guilliman? Such considerations fascinate me. The Primarchs nigh-implacable resolve weakened then, just enough for a sneer of contempt to twist his lips. We are at war, you and I.

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That we are. Abaddon answered. And it can be no other way. He looked upon the figures at the Primarchs side, first at the Alpha Legion commander, then at the enigmatic Inquisitor. Treachery is such a universal thing. It is all I see before me. This Great Unity of yours amuses me. It is nothing more than a vast collection of turncoats, traitors and slaves. If only you could see that, Primarch. If only you could open your eyes and see the truth that surrounds you, you would see that we are more alike than you would dare to admit. With that, Abaddon stepped back and bowed his head, an overt and mocking gesture. He rose once more and spoke, taking one final glance at the figures surrounding him. I came here to look upon you, Roboute Guilliman. I came here to kill you, warrior to warrior. I will not. You are a disappointment to me. All I see is a pawn, a puppet, unable to determine his own destiny. I wanted the glory of taking you life for myself, but I see now that there is no glory to be gained from that. Anggrath can have you. Arrogant fool. Guilliman whispered. You have no idea. At some unspoken command a shape hovered to his side. The bobbing DX-4 came to a standstill by his side and he whispered to the machine. Almost immediately the drone began to whine and bleep, the many lights set into its surface blinking and flashing. Seconds later a low pressure seemed to blanket the air surrounding the scene, a charged and crackling phenomenon. Abaddon! The Despoiler turned, a wicked smile spread across his lips. Perhaps we will meet on the field, Guilliman. Abaddon shouted, raising the daemon sword in his hand. Perhaps we will have a reckoning, you and I. We shall see. He nodded and then tapped a small bronze skull rune set into his belt with one of the ancient talons. Nothing happened. He did this again, and then a third time. Nothing. The smile on Abaddons face flickered and then faded. Guilliman watched this and drew his sword, the ancient steel ringing as it was released. It would seem, Abaddon, that your teleportation device ismalfunctioning. How undignified. How? Damn you, ho Walk. Guilliman snarled, his voice thunderous and terrible. Walk. Let those who serve you see their commander for what he is. Walk back to your lines with humility. Horus was a fool, a weak-minded fool, but he was a Primarch. You arent even that. I am more than Horus ever was! Abaddon spat. More than he could ever have been Guilliman shook his head slowly, an almost demeaning gesture, and dismissed the Arch-Fiend with a wave of his hand. Enough. Walk back to the tide of filth that awaits you. Run if you wish. You will not be fired upon. We have a war to conclude, you and I. The sooner this futile, pathetic attempt of yours to survive is brought to an

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end. The Primarch turned away and began to talk to the Alpha Legionnaire by his side. Abaddon drew his head back and inhaled, a deep, rattling sound. Colour began to flood his death-white face. Anger was an emotion that was second nature to him, but this was something else. Disbelief warred with the mounting rage, disbelief at being so casually discarded by the Primarch. B-----d. The Despoiler growled, his voice low and rumbling like the growl of a felid. He tried the teleporter again, his efforts still futile. He glanced back at his own lines, and then at the arrogant Primarch, his mind reeling. Guilliman turned his gaze to the Despoiler once again and spoke. The eyes of all those who serve you are watching, Abaddon. Make your move. At that, Ezekyle Abaddon, champion of the Dark Gods, knew he had no choice. He raised his mighty arms, unleashed a shuddering roar of unfettered anger, and charged. Guilliman saw this and smiled.

Chapter Seventy Eight: To Shake the Mountains

The Despoiler thundered across the flat ground, screaming unholy curses and oaths at the supercilious Primarch. Drachnyen writhed in his grasp, the possessed blade exuding a dark miasma of warp energy as it anticipated the fight to come. The massive bladed fingers of his stolen Talon snapped and rang, alive with potent energies. The ground shook beneath his vast weight, as if trembling and afraid of the powerful despot. Guillimans eyes burned as he watched the fiends approach. A deep and vibrant desire burned in the Primarchs eyes, a potent thirst, an exhilaration. He had wanted this. Let no warrior raise a blade or fire a shot! He shouted, his voice a powerful thunderhead of pealing sound. He is mine! Guilliman brought his vaunted sword up and charged, his sudden advance pounding great grooves into the loose earth. He thumbed the hilt and an azure flame burst forth to lick and envelop the shining metal. The sword was Agiselus, a blade as ancient and potent as the Primarch himself. Before him it had been Konors, mightiest Battle King of Macragge. Named after the barracks that had received Guilliman upon his sixth year, the blade was of sentient metal, crafted in an age long since past, a dark age of technology when man conquered the secrets of manufacture and fabrication. Ever since the assassination of his adoptive father the sword had thirsted for the blood of traitors and turncoats. Agiselus thirsted now. I will tear your soul in two, Guilliman! Abaddon raged. I will stain this ash with your blood, Primarch! The Dark Gods will cry my name in exultation! They will cry your name, filth! Guilliman replied, his vast legs driving him forward with the speed of a bolt shell.

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They will cry it in lament! I promise you that! The ancient combi-bolter set into the Despoilers Talon sang, rattling and thudding a hail of bolt rounds out at Guilliman. The Primarch brought Agiselus up and twisted the blade before him, sending each projectile spinning away to detonate harmlessly in the open air. Within moments the two combatants reached one another. In the ringing silence that had rapidly descended upon the scene, the first blow resounded like the clarion peal of thunder. Agiselus and Drachnyen met, and it was a terrible, clamorous meeting. Coruscating sparks and dark, unknown energies blossomed from the connection. The daemon sword spasmed and shook as it fought to tear the very fabric of the glowing blade apart, but the ancient sword held firm. Caught within the lurid glow of the flashing energies, the Primarchs face was a rictus of absolute and unmatchable fury. He dug his heels into the earth and pushed, calling upon his superhuman strength. Abaddons face contorted and he began to stagger back, the motive systems of his ancient armour whining with the effort. A fresh surge of rage coursed through Abaddon and he gave, allowing the Primarchs strength to propel him back a few paces. The storm bolter roared again and Guillimans reactions saved him from its bite a second time. Agiselus shuddered in his grasp as it repelled the salvo, the powerful and unknown energies of the field seeming to expand and intensify as each shot slammed home. Abaddon lunged forward with the vast claw, the weapon still firing. At such close range the barking bolt shells could not fail to penetrate Guillimans defences and the mighty warrior stumbled, assailed about his head and neck by several small but powerful detonations. The Primarch took two steps back and then pivoted sharply, twisting around the oncoming strike as he backed away to sweep Agiselus out before him. The sword rang against the bulky box of the combi-bolter and cleaved a deep cut through it, igniting the shells within its breach. The gun exploded in a wash of flame and whickering shrapnel, the blast causing Abaddons own protective field to flare as it countered the explosion. The Despoiler was far from done. He brought Drachnyen around and swung at the Primarch, missing his outstretched arms by inches. The return strike loomed out at Guillimans head and he thrust his upper body back before dropping low and spinning on his heel, intent on taking the heretics legs from under him. Abaddon kicked the blade away and stabbed down at his foe. Guilliman brought his own blade up to swat the daemon weapon away, rising as he did so, and in turn he punched the questing Talon of Horus back with a backhand sweep. He finished with a kick that saw the flat of his boot connect with the Despoilers chest plate and he sent Abaddon staggering back, amid a flash of energy and the squeal of buckling armour. So cumbersome. Guilliman derided him, the skin of his face blackened and bruised where Abaddon had shot him. He brought Agiselus up and twisted the sword around his fist into an upright position. Kneel before me, Abaddon. Kneel before me and I will make your end swift and painless. Abaddon answered him with a cry like that of some feral animal, a howl of uncontained wrath. He bounded forward and brought the Talon up, intending to part the Primarch from hip to shoulder. Guilliman saw this and blocked the blow, twisting as Abaddon in turn twisted, and brought his blade down to stop Drachnyen parting him at the waist. Still back to back Guilliman hammered the hilt of Agiselus into the Despoilers back with enough force to stagger him. This gave him space enough to turn and take the sword two-handed and bring it down hard,

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like an executioners axe, at Abaddons head. The traitor commander brought his arms up and blocked the strike, though the Primarchs strength was enough to drive him onto one knee. Sparks showered like water across his head, but he held. Khorne, fuel my rage! the Despoiler cried, hauling himself to his feet. He gathered all his strength and pushed the Primarch back. Slaanesh, bless my every blow with the precision of perfection! Nurgle, steel my flesh against the bite of my enemys blade! Tzeentch, give me knowledge enough to anticipate every strike! The Despoiler seemed to find invigoration in his foul prayers. His eyes blazed with vitality, and beneath the grey-white flesh of his face his veins were black and prominent, as if flooded by some dark power. Abaddon threw himself forward, renewed and determined. He lunged again and again, each strike alternating between daemon sword and Talon. The newfound ferocity of the attack caught the Primarch by surprise; enough to unbalance Guilliman and drive him back. He brought Agiselus up to counter and the blade flashed again and again as it turned aside a swift and furious barrage of attacks. Metre by metre, the combat began to near the Tau lines. Fire Warriors and Guevesa alike cautiously redeployed, anxious at the approach of the conflict. Bodies shoaled nervously and war machines rumbled or hovered back, their pilots fearful of incurring the Primarchs ominous wrath. Guilliman continued to retreat, step after step, though he did not seem overly tested by the Despoilers efforts. His mighty arms worked furiously, almost blurring, to turn aside blow after blow, yet his face told of little physical effort. Agiselus glowed, growing red-hot with the effort of turning aside the possessed blade, its power tested. The powerful field spat and crackled, flaring violently. Abaddon was lost in the exhilaration of the fight, his eyes shining with feral gratification. Hah! Not even a Primarch can stand against a scion of the Pantheon! Abaddon cried, driving his foe back. Drink deep of the power of one infused with the power of chaos ascendant! The Talon will taste your flesh, Guilliman, as Horus would have wanted! Drachnyen will feast on your soul! Guilliman did not answer Abaddons taunts. He risked a glance over his shoulder to assess how near his own lines the fight had carried them and then looked back at his foe, a knowing smile creeping across his lips. I would not waste Agiselus on you, filth. He said, leaping back a good few metres. He came down and cast the sword up and behind him where it landed, seconds later, blade-first in the soft earth, so close to the waiting Tau lines that those warriors closest to it jumped back, startled. Abaddons face slackened and he slowed, his weapons falling. Guilliman raised his massive hands and clapped them together a single time, the impact a pealing like the clang of a bell. At that, he spread his arms wide and awaited the attentions of the Despoiler. Never lose your momentum, Ezekyle. Lose that, and you lose your edge. Did Horus not teach you that? Guilliman was taunting him. Dishonouring him, in the most base and derogatory way possible. He had put countless souls to death for daring to even look upon him, let alone deride him. You, he uttered, pointing Drachnyen out at the glowering colossus before him, are a ghost. You are a corpse, still warm and motive in ignorance of your own death. I would have been satisfied in bringing about your death, Guilliman. Now I will put out the light of the stars just to destroy you, body and soul. Utterly, absolutely, destroy you. I will unmake your existence and leave nothing behind except for an eternity of agony. That is my vow.

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Shut up and fight me. Guilliman answered, beckoning him. Abaddon raised his arms and charged, quaking the ground with his progress. The Primarch stood firm and waited, hands outstretched, to receive him. The Despoiler chose Drachnyen to deliver what he intended to be the killing blow and the sword screamed as it swung for Guilliman, the noise seeming to shudder and rend the air itself with its power. Guilliman waited until the last possible moment and then dropped sharply to roll past the swing, throwing dust up as he tumbled past. The manoeuvre carried him beyond the Despoilers legs and out behind him. Abaddon pivoted, following his prey, the Talon raking after him. The Primarch came to his feet just as Abaddon twisted to face him and he sidestepped, avoiding another dangerous downward swing with the possessed sword. The Primarch kicked up and out to his right, catching Abaddons sword arm under the elbow joint and sending it reeling back. This left the Despoilers defence wide open for a second and he drove one arm forward, his palm open and flat. The blow connected solidly and with a ringing hammer-blow thunderclap of concussive force, striking the centre of the Arch-Fiends chest. Abaddons rigid body skidded back almost ten metres through the loose ash towards the Tau lines, his boots gouging wide furrows in the dry ground. He blinked and shuddered, the breath catching in his throat. His armours protective field arced and fizzed about him, punished and overloaded. The face of the bronze skull set into the centre of his chest was flat, almost inverted, and a perfect imprint of the Primarchs outstretched hand had been pummelled into the thick ceramite plate like a footprint in clay. So brash, Abaddon. So easy to goad. Guilliman uttered, softly shaking his head. He lifted a hand to his head and tapped a finger against his temple. Calculate. Anticipate. Do not give in to anger or lust. Emotion is good; it is what drives us to succeed, what fuels us, gives us resolve. Negative emotions such as blind rage are impure, impractical. They lead us to irrational behaviour. Plan and execute the smallest detail. Do you see? The Primarch started forward, his advance slow. Abaddons face was a mask of effort. His lips were drawn back and the tendons in his neck stood out, taut with exertion. The mighty limns of his ancient armour whined and trembled, but did not move. A perfect strike, calculated and executed. With an exact and correct application of force and precision, I have effectively overloaded the main electro-motivator drive that powers the fibre-bundle muscles of your armour. This was a common but little-known problem with the first tactical dreadnought suits. The systems are currently undergoing a brief reconfiguration cycle in order to bring the motivator back online. This will last no more than fifteen to twenty seconds. By the time the Primarch had begun to pick up speed, Abaddons frozen limbs started to move. Drachnyen writhed in his fist, eager to taste the superhuman flesh of the Emperors son. Guilliman reached his foe just as the systems of the armour restored themselves and grabbed the Despoilers forearm. He smashed his opposing elbow into the Despoilers face three times in quick succession and then took his sword arm in a two-handed grip, twisting it back. The low groan of tortured metal rose and Abaddon cried out, his arm contorting beneath the Primarchs powerful grip. His fingers slackened and Drachnyen fell, squirming and shuddering into the dust at his feet. The greatest or most immediate threat always takes precedence. The Primarch uttered, pulling down on the chaos champions arm. Stunned and punished, Abaddons legs gave enough to allow his opponent to bring his knee up and hammer it into his foes face. The Despoiler arched back, still held fast in Guillimans superhuman grip, and

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the Primarch hauled him around and then over his shoulder, slamming the traitors vast bulk into the ground. The impact was muffled and deep, and the dust around him lifted as if weightless, just for a second. He let go and rose, shaking his head to dispel the dust from his hair. Abaddon rolled onto his knees and then began to haul himself to his feet, cursing his opponents name. Such a clich, all this. The Primarch said, accentuating his words with a dismissive hand gesture. Champion against champion. He turned his head and glanced out at the distant walls of the inner bastion, where the forces of the enemy lay in wait. Nodding his head in quiet satisfaction he looked back at the foundering chaos overlord. Clich, but effective. They need to see this, Abaddon. They need to see their vaunted commander fall. They need to see what I can do to the mightiest of them. That way, they will know in their hearts that I am unstoppable. Over his voice, the distant retort of artillery fire could scarcely be heard. Abaddon ignored the Primarch and cast around for his fallen weapon. He spied Drachnyen, thrashing and convulsing in the flaky ash halfway between his feet and the Primarch. Guilliman noticed the focus of his attention and shook his head slowly. Retain a measure of dignity, heretic. Show me the good grace to face me like a true warrior. I am unarmed, and you still wield the Talon. Give me this at least, if not for the sake of your own reputation. Let your death preserve at least some seemliness in the eyes of your minions. There followed a pause, a silence. The Despoilers eyes narrowed and he stared at the towering warrior. Then he smiled.

Chapter Seventy Nine: Immortal's End

Fool. Abaddon hissed, raising his hand. You and I are different creatures, Guilliman. Do you think of me as senseless? My only desire is to kill you, and I will achieve this in any way I can. The Primarch watched as Abaddon turned his gaze to the fallen daemon sword. Still convulsing in the loose dust, Drachnyen shuddered one final time and then fell still, the writhing surface of the corrupted blade calming immediately. The grip of the sword swung around to point at its master and as it did so the entire weapon looked to lift at the hilt, almost as if attracted by his gesture. By the time Guilliman realised what was happening Drachnyen was airborne, aloft and sailing towards the Despoilers outstretched hand. The screeching blade had flown almost halfway across the space to rejoin its master by the time the Primarch took his first, thunderous step towards his foe. Abaddon felt the quivering hilt ring against the palm of his hand and he closed his fingers around it, weapon and commander reunited once again. He lowered his gaze to look upon the Primarch in triumph, and he did so, if only for the merest hint of a single moment. The Primarch thundered into him with all the force of a charging Land Raider. His head down, Guillimans vast armoured shoulder connected with the hulking champion with such force that his entire suit of armour looked to vibrate and distort for a second. The very concussive sound of the impact threw Fire Warriors off

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their feet and rocked Devilfish like a strong, sudden breeze. A heartbeat later the Despoiler sailed through the air and punched clean through the nose section of a nearby Hammerhead, the vehicles armour folding like paper beneath the impact. The entire craft lurched back, whining like an injured animal. Several explosions rocked the tank from within and it sagged, crashing into the ground. Guilliman lowered his arms and rose, his shoulder guard buckled and steaming. The smallest of distractions can prove fatal! He shouted, with the air of a tutor scolding a wayward pupil. Never allow your guard to slip The burning Hammerhead rocked and groaned as the dark figure hauled itself from the gaping hole to meet the Primarchs advance. Abaddon the Despoiler emerged and raged against the indignity shown him, his living blade carving a black swathe through armour plate and flesh alike. That was when the first shell struck. In awe of the colossal clash, an entire squad of Fire Warriors violently disappeared beneath a sudden and unexpected flash of blinding light and roaring noise. Bodies lifted as one, breaking apart as they ascended, showering flesh and armour fragments over those nearest to them. More enemy artillery smashed down into the Tau lines and exploded, shattering warriors and war machines wherever it landed. A palpable wave of panic descended over the scene. One shell landed so close to Abaddon that he visibly rocked, the searing backwash of the flames hissing and sparking against the field of his armour. Stand firm! Guilliman roared, closing upon the defiant heretic. Let no man break and run! The Unity does not give, not a single step! On pain of death, I command this! As ordered, not a single soul turned his or her back to the onslaught. Armoured bodies descended in waves in order to weather the attack, as if any defensive action would somehow turn aside the power and ferocity of the enemys guns. The Primarch reached his own discarded blade and snatched it up as he passed, his challenge to the Despoiler ignored. Abaddon was free of the wreckage now and was busy slaughtering his way through the packed bodies around him. Drachnyen screamed and the Talon sang as they passed through flesh and armour. Guilliman reached the Despoiler just as he pushed himself clear of the shoaling bodies around him and the two warriors met in combat once again. The first few seconds of the exchange were frenzied and thunderous, a storm of flashing strikes and parries. The Primarch parried a questing lunge by the huge blades of the Talon and kicked our, sending Abaddon staggering back into the nose of a Skyray. Above him the vast missile array was already active. Intelligent seeker missiles speared free of their housings like hunting hounds loosed from their chains, responding to the approaching chaos army. Abaddon turned and hauled himself up onto the front fin of the craft. He swept Drachnyen clean through the small crew compartment and the entire vehicle shuddered, responding to the death spasms of the unfortunate pilot. Guilliman reached the punished Skyray just as it started to turn, leaping up over the swinging nose to land beside his foe. The Despoiler was waiting for him and he swatted at the Primarch with the back of the Talon, the blow connecting with a solid clang of metal against metal. Guilliman fell back and crashed into the crafts right hand thruster, his weight near tearing the entire section away from its housing. He rolled to the floor and up onto his feet, the engine screaming and showering him with gouts of bright flame.

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Almost without effort he snatched at the thruster and tore it free to hurl it one-handed at the closing heretic. Abaddon crossed his arms before him and turned the spinning, burning projectile aside, the blow pushing him back several feet. Is that your best, Primarch? Is that the best a son of the Emperor has? He shouted, stepping to one side as the Skyray began to dip come about sharply. The entire right side of the skimmer crashed into the ground and began to plough the loose earth. Abaddon twisted and ducked around the rear of the tank to emerge at the other side, ready to meet Guilliman. The Primarch was gone. An armoured boot swung for his face and send him staggering back. Guilliman dropped from the roof of the Skyray and pressed his attack home, unleashing a fast and powerful series of kicks, punches and strikes upon the startled chaos lord, driving him back further. He took Agiselus in both hands and put his entire strength behind his efforts. The glowing sword sang as it struck the Despoilers ancient armour again and again. The first strike bit deep into the armours chest plate. The second carved a great section away from the baroque shoulder guard. The third took the claws from the Talon with a single pass and the fourth drove deep into the Despoilers shoulder, so deep that hilt of the crackling blade rang against metal. Guilliman slammed his palm into Abaddons chest and pushed him away, freeing his blade. The Despoiler snarled in pain and staggered back, black blood pumping from the wound. There was no further exchange of words. The eyes of Abaddon and Guilliman met for but a fleeting moment, a moment suspended in time. Then everything was gone. A pure, blinding whiteness scoured reality away. Noise rose in volume and pitch so suddenly that it became silence, heavy and absolute. Just for a moment, reality ceased to be. Guilliman was up and on his feet even as his vision started to return to him. His superhuman hearing fought to dispel the ringing in his ears and he almost stumbled, his boots finding the edge of the large crater. They had taken a direct hit. Armour and body parts lay scattered around him, blackened and smouldering. The damaged Skyray was now little more than a twisted black shell. Agiselus was still in his hand, though the sheer concussive force of the blast had deactivated its power field. At the centre of the crater, the Despoiler hauled himself up onto his feet. His armour was torn and buckled in a dozen places, punished so utterly that it was hardly recognisable any more. The protective field flickered and sparked then, with a final buzzing pulse, died. Away to his left, Drachnyen thrashed and hissed in the sandy earth. Guilliman strode up to his opponent and landed a vicious punch that knocked Abaddon off his feet and onto his back. This ends. He said, lowering himself down onto one knee. Abaddons remaining eye regarded the Primarch with unquenchable hatred. The Despoilers twisted, blackened lips quivered as he tried to speak. Guilliman slowly shook his head. No, Abaddon. These stars have heard the Despoiler speak for the last time. Now, traitor, it is time for you to listen. So close were the chaos forces now that bolter and support fire began to rake the lines. Guilliman lifted his head to look upon the advancing enemy and nodded to himself.

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Advance! He roared, thrusting Agiselus up into the air. The soldiers of the Unity responded immediately, breaking around him like waves against a rock. With that, he looked back to the defeated traitor at his feet and lowered himself almost to the point where their faces were touching. As he spoke he did so softly, knowing that whatever he had to say would never reach the ears of another living being. You look upon me with disdain, Abaddon, I see that. You asked me a question before. You asked me how it is that I can serve the Tau. You are mistaken. My loyalty to the Imperium remains, as ever it will. As does my hatred towards all you and your kind serve. Guillimans face quivered as he spoke. His normally implacable eyes took on a look of wild, burning fierceness. Long, long ago, my life was all but ended by one of your kind. He was my brother, Fulgrim, and yet he spat upon our joint oaths and turned his eyes from the light of the Imperial Truth, just as you did. Abaddons voice rose from his throat as a pained and harsh rattle, as if the act of speaking took all his strength. Hes-should have s-ssucceeded Yes. Guilliman replied. He should have. His blade should have ended my life, traitor, and I wish it had done so. You see, the poison that coursed through my system, the poison that my body could not reject, was much more than anyone knew it to be. It was a living thing, a vile venom born of the warp, a daemonic toxin inimitable to life itself. They, in their ignorance, placed my dying body in stasis, knowing that they could not cure me but too afraid to allow their Primarch to depart this life. They did not know that the poison inside me did not adhere to the laws of this reality. For millennia, I endured the whispered seductions of the perverse sentience Fulgrim serves. Try to imagine that. Try to visualise what it is to endure such tortures. Ten thousand years, Abaddon, trapped, immobile but never truly at rest. The nightmares haunt me still, so yes, I concur. He should have succeeded. But he did not. Guillimans grip on the Despoilers chest plate tightened. Ceramite groaned beneath his fingers, protesting at the immense pressure. Little wonder then that I hate the powers of the warp so. I would suffer such afflictions still had the Tau not found me, and released me from my stasis prison. Xenos they may be, but the very flesh and blood of the Tau is able to resist the influence of the Dark Gods. Can you imagine that? They are immune to the temptations and manipulations that almost saw our race brought to its knees. They infused me, Abaddon. There is Tau blood in these veins of mine. Such a notion would have disgusted me to the very core before Fulgrims blade struck my throat and ended my former existence. The gift of the Ethereals saved me, both body and soul. I am purged, plagued no more by the insidious filth that haunted my dreams. S-slave Abaddon spat, the remains of his mouth twisting into a crooked smile. A slave, nothing more. Guillimans anger flared to the surface. He reached out and grabbed the heretics topknot, pulling his head closer. Idiot! Are you truly so blind? I awoke to find the Imperium of man a ruin, a wasteland of superstition and deity-worship. My father remains upon the Eternal Throne still, forever beyond the means of mortal fraternisation. The one thing he furiously opposed in life was the act of practising religion.

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Agiselus crackled in his hand as if eager to taste Abaddons blood. The Primarch let his foes head fall back limp, and started to rise. Like me, he suffers and wrestles with an existence inimitable to him. His mind cries out for release, for an end to the eternal limbo. He is waiting for me, Ezekyle Abaddon. He is waiting for the salvation that I will bring to his misguided people, and a final end to the predations of the Empyrean. I will end his suffering, just as the Tau did for me. Abaddon the Despoiler let out a strangled cry of frustration and rage, realising with a damning finality that he would be forever denied his ultimate goals. As Guilliman raised his sword, ready to strike the killing blow, Abaddon spoke his last words. A curse on you, Roboute Guilliman! A curse on your soul! Before this crusade of yours is over, you will learn the true extent of the corruption within the Imperium! There are gods far darker and more ancient than those I serve, and you will discover that for yourself! I saw the terrible secret of the red planet with my own eyes! Hah! The faithful thought they could kill it by destroying Mars, but all they did was unleash Agiselus fell then, and Abaddon spoke no more. Guilliman leaned forward and lifted the severed head of the Despoiler up like a trophy, triumphant. Bring me this daemonvessel, this host of Anggrath! I would test myself against a real opponent before the sun sets on this world!

Chapter Eighty: Dark Days

+++THE PROSCRIPTUS REX+++ The glowing field flickered and dimmed, only for a second, but it was enough to cause him to open his eyes. Kryptman exhaled and shivered instinctively, roused from his private reverie. Is someone there? He called, his voice taking on a metallic tone as it was filtered through the many vox speakers surrounding his private chamber. He looked to the doors at the empty spaces where once his vaunted guardians had stood. Now they stood sentinel over him no longer, removed by order of his peers. He had expected no less. He knew exactly what his fate would be the moment they had crossed paths with the Alliance. In truth, he did not care. He was old and he was weary, and his existence had continued on long after it should have ended. Inquisitor. Please try to stay calm. That voice. Kryptman watched in quiet bewilderment as a dark, ceramite-clad figure stepped from the thick shadows as if born from the lightless void, its imposing bulk suddenly dominating the empty space before his life-sustaining prison. Codian. He gasped. Youyou should not be here. If what I have heard is true Codian held up a hand and silenced the Inquisitor.

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Now is not the time and yours is not the situation to speak of heresy, Kryptman. Do not forget your own past, and the sacrifices you had to make to safeguard those you wished to protect. At hearing this the ancient Inquisitors fingers tightened around the armrests of his chair. I condemned myself to save billions of lives, Chaplain. My actions were undertaken for the benefit of our race as a whole. The Chaplain bowed his head in apology. Of course. I meant no offence to you. Tell me, Inquisitor, what do they have planned for you? Codian, listen to me. This chamber is monitored. They will know you are here Good. Let them see me. I have nothing to fear from them. Kryptman found himself ill at ease at the Chaplains attitude. Why have you come here, Codian? Our association is at an end You havent yet answered my question. What do they plan to do with you now? The Inquisitor fell silent then, as if unwilling to admit what both of them already knew. I have played my part in this war, Chaplain, and I care little of my fate. I am Excommunicate Traitoris. They will interrogate me and then they will execute me. My fate is sealed. I cannot allow that. Codian answered. Kryptmans eyes narrowed. If you have come to rescue me, do not trouble yourself. I have nowhere to go, and I will die if I leave the confines of this field. The ancient Inquisitor gestured around him. Whatever plans you have, they will never be realised unless you leave, right now. You are a wanted man now, Daelo Codian. They have already subjected me to questions regarding our association. They will want to know why you returned here, and by doing so you have damned us both beyond salvation I know. Codian answered, moving closer to the shimmering field. He raised a hand and placed it upon the wall of azure energy, his touch causing the glowing field to crackle and spit. You have my thanks. They needed to see this, and I needed a way to dispel the last vestiges of doubt from their minds. You see, he is starting to become an annoyance to me, this Prophet. I pride myself on knowing the ways of all things, and yet this, he, is an enigma to me. I will not suffer enigmas. The hand pressed against the field shimmered and began to change, the midnight black of the gauntlet fading, making way for a rich, glittering gold. Around it the sapphire energies began to darken, like oil in water. I know the minds of men, Kryptman. I can see that Codian is as big a mystery to you as he is to me. Very well then. If I cannot learn his secrets from you, I will use you to ensure that his fate is forever sealed with those he would have called allies. At that, the golden limb began to sink effortlessly through the field. You are not Daelo Codian. Kryptman hissed. Before him, the impostors eyes looked to flash with an

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unknown inner power. Indeed I am not. How astute of you to notice that, flesh-thing. +++ +++THE FORTRESS OF AGES+++ +++CARIS ESTARUS+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Berolinus was minutes away from the rear of the Tau lines when they finally began to surge forward. He had watched as the enemy artillery had continued to tear great holes through them. For a short while he had thought that the Tau would never respond, that they would simply stand and be annihilated. It was only as he neared them that the gathered forces had finally started to advance to meet the threat. He was glad of this, as up until this point he had held visions of himself reaching the waiting forces and having to somehow barge his way through them to reach the Primarch. The Primarch. The words soared through his mind, the very concept of what they meant igniting his blood. He knew that his actions here were reckless and uncontrolled, but he did not care. How could Codian and the other Ultramarines ignore this? How could they continue to even exist without acting upon such knowledge? They were blind, he considered, pushing the bike to its maximum tolerances. All of them. If he was the only one left in this damned galaxy who would act, who would show the Primarch that such notions as faith and solidarity survived still, then so be it. He slowed as he reached the rear of the advancing army, his mind racing. More than a few faces had already begun to turn his way, and as the roar of the bikes engine descended, he heard their warning shouts rising above the tumult. Several bright shots flashed his way and he skidded to a halt. Pulse fire slammed into the side of the bike and he rolled clear, shrapnel whickering around him. Cease fire! He shouted. He clambered across the loose earth and snatched up his fallen bolter and the stolen meltagun. He quickly clipped the bolter to his belt and took up the meltagun, activating it. He was only barely aware of the dull padding of swift feet and the low feral growls as he looked back the way he had come and saw them. They were abominable things. Daemonic and bestial, warp-spawned hounds with crimson skin and bloodmatted fur. He cried out and thrust the meltagun up, unleashing a white-hot blast of superheated air at the lead creature. The melta-beam slammed into the Flesh Hound and tore it apart, flashing daemonic flesh into greasy black steam. Pulse fire blazed overhead, raking the oncoming beasts. Daemonic flesh hissed and burned beneath the onslaught. Berolinus saw his chance and knew he had to take it. He hauled himself to his feet and sprinted towards the waiting lines, keeping his head low. Pulse fire zipped past him, so close that several of the shots glanced off his armour. He heard a yelp behind him and turned his head in time to see one of the canine abominations rolling after him, black smoke twisting away from its tumbling form. Kill them all! He called out to the closing Fire Warriors. The forces of the warp seek to ambush us! Burn them!

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To his relief and amazement, the gambit worked. He threw himself past the wall of fire and into the press, caring little for the bodies he barged out of the way. He deactivated the meltagun and began to cast around, scouring the seemingly endless hordes. Guilliman! I must speak with Guilliman! He called, fighting the press of bodies around him. Moments later the crowds parted enough to allow a tall and imposing Tau warrior through. Berolinus felt a wave of revulsion pass through him as he recognised the creatures kind. They had faced similar xenos warriors on the Tau ship, the same encounter that had seen Ligur and his followers released. They had almost killed him that day, and he was loath to forget such an affront. Marine. The creature growled. Its scarred face contorted in disgust. The large staff it carried ignited at the tip, close enough to Berolinus that he felt the warmth of the crackling blue energies. The aliens tone of voice seemed slightly higher than he had expected, and that, paired with the sharper and more slender definition of its face, led him to believe that the alien was a female of its species. Who are you to dare use the name of the Kaiguela Ilporrui? I am his servant! Berolinus spat in reply, his hands almost shaking with the effort of maintaining his composure. I must speak with him as a matter of the utmost urgency! What I have to say is for him to hear alone! The towering Shas Kayon looked to ponder over his words for a moment. Then he gestured quickly at the smaller line warriors about him and weapons were raised to surround the Marine. Berolinus did not speak or respond in any way to this, save for the tightening of his fingers around the weapon in his hands. The hulking Tau leaned forward and sniffed deeply, its actions reminiscent of a predator inspecting a fresh carcass. It repeated the action several times and then withdrew, a curious expression of hunger dominating its face. It turned its head away with a dismissive grunt. He is genuine. Hnn. Escort him to find the Kaiguela, before my urges get the better of me. Beneath his helm, Berolinus raised his eyebrows in surprise. Despite his puzzlement at the warriors strange behaviour, he could scarcely believe how easily the Tau had accepted his demands. What exactly the creature had determined by its curious assessment of him he could hardly guess, but he had nonetheless seemed to have passed some sort of test. He looked back at the fallen chaos bike for a moment, considering the situation. For all they knew, he could be a warrior of the chaos legions. Why would they readily accept such an individual. Guela! The call shattered his reverie and he turned to see several of the smaller Tau beckoning for him to follow. A fresh determination surged through him, and he decided then that all other considerations could wait. He would have his audience with the Primarch. +++ +++THE PHALANX, FORTRESS MONASTERY+++ +++ALLIANCE IMPERIALIS SOLAR MOBILE HEADQUARTERS+++ The Astarte bowed his head and then came about smartly, snapping his heels together. Neither Calgar nor Cassius spoke a word as they watched the Marine leave.

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The ancient Master of Sanctity lowered his head, clearly troubled and deep in thought. It was only as he heard the voice that he raised it once again and looked towards the shimmering hologram before both of them. Is there a problem? No. No problem, Sigilite. Cassius answered, the last word of the sentence hissing from his voxponder as if distasteful to him. There has been anincident. Calgar interjected. It is of no major concern to the efforts of the Alliance to deliver the Caesus to Terra. The shimmering holographic face before them shifted, its eyes tightening. An incident? A murder. An act of treachery. The Warmaster answered. Though his ability for natural speech had long since been replaced by the inorganic technologies of his ancient Dreadnought armour, Calgars augmetic voice still contained enough emotion to convey the disdain he felt for the situation. We have yet to apprehend him. When we do, he will be put to death for his crimes. The shimmering face before them took on an expression of concern. I see. A grave situation indeed. Tell me, did this heretic kill someone pivotal to our endeavours? At this stage we can ill afford to lose anyone important to this war. The victim was a traitor to the Imperium, an Inquisitor named Kryptman, and he was murdered by a suspected heretic colleague, no doubt to cover the fiends trail of deceit. The details need not concern you, Sigilite. All that matters is that we have left the orbit of Saturn and are bound for Terra, the Caesus safe and to hand. Good, good. The figure replied. All seems to be progressing as planned. Your vigilance in such matters does you great credit, Warmaster. This is a crucial time for our Imperium, now that the Caesus is finally on its way here. Such knowledge is wont to bring all those who seek to undo us out of hiding. You must be sure to bring this His name is Codian, Sigilite. Ah. Well, you must be sure to bring this Codian, whoever he is, to Imperial justice as soon as you can. We must stamp out any and all agents of the enemy without pause. There can be no exceptions, no mistakes. None. Calgar agreed. If we are done here then, I will take my leave, Lord Regaas. Before him, the face of High Lord Fraudator Regaas smiled and bowed. May the next time we speak be in person, Warmaster. I thank you for your diligence in keeping me appraised of the situation, and I humbly appreciate the honour you show me in addressing me as Sigilite. Calgar remained silent, whatever emotions he was experiencing hidden beneath the vast armour of his sarcophagus. Cassius turned his augmetic skull to look at the Warmaster for a fleeting moment before directing his gaze back towards the High Lord. The newswas unexpected, to be sure. There has been no Regent on Terra since the time of Malcodor, Lord Regaas. The High Lords themselves decreed that no such position of power would ever become

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available again after the fall of Vandire. What can I say, Master Cassius? Regaas replied, his voice weighed with humility. I was as surprised as anyone to accept this gift, and very humbled by it. I certainly did not see myself worthy of this, but it would seem that nine of my eleven colleagues disagree. Then it was not a unanimous decision. Calgar pointed out. At hearing this, the visages expression darkened. War brings about change, Warmaster. If the Tau have taught us one thing, it is that unity works. We, as a race, must stand united in the face of this threat. There can be no division. For too long have petty differences and personal desires kept this Imperium of ours fractured. It is my fervent hope that this honour will herald a new age of unification, when man can stand proud once again, as he did when our Emperor walked amongst us. I will see that glory again. At that the image shivered and then dissipated, the transmission ended. Cassius looked away and to his commander in silence. I know, old friend. Came the Warmasters reply. I feel it too. We can only trust that Imperatorius remains vigilant. He would never allow another Age of Apostasy to occur. For now, our only concern must be the survival of Terra.

Chapter Eighty One: Daemon

Abaddon has fallen. Ahriman slowed and then came to a halt, swaying softly. Though he spoke only in whisper his voice rose in volume as it left him, an oppressive and charged sound. The hissing words echoed through the packed legions before him, slowing bodies and turning heads. He felt the death of the Despoiler like a knife through his own heart. The collective rage of the Pantheon was a tremor in the warp, a spasm of disbelief and anger, distant enough for only those of his skill and power to sense. The signs were all around him, easy enough to detect if one were of the skill to do so. He had first felt and then seen the second and final death of the wraith-sorcerer, Ygethmor. With the Despoiler gone, the powerful oaths that had pulled him from the abyss of the warp were broken, the infernal pacts ended in death. With a scream the sorcerer had been snatched back into the realm of oblivion, his final cry lingering long after his demise. He regarded the faces around him and dismissed their attentions with a wave of his hand. As one, the sea of heads looked away, focusing once more on the battle ahead. Those without helms to cover their faces blinked, as if awakening from some sudden reverie. At the sorcerers insidious psychic command, his outburst was forgotten. Waves of murderous force continued to buffet him, and it was all he could do to steel his will against them. The Blood Gods presence, or at least the presence of his influence, was like a fetid breath in his face, inescapable and pervasive. It was a suffocating sensation, cloying and sickening to him. It was raw, base. An overwhelming and primal thing. He dismissed the blanket of stifling malice and strode on, focusing his intent on the task that lay ahead. He

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could not, dare not, think of the consequences of what he was about to do, only the results. Many would suffer for his impending actions, particularly himself. He had toyed with fate enough for so long now that he knew when to accept his own destiny as inevitable. There could be no other way. From here he held a commanding view of the front line, as his status dictated, and beyond the vast sea of heads he could see the daemonhost, or at least its aura, a black and pervasive presence like a stain on reality. He focused his thoughts and cast his mind out beyond the gathered chattel, barging his way through the unwitting throng. Ahead, the two champions were twin blotches of rich, glowing energy, stars amongst candles, brilliant and terrible in their intensity. Beyond them, the host of Anggrath strode proud and unmatchable at the head of the army. His first psi-impression of the abomination was staggering. The thing was black, as black as the void and yet vibrant and rich, rich as freshly-spilled blood. Its very aura exuded power beyond measure. It was a presence of many facets, all of them horrific and incomprehensible. He knew with utter certainty that it had to die, at least as finally as a denizen of the warp could. I will be strong. Ahriman uttered to himself, affirming the claim with a slow nod. My master, I will be strong for the both of us. +++ Agiselus speared through the black armour without effort, impaling the squirming Marine. Guilliman lifted to warrior up level with his eyes and then flung his arm back, sending the Black Legionnaire tumbling away over his head and out of sight. To his side, Hydrion launched himself forward and landed a hard kick upon the chest plate of an advancing Iron Warrior. The silver colossus staggered back and the commander landed before him, firing from the hip. Bolt shells hammered into the warrior and tore his torso apart. Hnn. Alpharius may have been weak, but at least he would have been here to fight this war. The Alpha Legionnaire sneered, rising quickly. Peturabo and his ilk were granted daemonhood, a gift my father refused, and yet they cower still within the Eye, sending their champions to do their work in their stead. Guilliman looked to the Marine as he heard this and nodded a gesture of agreement. They are flawed by weakness, Hydrion. Weakness, and cowardice. I will hunt all my corrupted brethren to extinction once the throne of Terra is mine. The Eye is their bastion, and its walls crumble as we speak. Their fate is sealed. A long, blood-curdling roar rose up from the lines before them, snatching both their attentions. The sound was horrific in indescribable ways, powerful and resonating. The ambient temperature rose noticeably, like a hot and sulphurous omnipotent breath. A fine mist pattered against Guillimans armour and face and he ran a hand over his cheek, inspecting it. Blood. He uttered, his lip twisting in disgust. Hydrion unleashed another salvo into the roiling enemy lines and then stepped back, pressing a hand to his throat. He listened intently for a few seconds. My lord, our scouts confirm the presence of daemons. They say the host creatures very presence serves to thin the barriers of the dimensions in its wake.

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Daemons fall, Hydrion, just as mortal foes do. The Primarch answered. Do not concern yourself with such debased filth. Let the Grey Knights deal with them. Hydrion paused as he heard this. Although any emotions were hidden beneath his helm, his reaction to hearing the mention of the Knights was obvious. The Primarch saw this and smiled a knowing, predatory smile. Come, Hydrion. A good commander leaves no variable or consideration overlooked. The Grey Knights of the Emperor will serve us in this fight, although they do not know it. The enemy of your enemy is your friend, until such time as he is wont to turn his attentions upon you. That is when you destroy him. Another mighty roar thundered across the battlefield and Guillimans head rose again to meet it. His expression hardened, mirrored by his grip on the hilt of his powerful sword. Ralei. At his call the mysterious Inquisitor appeared by his side, fresh from his efforts with the enemy and yet apparently free of any exertive signs. Yes, my lord? He followed Guillimans gaze over the shifting sea of enemy heads, to where a great black miasma could just be seen, shimmering and churning above the field of battle. Soon it will be time to engage the host and the champions. I am confident that you will meet them with me. You have impressed me thus far, Ralei, for it seems that the powers of the warp are loathe to affect you. As my lord commands. Ralei answered, calmly and without emotion. Guilliman gave a gesture of satisfaction, his keen eyes searching the shifting tide of filth before him. Good. Now, it is time I took my first glimpse at this nemesis of mine. At that Guilliman raised his sword in both hands and bounded forward, his progress parting the front lines of the Unity forces like the prow of a ship through stormy seas. He reached the enemy lines and swung Agiselus before him, carving a dozen armoured bodies in two with a single stroke. The enemy broke against the Primarch, unable to either retreat or counter his powerful advance. Every strike sent armoured body parts spinning away, for there were none powerful enough to stand against the Primarchs might. Guilliman cleared another space before him with a huge sweeping lunge. As the bodies fell he spied his goal. There, barging through the chaos mass, the massive daemon-engine advanced. It was a towering and abominable thing, borne on many creaking arachnid legs. Massive claws snapped as it lurched through its own lines, crushing those who were not fast enough to move from its path. Black smoke belched from its exhaust ports, thick and choking. The Defiler squealed and groaned as it progressed, and though each sound it made was harsh and mechanical, the cacophony gave it a feral, animalistic quality. Guilliman had never seen such a creation before, and yet he knew it without doubt for what it was. At the things black heart was an entity, a daemon of the warp, bound within the armoured shell. He sensed the daemons attention shift onto him. Powerful waves of hatred buffeted him. The daemon

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thirsted for his soul. He sprinted forward and leapt to the side as the Defiler sent a burning wave of promethium out at him. The liquid fire rumbled past, drawing a scorching groove through the bodies of the Primarchs last victims. Guilliman pressed on, ducking as a huge claw swept at him. He rolled across his shoulder, sprang back up onto his feet and then leapt up onto one of the machines legs. The Primarch clambered quickly up onto the Defilers chassis and then onto its curious turret body. The thing reared up in protest to his presence and he spread his arms, fighting to retain his balance. The Defiler crashed back down and Guilliman twisted his sword around and down into the top of the machines bronzed head. The Defiler roared and shuddered, more through rage at the slight against it than any injury or pain. Guilliman retained his grip upon the embedded sword and cast out towards the black storm of warp energy barging its way closer. At last, he could see it. Almost lost beneath the oppressive void of burning shadow, the crimson figure advanced. The air blazed around him, as if to venture into the surrounding haze would mean immolation and death. In one hand he carried a huge chainaxe, and as he neared he swung the weapon about him, striking at anyone within reach as if indifferent to any allegiances. Champion of Blood. Guilliman whispered, his eyes narrowing. You are mine. +++ Lucius the Eternal One slowed, his black eyes shimmering with power. He raised his sword out at the conflict, towards a distant and lofty figure. The Primarch. He hissed, malevolence and hunger thick within his voice. The hulking Typhus paused and looked out to where Guilliman stood atop the writhing Defiler, wreathed in the choking black smog billowing from its back. He issued a low, rumbling grunt of acknowledgement. I see him. Guilliman has wet his blade with the Despoilers blood. Like his father before him, weakness and arrogance brought about Abaddons death. His loss is of no real consequence to us. The daemon of Khorne can have him. Nurgle, as always, will claim what is left. Guilliman is mine! Lucius snarled, pivoting on his heel to face the giant Death Guard champion. I will test myself against his might! Win or lose, he will fall to me. Typhus shook his horned head slowly and raised his massive manreaper out to point at the champion of Slaanesh. Be mindful of my warning, Lucius. Arrogance is a dangerous thing. Not even you can escape death and decay forever. Lucius let out a harsh, sardonic laugh and looked over his shoulder to where Ahriman trailed behind, silent and sullen. Make ready, sorcerer. Soon it will be time for you to play your part in this. You had better be ready. Do not presume to order me around, perverse one. Ahriman snapped, the aura surrounding him taking on a rich, dark tone. Abaddon is dead, and there is no one left here on this planet with the authority to command me. As soon

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as the daemon and Guilliman meet in combat, the rubric shall be unleashed. I promise you that. Remember, Lucius. For all your martial skill, I could turn you inside out with but a word. And then you would take your just reward. Lucius smiled, tapping the blade of his poisoned rapier against his chest. And you screams would make a pleasing addition to my armour of souls. Enough. Demanded Typhus. It is time. Kharn has the Primarchs scent. Lucius shifted his gaze away from the sorcerer with a sneer and raised his arm. Living tendrils of vile, glistening flesh snaked from their recesses in his shoulder guard and along his arm to entwine, sliding and twisting together wetly to form a snaking, braided lash. To battle then, glorious as it is. To battle! Typhus roared, raising his arms. A loud and resonant buzz rose up from the champions suppurating armour and seconds later the air around him blackened and came alive. Thousands of fat flies poured from every gap and orifice, turning the space around the Herald of Nurgle into a writhing black mass. Let everything rot! For Nurgle! Ahriman watched as the two champions threw themselves towards the inevitable combat, both personalities a stark contrast to one another. Lucius was the avatar of grace, his every footfall light and perfect. Typhus was less animated and yet implacable in his advance, his feet shaking the ground with each step. Fools, he thought to himself. Unsuspecting, indolent-minded fools. They didnt have the slightest idea that this day would see their deaths. +++ Guilliman landed amongst the enemy like a falling meteorite, shaking warriors off their feet. He rose sharply and pivoted, Agiselus flashing in his hand. Power armour parted with ease and body parts fell away from him, blood spraying from the collective wounds. Stand aside or die, chaos chattel! Let no man bar me from the attentions of the daemonhost! His demands were answered by an ear-splitting bellow of rage, so loud it caused those before it to cringe and scatter. As the hordes parted he looked to the space, and smiled. At last! Let us end this charade now! It can end only one way. The champion answered, the mighty axe in his hand screaming as if demanding to taste blood. When he spoke, his voice was impossibly thunderous, pregnant with unimaginable power. With the spilling of blood.

Chapter Eighty Two: An'ggrath

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Even amongst the Inquisitors of the Ordo Malleus and within the ranks of the Grey Knights there are names which are only ever whispered, names which invoke dread amongst even the Emperors mightiest servants. One such name is Anggrath, the mightiest Bloodthirster yet summoned from the warp, the most favoured of Khornes servants. He is known by many titles the Guardian of the Throne of Skulls, Lord of Bloodthirsters, the Deathbringer. Amongst the ranks of Khornes daemon followers Anggrath is one of the greatest and most revered, created by his god to be the ultimate expression of Khornes bloody creed. No-one can stand before him and hope to live. In the past ten thousand years Anggrath has been summoned forth from the warp on only two occasions. Those who attempted to summon him must have pleased Khorne with their devotion and slaughter, few would even attempt it. Those that do attempt to summon Anggrath risk Khornes displeasure and wrath. Both successful summonings have resulted in terrible destruction for the Imperium. Worlds have fallen beneath Anggraths cloven hooves before the Grey Knights were able to stop his rampage. Excerpted from Imperial Armour Update 2004. Something big was about to happen. Berolinus could feel the tension rising. Up ahead the Tau lines were starting to flow faster, and the ambient noise levels were rising fast. There was an electric sense of fear and anticipation in the air, a palpable charge. The Tau escorting him began to communicate amongst themselves in their own unfathomable language, their curious voices rising. As they argued they kept pointing out towards a strange and oppressive darkness ahead, some form of localised phenomenon that set his hearts beating faster every time he observed it. Blood was heavy in the air. He could smell it even through his rebreather, hot and acrid. He could not help but feel a pang of apprehension about what lay ahead. His plan was simple, near stupidly so. Now that he was amongst the Tau he had decided that the best course of action would be to approach the Primarch cautiously, using the battle as cover. He had no idea how he would go about this, only that he had to try. He had to. Something was terribly, utterly wrong. There was no way to explain it. It was a primal sense, a gut-wrenching feeling. Life itself raged against it, protesting its existence. Something was that should not be. He quickly checked his bolter, ensuring its rightful place at his belt. Satisfied, he inspected the liberated heretic weapon in his hands, offering up a quick prayer to appease the guns tortured spirit. For so long had it done the foul work of the traitorous enemy, and he could only hope that whatever mysterious sentience resided within would kind a measure of peace in the possession of a faithful charge. Shouts and cries rose in volume up ahead, as if something important was happening. A fresh sense of urgency surged through him and he started forward, pushing past his bewildered escorts and quickly leaving them behind. Their angered protests quickly faded into the battlefield ambience as the bodies pressed in around him.

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He fought the urge to open the way with the searing bite of his meltagun and instead turned a shoulder to the crowds, barging bodies out of his way. He ignored every angered retort and focused solely on the way ahead. There. He caught a glimpse, just a flash of blue. Ultramarine blue. He didnt dare imagine what this was, for fear of anticipation overtaking him. He fixed his gaze upon the gap and broke into a run, shoving bodies aside without thought. The space before him was dark and ominous, and though broken by the bodies that kept on filling the gap intermittently he could see the roiling blackness beyond, hazy and charged, a living and localised storm. Weapons fire flashed and hammered beyond, intermingles with the shouts and cries of combat. He lowered his head and charged, no longer caring anything for the surrounding Tau. He felt armoured bodies fall before him, felt the softness of flesh and the contrasting solidarity of armour give beneath his boots. It did not matter. Nothing else mattered now. Lurom Berolinus charged headlong through the breach and straight into the mouth of hell. He staggered, threatening to fall forwards, the press he had fought against abruptly disappearing. He quickly righted himself and lifted his gaze. For a second all was chaos, a riot of flashing forms and blurred colour. Something was roaring louder than any other sound he had ever heard. Blood. He realised that it was the sound of his own blood thundering through his veins. That was when he saw him. He saw him. There, far to the right, a monolith of brilliant blue almost lost amongst the crimson and black of the thing before him. Magnificent. Proud. Immaculate. Primarch He whispered near reverently. Then came shock and pain, as something coiled around his throat and squeezed, lifting him bodily off his feet. His free hand came up to his throat and his fingers sank into the fleshy stuff of the thing around his neck. As he struggled he felt himself being flung back, sailing through the air. Searing pain tore through him, the very touch of the living tendril like fire. The thing released its grip and he slammed into the ground, almost losing his grip on the meltagun. Berolinus fought through the choking pain and pushed himself up, fighting to control the racing beats of his hearts. The b-----d responsible for the assault stood regarding him with a cold malevolence, his black eyes burning with disdain. He was an abomination, a perverse parody of an Astarte in every way imaginable. Berolinus found his stomach twisting at the very sight of the warrior. Despite this, he could not look away. Not worth my attention. The thing sneered. The living coils that had assaulted him wrapped around his arm into a single, tight coil, writhing softly. At that, the warrior raised his shimmering golden sabre and turned his attention back towards the fight. Offence stung the Astarte as he absorbed what had just happened to him. The chaos scum hadspared him. He had been dismissed, cast aside. He felt his cheeks grow hot with the indignation of being rejected so. The scarred creature bounded into combat against what looked to Berolinus to be other chaos Marines, dancing and pivoting with consummate grace as he cut the warriors to pieces. He cried out in exultation as he slashed and slaughtered, his very form looking to haze with a glittering golden light. He drew back his

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arms and cried out. The strange array set into his back mirrored the war cry, unleashing its own cacophonous scream, overlapping and terrible like the projected agonies of a thousand voices. Those before him quailed beneath the onslaught, twisting and convulsing as they were affected by the tortured noise. Berolinus sprinted forward and pressed his finger against the trigger of the gun, unleashing a white-hot stream of superheated air. The sound of the escaping blast caught the attention of the warrior and he pivoted sharply on his axis, his black eyes widening. The champion flipped out of the way, twisting though the air to land on his feet out of harms way. As he settled, a malevolent smile starched across his pink, ruined face. So, you are truly eager to die. Time slowed for Berolinus. His hand reached for the bolter at his belt even as he saw the warrior leaping towards him. He thumbed the safety off, unclipped the gun and brought it up one-handed to meet his foe. I am Lucius! The warrior announced, landing lightly before him. That is a name you will remember, fool! A name you will scream into eternity! Berolinus sprang back and fired his bolter one-handed, fighting to control the ferocious recoil of the weapon. He followed with another melta-blast and then ducked to the side, avoiding the blade of the glittering power sword. Lucius twisted around the hail of fire like a daemon, sweeping his sword out before him again and again. He threw his arm forward and struck at Berolinus with the living lash, missing the Ultramarines head by a hairs breadth. The return stroke cracked across his knee guard, sending a wave of pain shooting through him. He fought through the agony and stood firm, determined. Berolinus saw an opening and took it. He fired a quick burst of bolter fire and caught the champions shoulder guard, the resultant impact sending shards of the ancient armour whickering out across the battlefield. Lucius squealed in delight and flipped back, landing effortlessly on his feet. He seemed to shudder then, his outline growing hazy. The ghostly faces that swam across his armour swirled and ran fluid, and a second later a wall of white noise erupted from the array set into the champions back and slammed into Berolinus, punching him from his feet. He felt the ground slam into his back and gagged, the meagre contents of his stomach erupting from his mouth to fill his helm. He threw his weapons down and clutched at the neck seals of his helm, fighting to remove the thing before he choked to death on his own vomit. Every agonising second brought with it the expectation of death. He expected to feel the bite of the champions blade so totally that he could almost feel it already. Not like this. He gasped, pulling the helm free. Not like this +++ Guilliman strode forward and slowed, sweeping the crackling blade of Agiselus across the loose ash at his feet. Before him, Kharn of the World Eaters raised the chainaxe Gorechild and carved a similar gouge across the ground, echoing the Primarchs gesture.

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Blood red abominations thronged around Kharn, and as the Primarch looked on, more and more of them were vomited out onto the surface of Caris Estarus. They were huge and hulking things, daemons of crimson skin and rippling, blood-wet muscles. Twisted parodies of men and beasts combined, what little armour they wore was burnished brass, stained in eons of blood. The fate of your foul kind will be sealed here this day. Guilliman uttered, regarding the Bloodletters with disgust. Caris Estarus shall be the tomb that will see chaos laid to rest once and for all. Blood for the Blood God. Kharn answered, his voice thunderous and pregnant with the power of the burgeoning daemon within him. This dry husk of a world will once again see an ocean. It will be an ocean of blood, drained from the bodies of your Unity. I will swim in its fathomless depths for an eternity. Then we have no more to say, you and I. Let us finish this. Guilliman was the first to move. He sprinted forward, Agiselus held high above his head. Kharn threw his head back and howled like an animal, bloodlust enveloping him. The crimson darkness about him pulsed in empathy with his murder-lust, as if in approval. Kharn lowered his gaze in time to meet the Primarch head-on. Gorechild screamed as its terrible teeth ground against the Primarchs ancient blade, its powerful bite threatening to tear the sword from his grasp. Guilliman and Kharn met then, face to face, weapons locked. The murderous Betrayer dug his heels in and pushed, empowered by the incalculable daemonic strength of the entity inside him. Guilliman met the World Eaters efforts and matched them. The Primarchs face tightened and his lips drew back over his teeth. Perhaps for the first time since he had been restored by the Tau, he was tested. Kharn saw this and laughed, a barking and animalistic sound. He thrust his arms forward and pushed Guilliman away, sending him stumbling back. Fool! You do not know the power I have at my disposal! He roared, bounding after his foe. You have no idea, son of the Emperor! I shall carve your eyelids open and show you the truth! Kharn sprang forward, twirling the massive chainaxe around his head. A full three spans across, and with a haft as long as a normal man was tall, Gorechild tore through anything unfortunate enough to be close, carving flesh and armour into ragged strips. Bloodletters fell away to unravel and dissipate, bisected by the unmatchable weapon. Guilliman parried the swinging axe and rolled with the momentum of the blow, coming up onto his feet far enough away to avoid the return stroke. Kharn pressed on, thrusting the axe before him again and again. To the untrained eye his ability with the weapon appeared random and brutish, but there was a hidden skill behind the Betrayers abilities. The sheer brutality of Kharn served almost to mask his martial skill. The champion also wielded an ancient plasma pistol and he fired the archaic weapon wildly, barely bothering to aim in the Primarchs general direction. Searing plasma sailed past Guilliman. The closest shot punched a blackened hole through the Primarchs swirling cape. Kharn continued to unleash the power of his pistol out into the surrounding throng, bellowing with enjoyment as his efforts punched through the bodies of friend and foe alike, devastating flesh and ending lives. Such was his over-excitement that, with a grinding squeal of tortured metal, the grip of the age-old pistol shattered in his grasp. The colossal strength of Anggrath was his to command until such time as the daemon chose to be birthed

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into this reality through the champions flesh. Kharns underestimation of this resulted in a sudden and explosive end to the pistol. Burning plasma coils exploded, taking the remains of the gun and the champions arm up to his elbow. Kharn stepped back, snarling with rage at the inconvenience. Above him, the seething darkness looked to swell and tremble, sending waves of rage pulsating forth. Guilliman saw this and laughed a short, mocking laugh, as humourless as it was intended to be offensive. Kharn looked towards him, hatred smouldering in his eyes. Your skull, Primarch, shall take pride of place at His feet! I will take great care not to let Gorechild taste above the neck! Agiselus shall suffer no such restrictions, son of Angron. Guilliman replied, taking up a defensive stance, his sword held two-handed at his shoulder. This time, it was Kharns turn to laugh. How little you truly know, Primarch. This- He spread his arms and gestured around him. -was never about us. About me. I just had to see you, Guilliman. I just had to be the one to bring thismagnificence to you. I am but the host, the bearer of far greater things. I am the Deliverer. Your life is not mine to end, Primarch. I have but one final skull to offer my god. With that, Kharn fell to his knees in the ash and raised the screaming head of Gorechild up to his neck. Blood for the Blood God. He whispered. My skull is his. Kharns crimson helm fell to the ground and bounced away amid a torrent of blood. Reality itself shuddered and screamed.

Chapter Eighty Three: Unleashed

Kharns sacrifice was accepted. The Primarch looked on as the body of the Betrayer fell chest-first into the ground, leaking its lifeblood out onto the soil of Caris Estarus. He had not expected this. He had not anticipated Kharns final action, and he chided himself for his narrowsightedness. He was prepared to fight the abomination lurking with the champion, that much was sure, but he had worked everything out in his mind to the letter. This changed things, and that disturbed him. The World Eaters were a breed given over to mindlessness but there was something about the self-sacrifice, something intent and deliberate, that set his nerves tingling. This was planned. Stand back! He commanded, waving his arms to force those beneath his banner back. The corpse of the Betrayer was still pumping blood out onto the ground and this showed no signs of abating. Indeed, the dark crimson stain surrounding the body looked to be spreading still, despite the appearance that the headless corpse had already spilled its quota of blood.

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This was darkness, fuelled by the warp. The Primarch cast around and brought his sword low, looking out over the Unity lines. Kharn is fallen! We move to the next phase! Initiate the suppression! A sound in his ear confirmed the fact that his order had been carried out and he looked back to the fallen champion, his grip on the hilt of Agiselus tight. The body was still bleeding, even now. So vigorous was the flow that Kharns remains had begun to sink into the saturated earth. By his side, Gorechild screamed and shuddered in the puddle, drinking deep of the steaming crimson liquid. Movement caught his eye. The body quivered, sinking deeper still. Bubbles began to appear in the dark viscous liquid, gathering quickly into a foaming froth. Execute the plan with haste! Guilliman shouted, his eyes tightening. The body shuddered again. +++ Berolinus cast his helm aside, blinking away his own stinging, acidic bile. The death blow was long overdue and he used the knowledge of that fact to steel his thoughts and motivate him. Both his bolter and the meltagun lay either side of him and he snatched both of them up one after another. A quick visual check confirmed that both were armed and ready for use. The Astarte sat up sharply and thrust the twin guns out before him, quickly covering every angle of attack. The champion was gone. Sure that his eyes werent playing tricks on him, Berolinus rolled over onto his knees and then rose, twisting at the waist as he did so to continue his sweep of the surrounding terrain. Confusion churned within his mind. He should be dead but he was not. A sudden movement snatched his attention and he shifted, bringing the bolter level with a pair of glowing green eyes. Shock held his finger rigid for a moment, long enough to allow the figure to regard him with no more than a glance before he was gone, the glowing staff in his hand swirling before him. The chaos champion bounded into his line of sight, pivoting in the air with absolute grace to land before his mysterious foe, bringing his sabre around to slash at the man. The being that had announced himself as Lucius was locked in single combat with a warrior of far inferior proportions. The man was clearly human, a fact made all the more apparent against the power-armoured bulk of the corrupt Marine. Everything about him was unassuming, from his size to the simple cloth garments he wore, covered over by a chest and shoulder brace of ebony carapace. Despite his first impressions, there was more to the human warrior than was readily apparent. The eyes set into his hairless head were vibrant and inhuman, pulsing with an almost nauseating emerald glow. There was something inherently wrong about the man, something that numbed the soul and dulled the senses. Berolinus dismissed the feeling and raised his bolter, sighting the chaos filth. He lingered, watching the furious combat, looking for an opening There.

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Lucius countered the spinning staff and then struck with his writhing lash, striking the man across the chest. His opponent reeled back, staggered by the blow. The chaos champion brought the lash around and raised it above his head, preparing to strike again The Astarte fired, emptying the rest of his clip into the looming champion. Lucius cried out and reeled back, his arms flailing beneath the onslaught. Miniature explosions blossomed across the champions chest, sending fragments of ancient power armour spinning away. The fiend squealed in delight and flipped gracefully back, landing lightly on his feet. To The Astartes disgust he seemed to revel in the pain. He spread his arms again and the array on his back hissed and whined, the faces swimming across his armour screaming their pain and suffering as one. The collective sound erupted and the living scream slammed into the man, driving him back. Emerald energies coruscated around him, causing his limbs and body to shudder. Lucius pressed home his attack, striding forward. He swirled the lash about his head as he prepared to finish the man, hissing with pleasure. Berolinus slammed into him with enough force to punch the champion off his feet. Lucius hit the ground and rolled away, coming up onto his feet within seconds of the blow connecting. Berolinus was waiting for him. He ducked the questing lash and fired his boltgun, missing the champion. Even at such close range the shot failed it hit, a testament to the reflexes and martial skill of the corrupt warrior. He knew then that he would have to call upon his every skill to defeat this foe. The man leapt into the fray, swinging his staff before him. He countered a swift blow, turning the glittering sabre aside, and then unleashed a searing blast of energy from the head of the staff, sending a bright pulse into the champion. Lucius spun on his heel, his lash-arm spinning away from his body in a wash of coruscating power. Berolinus watched the champion fall and looked to the distant daemon-storm, the urge to locate his Primarch stronger than ever. He longed to destroy the fiend, the instinct to kill burned into his soul by years of training. He watched as the chaos warrior thrashed in the loose soil, punished and bleeding. Despite this the warrior lifted his legs and twisted, flipping up onto his feet. The sword flashed and the man staggered back, scored deeply across the chest. His thick robes hid the wound but Berolinus could see without a doubt that it was deep, possibly mortal. He checked his boltgun. The flashing ammunition indicator told him he had a single bolt left. Both warriors were still on their feet and locked in combat. Despite his injuries Lucius seemed as strong and alive as ever, his own pain fuelling his efforts. His opponent reeled back, countering and blocking the flailing sabre. As fast and skilful as he was, the man was ultimately no match for the champion. Berolinus raised the gun and fired. The back of Lucius head came apart in a wash of gore. At the exact same instant the man plunged the bladed head of his staff into the champions stomach and with another bright pulse of energy blew the champions midriff into two. Lucius fell, a ruin of shattered armour and burned flesh. Berolinus and his mysterious ally spared each other no more than a swift glance of acknowledgement. With that he cast his spent boltgun aside and charged towards the phenomenon, as determined as ever to fight and to die, if need be, by the Primarchs side. +++ The Tau forces here were reeling. Warriors ran in squads, flowing and shifting position. The chaos forces advanced in their wake, taking advantage of the sudden change. Despite this, none of the visible squads looked to be making any attempt to close on the space directly around the darkness. He knew in his heart

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that this was where he would find Guilliman. Such was his preoccupation, his absolute intent, it almost cost him his life. He charged through the retreated Fire Warrior squads, his eyes alive with zeal, and felt the first shot hammer into his back. He stumbled forward and brought himself to a stop, hissing through bared teeth at the pain. He turned to see a number of the Tau warriors taking aim, mistaking him for a member of the traitor forces. Dont be stupid. He snarled. I am not your enemy this day, not unless you choose it Something large and terrible swept through the Fire Warrior line and took the five Tau apart with a single sweep. Berolinus lifted the meltagun as he watched the separated bodies tumble away. Armour rusted and blackened even as it hit the ground. He gagged, a sickly, putrid stench burning his nostrils. The massive blade returned, sweeping for him again. He threw himself back and turned, rolling across his shoulder to avoid another questing lunge. The abomination lumbered into view and his breath caught in his throat. The thing was clad in what looked to be a suit of ancient Terminator armour and yet it was barely recognisable. The armour was vile, bloated and suppurating like a corpse disturbed from the bottom of some mud-filled trench. Pus oozed from every orifice, and a cloud of fat buzzing flies swirled around the daemons head. The monstrosity brought its massive scythe around and swung it again, stabbing another shrieking Fire Warrior through the back and lifting him clean off his feet. The Tau flailed and thrashed until his limbs fell from his torso, rotten and mouldy. Let everything rot. The mouldering champion gurgled, shaking the melting cadaver free of his rusting blade. Berolinus spat in disgust and aimed the meltagun. The champion turned his horned head towards the Astarte and raised his arms. Immediately the limb blackened and disappeared as flies poured from every opening along it, their collective buzz rising to a deafening crescendo. The Ultramarine fired, the concussive whoomph of the igniting gun followed a second later by a stream of white-hot air. The fly swarm thickened and compacted before the blast and thus caught its full power. Thousands of tiny bodies were incinerated instantly, flash-burned into atoms by the power of the blast. Berolinus cursed and lowered the gun. He did not have time for this fight. He turned back towards the black storm and ran, leaving the corrupt champion to issue phlegmy curses in his wake. The massive champion spread his arms wide and bellowed some painful and unintelligible blightspell. A massive maw opened up in the face of his helm and vomited a stream of mucus-coloured bile after the fleeing Ultramarine, the torrent rapidly expanding as it projected forth. The bilious substance scorched the ground in his wake, acidic steam rising from the bubbling stuff to choke any within reach. Fortunately, Berolinus was faster. +++ The Betrayers remains rose up from the pool of blood like a marionette, so sudden and violent that even Guilliman flinched. Blood continued to pour from the wounds, swirling and whipping as if solid and alive. Where are my null-drones? He shouted, anger thick in his voice. At his behest the air behind him thickened as the automated drones approached, already active and crackling with black, suppressive power. Suffocate the vile thing!

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A distant, inhuman roar shook the ground as the body drifted higher into the darkness. Black tendrils of twisting shadow snaked around the crimson armour, causing it to swell and bulge. Limbs twisted and deformed, red flesh bursting through the ceramite cage. The drones hovered forward in waves, the coruscating power surrounding them intensifying. Black smoke began to rise up from the changing mass of splitting armour and dead flesh Without warning, the first wave exploded spectacularly, detonating in perfect synchronisation. Guilliman shielded his face as the burning remains of the drones pattered down around him. What is this? The second wave came apart then, falling around the Tau lines and causing warriors to throw their arms up and scramble for cover. Before them, the abomination that was Anggrath continued to push himself into existence. Continue with the assault! We have to buy ourselves more time! Guilliman commanded, moving further away from the forming daemon. Above him, more and more of the drones fell, overloaded by the sheer power of the burgeoning daemons presence. Hydrion appeared by the Primarchs side, his eyes fixed upon the ominous sight. My lord! Guilliman looked to the Marine and followed his outstretched finger. He was pointing to the heavens. There, high above the vast carpet of warring aircraft, the upper atmosphere was alive. Bright fire flashed as tiny silver shapes burst through the atmosphere, trailing glittering fire behind them. From this distance the phenomenon resembled a spectacular meteor shower. The Grey Knights. The Primarch observed. Lord, the fleet Let them through. Guilliman commanded. Let every vessel know that there must be no attempt to stop them. We need them now, more than ever. Hydrion bowed his head. As you command. Shall I inform the Hesashi to prepare the Final Sanction? That would be advisable. See it done, and quickly. Time is fast running out. A visible area had been cleared around the forming abomination. Kharns tortured armour flesh were already unrecognisable, no more than a twisted mass, an indistinguishable and shapeless thing of impossible angles. With a long, lingering roar Anggrath pushed himself through the flesh gateway and out into reality. The mass bulged and reformed, rolling in on itself as it expanded, changing and changing as it grew. A huge crimson arm punched its way free of the twisted stuff, followed seconds later by a massive horned head. The horrifying face snapped and bellowed as it cast around, its blazing eyes regarding the surrounding flesh-things with a terrible and insatiable hunger. The Lord of Bloodthirsters was among the living once again. Anggrath took his first step out onto the tortured soil of Caris Estarus and spread his vast wings, blotting

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out the weak sunlight. Black smoke billowed from his open mouth and beneath his cloven hooves the ground glowed and ran molten. In one hand the Greater Daemon held a vast axe, its brass surface quivering and smouldering with daemonic life. In his other hand it wielded a mighty braided lash, covered across its length with many cruel spikes and serrated barbs. The colossal daemon lifted the lash and cracked it once above its head, the thunderous sound quaking the surrounding walls. Then it threw its arm forward and swept the lash through the Tau lines, dashing dozens of warriors and war machines to pieces with a single strike. Then he spoke, but a single word. Blood. The sound pealed across the scene, so loud and terrible warriors dropped to their knees. Entire squads crashed together in pain and confusion, made insensible by the horrific noise. Roboute Guilliman thrust Agiselus out before him and strode forward, determined and unafraid. All units, target the abomination! Spare no effort in assailing this unholy creature! +++ The voice. He heard the powerful call and flinched. Such was its power and authority that it could not be mistaken. Berolinus blinked and stepped back, the shock and horror that had held him fast at the sight of the daemon diminishing. He almost dared not turn his head to search for the source of the voice. Then he saw him, a towering and magnificent figure, resplendent in his artificer armour and crimson cloak. Even from this distance, he was unmistakeable. He exhaled in quiet reverence. Guilliman. At last. Then the abominable lash of the Greater Daemon swept across his vision and smashed the Primarch away, sending him twisting deep into the Tau lines. No! He cried, throwing himself forward. He sprinted towards the scene, his mind reeling. He did not know whether to head towards the vile daemon or to begin to search through the throng for his father, concern for the Primarchs well-being clawing at his breast. As he advanced Berolinus fought to keep his mind. Both forces were in turmoil now, the animosities that had been largely forgotten in the wake of the daemons birth now fuelled by the very presence of the entity. He felt his own rage growing within, stoked by the mere presence of the daemon. Where before he had regarded all around him with a cold, universal disdain, now that feeling had begun to grow and darken. Tau and traitor alike sent waves of revulsion and hatred coursing through him, and it was all he could do to keep himself from descending upon the surrounding warriors with animal abandon. Before him the huge lash cracked through the air again and he threw himself into a roll as bodies twisted by overhead, showering him with blood as they came apart. He brought himself up in time to see the creatures massive axe bisect a retreating Tau skimmer, the serrated blade splitting it in two amid a wash of flame. He threw himself to the side as a screaming missile tore past to detonate upon the thigh of the colossal being, almost losing his balance as he stumbled upon the dead choking the area. Every time his gaze found the Bloodthirster his eyes stung, and before long he could feel the warmth of his own blood as it ran like tears down his cheeks.

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Something huge lumbered past him and bowled him to the floor with a casual swing of its augmetic arm, almost crushing his chest and shoulder with the force of the blow. It was a chaos Dreadnought, and the hulking machination chanted the daemons name as it stomped towards the Lord of Bloodthirsters, its monotonous artificial voice a harsh and booming sound. Anggraths lash came down and smashed the Dreadnought aside, sending it tumbling out into the Tau lines like a rolling boulder. Berolinus pushed himself up and uttered a curse beneath his breath, his bloodshot eyes wide and heavy with awe. All around the daemon warriors tore into one another with animalistic frenzy, using hands and even teeth where weapons had been spent. He had never before witnessed such a scene of utter pandemonium, and it was all he could do to hold back his own dark urges. Only the thought of debasing himself in the eyes of the Primarch kept him from being lost to his own desires. The Astarte hauled himself to his feet once again and staggered forward a few paces, his chest and shoulder on fire. The meltagun swung almost redundantly in his hands, as if a hundred times heavier than it really was. Peering around him through blood-filled eyes, Lurom Berolinus despaired, unable to imagine how the situation could possibly worsen. Then the first silver drop pod slammed into the earth mere metres away from him, so close that the powerful impact caused him to stumble.

Chapter Eighty Four: Gods and Daemons, Death and Birth

Typhus the Herald smashed his way through the press with his unstoppable manreaper, scything enemy and ally alike from his path. Ahriman! He raged, his voice a terrible, gurgling roar. Damn you, servant of Tzeentch! Show yourself to me! Typhus. The ethereal whisper filled his ears and brought him to a standstill. The black swarm around him looked to bulge and intensify as the air shimmered with a cold blue light. A moment later Ahriman shivered into being before him and waved his staff. The swarm dissipated immediately, sinking back into the Nurgle champions armour as if afraid of the sorcerers power. Typhus showed no such fear. This is no time to cower amongst the chattel, sorcerer! Khornes destroyer is born! The Emperors Knights are amongst us, and now is the time for your part of the pact to be fulfilled. He gestured to where the towering daemon rampaged through the Unity forces, ending lives with the passing of every moment. Kharn kept his word and gave flesh and soul alike to bring it into this realm. As powerful a host as Kharn was, dead flesh cannot sustain a manifested daemon forever. We need your rubric if we are to sustain Anggraths presence here indefinitely, now more than ever. Despite Typhus rage, Ahriman remained calm and unmoved.

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Patience, Traveller. Such powerful magicks cannot be simply summoned without the proper rituals. This is no simple parlour trick See it done. Typhus snapped, his anger manifesting as a sickly, dark aura around his pestilent form. Lucius has fallen, like Abaddon before him. We are all that is left to champion our gods, Ahriman. Look beyond this meeting. See how the fates mock us. He gestured out at the surrounding skies. Drop pods were falling, as thick as rain. Azure flashes flickered through the shifting ground forces around them, bright against the burgeoning darkness. See how quickly events unfold before us, Ahriman. As distasteful as it may be to either of us, you need to cement the Khornate abominations bond to this plane before the Grey Knights engage it. A loud and bright explosion tore through the warring forces, illuminating everything with a brilliant azure glow, if only for a second. Typhus rocked on his feet, buffeted by the blast. Ahriman stood unaffected by the waves of concussive force, his outline shimmering. The sound of weapons fire filled the air once again as the light dissipated, the hammer of heavy cannons and the whoosh of searing flame. See? Typhus gestured towards the silver warriors carving their way through the combined chaos and Tau forces towards the Greater Daemon. There can be no more delay. Fulfil your role, sorcerer, and do so now, before it is too late for any of us. At that the hulking champion turned his back to Ahriman and hefted his oozing scythe up onto his shoulder, intent on bringing the glory of Grandfather Nurgle to the Daemonhunters. Ahriman shook his head slowly and raised his staff, pointing the bestial head of the powerful artefact towards the Nurgle champion. Too late? It is already far too late for you, Death Guard. Bright, searing power erupted from the head of the staff and slammed into Typhus back, causing him to lurch forward. Multicoloured and iridescent arcs coruscated through and around the champion, punching holes through the festering Terminator armour and bursting infection-riddled boils. Typhus shook and lurched, as the sorcery assailed him. He fought to turn, to face the treacherous Thousand Son. He managed to raise an arm towards Ahriman and bellow an incantation. The Destroyer Hive came to life, rising up from the depths of the mouldering Death Guard captain to burst forth from every visible rend or orifice. Tiny black bodies burst in their thousands as Ahrimans sorcery burned them from existence, cleansing the foul Nurgle infestation. The small capering beings surrounding the weeping feet of Typhus immolated amid a chorus of shrieks and squeals. One by one, the Nurglings popped like bloated, pus-filled balloons. Ahriman raised the head of the rod and lifted Typhus off his feet. The Champion dropped his rusting scythe to the floor and flailed redundantly, issuing a harsh, gurgling sound. He was trying to speak. Save your voice, Typhus. You have nothing to say that I would hear. Better that you retain some dignity in your final moments. A-a-all w-will r-r-rottt The Herald gurgled, defiant to the end. Ahrimans power finally burned him from the inside out and he fell limp, the rotting being instead the armour scoured from existence by the sorcerers unmatchable power. Yes. Ahriman whispered, withdrawing his power and allowing the husk to fall to the floor. And after the rot

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is gone, all that remains, is dust. With that he lowered his staff and fell to one knee, his head bowed. He looked to the towering daemon in the distance, watching as Anggrath slaughtered and bludgeoned his way towards the Grey Knights. Then he lifted his gaze and looked beyond the war, peering through the roiling skies and beyond, fixing his gaze on something only he could see. And so it ends. Over ten millennia we have planned for this, lord. Ten thousand years we have strived for forgiveness, to atone for our mistakes. Our sins. I see it as you see it, and my humility humbles me. We have achieved so much, and yet, in our blind arrogance, lost so much more. I am proud, my lord, to offer myself in sacrifice. I hope that in doing this, my actions may lead to salvation and, ultimately, forgiveness. Ahriman planted the haft of his staff firmly in the soil. He placed his free hand upon the ground and closed his fingers. At that he lifted a handful of the dead earth and allowed it to run through his fingers, as if tasting the heavy, lingering death that stained the very fabric of the cursed planet. Many were the blind who allowed their own pride and lust for power to blind them to the corruption of Horus. Ours was a union of desperation, all other choices taken from us. We thought that we could master the power of the Ether, and we did. We never realised, in our boundless arrogance, that far greater powers were manipulating us. Only we know the full truth. Only we know the Emperor for what he truly is. I will ask him, my father, for forgiveness. I pray for the both of us, and for the souls of all our brethren, that he will hear my plea. Ahriman of the Thousand Sons, son of Magnus, opened his hand and let the last traces of dust blow away on the breeze. He watched the skittering ash blow away on the breeze, a heavy and palpable sense of finality settling over him. It was time. Events had aligned themselves enough to provide an optimum environment in which to release the spell that had lingered so long within his mind. Words could not begin to describe the detail that had gone into the construction of this enchantment. Ahriman felt an overwhelming sense of relief as he drew the rubric from his mind and allowed it to unravel. Tzeench knew all, and the Changer of Ways had toiled for eons to prevent its release. No more would Ahriman have to fight the overwhelming influence of the Change God. Linger He uttered, spreading his arms wide. An ethereal breeze rose at the sound of his voice, tearing at the ancient robes of the sorcerer as if hungry to taste the powerful essence beneath. No more. The final word echoed, overlapping again and again. As it did so it rose in volume, increasing again and again with such force that the word began to resound across the field of battle, rising above the tumult. Ahriman became mist then, his vestments falling to the floor amid a wash of twisting multicoloured steam. Millennia of collected power unravelled and dissipated into the air as the sorcerer gave himself body and soul to see his last great work realised. Moremoremore Warriors shuddered as the sound wave washed over them, as if struck by a sudden but quickly passing surge of electricity. Silence fell wherever the wave hit. Combats ceased, only to resume a second later. Anggrath paused in his unmatched slaughter. He turned his bestial head to listen as the sound rolled over him like thunder, so powerful it caused his vast outline to haze and shimmer. He hesitated only long enough to bellow in anger at the psychic surge and then turned his attentions back to the flesh-things around him, his ceaseless thirst for blood taking over once more.

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Ahrimans pact was fulfilled. The rubric was cast. +++ Berolinus ducked behind the shuddering bulk of an enemy Rhino as another grey armoured squad passed by, the heavy weapons in their hands burning and shattering the enemy around them. He was breathing hard, more through shock and disbelief than exertion. The Knights of the Emperor. Just thinking the name caused his chest to tighten. He had heard legends of these warriors, the purest of all the Astartes, and yet he had never truly known whether they were more than myth. These were warriors so unpolluted that their very existence was inimitable to the corrupt and the daemonic. They shone with purity, and he could see that. He could feel that. A sudden rush of guilt surged through him at the sight of these proud beings, as if his very presence amongst the corrupt agents of chaos and xenos filth was enough to damn himself in their eyes. He watched from his place of cover as more of the warriors passed by, wielding shimmering swords and long-handled blades. They chanted and prayed as they met the chaos forces, the sound of their collective chants of detestation as disturbing as they were invigorating to him. They smashed Fire Warriors and Guevesa aside with casual ease to reach the waiting traitor Marines, as if the very stench of chaos association incited their hatred. Berolinus risked a glance further out into the melee and was rewarded with a ringing boom in his ear and a spray of whickering shrapnel to his face. He sunk back behind the Rhino as more bolt shells hammered into the ancient metal and slipped away keeping his body low. He had seen the Primarch fall. He had seen the grievous and treacherous blow dealt to Guilliman, his hearts still leaping at the thought of it. He began to push his way through the press, hunting for the spot where the Primarch had fallen. More of the towering Knights were carving their way through the packed Tau lines, reaping warriors without pause or hesitation, their collective attentions never once straying far from the daemonic leviathan. He leapt clear over a steaming heap of Tau-allied human corpses and then threw himself to the side, narrowly missing the searing radius of a bright energy discharge. He rolled across the ground instinctively, feeling the dull pressure behind his eyes generated by the sheer psychic force of the blast. He dared afford himself no more than a glance at the power-armoured figures at the centre of the blinding force maelstrom, wreathed in the burning balefires that immolated the screaming traitor Guardsmen around them. He pressed on, recognising the crippled remains of the Black Legion Predator before him. This was where the Primarch had fallen, struck down by the terrible might of the daemon. He increased his pace, breaking into a loping sprint, the meltagun clutched tightly to his chest. He could see a number of figures milling around the area, pointing and shouting at one another. At this, he felt a surge of apprehension. What would he find? He reached the scene and prepared to throw himself into the press, forsaking everything just to reach his Primarchs side. Then the bodies scattered like leaves before the breeze and a colossal shape clad in striking blue artificer armour burst from the centre of the gathering, its sonorous voice roaring curses and denouncing the name of the daemonic enemy. +++ Roboute Guilliman landed hard upon the tortured soil of Caris Estarus and glowered his boundless hatred out at the Lord of Bloodthirsters. The chest plate of his armour was buckled, distorted by the blow that would have scattered the body parts of a lesser man to the four winds.

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Anggrath! He raged, raising Agiselus up in defiance. You will have to try better than that, daemon, to spill my blood in the name of your foul god! Bodies began to surround him and he shrugged them away, intent on brooking no interference from those concerned about his welfare. He watched as the abomination continued to tear its way through the milling armies, unstoppable in its thirst for slaughter. Around it the Grey Knights surged through the combined might of the two armies, relentless in their own advance, eager to meet with the Deathbringer. As he took all this in, the wild light in his eyes began to cool. As much as his every instinct urged him to meet with the Greater Daemon, the cold lucidity he was famous for doused that urge. He looked on as the inevitable conflict grew nearer and gave a slow nod of satisfaction. My lord! Hydrion ground to a halt by his side, a good many of his warriors in tow. The commander hefted his boltgun up and made ready to use it, an action mirrored by those accompanying him. Guilliman placed the flat of his swords blade against the Marines chest and spoke. No, not this time, Hydrion. We are done here. Our ploy has worked. Let the Grey Knights take the glory of banishing this abhorrence back from whence it came. We came here to force Abaddons hand, to discover his intentions. We have done that. The Despoiler lies dead, his forces scattered and harried. Now we know the full extent of his plans there is nothing more for us here. Let this chapter of our war be done. The Marine bowed his head to his commanders wisdom. Gather your spies and make ready to leave. Guilliman ordered. At that, the Primarch and his warriors turned away from the battle and began to mobilise for a strategic withdrawal. He tapped the communications stud at his throat. Commander Shadowblade, Guilliman here. We are ready to execute the Final Sanction. Prepare the warhead and ready the fleet to receive us. We are leaving this planet. The fleet commanders voice crackled over the link seconds later. The Primarchs vast brow creased as he caught the warriors reply. Understood, Kaiguela. It is good to hear that you are unharmed. My commander, wewe have a problem. Explain, ShasO. It is the Nicassar, Kaiguela. Something is happening to them. They are in turmoil, commander. Their screams are tearing at our ships, causing fleet-wide instabilities. Something is happening down there, a great disturbance of an extrasensory nature, so powerful it is killing them. Our sensors are incapable of measuring such phenomena but we are reading a massive build-up of power Enough. Guilliman commanded, silencing the Shas. Such disturbances are to be expected given the nature of this war, and we cannot allow ourselves to be distracted at this critical juncture. The withdrawal of our forces must take precedence. See that my orders are followed immediately, honourable Shadowblade. With that he disconnected the link and turned in silence to look upon the forces under his command. The warriors of the Unity were already falling back, retreating en masse like the tide. There was no sense of panic or urgency visible, much to his satisfaction. Primarch! The call stole his attention and he glanced behind him, this reaction undoubtedly saving his life. Agiselus came up a heartbeat later and turned the shimmering bolt aside, the flash of the collision between bolt and

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blade scorching his face. Hydrion and his warriors were embroiled in combat with a squad of the silver armoured Knights. Hydrion had discarded his bolter and was holding his own with his chainblade, though his companions were faltering before the sheer ferocity of the Grey Knights attack. The Primarch, for all his desire to see his plans come to fruition, had not wanted this. He said nothing and betrayed no emotion as he started forward, his blade shimmering in his hand. He did not want to fight the Grey Knights. He did not want the blood of the pure on his hands. Do not incite this conflict! He warned, his voice thunderous and resonant. Marines of the Alpha Legion were falling fast, and though they outnumbered the Grey Knights at least three to one, the flashing force blades of the proud warriors were carving a bloody swathe through their numbers. Guilliman charged into the fray and batted aside one of the warriors with a reverse fist. The warrior tumbled away, scattering equipment and armour fragments in his wake. One of the warriors, a squad commander, turned his attentions upon the towering Primarch and took up a combat-ready stance, holding his crackling halberd out behind him. He pointed an accusing finger at Guilliman and shouted oaths of detestation, his words as unrecognisable as they were charged with power. The warrior charged, bringing his weapon to bear in a dizzying display of acrobatic skill. His first strike clashed against the steel of Agiselus and his second, a lightning-fast reverse, swept by the Primarchs throat with inches to spare. Guilliman did not give as the Knight attacked again and again, hacking and slashing back and forth, his actions fuelled by a burning and flagrant zeal. All the while he chanted and prayed, the words imbuing him with greater strength with the passing of each moment. Both combatants twisted at the waist again and again as their blades met, facing away from one another as they pivoted from left to right and back again, each hunting for the others first sign of weakness. The outcome was never truly in doubt. No more than ten heartbeats passed before the Primarch spun on his heel and took the warriors head from his shoulders. The Knight fell to his knees as his head rolled away, leaving the triumphant Primarch to turn his attentions towards the warriors comrades. +++ The glint of the shimmering blade caught his eye, almost causing him to break his bounding stride. Berolinus looked on as the Knight drew back his power blade and prepared to thrust it through the back of the Primarchs head. The colossal armoured figure was caught up in the melee, to distracted to notice the impending attack. A rush of dread coursed through him, powering his limbs and driving him on. He fought to cover the distance needed as the meltagun charged in his hands, ready for use. Berolinus leapt the last few metres and blasted the shoulders and back of the warrior, turning his silvered armour into molten slag. The Knight came apart as he fell away, acrid smoke pouring from the damaged sections of his torso. The Ultramarine landed hard and awkwardly, loosing his footing on the debris-scattered, loose earth. He fell forward face-first into the ash and came up, bloody-nosed and choking. Time slowed as he set his sights upon the Primarch for the first time. He exhaled, the breath seeming to leak from his lungs forever; such was the absolute incredulity of the sight before him. Roboute Guilliman tore his way through the Knights like an avenging angel, an avatar of absolute, unstoppable retribution. Inexorable. Supreme. Perfect. He was all this and more to behold.

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His strength was unmatchable as he attacked. Berolinus looked on as he smashed his blade through the haft of a force weapon and then struck the head from its bearer on his return stroke. He powered on, pivoting into the next combat to sweep the sword through the Knights belly, parting him at the waist. He brought the sword up and then thrust it forward, driving the blade through the neck of a third. Berolinus staggered to his feet, half-blind with dust, and fired the meltagun again. Another silver body twisted away, its arm and shoulder gone. He pressed the trigger and his efforts were rewarded with the muted hiss of escaping air. The gun was empty. Unable to do any more the Marine flung the spent weapon away and bunched his fists, ready to meet the Knights with nothing more than his hands. Guilliman swatted the halberd away and then raised his sword above his head. The Grey Knight brought the haft of his weapon up to block the descending blow. Agilselus carved through the obsidian pole and split the Knights head into two, the force of the strike forcing the warrior down onto his knees. The Primarch pulled the sword free and let the body fall to the floor, another opponent dead and done. His mighty chest heaved as he spread his arms and pivoted slowly on his heel, ready to meet the next attack. No attack came. The squad was done, slaughtered to a man. The sound of laboured breathing caught his attention and he twisted slowly to look behind him, his armoured fingers creaking against the hilt of his blade. There, kneeling before him, swaying with the effort of keeping his body upright, he saw the Marine. His armour was caked in grime and viscera. His face was a mass of bruises and blood. His eyes found the familiar markings emblazoned across the azure armour of the warrior and widened My Primarch The Astarte uttered, barely able to speak.

Chapter Eighty Five: Grungi's Return, the Blazing Rebel

+++THE IRONBREAKER+++ +++DEMIURG BASTION SHIP+++ +++LOCATION UNKNOWN+++ Are we ready? The question was met with a series of grunts and nods of confirmation. Codian nodded in turn and straightened himself. He made to rest his hand on the hilt of his crozius before remembering that it wasnt there, a reflex action ingrained within him. His helm tucked under his arm, he looked around him at the gathered faces and felt a pang of apprehension. He was the only Astarte present, and part of him wished that at least one of the other Marines would be accompanying him. Still, he understood the importance of this meeting, and he knew that leaving the others out of this would serve to diffuse potential tension and keep any instances of confrontation to a minimum. At least, that was the plan. He glanced behind him and caught Czevak and Orechiel caught up in a quiet discussion, their attention on the glittering stars beyond the curved glass of the viewing dome above their heads. From what he could pick up, they seemed to be discussing, or at least trying to determine, their current location. Any ideas? He asked. The Inquisitors shook their heads, perplexed. Stars. The Cadian muttered beneath his breath. They all look the same to me.

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The tall and willowy alien form of Gormat parted the three humans. He gathered his robes about him and pushed his way gently to the head of the small group, his neck craned so as to take in the vista. I recognise them. He said quietly. He lifted a slender hand up and pointed his finger out at the twinkling starscape, towards a large milky mass. See there. Guela call that cluster the Damocles Gulf. If you look to the far left, just there, you can see the stars of the Farsight Enclaves. Back here, beyond the Gulf, lies the Tau homeworlds. By his side, the Cadian emitted a murmur of barely disguised contempt and turned away. An expression of hurt passed over Gormats face and he stepped away, lowering his hand slowly. Czevak shot the soldier a cold look. The Cadian returned it, unrelenting in his disdain. The Chaplain caught all this but chose not to get involved for now. He had decided to take a risk and ask the Khan and the other Astartes to remain behind on the Grudgebearer. The situation they were about to enter into was as diplomatically delicate as he could imagine, and he felt that the imposing presence of the other Marines, and the Primarch in particular, could only serve to aggravate the situation. So, this is the Ironbreaker? He asked, taking in his surroundings. Strange, but I would almost swear we had not left your ship. Everything seems the same. Grungis face coloured as he heard this. He looked at the Chaplain with a glowing expression of disbelief and anger, as if his very honour had been slighted. This ship is nothing like the Grudgebearer! Pah, you stalk-legs can be as vulgar as the damned Greyskins! Codian dismissed the aliens displeasure and looked around him. I meant no offence. Just how many of these ships are there out amongst these stars, Grungi? Hnn. Not sure. The Demiurg replied. Theres no tougher vessel than a Bastion or a Stronghold. These leviathans were built to last, and they have done so, long after the deaths of their crew. How is that possible? Codian asked, casting around to face the xenos. How is it that your people were killed and yet these ships survive still? It makes no sense. At hearing this question Grungi scowled, though he did not direct the look at the Chaplain. He looked away, his scarred face twisted in an expression of emotional pain. They are tombs, Stalk-leg, nothing more. Many ships survived the death of my people. Most were abandoned when the Demiurg answered the call to war. The Demiurg could cross the space between stars in an instant, Codian, you have seen that. Strongholds and even entire Leagues answered the call to war when the Orks turned on us. My people were a proud race, and they confronted the enemy face to face. These ships were left behind. They are our legacy. Codian nodded in understanding, though in truth he still found the ways of the Demiurg strange and incomprehensible. He turned towards the large door before him, looked to the short xenos at his side and spoke. You are sure about this. Absolutely sure. It was more a statement than a question. Nonetheless, Grungi nodded. I am sure, bone-priest. I know the enemy better than I know myself. These greys hate the Unity as much as

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we do. You will see that with your own eyes. He believed Grungi to be sincere. Codian exhaled and readied himself. Let us meet them then. He said. At that, the door to the chamber rattled open and they stepped inside. The chamber was vast. The first thing he noticed as he entered was the size of the space. Echoing and cavernous, it was a space obviously given over to storage. Scattered around the edges of the chamber were huge metal hoppers. Some were seemingly empty, while others were overflowing with what looked to be unprocessed ore. Standing at the centre of the chamber, before a small collection of rusting and long-disused cargo vessels was a small group of figures, around ten or twelve in all. Even from this distance, he could see that they were Tau. They all wore the same segmented red and beige armour, and as he closed he could see the suits were bedecked with all manner of plugs and sockets. The same curious Tau design decorated them all, and Codian noticed straight away that this marking was of a configuration he had not previously seen. His gaze drifted towards the figure standing at the centre of the group. Grungi looked to him and nodded softly. Thats your man. He heard the Tau, Gormat, whisper something in his native tongue behind him, disbelief heavy in his voice. He was clearly under no illusions as to who these Tau were, and what they represented. He slowed his pace a little then, his eyes finding the Demiurg by his side. I cannot believe you never told me ofthis. Grungi shrugged. What? I dont know if youve noticed, Longshank, but my life has been somewhat hectic of late, what with all the attention I seem to have been attracting since I pulled you from that rusting tub of a lifeboat. One or two things may have slipped my mind. Slipped your mind? Codian answered. I cant imagine how the fact that you have openly traded with Tau since the Unity exterminated your species could slip your mind. You never thought to mention this? The Demiurg scowled and emitted a sharp hiss of displeasure. I may be a vessel of hate, Bone-priest, but I am still have the faculties to distinguish between an enemy and a potential ally. You of all people should be able to relate to that. I hate the Unity, and I will kill every last servant of that Thor-damned collective if it is within my power to do so. These Tau here are not part of that collective. They are as hunted as despised by the Unity as you or I, perhaps even more so. Rebels. Codian answered, unable to hide the suspicion in his voice. I have seen and heard of entire species slaved to the Tau, Grungi. Are you telling me that there are dissidents even amongst their own race? Yes. OShovah and his warriors have killed more Unity forces than you or I ever could. They have razed entire outpost worlds in their prime. Of the entire Eastern Fringe, only the Farsight Enclaves remain free of Unity rule. Believe me, this ship is about as close to the Enclaves as a vessel could get, without finding itself blasted into dust. They have resisted for hundreds of years, Bone-priest, and no one save for they themselves know how they have managed to achieve this.

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Codian did not answer. Despite his suspicious nature, he found himself intrigued. More than anything, his thirst for answers was stronger than ever. Introduce us then, Demiurg. Grungi nodded and started towards the waiting Tau, Codian and the others close behind. The Demiurgs pace was swift and Codians stride was long, and within the space of a few moments they were before the xenos contingent. An uneasy silence settled over the scene. The Chaplain found his gaze drawn to the warrior at the centre of the gathering. He was of obvious great age, a fact made apparent by the gnarled, leathery texture of his facial skin. He regarded Codian with milky, age-old eyes, and as he did so his hand tightened around the blade of the massive curved sword standing upright before him. Codian looked at the weapon and found himself fascinated by it. Grungi was the first to speak. He tipped his head abruptly and gestured towards Codian, a motion obviously for the benefit of the Tau at the head of the gathering. This is Codian, the guela warrior. Apparently hes causing quite a stir back on Tau. The wizened Tau looked him up and down, his black eyes twinkling. Codian noticed the fading lattice of scars that crisscrossed his wrinkled skin. One of the largest split his top lip, revealing a good portion of the bony plate that served as his teeth. when he spoke, it gave his voice an odd, muffled lisp. So, the rumours are true. He said, leaning on the massive blade. His deep voice was tinged with pain, as if even the act of speaking caused his punished body some discomfort. The once-mighty empire of the guela teeters of the brink of destruction, and yet there is one warrior who gives the Ascended Ones pause to consider. You are an interesting enigma. You are the one they call Farsight. Codian answered. I am. The xenos commander confirmed. As he did so Codian noticed the other Tau around him stiffen, hands drifting towards their weapons. Codian remained impassive. The Farsight? ShasO Viorla Shovah Kais Montyr. I see. Codian answered, the Taus answer completely mystifying him. He did however take the answer to be confirmation. As such, he found himself slightly confused. After a few moments pause, he spoke once more. I was given to understand that you requested a meeting with me, Tau. I confess, I do not know of you. We know of you, Codian. The warrior answered. This in turned coaxed a murmur of affirmation from the Tau around him. The one who had identified himself as Farsight leaned on the ornate blade and took in the Chaplain with a considering eye. We have heard the stories of the guela warrior who beat OMogdrak in single combat. The warrior who boarded the very flagship of ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon and survived. At that, he looked towards Gormat and nodded his head in the PorOs direction. And I assume that this is the ambassador you took from the under the noses of an entire Unity coalition. Word travels fast, guela. The Ethereals on Tau rage at the very mention of your name, and this pleases

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me. It is good to finally put a face to the name of Codian. The Chaplain bowed his head in response, quietly surprised to hear how widespread the knowledge of his exploits had become. I suspect, commander, that your wish to meet with me extends beyond a simple desire to see my face. Grungi here informs me that you have grave information concerning the movements of the Unity fleets. Yes. Farsight answered, his expression darkening. I have fought the rule of the Ethereals for hundreds of years, far beyond the limits of my mortal lifespan. My people are slaves, Codian, and it took the deaths of the Auns leading our original expedition to realise that. I have discovered many dark truths about my race. The Tau are a lie. He speaks the truth. Gormat interjected, taking a step forward. We exist but to be deceived by those we had looked upon as nigh divine. Our Ethereals are nothing more than slavers. They bend us to their every whim and they do so with a dark and insidious influence. What the Tau race have done to this galaxy, Codian, they have done so through manipulation and genetic duress. We do not want to conquer these stars through violent expansion and genocide. Those ideas have been infused into our very being by the rulers of our race. OShovahs eyes narrowed as he listened to the Por. A slow realisation crept across his wizened face. You. He whispered. He signalled for one of the Tau with him to take hold of the large blade and then walked over to meet with Gormat. PorO Tolku Ko Gormat, former Envoy Prelate. Farsight answered with a curt nod and looked the Por up and down. He leaned in closer in order to better scrutinise the minute scarring marking the envoys face. You. You were of the Unity. You are free of the influence of the Ethereals now, arent you? I see it in your scars. I am. Gormat answered. I am no longer under any control other than my own. I see the truth as you do, commander. I also see that the lies painted by the Ethereal Caste as the falsehoods they are. You are no traitor, OShovah, and I salute you. OShovah ruminated upon this as he returned to his weapon and grasped it for support. After a few moments of contemplative thought he looked to the Chaplain once more. The Bentusin trusts you, he gestured at Grungi, and so it would seem that I have cause to trust you too. It is with this in mind that I bring a warning. Codian stiffened as he heard this. He knew instinctively that what he was about to hear would not bide well for his efforts. He was right. The Unity are mobilising. Something big is happening, Codian. Somethingportentous. The fleet you know as Kraken is on the move. It is already beyond the empire and is heading for your capital world, guela. We suspected as much. Codian answered. At this, OShovah shook his head. No, this is far more than a simple realignment of forces. The forces of the Unity are literally pouring from the borders of the empire to join this growing crusade. For the first time in almost six hundred of your guela years has the enemys presence around the Enclaves slackened. The Unity is steadily abandoning their war

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against us, Codian. No longer are our borders harried by their presence. There can be no mistake. They intend to take your capital world as their own. The Chaplain, as chilling as this news was, did not blanche at hearing this. In truth, he had expected no less. He nodded slowly as he took this latest news in. We had expected as much. I thank you for your warning, OShovah. At least now our suspicions have been confirmed. The Fire Caste commander shifted uneasily, as if the Chaplains answer had not been enough. I think you misunderstand me. The Unity has never before mobilised so to this extent before. We have already taken several small outposts on the edges of our system, and as yet we have seen no retaliatory action. We have already undertaken several raids deeper into the empire. The system defences are powerful, but ultimately automated. Whatever is happening is so immense that there are simply not enough Tau left behind to defend their own outer borders. So, the Unity seem to be committing everything they have to this assault. Codian opined. So much so that they would even allow their own borders to weaken to see victory at Terra. Tell me, commander. Why are the Tau of the Unity so desperate to take the Imperial homeworld? Do they wish to see Terra destroyed, or do they have darker plans for the seat of the Emperor? No one truly knows the plans of the Ethereals, except for they themselves, but I can tell you this. If they had wanted to see your origin world destroyed, they would have found a way to achieve this by now. Be warned, Codian. Such a display of might, if gathered to move against the Enclaves, would have seen my own small empire annihilated many times over. This is a move of desperation, and it is more dangerous for the Unity than most of their enemies would realise. Codian nodded slowly and began to pace up and down before the gathered Tau, considering all he had been told. So, you are telling me that this crusade is a far larger gamble than any of us would have suspected. The Unity is effectively abandoning its own home systems in an attempt to add strength to the vast fleets that are heading for Terra. OShovah tipped his head in confirmation of this. You and I are fighting the same war against the same enemy, Codian. They call me Farsight, and yet it has taken this much for me to see that racial differences cannot make our people enemies. All I want is the opportunity to take my race back, to restore the old ideals. We will strike out to reclaim the empire soon, and we can do it. I need your word as a representative of the guela that, should you find a way to stop the Unity, you will not come seeking retribution. I will give mine that the borders of the empire will not expand beyond their original boundaries, and that the Tau will not seek to take guela worlds as their own through violence and conflict. I tire of war, Codian, and I am not long for this existence. I need to know that my descendants have a future. I need to know that what I have planned for my people is not in vain. I cannot guarantee that. Codian answered darkly. I cannot speak for the Imperium as a whole. I am an outcast now, as are you. Circumstances have forced me into exile, and now I must fight that war on my own terms. If I could give you my word then I would, but I cannot. What I can promise is that I will do everything in my power to try and prevent it. Very well. OShovah said. Then make me a promise. He lifted the massive blade with surprising ease and walked over to the Chaplain. Codian looked on as the

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Tau placed the ancient weapon across his hands and offered it to him. This is the Dawn Blade. Take it. I dont understand Take it. Farsight said again. It has served me well for so long. The time has come for us to part ways, and I offer it to you. Codian took the weapon and found himself stunned at how light the blade was in his hands. Despite its size its balance in his grasp was perfect. He stepped back and tested its swing. The blade seemed to shimmer as he twisted and swung it, a glittering light playing around the ornate carvings on its sides. The hilt felt warm to the touch, and as the seconds passed, he became aware of a faint buzzing at the centre of his mind. You seem suited. OShovah observed with a nod. That is good. Together you will slay many enemies. What is it that I can feel? Codian asked. The Dawn Blade has power. Do not ask me to explain its origins, Codian, for I cannot. What I can tell you is that it will both protect and sustain you. It can heal as well as kill. How do you think it is that I have lived for so long? Codian heard this and frowned. What will happen to you now? I will die. OShovah answered matter-of-factly. But I have lived long enough. It is time now for my descendents to take the reins and continue our war. Our fight is far from ended. You asked me to make you a promise. I did. I ask that you take the Dawn Blade and do with it what I have not been able to achieve. I ask you to kill AunVa, and end the slavery of my people once and for all. I do not know of this individual. Codian answered. But I will assume that this AunVa is high up in the Unitys command structure. The highest. He is the Prime Ethereal, the First Ascended, and he is a murderer and a tyrant. Your paths will cross, guela. I promise you that. Then I will kill him. You have my word. At this, OShovah bowed his head and then looked to the Tau behind him. I hope so. He said quietly. For all our sakes. Farewell, Codian. OShovah bade his farewells to the Demiurg and then turned to leave without a further word, heading back towards the small collection of waiting craft. Codian said nothing, and it was several minutes before he felt a hand upon his shoulder and he craned his neck to see Czevaks face, his features tight with concern. The blade, Chaplain. Codian looked down at the mysterious weapon in his hand and froze. It had reduced to almost a third of its original size, much to his astonishment. He had not even realised it.

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What manner of daemonic weapon is that? He heard the Cadian hiss. Czevak shook his head slowly. It is no daemon weapon. I recognise the design. That blade is Eldar in origin. The Chaplain stared at the Dawn Blade in quiet wonder. The shimmering runes set into its sides lit his eyes as he regarded them. What in he Emperors name am I supposed to do now? He whispered to himself.

Chapter Eighty Six: Light's Fall, Shadow Rising

+++THE FORTRESS OF AGES+++ +++CARIS ESTARUS+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Grand Master Zadkiel Reinhold beheld the advance of his brethren in silence. Wherever he turned he could see shining silver armour amongst the enemy filth, proud and pure. This pleased him. He shifted his attention to the kneeling Terminators before him. Each warrior had his head bowed, BrotherCaptains one and all, awaiting his word. He looked at each of them in turn and took a deep breath, imbibing the pride of the moment. Never before had he commanded such a collective force of Knights in his existence, Grand Master or no. Reinhold was centuries old, so old in fact that even he could not recall his true age. In all that time he had not known a gathering of such might ever to have taken place. Not since Anggrath the Foul had last soiled the stars with his vile presence had so many of his brothers come together. This was a glorious day, as celebrated as it was dark. I can give but one order here today. He uttered, raising his mighty double-bladed halberd up and out towards the distant, towering Greater Daemon. Destroy it, utterly and without quarter. As one the company commanders saluted and rose, determined to follow the Grand Masters command unto death. Reinhold bowed his head to each of the ancient warriors, his piercing blue eyes and ebony skin framed by the polished silver of his open-faced mail headpiece. The Grand Master always took to the battlefield with his face revealed to the enemy where he could, for he had vowed that he would hide his face from no foe. His gaze carried the weight of the Emperors judgement. Reinholds Brother-Captains made to rejoin their squads, leaving the Grand Master alone with the hulking warriors of his own retinue. One of the Terminators bowed his head and pointed the blade of his nemesis sword out towards the skies. My lord, the Unity forces are retreating. The Grand Master followed the gesture and saw for himself that his comrade was right. Thousands of Unity ships were rising and falling, fighting their way through the churning aerial conflict. Dropships. He took in the surrounding vista, watching as his own ships engaged the fleeing Unity craft. Thunderhawks screamed

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through the dropship fleet, blasting craft from the skies with unmatchable ferocity and zeal. Burning debris rained down upon the roiling battlefield, increasing the body count even further. Let them retreat. He said, dismissing the vast numbers of the enemy with a wave of his hand. We all have but one concern here this day. Our nemesis is the daemon, and those who would seek to bring such abominations into our reality. Let them take precedence. Kill if you are threatened, or if you see the guns of the enemy turn upon your brother. Otherwise, only Anggrath and his ilk are worthy of our attentions. Reinhold swept his cloak back away from his feet and cast around to look upon the crimson-skinned fiend, the very countenance of Anggrath sending hatred boiling through his veins. To battle! He commanded. Around him, the warriors of his retinue obeyed. The Grand Master led the charge, his feet hammering the parched ground beneath. He raised his nemesis glaive and held it before him like a spear, bracing the haft beneath one arm. His sonorous voice carried over the tumult as he began to recite the Canticle of Absolution, strengthening both his own will and those of his men against the abominations presence. Praise the Emperor for his sacrifice, as He endures so shall we! We who are the Hunters of Daemons, shall strive in his name eternally! Replied his warriors as one, preparing their weapons ready to meet the foe. The advance of the Terminators was thunderous and resounding. The Grand Master led them past a hunting Purgation squad. He felt the wash of heat as sanctified promethium ignited at the corner of his eye, purging whatever unholy creature the incinerators wielder had turned his attention to. Each and every individual act of cleansing he witnessed served to further strengthen and steel his spirit, for it brought with it the knowledge that another foul denizen of the warp had been sent back to that loathsome hell-dimension. We the Order of the Hammer, shall delve into the Dark Shadows! He cried, tightening his grip on the palm-mounted trigger of his storm bolter. We shall seek out the Tainted, we shall pursue the Vilest Evil! His brethren answered. He bared his teeth as he saw the foul agents of the enemy ahead, warriors who had once been counted amongst the defenders of the Imperium. He could restrain himself no longer with them in sight and he thrust his arm out before him, allowing his hatred to tighten his grip. The storm bolter rocked on its mount, sending a hail of blessed bolts out at the enemy squad. Corrupt Marines fell before the salvo, their desecrated armour torn and punctured. Dark blood spread through the air like mist. Return fire pattered off the ancient armour of the Grey Knights, scoring black grooves into the polished plate but causing little further damage. Behind him Brother Ephalrus caught a bolt to the face and stumbled, the explosion causing him to falter. He shook his head and bore on, pale azure mist curling about his helm where the armours inbuilt energy field had dissipated both the force of the impact and the resultant explosion. It is we who stand guard, our Eternal Watch shall not fail! For we are the Ordo Malleus! The Terminators answered, and together they thundered into and through the chaos Marines, leaving broken corpses and body parts in their wake. Reinhold led his men on, not one Terminator even faltering as they carved through the traitor Marines. Blades flashed and bolters hammered, shattering ceramite all around them. Bethos took a glancing blow to the shoulder from a power fist, enough to throw his body back and see the shield of his Insignium Valoris spin away into the enemy mass. The offender was cut in two from hip to shoulder for the affront.

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The Grand Master had not engaged a single enemy at close quarters. This was a tradition he had held with those of his retinue for hundreds of years. He had decreed that his glaive would taste nothing but the unholy flesh of the daemonic, and that the blood of living foes was unworthy to stain its shining blades. So it was that each of his brethren had taken an oath to fight to preserve the sanctity of the nemesis glaive at all costs, so that its purity would be absolute and its edge flawless when it finally came to facing whatever denizen had drawn them from Titan. We Grey Knights are the Hammers, we slay the Darkness without fear! Founded in great mystery were we, Chapter six hundred and sixty six! The squad bounded through the remnants of the fleeing squad as the psycannons of the following Purgation squad finished off the scattering survivors. Reinholds lead brought the squad to a series of crumbling, lichen-encrusted arches and he led them through, the charge causing stone and dust to tumble free of the ancient stone. Beyond the archway boulevard he could see the darkness ahead, and he knew that they were closing upon their foe. Though on Titan we may be hidden, yet our eyes encompass the Galaxy! No Devil shall avoid our gaze, no Daemon shall avoid its fate! He could feel the flickering flames of the power of his faith building within him, as it was within his brothers. Together their prayers were slowly building their collective inner strength, and this in turn served to invigorate them and infuse them with potent energy. Reinholds eyes narrowed as he felt the suppressive aegis energies of his armour thicken and crackle. A second later the familiar knot of pressure tightened at the centre of his mind and he stiffened, knowing only too well what was to come next. The stench of fresh blood assailed him at the very same moment that the creatures stepped from the darkness and into the gloom, black smoke belching in their wake. Reinhold spied the smouldering iron axes in their clawed hands and spat in disgust. The creatures were as unmistakeable as they were loathsome. Bloodletters, the base minions of Khorne, willing slaves to his murderous creed. Each one was easily a match for a Grey Knight warrior, but as powerful as these monstrosities were, they were no match for the Grand Master and his finest. We shall be the Keepers Immortal, all Secrets shall be our knowledge! Reinhold cried, charging forward. We are the Guardians of Mankind! His men answered, engaging the daemons with bolter and sword. The Grand Masters glaive was finally brought into action, now that there were daemonic foes to fight. He thrust the weapon through the belly of the nearest Bloodletter and withdrew it, watching as the daemon convulsed and then unravelled into smoke before him. Caution and secrecy are our code, he twisted sharply at the waist and beheaded another fiend, watchfulness and patience are our way! One the return stroke he smashed aside the glowing axe of a third crimson-skinned hulk and put a bolt round through its face, causing it to stagger back. Hidden from the Eyes of Chaos, we strike without warning or dread! To his side Brother Lehnsor stumbled and fell, only to be quickly swamped by a host of roaring bodies. The daemonic axes of the enemy rose and fell, ringing against the ancient plate of his armour. The others reacted quickly, responding to their comrades plight.

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Romeaz wrapped his fingers around the bestial horns of one of the daemons and flung it back before plunging his halberd through the back of anothers skull. Urim thrust his fist into a glowering face and fired his storm bolter, sending greasy viscera spattering across his shining armour. The Grand Master continued his prayers despite the turmoil of the conflict. Only by completing the Canticle would he and his warriors benefit from the unmatchable mental and physical purity it would bestow upon them. Though we find ourselves in Shadows, no Blackness will enter our Hearts! No treachery will touch our souls, no pride will sully our thoughts! We shall be Pure amongst Impurity, we shall be Innocence amongst Guilt! We are the Imperiums Hidden Saviours! He drove the glaive through another foe, pinning the daemon to the crumbling wall. He let go of the weapon and turned, blocking a downward strike with his forearm. He reached forward and wrapped his hand around the daemons throat, the very touch of his fingers causing the blood-wet skin beneath them to smoulder and burn. We are spread across the Heavens, our watch is untiring and ceaseless! As he spoke he focused his mind, and as the words left his mouth they became deep and thick. The Emperor shall guard our Souls, as we Guard those of others! His men chorused behind him. The Bloodletter snarled and began to writhe, but it was as if it was fast, unable to break the Grand Masters grip. A pure white light shone from Reinholds eyes and mouth as the daemons skin blackened and came away like ash drifting on the breeze. Within the space of a few seconds the creature came apart, its unnatural form breaking down into thousands of blackened pieces by the Grey Knights indomitable will. The Grand Master pivoted and pulled his blade free, its victim long since banished. His brothers were busy finishing the last of the enemy off, plunging their blades into the fallen daemons even as they dissipated, screaming, back to the Immaterium. A sudden and ominous darkness fell over the scene, blotting out what little light had thus far managed to penetrate the archway corridor. Reinhold looked up and saw it, the towering Greater Daemon. Anggraths wings were massive, huge enough to envelop the weak sunlight above. Just visible between the curved tops of the lichen-covered arches, the daemon continued in its orgy of destruction, its vast arms rising and falling as it murdered its way through both the Grey Knights and the retreating Tau. Our will shall be our weapons, our faith shall be our armour. He uttered, his voice heavy in an undisguised antipathy. As one, the heads of his brethren turned to look upon the towering daemon. Our minds will be secure fortresses, no Temptation will weaken our resolve. At that Reinhold bowed his head and together the Grey Knights made their way towards the conflict that would shape the destiny of the galaxy. They would win. They had to. +++ The scream of Orca engines drowned out the sounds of the battle raging around him. Okirla deactivated his pulse staff and retracted the long haft before fixing it to his belt. He half closed his eyes as the loose

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earth swirled around him, buffeting his scarred face. A swift glance out into the sprawling compound confirmed that the silver warriors of the Imperium were embroiled in conflict with the chaos forces, so much so that they were largely ignoring the retreating Tau and their allies. He looked to the far end of the compound at the large, ugly carriers of the Begelvesa. The creatures were swiftly withdrawing en masse into the vast holds of the craft, under the direction of OMogdrak, the brute commander. He snarled and turned away to regard the dead Marine at his feet, the burning revulsion he had felt at looking upon the crude Begelvesa draining away. His single eye glistened with undisguised lust, as if the corpse before him were some mouth-watering delicacy. He bent at the knee and raised his arm, turning the Grey Knight onto his back as he did so. A smooth, hollow-tipped spike slid from the case around his wrist and he plunged the extractor into the flexible neck ring of the Knights armour. He threw his head back and let out a long, hissing breath, his scarred cheeks quivering in ecstasy. Several seconds passed before the warrior withdrew the spike and let it slide back into its housing. The shoaunores flowed through him, sending his muscles into spasm. He lurched back on his haunches and snarled, feeling the invigorating power of the guelas flawless geneseed coursing through him. It was an experience unlike anything else, a surge of purity like nothing he had known. Cramps raged through his limbs, forcing him down onto his knees. His fingers constricted, raking grooves through the ash. Dark saliva trickled from his mouth and his breath came in great ragged gasps. A blinding white light filled his vision, causing everything around him to shimmer and soften. He could hear nothing save for a deep and distant roar and it was the sound of his own blood, surging through his veins. For an instant, less than a second, the seed set his veins on fire with enough potency to burn everything else away, even the suffocating gene-influence of the Ethereals. It was as if he could feel every muscle, every organ in his body writhing with infused strength. The feeling passed quickly, however, so quickly it was as if the light and the noise and the pain just disappeared. OKirla was left kneeling where he had fallen, invigorated and restored, yet somehow hollow. Changed, like an addict. He had endured the ceaseless hunger for geneseed so long now and yet this was different, much more intense. OKirla! Commander! A number of Shas Kayon came marching towards him as he rose, still breathing heavily. He ignored the calls, or otherwise he did not even hear them, as he scoured the surrounding carnage, looking for another of the fallen silver warriors. The Shas Kayon continued to call for him to no avail and when they finally reached the towering warrior one of them placed a hand on his shoulder. Comman OKirla let out an animalistic scream and threw himself around. By the time he was face to face with the warrior his pulse staff was drawn and extended. The warrior fell away, bisected by the blow. OKirla watched his victim fall and looked to his comrades, his expression wild and terrible. As one, the Shas Kayon backed away. Honoured Shas, please One of them pleaded with him, raising his hands. It is I, Koryas! Compose yourself, I implore you!

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At hearing this the dangerous light in OKirlas eye looked to fade and he lowered his weapon. He shook his head and looked at the Shas Kayon, concern at his actions slowly seeping into his expression. Fools! Why would you disturb me whilst I am harvesting? You all should know how dangerous such an action can be. The warriors bowed their heads in apology. Forgive us, commander, but something is happening. Somethingunexplainable. Look around you. OKirla answered with a sneer. We fight the forces of chaos. Unexplainable is exactly what we are taught to expect from these creatures. The warrior named Koryas shook his head and moved closer to the commander, albeit tentatively. No, this is something else. He pointed out beyond the massed dropships to where the walls of the outer bastion dominated the horizon. The skies beyond them were almost black, tempestuous and foreboding. The Umbra are acting strangely. OKirla sneered as he heard this. The Umbra are an enigma to all but the Ethereals, Koryas. To even try and attempt to consider them can bring nothing but madness. They havent retreated yet, commander. They usually withdraw with the ships but this time they have not. We saw them acting strangely, gathering The Shas Kayons voice trailed away as he struggled to articulate what he was trying to say. They were dancing, swirling, II cannot explain it. I have never seen its like before. As they gathered the shadows continued to fall around them. Now we cannot even see them. None of the ships dare venture near the building phenomenon. What is more, I have received word from the fleet. They say the Nicassar have fallen to madness, as have many of the guela seers. Those that are still coherent say that the actions of the Umbra are to blame. OKirla was only half listening to the concerned Shas Kayon. He continued to look out over the corpses around them, searching through the fallen for the telltale glint of silver. The Umbra are not our concern. Let them stay behind on this decrepit orb and rot. Follow me, all of you. There is time to harvest yet before we leave this place.

Chapter Eighty Seven: Ancient

Reinhold shuddered, an instinctive reaction that caused him to slow. The entire battlefield was alive with variable psychic activity of two extremes, both potent and oppressively negative. This however, was far different. This was a sensation far beyond that of the singular, collective purity of his gathered brethren. It was beyond the pervasive atmospherics of the sorcery and witchcraft of the chaos legions and the presence of the daemonic. It was a surge so powerful that it rose beyond even the

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presence of the Lord of Bloodthirsters. Beyond him, the mighty Greater Daemon paused in its slaughter and cast around, sniffing at the air. Its burning eyes looked towards the impenetrable darkness beyond. Though unnumbered lurking perils await us, our blades will ever be ready. Reinhold whispered. For we are the Emperors Vengeance! His warriors replied, thrusting their blades above their heads. The Grey Knights broke into a run once more, passing beneath the last of the archways and out into the sprawling compound. They were behind Anggrath now, and passing into the Greater Daemons wake was like following the trail of a downed strike cruiser. Carnage was scattered before them. War machines and bodies lay broken and cast aside wherever they looked. Reinhold vaulted the downed shell of a corrupt Dreadnought and then ducked low, passing through the gutted shell of an Iron Warriors Land Raider. Masters of all weapons are we, no defence exists against our wrath! With the Nemesis shall we fight, with an Aegis to shield us! Closer now. Here the ground smouldered, the very footprints of the daemon hot and smoking. He led the squad through a choking black pall of smoke and on, gaining on the abomination with the passing of each second. In bloodshed shall we save Mankind, Death shall be our Everlasting Creed! War Unending shall be our fate, in battle shall we be steeped! Reinhold could feel every fibre of his being urging him on. It was almost as if he himself held little control over his advance, as if he could not turn away from the inevitable conflict if he wanted to. To banish this fiend back to the warp was his reason for existence, just as his lungs existed only to draw air and his hearts existed to beat. We shall be unstinting in Hatred, we shall hunger for Holy War! For we are the Swords of Justice! Mere minutes would see them at Anggraths feet now. At this distance, the roar of the daemon shook them from their stride, causing feet to stumble and readouts to blur. Reinhold focused his mind and pushed himself on, unwilling to give the abomination even an inch. When all flee in hideous disarray, strong and sound shall we stand! Cowardice is wholly unknown to us, our courage comes from the Emperor! He braced his glaive beneath his arm and glanced either side of him; giving a gesture of acknowledgement to each warrior he could see. He knew with neither doubt nor compunction that this would be the last time he looked upon some of these men alive. Unbowed and unshaken against all foes, we shall claim victory with blood! He shouted, shaking his free fist in the air. Steady and surely we hunt them, those that dare oppose our wrath! His men replied. Far above, the towering Anggrath loomed.

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Reinhold was the first to reach his foe. He drew his glaive back and thrust it into the back of the daemons calf, the resultant connection so powerful that it send shockwaves of pure white energy rippling out away from the point of impact. The Grand Master let out a long, resonating roar as he drove the blade deep into daemonic flesh. Light poured from his mouth and eyes, as if he were a thing of energy encased in a shell of flesh. The crimson skin around the blade blackened and flaked, drifting away from the wound. Death stalks us in many forms, the grotesque and the utterly inhuman! We are the Bringers of Hope! One by one the blades of the others joined his own, and within seconds the Grey Knights were surrounded by a flurry of black ash, the stuff swirling and billowing about them as if thrown about by some ethereal storm. Anggrath railed at the attempted banishment. The daemon threw its head back and bellowed in pain, its unholy flesh punished by the combined might of the ten shining warriors. Their efforts were far from enough. The daemon swung its leg away from the Grey Knights with such fury that it took Gavreel and his blade along with it. By the time the warrior let go of his halberd it was too late; the Grey Knight twisted away and out of sight, thrown like a leaf on the wind. Anggrath spread its wings wide and blocked out the light as it turned to regard the warriors at its feet, eyes burning with hatred. Reinhold backed away, snarling at his own failure. Bloody battles unending constantly await us, redemption the reward for our vigilance! When Possession rears its unspeakable head, ours is the blade that descends! The only voice not to complete the response prayer was that of Brother Xaphan. He lowered both his sword and his incinerator and looked up to see the dark shadow descending rapidly above him. Anggraths hoof slammed into him, driving him into the ground. Seconds later the Greater Daemon screamed as holy promethium erupted from beneath him, driving his foot back. Anggrath withdrew and Xaphan rose, sparks and guttering energy coruscating about him, his armour crushed and rent in a dozen places. The bladethat descends. The Grey Knight gasped, finishing the sentence. Reinhold leapt back and slashed the glaive across the daemons shin, drawing a spray of burning blood from the wound. The Bloodthirsters response was swift and brutal. He flung his arm down across him and drew the lash through the reeling Knights, the strike scattering the warriors and cutting brave Urim in two. The Grand Master witnessed the warriors death and grimaced, forcing grief and shock to the farthest reaches of his mind. His soul cried out for the loss and yet he would not, could not falter, even for a moment. When Empyrean Horrors invade our realm, our Exorcisms shall hurl them back! There is no Chaos spawned horror, which can resist our indomitable anger! The warriors of his retinue were circling Anggrath now, taunting and goading him with hit and run attacks. Reinhold saw this and knew he had trained these men well. None of them stood more than a slim chance of beating the abomination in straight combat, not even him, but they all knew that they had to try and keep the Greater Daemon from taking flight, for if it did then there was a chance that it would get away from

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them. The combined presence of he and his warriors was the best chance they had of banishing the thing back to its hell. Reinhold gathered every ounce of mental strength he had and raised his fist, focusing all his vast mental powers upon the limb. A pure light began to build at the centre of his curled fingers, and within seconds the entire fist was no longer visible, lost at the centre of the blinding luminescence. He waited for his chance, watching as his warriors harried the fiend. Anggrath turned away and drove his axe into the ground, almost cutting Forcas in two. This was what he had been waiting for. He sprinted forward and drove his fist into the armoured leg of the Greater Daemon. The blow was charged with the energy and strength of the Emperor Himself and it brought the daemon down onto one knee, the very stuff it consisted of warping and rippling beneath the blow. With undaunted courage- he twisted at the waist and stepped back, ducking a second later as the axe of the enemy swept past his face, we shall prevail, no arcane magicks shall overcome us! We are the Bearers of Victory! Massive crimson legs swept past his vision and he darted between them, hacking and slashing as he passed. Maion was standing his ground before the beast, his psycannon hammering psychically-charged bolts up into the daemonic mass. Reinhold watched as the Marine was there one moment and the next was gone, swept away by the descending axe. The weapon returned again and almost took the life of Forcas for a second time. The Grey Knight stepped back and swung his thunder hammer into the passing blade, altering its murderous course at the last moment. The warrior then lowered his head and charged towards Reinhold, his vast arms swinging. Before the Grand Master knew what was happening the warrior barged into him and knocked him aside. The daemons vast lash bounced as it tumbled to the ground behind Forcas, throwing dust high into the air. As he tumbled away Reinhold caught flashes of the warrior flinging his hammer about him again and again, trying to smash the descending hand away. By the time he came to rest and managed to haul himself up, the warrior was gone. The body of Forcas crashed into the ground a moment later, followed by his thunder hammer and storm shield. His head never followed. The Grand Master sprinted around the daemons legs and cut another deep groove through its stinking flesh. No corruption shall blemish our Galaxy, no Immaterial Fiend shall be spared! No Malevolent Spirit will oppose us, no Creation of Sin shall survive! The daemons very presence was beginning to tell upon him. A dull ache pounded at the centre of his mind, a combination of the sheer antipathy of the Bloodthirsters existence and his own psychic efforts thus far. Anggrath descended as he came about. A massive hand reached for the discarded lash and a horrific, bestial face loomed into view. The Lord of Bloodthirsters cast around to look upon the Grand Master with depthless, hate-filled eyes. Reinhold felt his soul twist and tighten as he beheld the fiends repulsive countenance.

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He could suffer no such sight for even a moment and he acted on instinct, sending a hail of bolt rounds into the daemons leering face. Anggrath rose sharply, burning flesh and greasy matter falling like rain in its wake. The scream of approaching engines slashed through his mind and he braced himself, sensing what was coming. The Thunderhawk streaked past, the force of its passing tearing at him. Hellstrike missiles slammed into the daemon and detonated, engulfing it in burning flame. Lascannon beams lit the skies as they tore through Anggrath, leaving behind smouldering craters in its daemonic flesh. More Grey Knights were joining the fight now, the selfless charge of the Grand Master providing the perfect opportunity for them to approach with relative safety. Purgation squads assailed the Greater Daemon with sanctified bolt and flame. Brothers poured from the surrounding carnage to face the abomination, determined and unafraid. Bethos fell, his legs disintegrated by a pass with the lash that reaped Knights like grass. The Marine spun away, his ancient armour losing its remaining integrity. Reinhold saw this and struck out with a surge of pure psychic force, fixing his gaze on the reeling Knights before him. He visualised an impenetrable wall surrounding the Knights, potent and impassable to the attentions of the Greater Daemon. The effort of doing this wracked his body and his mind with pain. His efforts were rewarded however on the weapons return swing. The massive braided whip crashed against a wall of sheer invisible force, staggering those Knights within its protective embrace but otherwise saving them from any serious harm. Reinhold was brought to his knees by the psychic backlash. Bright blood burst from his nose to patter against his silver gorget. Pain flooded through his quivering limbs but he ignored it and rose once again, his efforts successful. No Unholy Deed shall go unpunished, all Blasphemous Acts shall be Atoned! He shouted, raising his glaive above his head. No Spawn of Misrule avoids us, all are bound to the Void! Came the reply, a hundred times louder and stronger than before. +++ It was Skahlaxx who made the kill. His plasma gun flared from the shadows, the discharge lighting up his hidden form for less than a split second. The Grey Knight rose from attending the body of his fallen comrade and looked his way, their eyes meeting for less than the space of a heartbeat. Then a blinding light encompassed the warrior and blew him off his feet, scattering his head and arms away from him as the plasma burned his torso to cinders. Skahlaxx led the whooping Night Lords from the cover of the crumbling outbuilding and shook the gun above his head, celebrating the kill. He sprinted over to the Knights smouldering helm and lifted it up for his brothers to see, bathing in the victory of the execution. See how easily the Emperors finest fall to our guns! He hissed, casting the head aside. He waved the gun towards the towering daemon far beyond them, the eyes of his helm illuminated with the burning light of exhilaration. The Tau are as sensible as they are cowardly. They know that they stand no chance of victory here. The rest of the dark warriors followed his gaze out towards the distant Greater Daemon. Only one of the squad did not.

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Morcellons eyes shifted towards the darkness behind them, attracted by the low rumbling quivering the ground beneath their feet. He lowered his bolter slowly as he craned his neck to look out into the shifting darkness, sensing rather than seeing whatever it was that churned behind the void. Skahlaxx He whispered, trying as best he could to tear his attention away from the churning wall of shadow. Neither the champion nor the rest of his squad responded. Slowly, almost painfully, he cast around to look at the others. Skahlaxx! The call was louder this time, enough to attract the others. They turned in time to see the black appendage spear from the void and envelop Morcellon. The huge fanged maw snapped shut around the Marine and dragged him back into the darkness without a sound, leaving them stunned. Skahlaxx lifted his plasma gun and fired a salvo of searing blasts out into the mass, backing away as he did so. The others followed his lead, raking the shadow wall with bolter fire. The shots simply sank into the void, leaving behind no traces of damage. The Night Lord champion cast his gun aside and drew his power sword as the others turned to run. More of the monstrous appendages speared from the mass to attack the Marines. One punched through the stomach of a warrior before curling in on itself to pluck another off his feet, carrying them swiftly back into the impenetrable shadow. The champion swung his crackling sword about him, hacking at the questing black tendrils. He cut through a bladed tentacle and sent its punished remains twisting back, the severed section evaporating swiftly into nothing. Within moments, only he and one other remained. A massive grasping claw speared from the mass and snatched the other Night Lord off his feet. The warrior was dragged, screaming, into the roiling shadow. Less than a moment later the empty shell of his ceramite armour landed at the feet of the champion. Skahlaxx of the Night Lords lowered his sword and looked to the black horror that was the phenomenon before him. He knew he was dead.

Chapter Eighty Eight: The Last of the First

On shadows-end shall the [ssaak] be lifted. On shadows-end shall [Slah-haii] legacy rise from beneath, ever to bask as before. When [Slah-haii] lost, when [Slah-haii] suffer [threefold? spec] trials, only one did brace, did [defy? linger? spec]. [Qah] did suffer to bring brood to better weather [Yaam-khoh] all-murder. No more to thrive beneath star, instead to shift in [ssaak] and skulk, forever dissimilar. So would [Qah] brood exist beneath all-murder. So would [Qah] brood wait, beneath [ssaak] to lurk unseen, await [Qah] final work. [Them-From Mind? spec] devour life, to force [Yaam-khoh] to sleep. [Qah] enter [other-void? spec] to exterminate [Them-From-Mind spec?].

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[Qah] did suffer there. [Qah] did suffer a shattering, born of infant scream of [Orrehmash]. Brood did not lament. [Raheed-skoh] shall see [Qah] return, and brood shall sing of this reunion. Brood will rise again, and [Raheed] shall once more gather to answer his call. ++++++++ =I= ++++++++ Above is a transcript taken from what we believe to be a Hrud data prism of an indeterminable but suspected great age. It has taken my best xenolinguitor servitor over six months to translate the text to the format you currently see before you. KEY: [ ] These words are currently untranslatable. [?spec] The translation here is probable at the very best. I would advise readers to regard these translations as suggestions, until more definite paraphrases are uncovered. Addendum: A further breakthrough has been made with regards to the untranslatable parts of the text. As such, I am able to offer my own interpretation on this most enigmatic of xenos texts. I humbly place this analysis in the hands of those authorised to read this. Summary: A curious account, no doubt a result of the enigmatic nature of the xenos race we know of as the Hrud. I have assimilated the information uncovered here and thus attempted my own efforts at translating this text. Here it is. I only hope that my attempts serve to shed a little light on this most ancient and baffling recount. The Hrud will rise from obscurity, from the shadows of their existence, so to speak. Perhaps to return to former glories? At this stage we cannot know if this mysterious race ever held a position of racial power that far exceeds that of their current state. This is highly speculative. The legacy of the Hrud gods shall bear fruit. The deities of the Hrud suffered some unknown cataclysm at the hands of similarly unknown enemies, where most are suggested to have been exterminated, crippled or otherwise banished. Only one of their gods survived this disaster. The Hrud were exiled, perhaps, or otherwise chose to isolate themselves. This Qah is suggested to have been in the process of undertaking some final plan, to ensure the rise and restoration of the Hrud race. Here the account grows evermore obscure. Some other force, perhaps psychically attuned, descends upon races of the galaxy like a plague. Whatever these creatures are they force the enemies of the surviving Hrud gods to retreat. It is suggested that Qah entered what seems to be another realm of existence in order to deal with these creatures. Could this be the warp, or indeed some other unknown dimension? We cannot know for sure. Whether or not Qah succeeds is never recorded. He is sundered by some powerful yet unidentifiable entity of this dimension, whose identity is known only to the Hrud. The Hrud endure. There shall be a mighty and prophesised gathering that shall see them reunite as a race. Why, or indeed when this will occur, we cannot possibly speculate. Xenologist Obesius Caphratine. The Musings of the Xenos Sentient. Chapter IV: The Hrud. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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The Night Lord flung his sword away and took a step forward, unwilling to give in to fear despite the apparent inevitability of his death. Marines knew no true fear, and amongst the warriors of the Night Lords this was doubly so. The Night Lords were fear; they were the consummate masters of its application. No true son of the Night Haunter would bow his knee in the face of terror, for they had long since mastered such a concept. Take me then! Take me! He cried, smashing his fists against his chest. Show me the face that lies behind this shadow! I would look upon you, so that I may spit in your eyes! The darkness seemed to respond to this. The void thickened and pulsated, bulging towards him. Black limbs stretched from the shadow-storm to reach for him, multiplying like the heads of a hydra until, within the space of a few seconds, he was almost enveloped by a canopy of writhing, questing extremities. Skahlaxx regarded this and laughed, a genuine sentiment accented with an almost childlike wonder. He went as far as to reach up as if to touch the nearest tendril, only for the snaking thing to recoil before his touch, tentative and hesitant, like a wild animal initiating its first inquisitive human contact. Exquisite. He breathed, unable to keep himself from trying to observe every snapping maw, every coiling and serrated appendage. Such visual horror. So raw. So dark and visceral. What are you? There is no daemonancy at work here. This doesntit doesnt smell right. It doesnt fit. What manner of thing are you, shadow, to be so perfect as to transcend even the darkness of the Empyrean? At that the probing tentacles withdrew, coiling in on themselves with great speed until they were wholly absorbed by the shadow. The swirling void shrank in on itself with a swiftness the Night Lord struggled to follow, a terrible screaming quaking both the ground and the air with equal force, and within moments the shadows were gone. Skahlaxx released a quiet sigh of disbelief. Standing before him, at the very epicentre of the dissipated phenomenon, was a figure. The being regarded him with eyes as black as the void of space. A total and unbreakable silence surrounded the figure, so potent that the champion flinched, the deep silence ringing in his ears. The sounds of battle were no longer audible, not the slightest noise. It spoke, its psychic voice punching its way into his mind like a charging Titan. I linger no more. The Night Lord fell to his knees, staggered by the sheer force of the entitys psychic presence. He clutched his hands to his head and snarled, feeling the warmth of his own blood trickling down his lip. Gah! W-what are you I linger no more. The thing said again, its mind-voice thundering through Skahlaxxs thoughts. He fell to his hands and screamed, agony lancing through his brain. He raised his head through no casual effort of will and looked on as the figure began to walk towards him. Despite its proximity he struggled to focus upon it, his eyes refusing to fully acknowledge that it existed. All he could truly see were the eyes, the terrible, depthless eyes. Everything else seemed out of focus, distorted. Whenever he tried to focus on a particular point the being looked to blur. What are you?

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He fell to the ground, convulsing. Even through the pain he recognised his own voice, stolen and echoed by the creature. What are you? What manner of thing are you? Blood pooled in his eyelids, blinding him to the approach of the powerful entity. A sudden warmth soaked through his mind and he felt his arms first tingle and then disappear, as if he had never been born with them. Part of his face sank into the same state of numbness and he realised that he had suffered several aneurisms. His brain was beginning to shut down. He became aware, albeit distantly, of the sensation of movement. He started to rise, and before he knew it he was upright, suspended in the air like a marionette. What are you? It said again, its mind-voice softer now but still sending spears of pain lancing through his psyche. He could not reply. His ability to speak had been stolen from him. Though he cold not see he became aware of a sensation, a touch. Even through his helm he could feel cool fingers upon the faceplate of his helm. The next moment his helm was gone. Not removed but rather just gone, as if it had quite suddenly ceased to exist. He blinked, dispelling the thick, congealed barrier of dried blood from his eyes. Those dark and terrible eyes regarded him still, much closer now. Still war. Always war. Never will this change. Still fractured, inside. The dark creature raised a long, slender hand to its head and ran its fingers down its smooth face, blinking. Its eyes were huge; pools of void so potent Skahlaxx felt he could be lost in them, absorbed by them. As it spoke to his mind he shivered. The words were utterly alien to him and yet he understood them. He could feel his own psyche shifting, altering to accommodate the communication. It was an unnerving experience. What are you? It asked him again, genuinely intrigued by him. Are you an enemy of the Yaam-khoh? I saw the slave-thing. I know it is here, hidden behind its cloak of flesh, its cowl of false life. You would reveal to me the secrets of your existence. Skahlaxx screamed as he felt the creature flood his mind, saturating his thoughts, probing his darkest secrets. It was no pleasant experience. In that brief and sudden moment, the Marine was laid utterly open. The things vast eyes widened and it took a step back. He felt it drain from his thoughts, the numbing pain of its presence sinking away. The expression on its alien face was that of experiencing the most bitter of tastes or the most pungent of stenches. Its expression had changed, from one of curiosity to utter disdain. Hhhhh, vile thing. Abhorrence. You serve neither life nor the Yaam-khoh. You serve the bitch and her siblings. Another faction then, another foe intent on burning all that would be good and right. Fractured, inside, by her. I see his legacy in every cell of your being, and I see the flaws that allowed the darkness to seep in. Perhaps he was too late to save your race. For you, it is already far too late. You are damaged. Skahlaxx knew pain then. His screams lasted seconds before his ability to produce vocal sound was taken from him. Ceramite groaned as it compressed, folding in on itself as it was crushed by living darkness, compacting tighter and tighter until the Marines body was little more than a ball, a mass of bloodied flesh and armour.

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The remains of the Night Lord fell to the floor, a dark and perfect sphere. With that, the creature lifted its gaze and looked to the skies, its eyes narrowing. Fractured, inside. It whispered, regarding the twinkling lights of the retreating Tau ships. Slave-thing, where are you? An ethereal wind rose from nowhere to snatch at the creatures black robes. The garments quickly loosened, losing their integrity to become a shroud of impenetrable shadow. The dark miasma rose swiftly, swirling tendrils reaching like grasping arms for the sky. A moment later, the space was empty. +++ Berolinus let out a quiet sigh from between bared teeth. Never before in all his recollection had he felt so tense, on edge. The Primarch had not yet spoken a single word to him. At this moment in time he would be feeling rejected, perhaps even angered by this fact, were it not for the sheer anxiety he felt at the situation. He hadnt known what to expect once he finally came face to face with the resurrected Guilliman. The Primarch could have welcomed him with open arms or he could have killed him where he stood without a second thought. This, though, was unnerving, even for an Astarte. He had not known what to say, the sheer incredulity of the meeting stealing his voice away. The incident was still fresh in his mind, engrained upon his memory. His eyes. The Primarchs eyes had unnerved him. To him they had seemed as twin pools of void, black and alien as those of the Tau. Those eyes had fixed their gaze upon him and had remained there, the thoughts behind them unreadable. He had been only half aware of the angered cries of the other Marines as they had responded to his presence. They had wished to kill him. Guilliman would not allow it. He recalled hearing the booming command and resultant activity as those beneath him had responded to the Primarchs orders. He had allowed himself to be led to the waiting lander, ignoring his rough handling at the hands of the other warriors. He cared nothing for their hostility, a response he suffered even now. He let his head fall back against the quivering bulkhead and looked out across the large compartment. At the head of the bobbing helm-sea he could see the Primarch, head and shoulders above the rest, sat astride the command chair. His face was set in an implacable grimace of stone. The lander was still soaring skyward and, judging by the dull roar around him had just about hit the upper atmosphere. For the first time since he had come into the presence of Guilliman and his followers, he began to feel uneasy. What did they have planned for him? The mood felt universally hostile, and if this was indeed so, then what fate awaited him? He turned to look upon the figure sitting across from him, and it wasnt until he did so that he realised he had been under scrutiny for a while. The man was a strange sight, an ill-fitting piece of the puzzle. Here he was, surrounded by Marines, and yet, sitting across from him, was the same mysterious figure he had seen by the Primarchs side on the surface of the world. The mans face was utterly without emotion. Nothing about his visage betrayed even a trace of sentiment. He soon came to the conclusion that he could not divine the reasons behind the mans presence and so gave up.

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You. What will they do with me? He asked the figure, struggling to keep his voice level as the craft continued to shudder. The man continued to stare at him but did not answer. He hissed and looked away. He hadnt expected an answer. The merest flicker of shadow flashed at the corner of his eye The living darkness screamed its way into the hold of the Manta, sending forth a whispering ripple of pure force that froze everything it passed over. Guillimans eyes widened a fraction as every illuminator in the hold flickered and dimmed. A heartbeat later he sat immobile at the head of the gathering, the fingers of one hand suspended in the air above the hilt of his sword. Ralei leaned forward in his chair as far as the restraints would allow and looked around him. They are held. The voice seemed to startle him enough to cause his head to snap around to regard the dark figure standing at the rear of the compartment, in the space before the access iris. A nauseating emerald light flooded his eyes as he reached for the restraint releases and made to rise, his actions watched by the host of silent Marine statues around him. No sooner had the harness snapped back than his outline started to blur and quiver. No. The shadow-thing said. It raised a hand and the Inquisitor fell to the floor, shuddering vibrations wracking his body. Black limbs curled from the creatures miasma and lifted him up, resisting his every attempt to struggle free. Slave-thing. Lifeless one. Still your kind plague this galaxy. Gnnn, the hatred still burns brightly. The hunger remains unsatisfied. No matter. It is coming, slave-thing. Can you sense it? Do your masters know? I have spent much existence shattered, broken by the bitch. I am returned now, at last, and I will end this. The writhing man found himself being pulled closer to the entity, and as he neared his form began to flicker, patches of dull silver flashing across his face and body. Gnnn. You wear the face of a mammal, slave-thing. Why is that? The figure gestured around him at the immobile Marines, its long fingers trailing oily shadow after them. They fascinate me, these creatures. I have not seen their like before butahhh, yes, as I suspected. I know their heart, their core. I see his intent in them. The second birth was clumsy and of haste, but an ultimate success. Good. I would know more about the progeny, as I would of my own. Tell me, false one. Tell me of the fate of my children. Ralei did not answer. By know he had ceased in his efforts to escape and had fixed his captor with a cold and intense stare. The creature remained unmoved. Gnnn. Such misplaced loyalties. So be it. If I cannot see inside that which is false then I will see inside the others. The creature tilted its head back and fell silent, its aura writhing. Within seconds it lowered its head once again and, casting a fleeting glance towards Berolinus, looked back towards the Inquisitor. Curious. How could they not know, slave-thing? Is this trickery, or has this existence changed more than I had dared to suspect? Such boundless evil, hidden so deeply within life. Have our legacies become less than dust? He pointed a finger at the Ultramarine. This one holds the imprint of fate deep within him, and the othersgnnn, they are soured. By the bitch and

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her siblings, they are tainted, foul and spoiled to the core. What madness has befallen this existence? I would know more. I would know it all. With that the shadows descended around the two figures and then blossomed, leeching the light from the space Berolinus blinked. He issued a quiet gasp as he first opened his eyes and then shook his head, like a sleeper awakening from a dream. The going was easier now. The shaking has ceased and the distant rumble of the burning outside hull had fallen silent. Around him the other Marines were murmuring amongst themselves, heads turning from left to right, as if something was amiss. Then he noticed it. Before him, the chair was empty.

Chapter Eighty Nine: Lament of the Pure

The ground shook beneath his feet as the rumble of approaching engines grew louder. A crumbling wall to his left exploded outwards as large silver mass barged its way through, sending choking dust billowing into the air. The Land Raider slewed to a halt, its tracks grinding the rubble beneath them to dust. The resonating crackle of its lascannons rumbled and the blinding light of their discharge seared his retinas as they fired, sending lances of energy forth to punch through the daemons torso. Anggrath took a step forward and roared, the sound so powerful that it shook warriors off their feet. The very scared hull of the tank reeled before the scream. Purity seals ignited and flashed to burning dust. Scripture plates warped, turning molten. Icons of faith shattered or became dancing cinders, scoured away by the sheer hatred of the abomination. Reinhold watched as warriors poured from the assailed vehicle amid a storm of fire and swirling embers, defiant in the face of the terrible assault. Nothing shall evade our Cleansing Fire, not Daemon or Spawn or Renegade! He called, reloading his storm bolter as swiftly as he could. For we are Mankinds Divine Blade! Came the reply, strong and resolute. The Deathbringers terrible lash swung past and slammed into the front hull of the Land Raider, connecting with such force that it lifted the vehicle up onto its rear, shedding armour plating as it rose. The tank crashed back down, its front ramp almost cleaved in two. The Greater Daemon advanced and swung the axe down to drive the corrupt blade through the tanks roof, splitting the mighty tank down the middle. The Grand Master let out a cry of rage and charged. He emptied his magazine into the leg of the daemon, the blessed bolts tearing smouldering strips of vile flesh away from the oversized limb. Heavenly Blessings are laid upon us, the Warp is ours to Tame! Though Sorceries shall be against us, no Witchcraft will bring our Doom!

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He reached the cloven feet of the beast and drove his glaive into the unnatural mass, gathering all his strength. His eyes shone with burning power, the glow illuminating his dark skin. The flesh beneath his blade began to flake away to ash, the substance floating away on the breeze. Little by little, cell by corrupt cell, Anggrath was returning to the dark place of his birth. The daemon would not go quietly. Knights fell back as Anggrath pivoted, pulling his leg away. Reinhold gritted his teeth and held on to his sacred weapon. He barely managed to keep it in his possession as the daemon shifted, crushing Knights as it brought its hoof back down. He staggered back and steadied himself, frustrated yet more determined than ever to see the fiend driven from his plane of existence. Though Spell or Incantation blocks us, the Emperor shall see us Victorious! No Hex can overcome our determination, our resolve is strong as steel! Sigils and wards watch over us, prayers shall serve as our Guide! For we are the Emperors Chosen! +++ The dark void yawned open and he stepped out onto the tortured surface of Caris Estarus. With a thought he tossed the slave-thing into the dirt and looked around him at the contiguous death and ruin. On your feet, inert one. You were a lord once, display some dignity. Ralei picked himself up, his inhuman eyes burning with a cold green light. You are too late. You are too late to save your progeny from the fate that awaits them. Dont you see that, Slah-haii? You will be consumed along with them, when the Ctan come to claim this realm. Your kind stood against us once and we slaughtered you. My god will see to it that you join your kin in oblivion. He will feast again. Mephetran. The creature uttered. Then you had better tell him that I am abroad once again, Slah-haii. Tell him that my work is complete. Let all the Yaam-khoh know of my return. Ralei heard this and paused, his body tensing. The things black eyes widened as it regarded him. Go. Deliver my message, before I change my mind and open a gate to the other-place to throw you in. Your deceit amongst these creatures is at an end, slave-thing. You will return, and you will tell your god that Qah is coming for him. The false Inquisitor did not reply. His outline shivered and began to break up, and as it did so his disguise of false flesh sloughed away, revealing the cold, dull silver of his real faade. It took less than a second for the ancient being to disappear and then he was gone, his insidious role in the plans of the Unity ended. Qah looked away then, out towards the scattered bodies. His eye seemed drawn to the shining corpses of the Grey Knights more than anything else. He drew his dark robes about him and moved to investigate the nearest body, seemingly oblivious to the continuing carnage about him. As he reached the fallen Knight he lowered himself and placed a hand upon the gleaming ceramite, letting it hover over the bloody wound in the warriors chest. He closed his eyes and then let out a quiet gasp, withdrawing the hand immediately. So, it is true. He said to himself. The youngest found his purpose.

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He placed his hand on the body once again and concentrated, the air about him thickening and distorting. There you are. I see you, cast adrift, your body crippled and your soul anchored to this realm. Why did you choose this fate? These cells hold no memory of the wars against the Yaam-khoh or the sacrifices of the progeny. You should not have let your hatred of him cloud the gene-print of these creatures. There can be no enemies amongst the living. Yet I see your children stumbling across the void, ignorant and unaware of the history they trample beneath their feet. I see the influence of the other-void gods, an imprint that stains your history. Why is it that our parallel plans seem ever fraught with ruination? Are we cursed to fail? She came into existence and shattered me, as she did to Khaine. You had a hand in my restoration, I see that. Still fractured, inside. Khaines strength is still enough to regenerate his essence. But not so mine. I have lost shards of myself that I cannot recover. The mysterious being withdrew his hand and rose then, his dark features tightening with building rage. He looked out across the battlefield to where the towering daemon continued to wage war against the Grey Knights. Your warriors are proud, but they cannot win this fight. Their fate falls from the heavens even now. I could stop this, young one, but I will not. The power of the other-void gods saturates this place, for they know that this is their final chance. I cannot gather the strength to stop it so soon after my rebirth. This portal must be closed. The warp must be sealed here, for fear that another breach like that which destroyed the greatest among us be created. I must allow this to pass. He regarded the body at his feet, the shining armour reflected in his eyes. With that he looked to the strewn Tau corpses around him. These creatures confound me. They are not of us, and yet I see much of our handiwork in them. I would know more. With that the dark outline of Qah grew hazy and compressed, and within seconds the creature was no more than a sphere of perfect darkness. A yawning void opened up behind the ball and swallowed it before sinking away and disappearing with a final blink of light. +++ There is much darkness awaiting us, yet the Emperor lights our path! Falsehood surrounds us at every turn, yet no Traitor shall confound us! Reinhold shielded his face as the fierce downdraught of the Bloodthirsters wings buffeted him, driving him back. The daemon became airborne, carried aloft on massive membranous wings. The Grand Master knew what was coming and began to signal the surrounding forces to fall back. Anggrath came down like a falling titan, its hooves smashing into the earth. Knights fell in squads beneath the Greater Daemons weight, crushed into the floor by its tremendous weight. He pushed himself to his feet and cast around as the daemon shifted. Xaphans flattened body lay in one of the deep grooves, his armour aflame and the remains of his incinerator twisted and broken by his side. This time around, his armour had failed him. Knights were still assailing the beast, pouring from the carnage about it to hack and slash at whatever part of the abomination they could reach. The daemons response was unequivocally brutal. Armoured bodies shattered as the lash and the axe continued in their grisly work, killing scores with every pass. No despicable trickery will thwart us, no Damnation shall bring us low! He called, charging forward, his

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glaive drawn up before him. There is no peace for us, for an eternity we will strive! The surrounding legions answered with one voice. The Grand Master knew that, despite the losses they had sustained, victory was close enough to grasp. A sea of shifting silver surrounded the daemon as, slowly but surely, every surviving Grey Knight converged upon the desperate conflict, eager to end the existence of the vile Greater Daemon. The collective power of the Knights filled him, a pure, burning warmth at the centre of his soul. He could see the flickering aura of power as a blanket of hazy light above the heads of the warriors. Once unleashed, not even Anggrath would be able to stand against such power. It was time to end this. Though mere mortals in His service, everlasting shall be our True Duty! He cried, ramming the blade of his glaive deep into the flesh of the daemons leg. All around him Grey Knights followed suit, stabbing into whatever daemonic surface they could find. Anggrath lifted his head and roared in pain as a thicket of blades assailed him, and as the collective psychic will of the Knights surged through their weapons and into the daemon, they spoke with one voice. Et Imperator Invocato Diabolus Daemonica Exorcism! The resultant psychic blast turned reality itself white, a phenomenon so blinding that it was as if everything was scoured away. Sound became a terrible roar, deep and rumbling, so powerful as to defy description. Reinhold felt himself falling back, expelled by the force of the daemons pain and fury. The ground rushed up to meet him and slammed into his back. Slowly, painfully, his vision returned. It made no sound. Above him the skies were continuing to darken but they were clear, bearing no traces of the roiling black storms that had surged across the landscape. It was little more than a blink, a flash of light, directly above him. The recitation had stolen his strength, both mentally and physically, and though he knew this would pass, his arms and legs felt leaden, too heavy to lift. His was a curious reaction to an equally curious occurrence. He didnt even know if the foul Anggrath had been banished. The first thing he had seen since he reopened his eyes was the flash. He could not drag his attention away from it. Something about it snagged in his mind, like a single, resonating heartbeat heard as if through water. It was not a physical sound, for he was too far away to hope to hear the actual detonation. No, this was something more. Something much more portentous. The first shimmering ripples began to spread through the skies as he hauled himself up. Knights were crowding around him. My lord, the Fiend That Shall Not Be Named Reinhold cast his glaive aside and raised a hand, silencing the warrior. I know. He whispered quietly, his gaze still fixed to the skies. Itit is done. And so are we. He pointed to the skies and the surviving Knights glanced up, to see the glittering phenomenon spreading as it descended. High above this curious blanket, more distant explosions flashed. What is happening? Bethos asked, driving the haft of his halberd into the ground and craning his neck so

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as to better observe what was occurring. Guilliman. Damn his name. He let us fight this battle and yet he could have ended it at any time. He could have ended it from orbit. This was a trap. A murmur of unease began to pass through the gathered Knights. Justicars called their squads together with ominous haste. Every vox unit came alive with chatter, as the Grey Knights began to suspect what was happening. Grand Master, what is it? Bethos asked again, his voice heavy with concern. Anti-psychic warheads. Reinhold replied, already beginning to feel the oppressive presence of the approaching wall of anti-energy. They will seal the warp of completely. Enough of them and they will scour every daemonic and psychic trace from this world. Not even Anggrath would have had the power to save itself from this. And what will happen to us? The warriors asked. He looked at the helmed faces of the warriors around him, his own once-bright eyes now heavy and dark. He lowered his head for a moment and then raised it again, his fists tightening. My brothers, we must all steel ourselves and try to weather this. We cannot teleport. We do not have time to fall back to the Thunderhawks. In moments the first wave will hit. There will be pain as the shockwave burns out our minds... The first wave hit as the Grand Master was in mid-sentence. The blast drove every Grey Knight to his knees beneath a shimmering wall of power. Tiny, glittering fragments filled the air, as thick as snow. The roar intensified quickly as the phenomenon gathered strength, bolstered by the subsequent detonations above. Not a single Grey Knight could stand against the assault. The psyk-out warheads quickly obliterated every last vestige of warp presence within a sixty kilometre radius of the Fortress of Ages. Daemons burned and disappeared, the powers that had held them in this realm scoured away. Sorcerers screamed and writhed on the ground, their minds burned away. Daemon weapons grew cold and inert, the terrible entities bound within them suffocated. Powerful psykers to a man, the Grey Knights reeled. For all their strength and resilience, none could stand against it, not even the Grand Master. Many of them never saw the lance strikes come down. Reinhold did. He realised it then, as the first mighty column of light speared into the ground and obliterated the distant outer wall. He realised the fallen Primarchs final deceit. Guilliman could have ended this fight with relative ease, or even prevented the birth of the daemon. They had been led into this trap to be slaughtered, along with the surviving chaos forces. Every last Grey Knight was present here with him, their faith and dedication sealing their collective fate. My Emperor, forgive me. He whispered. I have failed you. A heartbeat later, all was blinding light and roaring noise. +++ Where is Ralei? Berolinus tensed as the shadow fell over him. They had left the atmosphere by now and the violent tremors

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had given way to a silent calm. As he spoke, the Primarchs voice seemed even louder than he had expected. Where is Ralei? He said again, slowly and with a deep, menacing tone. I will not ask you again. The Ultramarine glanced around him at the glowing eyes of the other warriors, his face slackening. I do not know. Hehe was there one moment and gone the next. He just vanished. Guilliman strode over to the Astarte and lowered himself slowly, his vast frame engulfing Berolinuss vision. Twin pools of void met his eyes and he flinched, disquieted by the unnatural sight. You, Astarte, are a mystery. I would have had you killed immediately, had your presence notintrigued me. That aside, if I but suspect that you are lying to me, even for a fleeting moment, then I will kill you with my bare hands. Do you understand that? Berolinus nodded, unable to form a vocal response. No living being had ever instilled such awe and dread in him. He was an Astarte, and until this moment he had thought himself beyond the influence of such things. Good. The Primarch said. He rose and walked back, his eyes narrowing as he considered the situation. The attention of every Marine remained fixed to Berolinus, and for long moments there was silence. Then one of the warriors looked to Guilliman and spoke. Raleis ways are unknown to us, lord. Who or whatever this warrior is, I dont think he was involved. If he were an assassin then surely you would have been the first to receive his attentions? Hngh. I saw him. Another grunted, as if reluctant to say what he was about to say. He gave a good account of himself against the silver-armoured ones. I am loathe to say so, but he most probably saved your life, lord. Indeed. Guilliman answered, his hands behind his back. He twisted his head to look at Berolinus again, deep in thought. After a few moments of contemplation he tipped his head and gestured at the Marines armour. Those colours you wear. Do you mock me? I do not, Primarch! Berolinus answered, his face flushing red. Driven by instinct and pride he slammed his palm into the harness release and rose to his feet. I am an Ultramarine, my lord, as are you! I am proud to be so! You are no Ultramarine! Guilliman answered, his own rage boiling to the surface. He moved faster than Berolinus could hope to track and a palm slammed into the warriors chest, forcing him back into his seat. The Primarchs face was next to his in the blink of an eye, those terrible eyes less than an inch from his own. The Ultramarines no longer exist. I am a father without children. Calgar and his brainwashed filth took my legacy from me and defecated upon it. They sundered my legacy and my name with cowardice and weakness. I am ashamed that they are from my gene-stock, just as I am offended by your flaunting of my own colours. There are no Ultramarines left, Astarte. They are extinct, obsolete. Nothing but a memory. They are not. I am not. The Marines reply stunned even Guilliman with its audacity. The surrounding Marines shifted as one, reaching for their weapons. Guilliman took a step back, his eyes widening. It was clear that he was not used

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to insolence. Berolinus watched the Primarchs hand fall to the hilt of the sword at his side and knew then that he would have to explain, and fast. My Primarch, I implore you to hear me. I am an Ultramarine, a true son of Macragge. I am not of this time. It may sound incredible but please, listen to what I have to say. Do whatever you would of me after, but please, hear my story. Guilliman paused. His hand withdrew and his vast frame loosened. The same look of intrigue passed over his face and he nodded. You have one chance, Astarte, to save your life. I await your explanation. Berolinus exhaled and ran an hand over his smooth scalp. Then he began to talk.

Chapter Ninety: Secrets and Shame

+++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Calgar stomped down the ramp of the lander and out onto the vast expanse of the spaceport, flanked by his retinue of champions. Cassius and Ventris followed close behind, keeping a respectful distance from the Warmaster. Regaas saw this and smiled. He smoothed back his raven hair and rotated his neck, preparing himself to meet with the commander of the Alliance and his chiefs of staff. This is a glorious day. He said to one of the black-clad, faceless assassins by his side. Do you not feel it, in the air? History is being made. He retained the smile as he looked out past the sea of dark Assassinorum agents to where the shining golden warriors of the Custodes filled the far right of the spaceport, though the sincerity of the expression looked to fade. At the head of the tall warriors, Imperatorius looked back, his ice-blue eyes cold and hostile. Regaas nodded in greeting and then dismissed the warrior, drawing in a deep breath. A glorious day. He repeated, quietly this time. With that, he smoothed down his black robes and advanced to meet with the new arrivals. Warmaster. He began, spreading his hands. It is an honour to finally have you tread upon the holy ground of Terra. Thank the Emperor that you have returned to the bosom of mankind unharmed, and with the Caesus, no less. Indeed. Came the deep voice of the Captain-General of the Custodes. Regaas glanced to his side to see the towering golden warrior approaching with his own honour guard, their glaives present and to hand. Imperatorius. What a pleasure it is to see you here. It is not often that we see you leave the Emperors side these days. He greeted the warrior, the merest accent of derision in his voice. Needs must. The intimidating warrior answered. With that he turned his attention away from the Sigilite

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and moved to greet the new arrivals. The slightest flicker of annoyance flashed across Regaass eyes. You forget yourself. He whispered, speaking through perfect, bared teeth. The warrior hesitated. He looked to Regaas, then to Calgar, and finally back to the Grand Master of the Assassinorum. Of course. He growled, stepping back. My apologies, Sigilite. As you say, I forget myself. Regaas bowed his head towards the Custode and then took a step forward, his hands wide in a gesture of greeting. Welcome. He said, greeting the Warmaster first and then the others accompanying him. You must forgive the Captain-General. Like all of us, he is elated to see the safe delivery of the Alliance to Terra, and the promise of salvation you bring. That but a shard of hopes light pierces the darkness of these days is enough to enthuse us all. Of course. Calgar answered, his massive frame sifting to face the Sigilite. At an unspoken command the Warmasters honour guard shifted to allow the Ancient through. Regaas saw the small casket the old warrior carried in his hands and smiled again. Is this it? Ventris nodded and held the casket out. The Caesus. Calgar uttered, raising one huge paw towards the unassuming appliance. He then cast around to the waiting lander and gestured towards the open ramp. The hold of this craft is filled with more caskets. I am given to understand that these containers hold the means to power that device. Yes, yes, of course. I will arrange for your craft to be emptied with all haste. He snapped his fingers and several of the black-clad agents approached. At his quick whisper the figures bowed and headed towards the lander, weaving effortlessly through the gathered Astartes as they did so. At this, Ventris frowned, bewildered. Sigilite, there are many such containers. Perhaps it would be wise to have menial machines to perform the task. Regaas paused as he heard this, his smile dwindling. He looked towards the Ancient. Indeed. Unfortunately, however, we have no such machines on hand to utilise. The Mechanicus is currently indisposed Even as the words left his mouth there was a commotion at the far end of the spaceport and all those present turned their attention to the disturbance. The dark figures guarding the exit doors shifted aside to allow the entry of a group, a mixture of Techpriests and hulking servitors. Regaas saw this and allowed himself a barely-concealed frown. Imperatorius remained outwardly unmoved at the sight, though the Custodes around him shifted, hands tightening around weapons. My apologies for the unpunctuality of my entrance. Said the robed figure at the head of the group. But it seems the news of your arrival was delayed in reaching me. With a gesture the priest sent forth a host of towering machines to assist the figures descending the ramp.

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Regaas greeted the Grand Magos with a bow and a smile that was more predatory than welcoming, little more than a display of teeth. A by-product of haste, Grand Magos. Still, you are here now and that is the main thing. May I present the Warmaster and his most honoured generals. Shadowed by the ever-silent Sentinel, Achosyx bowed his head. It is an honour to meet you, Warmaster. Your arrival with the Caesus brings great hope for the Imperium. With this device, we may yet defy the Unitys intent for this world. Indeed. Calgar answered, his augmetic voice as deep and monotone as ever. By the time the Unity reach Terra they shall have been greatly tested. The defences of Titan will reap a heavy toll. I also noticed that the space surrounding the debris field of Mars has been heavily reinforced since last travelled this region of space. Our augurs were unable to calculate the sheer number of plasma mines saturating the area. Tell me, do you suspect that the Unity have some hidden interest in the remains of the lost planet? Achosyx looked to stiffen slightly at this and then nodded. A precautionary measure, Warmaster. The ruins of holy Mars constitute our most sacred site, and we cannot allow the Unity to barge their way through such hallowed space. The primary forge world once held many of the most powerful and dangerous of humanitys technological secrets, and the Tau must know that. Even we cannot be sure what survived the death of our sacred world. That the Unity could stumble upon such lost treasures and plunder their secrets is a concern too horrible to contemplate. No, we must set our plans into motion as soon as we can. Time is running short. With that the robed priest moved forward, signalling the priests and servitors around him to do the same. Mechadendrites slid from their hidden crevices about the Grand Magoss body and snaked towards Ventris, coiling as they probed the air. The Ancient took a step back and looked to the Warmaster, disconcerted by the sudden interest of the Grand Magos. Regaas saw this and stepped forward, raising a hand. The faceless warriors behind him tensed as one. What are you doing, Grand Magos? The Techpriest paused and looked to Regaas, his metal hands curling into fists. I must take the Caesus. It must be examined, and its authenticity validated. You must realise that That will not be necessary. Regaas answered, raising his chin. All of the High Lords are privy to the secret workings and purpose of this device, but none so more than the Master of the Astronomicon. Magmador must be the one to investigate the Caesus. It must be taken to him immediately. Hearing this, Achosyx blanched. Preposterous! This is a device constructed by a priest of the Mechanicus, first and foremost! You would have us utilise this machine without first ensuring its legitimacy? Do you have even the slightest clue how dangerous that could be for us all? If this is a fake, or worse, a deception, wrought to destroy Enough! Both Regaas and Achosyx fell silent, the single word reverberating around the spaceport like a peal of thunder. Imperatorius stepped forward, flanked by his warriors. He looked to the Caesus and tilted his head. What good is this argument? There can be but one true judge, and it is neither of you, nor is it I.

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The towering warrior regarded Ventris and then moved to stand before him, his vast golden form swallowing up the Ancient. You, warrior, have carried the Caesus this far. I would ask that it remains in your hands, neutral hands, until it is delivered. Would you do this? Ventris raised his eyebrows at this. Delivered? To the Throne. The Custode answered. To the Master of Mankind. The Emperor. Youyou cannot Regaas stammered, his face flushing with angered disbelief. Imperatorius looked to the Grand Master and raised his guardian spear, letting the shining blade hover inches away from the mans avian face. I can, Regaas, and I will. Sigilite or no, would you claim that your authority supersedes that of the Emperor? Would you make so bold a claim before this gathering? Ino, no of course I would not! How could any man save for a heretic claim this? You insult me, Custode, and in the presence of these honoured guests, no less. Imperatorius lowered his weapon then and cast around to regard Calgar and his men. Is that so? Forgive me then, Sigilite, but I feel compelled to clarify that accusation. Is it not true that the rule of the Adeptus Custodes is law with regards to the security of the Imperial Palace? Is that fact not canon, resolute? Has the word of the Emperor Himself been overwritten without my knowledge? Regass seethed and shifted uncomfortably. Of course it has not. None of us has the authority to do so. As I suspected. Imperatorius answered. Well then, I invoke the rights of my status. The Caesus comes with me, as I see fit. A silence descended upon the scene. Achosyx hissed and stepped back. Regaas nodded slowly, his eyes fixed upon the Warmaster and his companions. His anger was visible, but he did not argue. He knew he could not. Of course. As ever, you are wise, Captain-General. I concede to that wisdom. At that the giant Custode bowed his head towards the arrivals and signalled. The warriors accompanying him quickly surrounded Ventris. Without a further word the ancient being and his golden entourage retreated back towards the exit, the Caesus in their possession, watched in silence by all. What now, Sigilite? Calgar asked. The Grand Master tore his gaze away from the retreating group and looked to the Warmaster, raising his chin as he did so. Now, my Warmaster, we prepare for war. +++ He looked into the eyes of the surrounding creatures and knew then, on some deep and primal level, that this was not real. Another dream.

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He found himself standing at the centre of a stone circle upon which were carved strange, alien runes, surrounded by a host of silent and staring faces. Huge black eyes regarded him without expression or emotion, calculating and unreadable. Such dreams had plagued him since his first encounter with the mysterious Cypher. Indeed, he had grown almost used to them by now. Whether or not they served some hidden purpose, he could not guess. Some part of him railed against the presence of the alien creatures, but he reacted no more to their presence than allowing his hands to ball into fists. It was as he caught sight of his hands at the corners of his vision that he realised they were bare. He was naked, completely. Even the black carapace that grew across his chest was gone, leaving no trace of scarring behind. The beings had been conversing amongst themselves until this point. When they noticed his reaction they tensed as one, eyes narrowing. One or two pulled their decorative robes tighter about them. What are you? Codian asked, speaking slowly and deliberately. What do you want of me? None of the beings answered. They regarded him a while longer and then turned their attention back to the unintelligible debate, their collective whispers drifting through the cool breeze around him. He exhaled slowly and considered the creatures. Who or indeed what they were, he had no idea. They were curious things. Their appearance was unmistakeably alien and yet they seemed somehow familiar to him, as if some deep part of his consciousness held the faintest glimmer of recognition. Their dimensions were humanoid and each of them was tall, as tall as he, though Codians keen sense of observation suggested that beneath their robes they were slender and wiry, similar to the creatures of the Eldar race. They seemed almost reptilian, though their smooth skin was free of scale and blemish and glistened with moisture. Aside from the mutual proportions of their build, the only ostensibly corresponding feature amongst the figures were the eyes. They were huge and distended, black as the lightless void between stars. Here, all other similarities ended. The colouring of each figure varied so extremely as to render each of them utterly distinct. Each of them had their own distinctive colour, from the purest white to an almost oily black. Whether or not this was a symbolic variation, conjured up by his mind, he did not know. At the head of the group the most prominent of tall the beings, a creature bedecked with gold decoration and whose skin was of the most brilliant azure, raised a hand in his direction and spoke. He could not understand its strange words, but the others around it reacted to what it said, growing agitated. Another of the figures raised its voice in protest, a powerful and burning sound. Its crimson skin looked to darken and shimmer as it lifted the ornate spear in its hand and thrust it out at him accusingly, clearly angered by whatever its comrade had said. The blue-skinned one responded to this with a fierce and withering stare, and this seemed to be enough to placate the fiery ones anger. What are you? He asked again, this time taking a step forward. As he did so the creatures fell silent and turned to regard him, their eyes widening. It speaks. The blue one said, raising its slender hands. The voice thundered through his mind and he slowed, his senses reeling. It understands. Another one whispered, its skin white and iridescent. How can this be? At this, the most ancient-looking and wizened of the figures raised its grey hands and offered them to its companions. A

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softly pulsing flame burned between its fingers, casting a flickering illumination over the faces of the others. Fate is forged within its being. It hissed. Deep within, where the Yaam-khoh cannot taste it. And there is also darkness, a legacy not of our doing. A corruption, wrought by those who are anathema to us, to life. Beware this cancer. It is flawed, this kind. Said a pair of the creatures in perfect unison. Both of them looked to him to be identical, their skins vibrant and green. This gene-print is uncultivated, left to grow wild in abandonment. One of them opined, the tone of its voice telling of its displeasure. Yes. It is gene-blind. ' Its twin continued. The only thing it retains is hatred, broad, xenophobic and indiscriminate. It retains no racial memory of the first enemy. Perhaps even worse, its soul shows much weakness to the temptations of the other-void leviathans. No. It has potential. Another of the mysterious beings uttered, stepping forward. This ones skin was a shimmering gold. It stood a little shorter than the rest, but its frame was more compact and its shape defined. It held a shining, ornate hammer that it placed on the ground at its feet, so as to better scrutinise him. It can be forged, with enough care. Perhaps ignorance, carefully controlled and guided, could serve us. Enough of this! Codian raged, raising his fists in anger. Enough of this enigmatic theatre! I will suffer these damned dreams no more! The palpable explosion of anger surprised even him. The creatures fell silent then, their eyes boring into him, and as he watched, several of them began to fade. Within seconds most of them were little more than shadows, still visible yet faint, ghostly afterimages of their former self. Only a handful of the alien beings retained their integrity. One of the strangest, a hunched and lithe individual whose skin was not one hue but a riot of constantly shifting colours raised its hand and pointed at him. Let deceit be infused within its soul-core. Let it live the lie. Only then can it escape the predations of the Yaam-khoh. They would exterminate it should they learn the truth. What truth? Codian asked. What lie? I am not to be examined, entity, I warn you. I warn you all. I am of the Astartes, and I was created to defy fear and to wage war upon the enemies of my kind. You speak of an enemy, its name unknown to me. I fear no enemy. I fear nothing save for failure in my duty to my Emperor. At this, the darkest of the remaining pantheon raised its head and looked toward him, the air about it seeming to reflect the sheer blackness of its smooth skin. For the first time since he had found himself within this dreamscape, he was addressed directly. You know fear, Codian. You just do not realise it. Fear cannot be extinguished or banished. It cannot be eradicated, only suppressed. There is a darkness abroad, utterly ancient and monstrous. There are those who hunger for you and for all life, for to them, you are nothing but sustenance. They will consume you, if you let them. You must defy them. You must fight. Codians lips drew back over his teeth in a snarl and he opened his mouth to speak. He made no sound, his retort dying in his throat as he watched as the red creature, its form now fractured and incomplete, raised its spear out past them to the distant horizon. Bringers of Darkness. The black one uttered, the shadows surrounding him fluttering like a cloak of void in the breeze.

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Eaters of the Light. Codian followed the collective gaze of the creatures, twisting slowly to follow the quivering spear tip. Yaam-khoh. The golden figure whispered. Remember. The Chaplain looked upon the terrible vision before him and knew then, in that very instant, that he would never forget. Emperors mercy He could not have described what he saw if he tried. Such things defied description. For the first time he realised that there was a vista beyond the strange beings, either that or it had simply come into being at the crimson figures gesture. Far beyond them, high above the featureless grey landscape, they waited. His mind screamed as he looked upon them. They were dark and nebulous, thunderous storm fronts of dark light. The vista itself warped around them as if in agony, driven insane by their monstrous existence. Every cell of his being writhed in protest at their collective countenance. His very breath was stolen from him the sight of them. Them. He knew instinctively that these things were aware, sentient. And they hungered, utterly and without remorse. They hungered for him. A sudden noise drove him from his breathless reverie. The noise was harsh and grating, a low buzz of crackling energy, an electric cry of surprise and alarm. It was enough to steal the collective attentions of the beings around him, enough to scour away the terrible hold the sentient phenomena had upon him and allow him to cast around. He caught no more than a flicker in the corner of his eye as he did so, an abrupt shimmer of darkness, and then it was gone. The alien creatures looked at one another, bewildered by the event. You are needed. The black figure said to him. It is time for you to leave. I will find you. Remember +++ He awoke with a gasp, drawing in breath as if he were staving off the effects of suffocation. Codian sat bolt upright in bed, the cot creaking beneath his weight. Another dream. Another unexplainable vision. Enough. He said out loud, casting the simple hessian covers aside. He whispered a prayer and pushed himself up out of his resting place, his skin glistening with sweat. Sleep and rest were becoming harder to attain these days, and it was at times like this that he felt that the knowledge buried deep within him was a dark curse, a blight upon him. He moved over to the simple ablution basin and activated the hose valve, feeling the water cool him as it splashed from the metal bowl. He placed his hands under the flow and splashed his face, savouring the touch of the cool liquid against his skin. Codian.

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He froze, hearing the voice. He rose slowly and shook his head, dispelling the water running from his features. There, at the corner of the room, he caught sight of the dark figure. Bad dreams? You. He uttered, rising slowly. At this, Cypher tipped his head and took a step forward, emerging from the shadows as if part of the darkness himself. It is time, Chaplain. I have come for you.

Chapter Ninety One: The Rock

Codian shook the water from his hands and shifted to face the dark wraith. Almost a month had passed since their escape to this alien vessel, a month of sitting and waiting for something to happen. Aside from the visit by the renegade Tau, the wait had been uneventful if somewhat uncomfortable. Placating a Primarch was no easy task, and one he had never imagined himself having to perform. So, you return. The Chaplain said, drying his face with the simple cloth hanging by the basin. And now, at last, it is time for you to reveal the truth. What do you want of me, Cypher? Your dreams. The dark warrior replied. I tried to enter your dreams. I could not. That was you, then. The Chaplain realised, thinking back to the strange outline that had dissipated as soon as it had appeared. Cypher nodded. It would seem to you that there is no place I cannot venture. I can cross the space between stars in an instant and I can enter into the minds of men with but a thought. I possess great power, Codian, but there are places in this galaxy closed even to me, and beings whose power eclipses even mine. So powerful are they that even those who no longer dwell in this plane of reality repel me. You saw them, I sense it. You accessed the deepest core of your soul and you saw them there. The primal memory. Who or what were those beings? Codian asked. Cypher shook his head slowly at this. Time is short, Chaplain. I do not have the time to explain such things to you. The events that I have been waiting for are now well underway, and if we are to move then we must do so now, for the window of opportunity grows ever smaller. Gather your people, Codian, and I will explain what it is I need of you, and how what we are about to do will serve your Imperium in the coming war. +++ The darkness peeled away and he stepped forward, out into the dark and silent corridor, his new bolt pistol held out before him. He quickly checked every shadow and access point, ensuring that there was no chance of an enemy ambush. Satisfied, he lowered the weapon and turned to look upon his companion. Cypher simply nodded and then was gone, swallowed up by the living darkness. At that, Codian once more turned his attention to his surroundings.

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The corridor was dark and featureless, and seemingly hewn from ancient rock, as black as oil. What sparse light there was to be had was thrown out by the guttering flames set along the walls, a feature that gave the place an almost medieval appearance. Doors were scattered along the wall, rusting slabs of armoured metal with no distinguishing features. He listened intently as he caught a faint sound, distant but deep. An explosion, gunfire perhaps. The ground beneath his feet shook and a fine trickle of dust fell from the ceiling above. The candles flickered as one. Faint voices drifted from one of the nearby ventilation ducts, so faint in fact that he barely caught them. Another explosion shook the walls. Movement caught his eye and he pivoted, raising the bolt pistol. Something small and swathed in shadow passed by the end of the long corridor. Whatever it was, it was too small to be human, and he could not imagine children residing in this dark place. What little he caught of the figure told of a shapeless mass, shrouded in dark robes. Almost as soon as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving him questioning whether or not it had been a trick of the light. His gut instinct told him it was not. He dismissed the occurrence and moved to stand with his back against the wall, ensuring he kept to one of the pools of darkness between the dispersed candles. All there was left to do now was wait. The stale air shifted then and he cast around to see the shadows return. A wall of ivory armour stepped out into the dark space, filling his vision. The Khan regarded Cypher with a silent glance and then moved forward to stand by Codian, his scarred face tight and ominous. Have you encountered resistance yet? No. The Chaplain answered. He raised his free hand and gestured around him. But I have caught the sounds of conflict. They are distant and unmistakeable. There is war here. The Khan nodded and drew his blade, a massive and ancient tulwar. The blue steel shimmered in the gloom, its decorated blade vibrating softly. The White Scars Primarch regarded his weapon for a moment and then tipped his head in the direction of Codians belt. What of your steel, Chaplain? I sense you are hesitant to release it. I am. The Chaplain replied, shocked by his own sincerity. And with good reason, I feel. I know nothing of its origins or its power. I sensesomething about it, something hidden. When it was given to me it was much larger than it is now. What manner of weapon is able to alter its own shape so? Xenos technology. The Khan uttered in reply. Only a fool would even try to contemplate its construction. So long as its edge is keen enough to kill when necessary, that is all you need to consider. I suppose. He answered, reaching for the hilt of the weapon. He had fashioned his own simple scabbard from leather straps and he unfasten the holding clip, allowing him to pull the blade free. The weapon trembled slightly in his grasp and he felt a warmth drift through his hand and into his body. He tested the blades swing as he had done so many times already, and watched as the passing sword left glittering arcs of unknown energy in its wake. Behind the two warriors the darkness bulged again, delivering the next of Codians companions into this mysterious place. It took less than five minutes to transport the entire group, and the eyes of the gathering turned as one to meet with the last arrival. Gormat stepped into the dark corridor and shivered, his black eyes widening. Of

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all those within the small group, he seemed the most ill at ease with their method of transition. That wasunsettling. He murmured, drawing a short alien pistol. The swirling shadows faded away, leaving Cypher standing in their place. He crossed his arms and drew his pistols, arming them both as he did so. With that he strode past the rest of the waiting figures and pointed one of the guns out towards the end of the corridor. This way. He said. And stay alert. There is war here. Codian lifted his sword and followed, as did the others. The enormity of what they were about to do weighed heavily upon him, for though Cypher had explained his intentions to them all, only Codian knew the full truth of the matter. Only he knew the truth behind the warriors existence. Only he knew what had to be done. They quickly reached the end of the corridor, passing many of the featureless iron doors. Cypher paused and then stepped forward, quickly covering both sides of the intersection. The Cadian did the same, dropping low onto one knee, his newly acquired hellgun swinging from left to right. One by one, they stepped out into the next section of hallway. I saw something. Codian whispered to the renegade Dark Angel. When I first arrived. It passed by here. It was small and dark Do not trouble yourself. Cypher answered swiftly, interrupting him. They are the Watchers. They will not harm you and you cannot harm them. I am the one they hunt, Chaplain. The lost son. As they spoke, the discussion caught the attention of the others. Hearing mention of such mysteries, Torvus leaned into the conversation. What do you mean, we cannot hurt them? I can split a battle tank in half with this hammer, renegade. You do not understand. Ligur interrupted the zealous Marine. He raised one giant paw and gestured around him. As he spoke, the pain in his expression was obvious. This is a haunted place. The very walls are stained with guilt, heavy and oppressive. It is a living thing, born of collective shame and dark, ancient powers. These creatures are not of our realm. Daemons! The Cadian hissed. He spun on his heel and began to thrust his gun in all directions, his eyes wild and fearful. Torvus mirrored the Guardsmans sudden anxiety With that he gestured to the left and led the rest of them in that direction, covering every alcove and shadow as they advanced. As they bore on, the sounds of battle began to grow ever more prominent. Soon the walls themselves began to shake, causing the many candles lighting their way to quiver, some even blowing out. Another explosion shook the corridor with such force that rocks tumbled to the floor, barely missing a number of them. The Khan turned his head aside as a piece of stone the size of a head bounced off his shoulder guard. He slowed and tapped the flat of his blade against Cyphers armour. This has gone on long enough, renegade. I have come this far on faith alone, and the promise of what we are to achieve, but I will have answers. What manner of conflict is this? Cypher came to a standstill and turned, lowering his weapons. The eyes of the others were upon him, their

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faces expectant, awaiting the answer. His expression spoke of impatience, but it was clear that he would have to explain to them, and so he nodded slowly. The Unity are here. They have hunted the Tower of Angels through these stars for many years. Little over a solar month ago they succeeded in crippling the asteroids warp drives. Now the Angels are stranded here, besieged by hundreds of Tau warships. The enemy have already succeeded in penetrating the Rocks defences Enough. The Khan growled, sweeping his tulwar before him. Cypher, tell me that you have not brought us here in some misguided attempt to drive the Unity from this doomed place. We are but a handful of warriors. No, Khan. The Dark Angels are doomed, Primarch. By their very nature, their obsession, they have condemned themselves to death. I have brought you here to finish something, to end my own quest. Another explosion rocked the corridor around them, swaying the gathered bodies. Ignoring the tremors, Cypher continued. He gestured towards Codian and spoke. I have explained everything to the Chaplain. I will take you as far as I can. You do not expect to return, do you? The Khan asked. With that he gestured to the circular alien device hanging from his own belt. Cyphers eyes hovered over Czevaks wraithgate generator and he shook his head. This will be my final battle. The renegade said no more. He lifted his pistols and set off towards the end of the corridor, keeping a fast pace. Follow me. Codian was the first to respond, followed closely by the Khan. Torvus grunted and hefted his hammer up, breaking into a sprint after the three figures. The rest quickly followed. Hnn. This kind of pace doesnt suit the compact leg. Grungi complained, struggling to keep pace. Cypher drew towards the opening and slowed, falling to one knee. His guns flashed several times and the emerging figures fell, shattered and burned by the attack. They were Tau. Codian drew up alongside the dark warrior and looked out at the dead aliens. Stealth technology. He observed, considering the flickering energies writhing about the heavy armour. Somehow, Cypher had seen past the deception of this disguise. This did not surprise him. Ready yourselves. Cypher warned the others. He rose quickly and gestured first to the right fork and then the left. This was an ambush. The enemy are headed this way. We have to move Cypher set off down the left hand turn, firing his pistols behind him as he went. Dark shapes moved into view at the far end of the opposite direction. Bolt shell and plasma punched through them and they fell. Codian followed quickly, watching as the figures died. His hearts leapt as he realised that they were Marines, clad in deep green carapace and ivory robes. He had known to expect this, but still the concept of

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killing other Astartes unsettled him to the core. He heard Orechiel shout something and looked past the fallen Marines to see more of their kind charging down the corridor, their bolters thundering. Miniature explosions shook the walls around him, spraying him with rock dust and shrapnel. A quick glance in the opposite direction told him that Cypher was advancing further, caught up in his own lust for absolution. The darkness of the corridor disappeared briefly and he looked back to see a wall of shimmering energy surge its way through the Marines, punching them from their feet. Ligur withdrew his crackling hand and nodded to the Techmarine. Laenar returned the gesture and removed a melta charge from his belt. He armed the device and then, bringing one of the huge servo-claws of his harness to bear, punched a hole into the ceiling above him. He placed the charge into the hole and then signalled for the others to run. Codian did not need to be told twice. Fire and thunderous noise erupted behind him a moment later, enough to buffet him and increase his pace. Billowing smoke rolled past, causing the bare-faced members of the team to splutter and cough. The rumble of falling masonry and rock echoed through the cavernous corridors and he knew by the sound that the section had been sealed off by the powerful but contained explosive. How long has that bought us? The Khan asked, shaking the dust from his mountainous shoulders. Minutes, perhaps. Cypher answered. He slowed as he neared another intersection, checked the way was clear, and then turned to face the others. We must press on. These dungeons are as close as I was able to bring us to the objective, and we still have a potentially dangerous area to pass through. The deepest areas of this rock hold powerful wards against my kind There was a roar and a flash. Cypher spun on his heel and fired. At the same time a shot slammed into the carapace of his chest armour and threw him back. Shadow erupted around the mysterious warrior and enveloped him. Seconds later the miasma cleared, and Cypher was gone. Heresy! Darkness! The Unclean are abroad! Codian brought his blade and pistol up to meet the new foe. He looked out at the dark shape emerging from the shadows and paused, his finger loosening from the trigger. The Interrogator-Chaplain stumbled from the darkness to regard the intruders, the bolt pistol in his hand smouldering. His dark armour was buckled and rent in a dozen places and the ivory robes he wore over them were charred and bloodstained. He lifted the pistol and fired, the shot hitting Umbras in the shoulder guard and punching the Apothecary off his feet and into Grungi. Another shot glanced off the head of Torvuss hammer, and a third shattered the dark stone wall next to Codian. The powerful bite of Cyphers plasma pistol had taken the Chaplains other arm, reducing the limb to a molten ruin. The fearsome warrior seemed little more than inconvenienced by the loss, the injury barely slowing his aggressive advance. Repent! Repent, fallen ones! Give your lives as payment for your betrayal! Scream your contrition as you die! The Cadians hellgun sent searing lances of light into the crazed Astarte, scoring his armour and setting his tattered robes alight but affecting little else. Everyone else seemed too stunned by the warriors sudden

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appearance to react in time. Everyone save for the Khan. Jaghatai surged forward and swatted the Chaplains arm aside, sending the bolt pistol spinning away. The Dark Angel staggered back and clutched at his belt, struggling to remove one of the cruel bladed instruments fastened there. Repent He said again. The Khans blade flashed and the Chaplains head rolled away, leaving his body to slump to the floor at the Primarchs feet. That wasdistasteful. The Khan uttered, turning away from the dead warrior. It was necessary. All eyes looked to the looming darkness. Cypher stepped from the void as it faded away, drawing his pistols once again as he did so. His armour bore no signs of the fatal damage the Chaplains weapon had inflicted upon him. We saw you. Czevak exclaimed, his voice heavy with disbelief. We saw you fall, renegade. We press on. Came Cyphers reply. I will die when I am ready.

Chapter Ninety Two: Legacy

As he considered what he had just witnessed, the Chaplains mind reeled. As if in sympathy to this the Dawnblade shivered in his hand, an empathic reaction. He had seen first-hand the renegades uncanny abilities, but nothing like this. The shot had killed Cypher, without a doubt. He himself knew how and where to strike a Marine in order to achieve a kill and that is exactly what he had seen. The dark warrior sprinted towards the end of the hall and slowed. The sounds of battle were ever louder here. The solid rock walls gave way to stone and plasteel at this point. Here the cramped passageway opened out, widening into a larger access tunnel with a high vaulted ceiling. Here the light was a little better, brighter and more sterile, illuminating the stone-tiled floor and the thick black pipes that ran the length of the walls. Cypher waved the others back and pressed himself against the wall. The others followed his lead and hid in the shadows as best they could. Moments later a number of large domed shapes appeared, hovering through the air. Large cycling cannons were fixed in pairs to the underside of the drones, all except for the lead unit. This machine was laden with bristling scanner units and questing markerlight generators. As it passed by the junction it paused, turning the bright search lasers their way. The lights passed over Cypher without incident and continued, out towards the first of the hiding figures. Codian. He tensed as the beam passed over his chest plate. Several of the blue lights scattered across the drones

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collective arrays shifted in hue to a deep crimson and the unit became vigorously animated. Cypher stepped from the gloom without a word and blew a fist-sized hole in the command drone. His plasma pistol flared and one of the gun drones came apart, shattered by the powerful blast. The remaining drones shifted to counter the threat. Pulse cannons whined as they began to cycle, building speed. The renegade blasted another two from the air and threw himself into a roll, bright pulse fire stitching after him. Codian sprinted forward, firing his pistol. The others opened up behind him, sending a hail of fire lancing past him and into the gathered machines. Jaghatai and the Marines forged forwards after the Chaplain, using their power armour as a wall to shield the less protected members of the group. Let me through! Grungi raged behind them, fighting to push his way through the wall of armour. Damn it, dont be so greedy Codians protective field flashed again and again as pulse fire slammed into him, slowing his advance. Up ahead, Cypher rolled up onto one knee and fired above him, felling drones by the score. Azure energies pattered and exploded across his armour, punishing the ancient carapace. Cypher rode the incoming fire and returned it in kind swiftly and without mercy. Within seconds the last drone fell, a broken ruin. Codian slowed and lowered his weapons as he watched the last of them fall. Which way now, Dark Angel? The renegade rose and gestured towards the left-hand tunnel. This way. Codian nodded and then looked to Laenar, gesturing towards the opposing access way. Seal it brother, if you can. Laenar bowed and turned to the mouth of the junction. It soon became obvious that he had only carried a single meltabomb, as he looked to the thick stone support columns and began to flex his servo-limbs. The Techmarine soon got to work. The massive claws of his harness fastened around the nearest column and he pulled, the powerful limbs creaking with effort. The Khan joined him, sheathing his blade in order to assist the Marine. He lowered his shoulder on reaching the opposing column, braced himself and then pushed forward, driving his shoulder into the pillar. The huge stone support shifted with a groan and a shower of dust. He repeated the action and the column moved again, further this time. Laenars efforts were also starting to bear fruit, as the pillar before him began to crack and shift. Move! The Khan commanded, springing away as the huge block of stone before him crashed to the floor. He grabbed the Techmarine and hauled him away from the resultant rockslide. Large stone blocks tumbled downwards as the ceiling gave way and a wall of choking dust surged into them, suffocating the light. Minutes later the last of them emerged from the thick grey cloud. Grungi staggered clear, coughing and hacking, his knotted hair and bare flesh coated in dust.

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Hnn. Ive imagined many deaths for myself over the years, but asphyxiation never sprang to bloody mind! Are we close? The Khan asked, peering out into the long tunnel. Every moment we spend I these vaults decreases our chances of victory and escape. We are. Cypher answered, turning his gaze towards the light end of the corridor. That way lies our goal. I must warn you all, we are headed for a violent and terrible conflict. This way lies the heart of the Tower of Angels, the ancient Redemption Vault. It is here we will find what we seek. And what of this conflict? Orechierl asked, her eyes widening apprehensively. The simple laspistol in her hand seemed all the more small and impotent at the mention of such dangers. Cypher looked to the woman, his hidden eyes twinkling beneath his hood. Ancient Samael and his warriors have chosen to make their last stand at the gates of the Vault. Only those of the Inner Circle have even the slightest idea of what is held within the ancient catacombs, and they would die without hesitation to keep those secrets from the Unity. So, we are pitted against Astarte brothers? The Khan uttered, his face tightening. Little wonder you were so tight-lipped with the details of this mission. This makes no sense, renegade. If the Dark Angels remain loyal to the Emperor then why must we make war with them? Such traitorous actions are the first steps on the path to damnation. Cypher shook his head slowly, undaunted in the face of the Primarchs burgeoning anger. Look to your heart and your mind, Khan. Trust your instincts. See the ruin and the degradation around you. The Dark Angels are driven by an ancient and relentless obsession, one that has ultimately corrupted them. The warriors of the Lion are lost to your Imperium. They have witnessed the fall of the Emperors domains around them and yet they have abandoned this war and with it, the Throne. They are beyond saving. Jaghatais expression darkened further as he heard this. He raised his blade up until it hovered inches from the fallen ones chest. I have come this far at your behest, traitor. I will go no further without the truth. You will tell us why we are here, and what we seek. You will do so now or I will take these warriors back and leave you to fight this battle alone. I assure you, they will comply. Unsurprisingly, not one voice dared raise itself against the Primarchs claim. Cypher looked to each of the gathered faces in silence. After a short pause, he answered. Very well, father of the White Scars. So be it. I have brought you here because I need help. As I said, the Redemption Vault holds the darkest, most horrifying secrets of the Dark Angels. I need to gain access to the Vault in order to destroy the most terrible secret of all. This secret. Asked Ligur ominously. Why is it so important that you see it destroyed? There is no time to explain Make time. Torvus snapped, raising his hammer. Cypher glanced around him and hissed through his teeth, frustration beginning to alter his expression. Because that is the lot of my being. I exist only to achieve this goal, but I cannot do this without help. Please, none of you can realise how important this is. I need you to trust me. +++

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Do you trust me? Berolinus tensed as he heard this. The Primarchs black eyes burned into him, drawing him in with the power of a stellar singularity. It seemed like an age before he could summon the will to answer. With my life, my Primarch. You are the father of my Chapter. How could I not? As he awaited the Primarchs reaction he watched from the corner of his eye as the last of the Marines left in silence, exiting through the hissing doors at the far end of the tactical chamber. This was the first time the Primarch had spoken to him since he had explained his unbelievable situation to him. Berolinus was convinced the Primarch did not believe him. Guilliman straightened his back and rose to his full height, his hands clasped behind his back. I see. That is good. What is your name, warrior? I am Lurom Ordaegus Berolinus, my lord, of Illyrium. Son of Ireus of the Ordaegus line. Born for potential selection, as is the way of my people. Guilliman nodded slowly and began to pace before him, his brow furrowed with contemplation. I know of the Ordaegus, Astarte. One of the oldest and finest lines to hail from Illyrium. A proud heritage. Berolinus visibly swelled as he heard this, pride inflating his chest. To have the very father of his Chapter recognise his familial legacy was a honour one could scarcely describe. Guilliman slowed and turned to face Berolinus, his face darkening further. I have heard your story, Berolinus. I have heard the incredulous tale of your journey to gaining this audience. Incredible as it is, Astarte, I believe you. I am able to read a man, and I can read you. I see that there is no deception in you. I see a loyalty in you that I have not seen in an Ultramarine for many years, and it pleases me. You came to me, Berolinus, facing impossible odds. You fought your way through an army to find me. My every instinct screams to me that you are not to be trusted; that you are a spy sent from those who would seek to betray me, to betray the true ideals of the Imperium. Yet I do not believe that this is so. Berolinus heard this and fell to one knee before the father of the Ultramarines. He bowed his head and placed his arm across his chest. You are the father of the Ultramarines, my Primarch. My father. Your blood flows through my veins. How could my loyalties lie with any other? How could I not quest to stand by your side? The Primarch drew his sword then, and Berolinus tensed, the shrill ring of metal keening through him. Guilliman stepped forward and placed the flat of his blade upon the Marines shoulder. Rise, warrior, and know that I accept you as my ward and my faithful servant. You have shown much loyalty and courage, enough to convince me that you are who and what you say you are. Would you accept a place by my side? Yes. Berolinus answered swiftly. Without hesitation, lord. Then rise. Guilliman continued, stepping back. And listen. He sheathed his sword once more and began his pacing anew, his vast bulk shifting before the Marine

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again and again. Berolinus rose to his feet and stood proud, his head back, his hands by his sides. I asked you before if you trusted me. Guilliman said after a short silence. Berolinus made to answer but the Primarch raised his hand, causing the Ultramarines voice to die in his throat. Wait, and listen closely before you answer. I need you to consider this question closely. I need you to look beyond your core of blind faith and question it. I am your Primarch and you are a true Ultramarine, Lurom Berolinus, I see that. That is why I ask you to do this. I need to be sure that your allegiance is total. Berolinus raised his eyes and met the Primarchs dark gaze. Colour began to flood his face and his cheeks began to tremble, as if he were fighting to hold something back. After a few moments he reached towards the small case at his belt and drew his combat knife, a ferocious scowl twisting his face. Guilliman looked on, unmoved, as the Marine brought the knife up before him and held it out, the blade pointing towards the Primarchs chest. Loyalty? Berolinus hissed. You ask of loyalty? He turned the knife in his hand and pressed the point against his own throat. I would give my life for you, my Primarch. I would end my existence at your command, if that was your wish. Say the word and test me. Guilliman reached forward and gently took the blade from the warriors hand. Such extreme measures are not necessary. He said, stepping back. With a casual ease he took the knife in both hands and broke it in two before casting it away. He issued a barely perceptible nod and the door at the far end of the chamber slid open. Several Tau passed into the chamber, squat and robust creatures shorter even than the warriors of the line. They bore several unidentifiable devices, a number of items that looked to have medical applications. They greeted the Primarch and then moved to surround Berolinus. He did not speak, but his face told of a visible uncertainty. Then trust me, warrior. Guilliman said. Implicitly. First I must ask you to endure this. Do not concern yourself with it. It is merely a precautionary measure. One of the aliens moved to his neck and produced a long needle device. It dabbed a moist swab against his jugular and then pressed the needle deep into his flesh. He hissed as a burning pain coursed its way through him, spreading rapidly. The pain will pass quickly. What have you done to me? Good. Guilliman answered him, pointing a finger at him to emphasise this. Faith enough to submit yourself to my will, and yet courage enough to question it. A perfect balance. In answer you your question, I have given you a gift. The fight against the forces of chaos was a harrowing and corrupting experience, Berolinus. Strength of will can only serve an Astarte so much. It is a genetic elixir, a powerful ward against the influence of the warp. It will protect your soul against such horrors and it will bring you closer to this brotherhood of ours. You will understand much better in time. Now that we have this over with, is there anything you would like to ask me? Come, son of Ireus, have courage enough to speak your mind and ask the question that has hovered upon your lips since our first meeting.

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As you wish. My Primarch, why? Why this? He gestured at the compact aliens as if they were little more than insensate, inanimate equipment. You were created by the master of mankind to bring about mankinds domination over all the stars in the sky. We as aspirants were taught this, lord, taught this from texts penned by your own hand. I am yours to command and that cannot change, but my mind reels with this situation. Youyou serve the xenos. Guilliman took this question with remarkable calmness. He nodded slowly and then dismissed the Tau, waiting until they had left before he spoke again. There is much that you still do not understand of my presence here amongst these xenos, Berolinus. I understand your confusion, and I see how my situation must seem to rail against everything you were taught as an Astarte. Very well. Come with me, warrior of Ultramar, and I will educate you. Only then can you truly understand that I seek to do what must be done.

Chapter Ninety Three: The Redemption Vault

Cypher turned away from the others and began to head towards the end of the corridor, leaving them in stunned silence. Codian looked to the Khan and his colleagues one by one, trying to read their expressions. Disbelief was clearly unanimous. It is true. He said quietly. Do not ask me how I can confirm this, only that I can. You will forgive me, Chaplain, if I remain incredulous. The Khan answered, his voice low and deliberate. I understand how difficult it is to believe what he claims, Primarch, but consider this. Consider if it is true. Cypher revealed many secrets to me. I used that same knowledge to free you from your xenos prison, Khan. How else could I have known? Jaghatai exhaled fiercely and shook his head as he considered the Chaplains words. It actually makes sense. Czevak reasoned thoughtfully. And it would explain a great deal. I should have known. The Khan uttered, his voice heavy and dark. I should have questioned the disappearance of the Lion. The Dark Angels have a lot to answer for. We cannot dwell on such things. Codian said. Blame and accusation must wait, for we have work to do. Let us end this. Let us end this. Jaghatai echoed, raising his sword and starting out after the renegade. If this ancient evil still exists then the Dark Angels are a collective of fools, and I will put right their conceited mistakes. The legacy of my brother will be honoured. The rest of the group set out after Cypher, building up a steady and determined pace. The dark warrior was almost at the end of the hallway and had begun to slow, his pistols raised in readiness before him. Codian reached him ahead of the others and slowed down, picking up the sounds of conflict drifting from beyond the wide arch.

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We are here. Cypher whispered, drawing back against the stone wall. The Redemption Vault. The Chaplain lowered his weapons and crept the last few paces to the junction. Gunfire reverberated around him, echoing along the walls. Shouts and explosions intermingled, sonic harbingers of the ferocity of the conflict beyond. He slowly leaned forward in order to take a look at the space beyond his position. As he glanced around the corner, he stifled a quiet curse. A massive hall stretched away into the gloom as far as the eye could see, so vast he could not make out the furthest reaches of the space. At first glance, it seemed that the corridor led into some manner of huge chapel. Vast stone pillars supported the unseen ceiling, many times wider than a Land Raider. Everywhere he looked, cloaked, skeletal figures were carved into the recesses of the columns, faceless and foreboding. The main source of light for the immeasurable space was a gigantic circle of light at the furthest reaches of the chapel, a vast sphere of ornate leaden glass. Starlight poured through the casement, illuminating a good mile of ancient stone tiling and gothic decoration. Dark warriors filled the illuminated space like a tide. Everywhere he looked, ebony figures swathed in white robes milled about the cavernous space, fighting for survival. Land Speeders looped and turned high above him, sending waves of bright death into the surging tide pouring into the chamber from the furthest reaches of the visible horizon. Fire spat back and forth in thick waves, illuminating the conflict further. That is Samael. Cypher said, raising the barrel of his plasma pistol out towards a distant, wheeling shape. Codian followed his gesture and looked to where a dark shape twisted and flitted above the melee, spitting bright death out into the advancing Tau. Beware him, Codian. Ancient Samael is the most fearsome and zealous of all the Dark Angels. He is known as Samael the Eternal. After the death of Chapter Master Azrael he swore an oath that he would not rest until his Chapter had found retribution. He is the oldest surviving Angel of the Chapter, and he is utterly insane, driven to madness by his obsession. Do not cross him. Combat. Grungi growled, skidding to a halt beside the two Marines. His foam-flecked lips twisted into a smile of exultation. My fist thirsts for blood. Let me loose it! The Khan brought himself to a stop and glared at the Demiurg, his withering gaze enough to silence the short alien. He allowed himself a glance around the corner and then withdrew, clearly far from pleased with what he had seen. Where lies our goal, Cypher? Tell me and I will forge a path through this war to reach it. Cypher nodded and gestured out beyond the roiling melee. There, far above the heads of the fighting forces could be seen a massive obsidian statue, its smooth perfection illuminated by the pale starlight. The figure was swathed in flowing robes and wore a beautiful helm decorated with a pair of towering wings. He held aloft a massive sword, wreathed in flickering promethium flames. The twisting fire guttered and swirled, illuminating those below it with a deep orange glow. The statue of Jonson. The entrance to the Vault lies at the feet of the Primarch. I must warn you all, I cannot pass beyond those gates, so it will be up to you to finish this. The Chaplain knows what must be done when you reach the Black Chamber. Codian nodded in confirmation.

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I vow to end this, Cypher. Let us delay no further. To war! Grungi snarled, letting is weapon-fist fall to the floor with a rattling thump. To war! The Primarch and the other Astartes echoed. The two Inquisitors, the Cadian and the Tau merely raised their weapons and nodded, anxious but ready to feet the foe. Cypher threw himself around the corner and led the charge towards the warring factions, both pistols held out before him. For redemption! He cried, his inhuman voice rising to a thunderous howl. His guns blazed, sending death out into the roiling conflict. Shadows fell around him and he was gone, only to reappear a second later closer to the fight. He did this again and again, his unnatural powers throwing him forwards faster than mere locomotion ever could. Codian threw himself after the renegade as fast as his body would allow. He drove his feet into the floor and pushed himself forward, the bolt pistol in his hand roaring. The Khan bounded past him without effort, his massive feet quaking the ancient stone. He unleashed a deafening feral howl and began to swirl his sword about his head, the curved steel quickly becoming fluid and impossible to follow. I will hold the enemy for as long as it takes to gain entrance into the Vault! He shouted, swiftly accelerating beyond Codians ability to keep up. Of all of them, it was clear that Cyphers revelation had affected him the most, an understandable reaction. So much so in fact that it seemed the Khan was willing to take on every Dark Angel and soldier of the Unity here on the Rock to ensure that there efforts bore fruit. The first blast slammed into the invisible field surrounding the Chaplain and quickly stole away his attention. Cypher vanished from view as the guns of the robed Astartes turned upon him. Bolt shells sailed redundantly through the empty air and beyond, denied their victim. A second later the dark warrior reappeared, inches from his would-be killers. His guns flashed and bodies fell, each shot a clean execution. More of the Angels swarmed to meet the threat, their collective cries of hatred and revulsion at the presence of the fallen one rising above the tumult. Bolter shot slammed into Cypher, each shot throwing up plumes of black shadow as it exploded against his ancient armour. The renegade reeled back, still firing at his attackers. Every exit wound punched through him left trails of smoky darkness instead of blood, as though the former Dark Angel was a creature consisting of nothing save for living, cancerous shadow. Such was the punishment he received at the hands of the crazed veterans that he fell back, blasted in a dozen places. His back connected with the floor once and he bounced, his image breaking up and unravelling into thick, greasy smoke. A distant, ethereal scream rose up from nowhere as the renegade dissipated into a thick miasma that sank into the shadows around him as he ceased to be. Codian saw this and didnt give the traitors demise another thought. He alone knew with utter certainty that Cypher was far from done. He charged into the Dark Angels, Grungi hot on his heels. His filed sparked and fizzed as the warriors met his charge with bolter fire. He rode the concussive force of the attack and charged into them, the Dawnblade flashing with power.

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He landed in their midst and spun on his heel, sweeping the ancient blade out before him. The blade passed through the packed bodies as if they were incorporeal and as he brought himself to a stop he watched as the bodies of his foes came apart, separated by the fearsome weapon. One of the Dark Angels looked on incredulously as his comrades fell about him, the shock of their collective demise staggering him. He turned to look at Codian and raised his bolter, shouting some incoherent curse at the Chaplain. He took a single step forward and his torso slid away, the bolter chattering its shells up towards the unseen ceiling. The Marines legs took another step before they gave way, collapsing forward. There was no blood. Codian felt some distant voice whisper inside his skull and he shook his head, dismissing the ghostly noise. There! He called to the Demiurg, gesturing towards the adamantium gates at the foot of the statue of Jonson. We need to reach those gates and bring them down! Would that they were wrought from the flesh of the enemy. Grungi snarled in answer as he leapt to take the head from his opponents shoulders. He landed lightly and stepped to the side as the towering body toppled with a ringing crash. It would make their destruction all the more satisfying. Codian dismissed the Demiurgs rant and turned to look for the others. The Khan was heading for the bulk of the conflict, his blade raised high above his head. The rest of them were headed his way, fighting their way through the shocked Dark Angels. The warriors of Jonson were had clearly been taken by surprise when he and the others had attacked, for they had found themselves fighting on two fronts. We need to open this! He shouted, gesturing at the thick metal doors. Grungi stepped forward to place a hand on the ancient metal. It doesnt look too thick per The rest of the Demiurgs sentence was cut abruptly short as the squat alien flew back through the air amid a flash of blinding energy. Codian flung himself back away from the doors and looked up as the air seemed to shimmer and thicken. Dancing motes of light intensified as they gathered, swiftly forming a foreboding image in the very air above him. The holo-image was a huge and ominous apparition. It bore semblance to some giant skeletal wraith, with robes of the darkest shadow and black, carrion wings. It lowered the massive sword in its bony hands down so that the flickering holographic tip was inches from Codians skull face, and then spoke. Let none save for those of the Inner Circle disturb the secrets of the eons. Let none save for the Faithful seek entry into the Redemption Vault, on pain of death. A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy. Ligur and the others slowed before the looming apparition. Every face turned upwards to regard the terrifying sight. Incredible. Czevak whispered, taking a step back as if to better appreciate the visions dimensions. Never before have I seen a holographic technology of such beauty or artifice. This is indeed technology of the most ancient origin. A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy. The image said again, withdrawing the sword slowly. Codian felt his hearts flutter in his chest and knew then that this was a sign. This was a dangerous situation.

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The Cadian let out a gasp and staggered back, firing his hellgun again and again. I need assistance here! He cried. He held the gun as rigid as he could and fired, sending lances of light out at the advancing Dark Angels. Shot after shot punched into his selected target, striking the Astarte in the flexible throat seal of his armour. Five shots slammed home at close range before the Marine faltered and clutched at his neck, dark blood squirting through his fingers. The rest of the group responded and opened fire on the advancing Dark Angels, sending a hail of fire out at the black-armoured warriors. Czevak raised his fist and turned his head away. A second later a wall of fire erupted from one of the ornate rings he wore and enveloped the Marines. Umbras and Laenar fired their bolt clip each into the inferno and then retreated, leaving Ligur and Torvus to wade into the flames to finish off the survivors. Codian turned his attention back to the figure above as it spoke again., ignorant to the conflict raging before it. A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy. Perhaps it is broken. Grungi considered, staggering forward. His red hair and beard were singed and on end and his bare flesh was ruddy and scorched, but the Demiurgs inhuman constitution seemed to have spared him any further harm. Perhaps. Codian answered. Or perhaps it is a code of some kind. If so then we must break our way through, for I do not have the answer. He turned and thrust the Dawnblade out, driving it a good number of inches into the join at the centre of the two gates. Traitor! The skeletal figure roared, bearing down on him accusingly. A twisting black miasma flowed from the image and coiled around him like a serpent, constricting tighter and tighter. The alien blade quivered and began to glow, a keening ghost-song rising from nowhere to echo around the vast space. Hazy light leaked from the blade and flowed down his arm, quickly enveloping him. The opposing energies struggled against each other, fighting for domination. The occurrence clearly unsettled the Chaplain and he pulled the blade free, stepping back as he did so. Almost immediately the wrath rose back into its original position and the darkness subsided, drawing back into the image. The white light in turn faded and the Dawnblade became still, leaving the Chaplain mystified. What happened? Grungi asked him, looking first to the blade and then to the looming figure high above. I do not know, but I feel that whatever it was, it should have killed me. I do not think that any of us dare risk attacking these gates again. A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy. The wrath said again, and Codian suppressed a shiver. There was a rush of cold air and he turned, sensing the breeze rather than feeling it. Cypher stepped from the darkness before him and drew his pistols, as if replaying the same scene over and over again. Just as before, there was no sign of his previous injuries. The dark one greeted the Chaplain and the Demiurg with a nod and then strode past them to stand before the gates and the towering guardian. The wraths hidden face dropped to meet him, and the figure spoke the same words once again. A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy.

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Never forget. Cypher answered, staring up at the behemoth. Never forgive. Damnation is eternal. The figure uttered, and thrust the mighty sword down into the flags at his feet. With that the wrath disappeared and the adamantium gates rumbled aside, releasing a hiss of stale tomb air. Cypher turned to the Chaplain and watched as the others jogged over to inspect the opening. The way is clear for you, Codian. It is time for you to end the suffering of my wayward brethren and right the ancient wrongs. I can go no further than this point, for all that I am is anathema to the evil that lies beyond, as it is to me. You must destroy it, Codian. It has existed long enough. Here. He stepped forward and handed Codian the blade fastened at his back. The Chaplain quickly holstered and sheathed his own weapons and then took the sword. You know what to do, brother. Codian nodded and spoke. And what of you, ghost? What of your fate? I will stay and fight with these brave warriors, until the very end. No go. Finish this. The Chaplain turned to the open gates and took a step towards them, feeling the weight of what he was about to do bearing down upon his shoulders. For the Emperor. He said, stepping through into the darkness beyond. For the Lion. Cypher replied. With that, he twisted towards the fight and began to run. +++ He descended like an avenging angel, his sonorous voice roaring above the clamour of the battle. Fire Warriors cast around in time to see the screaming jetbike hurtling towards them. Shouts and cries of alarm rose up from the Tau as pulse rifles were swiftly repositioned, ready to counter the threat. A raging ball of plasma erupted from the underside of the skimmer and punched through the massed aliens, tearing bodies apart. Death to the xenos! Ancient Samael bellowed, hacking through the survivors with his mighty obsidian sword. Purge this filth! Scour them from our sight! He slowed the ancient skimmer almost to a standstill and brought it around, the burning thrusters immolating Tau bodies by the score. Bolters mounted into the prow of the vehicle chattered and felled Fire Warriors in droves The ancient warriors head and face was a mess of puckered scar tissue but his dark eyes burned with unhidden contempt. At his word the Astartes around him fought with renewed vigour, driving the Tau back. Warriors and drones reeled before the Dark Angel push, unable to counter the combined ferocity of the wild Marines. Samael brought his sword around and swept the heads of all around him from their shoulders, sending a mist of blood out into the dry air. His gaze drifted toward the towering statue of Jonson and he thrust the

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blade up in salute. For Him! For the father of us all! Let the sins The old warriors voice died in his throat as he caught sight of the gates beneath the Primarchs obsidian feet. They were open. They were open.

Chapter Ninety Four: Betrayal and Regret

Codian moved further into the gloom, the sounds of the battle raging outside growing ever fainter. In here, the air reeked of death and grave dust. The sparse light was sallow and intermittent, the illumination provided by simple promethium burners fashioned to resemble candles. Death was everywhere he looked. Skulls were set into the walls or swung from the ceiling on creaking chains. More of the same stylised angels of death thronged the walls, carved into them so as to represent a sentinel procession, an eternal guard to bear witness to his passing. He clutched the sword tight to his chest as he bore on, feeling the weight of its significance. He still found it daunting that he had been the one chosen for this task, and he preyed to the Emperor that he would be able to perform this duty. These catacombs were truly haunted in every sense of the word. Time seemed to flow differently here, for he found that he could not recall how long he had been walking the long corridor. Noises and echoes hounded him, tearing at the edges of his reason and rationality. Small and dark hooded shapes flitted from alcove to alcove, always on the very edges of his vision. After an indeterminable length of time, he spied light up ahead. As he closed on the point of illumination he started to be able to make out a shape in the distance. A single, featureless door. +++ The Vault is open! Samaels ruined face shuddered as he thrust the black sword out towards the gate, the gesture turning the head of every Dark Angel within earshot. A sea of heads turned as one to look out at the magnificent statue and the gateway beneath, and a gust of disbelief issued from every throat simultaneously. Samaels incredulity at the affront was such that it was several seconds before he noticed the unfamiliar figures charging towards them from the opening, a plethora of mixed fire lancing forth before them. Kill them! He commanded, gunning the engines of his ancient jetbike. Jaghatai led the charge, a living blur of blood red and bone. He unleashed a shuddering howl of challenge and surged into the waiting Angels, shrugging off the bolter fire that hammered against his armour. The Khan was unstoppable. He swept his tulwar before him and slaughtered every Marine within reach.

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Arms, heads and torsos rang as they fell to the floor. Robed bodies surged forward to meet the Primarchs advance again and again, only to fall back in waves, broken and punished. Blind fools! He raged. Ignorant sheep! You do not realise the idiocy of your own actions! Shame has corrupted you all! Jaghatai swept the broken remains of his attackers away from him and cast around to look upon the others. By the walls of Quan Zhou, look lively! A thunderous roar cut the rest of the Khans command short and the towering warrior staggered, scraps of white ceramite shedding from the carapace of his back and arms. Khan! Ligur cried out. +++ Codian reached the door and slowed. It was a single slab of featureless adamantium, corroded and ancient. Etched upon the door was a symbol, one he did not recognise. It looked to depict a planet, a world torn asunder by the blades of a brace of swords. One sword was held in the hands of the same figure he had become so used to here, the cloaked angel of death. Directly opposite to this at the foot of the world was another figure. This one was similar but had the eight-pointed star of chaos as a halo about its head. He dismissed this as nothing more than a curiosity and stepped forward to place a hand upon the door. It was cold to the touch, as cold as the freezing void of space. So cold in fact that he could feel it through his gauntlet. He withdrew and stepped back once more, a deep, aching chill settling upon his mind. There was power here, he could sense it. It was a heavy and conspicuous thing, a sensation of guilt and loss strong enough to influence his own emotions. I will not falter. He said to himself, clutching the blade between his fingers. For the Imperium, I will remain strong. I will do for these lost Angels what I could not do for my own Chapter. I will release them from the bonds of guilt that bind them. I will end this. He drew the sword from its scabbard slowly and then cast the sheath aside, taking a moment to regard the flawless black blade. Eons of power sheathed the ancient polished stone, powerful enough to set both his hands and his mind tingling. Never before had he known a blade to be hewn from rock rather than forged. Just as Cypher had instructed, he placed the tip of the blade into the small recess beside the door. As he did so he considered the duality of the renegades guidance. Cypher had told him that only the black blades of the Dark Angels could open this door, and yet he had not told him of the ancient guardian at the Vaults gates. It was as if the fallen one had wanted to ensure that he would be the one to open the Vault, to play one final role in his secret, century-spanning quest. There was a loud click and the door sank back, dust billowing in its wake. He withdrew and watched as the metal slab slid to one side, revealing a void of darkness beyond. +++ Khan!

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Ligurs voice rose above the tumult once again, a cry of anxiety and disbelief. The powerful psyker gathered every last ounce of his will and sent a burning horizontal column of fire out into the warriors advancing upon the Primarch, immolating the Marines without mercy. As the ethereal fires cleared, one shape still stood in defiance to their scathing touch. He sprinted towards the Khan and then slowed, watching as the towering superhuman rose. His teeth bared, Jaghatai flashed him a look of utter rage and then cast around to discover the perpetrator of the scathing attack. Who would dare? He snarled, looking to the massive shape behind him. The Dreadnought stomped forward to meet him, the assault cannon mounted at its side still smouldering. White Scar! The ancient being at the centre of the towering creation shouted, its powerful voice as accusing as an augmetic monotone representation of speech could be. I know you, traitor! Son of the Emperor in the flesh, fallen so low! Smoke curled from the Primarchs back as he turned to face his attacker, his bronzed face set in a snarl of outrage. How far the ancient honoured have fallen. He growled, raising his blade. The Khan bounded forward, unleashing a high-pitched, feral yell. The venerable Dreadnought moved to meet the charge, its massive feet quaking the weathered stone flags beneath them. The warrior-machine had taken but a single step before the Khan was upon it, a vision of blurred armour and howling rage. He leapt up and swung the tulwar two-handed at the Dreadnoughts leering skull-mask. The blow cut deep into the thick metal artifice and the Dreadnought reeled back, spark playing across its wrought visage. Jaghatai landed and threw himself into a roll as the massive weapon-fist swung out and then down, driving deep into the floor. He danced around the back of the ancient warrior and hacked down, severing the assault cannon from its mount. The bulky weapon rang as it fell to the floor, shattering the stone like glass. The Dreadnought wheeled around and struck out at the weaving Primarch with another clumsy blow, easily avoided. Jaghatai twirled again and again as he rolled around to the front of the sarcophagus, his steel spinning and twisting about his body so fast the naked eye could not follow. Sparks showered from the Dreadnoughts bulky torso again and again, each strike tearing ribbons of ancient armour from its mass. As he attacked the Khan ducked and leapt, never keeping the same height or position for more than a second. He danced around the hulking construct again and struck at the generator housing, separating a sizeable chunk of the unit with the blow. Energy exploded across the Dreadnoughts back and plasma boiled from the rend, hissing as it turned the black metal molten within seconds. Consider this a mercy. He snarled, darting around to the front of the war machine and driving his blade deep into the ornate front plate of the sarcophagus. The Dreadnought shuddered violently, terrible seizures wracking its metal limbs. The Khan withdrew his blade and stepped back in order to observe the final death of the ancient warrior. Primarch! Jaghatai cast around to see Czevak pointing out towards the space high above them. He followed the Inquisitors outstretched finger and saw him.

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Samael. +++ Codian held his breath as he took his first step into the impenetrable void. The stench of corruption hit him like a lascannon blast, almost driving him to his knees. It was not a stench in any literal sense of the phrase, but rather an emotional phenomenon. A disgusting odour of the mind, a mental miasma of indescribable treachery, too much to describe. It was old and dry, as grave dust, as overpowering and nauseating as putrefied flesh and as sickly sweet as decay. It was everything wrong, conjured by the primal mind in warning to the utter inimitability of the evil contained within. Codian fought back the urge to sob as he staggered to his feet, assailed by the experience. He could never have imagined such utter desolation in all his existence. Codian. The voice screamed through his mind, utterly intrusive, utterly vile. Every fibre of his being railed against it, as if it were the voice of all the gods of the warp combined. You have come. I have. Was all he could manage without vomiting into his helm. He took another step and raised the sword out before him, fighting to steady the quaking of his limbs. The Lion Sword. The voice whispered, almost reverently. A weak light guttered into being then, illuminating the small cell. Codian froze and took up a defensive position, readying himself for combat. In the ghostly glow, the mysterious black blade seemed to shimmer with an internal energy of its own. You have done well, Prophet. The dark figure chained to the far wall uttered, its voice little more than a toothless rasp. And I welcome you. Every fibre of Codians being writhed in absolute horror as he regarded the abomination before him. +++ Cyphers hidden eyes looked to pulse with witchlight, just for a second, and he slowed, lowering his pistols. The anxious cries of the others soon spurred him into action and he looked out over the battle to see the Master of the Ravenwing swooping low, ready to advance upon the White Scars Primarch. Grungi saw this also and broke into a sprint, driving his stunted frame forward as fast he could. Heads up, behemoth! You have been marked! The Demiurg launched himself forward, his fist-weapon trailing across the dry floor. He hurtled past the Primarch and raised his arm, hefting the heavy weapon into the air. The skimmer and its dark rider came in fast and hard, mere feet from the ground. The dark sword in his hand glinted as he swung it at the Demiurg and there was a ringing crash. Sparks exploded and Grungi tumbled back, landing hard. Rider and jetbike screamed by the Khan and the

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others, trailing smoke, and then rose quickly once again. He is coming about. The Demiurg warned them, hauling himself to his feet. The short warrior was battered and bloodied but not seriously harmed. Cypher turned his gaze skyward to regard the long, slow turn of the jetbike. The others were busy either reloading their weapons or caught up in the fight with the other Dark Angels. High above, he caught sight of the telltale glow of plasma generation. As Samael brought the jetbike about the cannon mounted at its nose erupted, spitting bright death towards the ground. Primarch He uttered, his voice deep and foreboding. Jaghatai caught the renegades voice and cast around in time to see the dark warrior break into a sprint before him, heading his way. Cypher thrust his guns up and pointed out into the air. Seconds later, the pistols erupted and he followed the trail of fire up and out until it rang and fizzed against the archaic armour of the jetbike high above. With a low base thrum, more audible with the passing of each second, the storm of fire slid across the cruiser-like prow of the vehicle, refracted by the energies of some unseen field so as to cause only glancing damage. The bolters set into the prow opened up in turn, hammering out shell after shell at the grounded warriors. The Khan sprang forward and grabbed one of the enemy Marines by the throat, so quick and violently that the Astarte had no time to respond. He hauled the robed warrior close and lifted him up, seconds before the bolt storm arrived. Shells hammered into the unfortunate Dark Angels back, shattering armour and punching holes in the thick ceramite. In seconds the Marine became a bloody, convulsing ruin. As Samael screamed by the Khan followed his progress and flung the body at the passing shape, catching the jetbike with a glancing blow. The next pass will see you fall to me, lost one! He raged, his inhuman voice resounding through the cavernous space. +++ Codian regarded the being before him with utter horror and disdain. He had known that this meeting would be a part of his destiny for some time now, and yet as he stood here, before the fiend, he found it almost impossible to fight the urge to turn and leave, to cast this vision of betrayal and evil from his mind forever. He knew that, on some level, these feelings were not generated by his own emotions but rather by the inimitable presence of the fiend. He was anathema to the mind and the spirit, an avatar of all an Astarte stood for. The worst kind of enemy. A traitor. His visage sickened Codian to the core. His skin was pale, like that of a corpse. Where once a proud physique had been, now there was only wasted muscle and protruding bone. Long grey hair was plastered across the mans face, partially hiding the dark, ruined holes where once his eyes had been. Scars dominated his flesh so totally that Codian could not see an inch unmarked. The mans hands were gone, his gaunt arms secured to the moisture-slick stone by iron nails driven through the bones of his forearms. What mortal man could imagine the fates of the stars? The ruined being rasped. Of the deep terrors that lie within the tombs of the gods. That all existence is but a falsehood, so deeply ingrained as to be the only palatable truth. That gods could war for domination of all existence and be forgotten, the greatest feat ever

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achieved by sentient design. The pitiful creature laughed then, a long, hacking sound. The cackle quickly degraded into a dry retch, as if the figure was almost suffocated by his attempts at mirth. Enough. Codian whispered, feeling the Lion Swords weight between his fingers. I know you, traitor. I know your darkest secrets. I am here to end this. Upon hearing this the man lifted his head as if to regard the Chaplain. His mouth twisted into a pained and toothless grin. Do you not recognise those words, Prophet? No, of course you do not. Temporal orphans, we are. Kindred, in a sense. We are nothing alike, lost one! Codian growled, such comparisons inflaming his anger. The man simply laughed. Your zeal pleases me, son of Guilliman. I have chosen well. Kill me then, as is your destiny. End this. Fulfil your role. Codian sprang forward and thrust the sword out before him, bringing it to a stop inches from the wretchs flesh. The man threw his head back and cried out, embracing the killing blow. Moments later and it had still failed to land. You hesitate. He said, lowering his skeletal head once more. Ah, I sense it, your curiosity. The thirst inside you is strong, Codian. You need to know, dont you? You need to hear it confirmed. Codian took a step back and lifted the Lion sword up, placing the blade against his shoulder. You long for this, dont you? You are at my mercy now, heretic. You will answer to me. The man let his head flop against his chest, the anticipative exhilaration of his own demise draining away. Then ask, Prophet. Ask, and you shall receive. I will tell you all you wish to know, all that the ghost of shadow could not. That you will Codian replied. Luther.

Chapter Ninety Five: Luther's Legacy

The ancient being before him chuckled, as if amused by Codians use of his name. Such passion, tempered by a driving ambition to understand beyond the limitations of your creation. You are a rare breed, Prophet. A treasure. Enough! Codian snarled. I am here to deliver the release you so crave, Luther, but I will not do so until you have answered those questions your wraith lapdog cannot. I will know the truth. So be it. Luther answered, his voice low and ominous. But I warn you, Codian, you will not accept such answers lightly, despite their validity. Such resolute faith can blind a man to the darkest of truths.

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I will consider myself warned, renegade. Now tell me. Tell me of the true darkness behind the sons of the Lion. Before him Luther exhaled and shook his head, a pained expression. True sin can never be hidden, Chaplain, no matter how far one goes to attempt to do so. I have languished here in this cell for millennia, too defiant to die, and yet here you stand before me now, the very avatar of my salvation. I am but one facet of the darkness that haunts my Chapter, and haunted my Legion before it. Tell me, Codian. Do you even know the true identity of the being who brought you here, who engineered all this? He is you. Codian answered. Yes, and no. He is my soul, my salvation. Everything left of me that is good, that can hope. Once I held power enough to rival that of my Primarch, power enough to strike him low. I did so, Codian. My Primarch could save killed me, but he hesitated. I took that hesitation as my chance and visited hell upon him, and yet, when I saw what I had done, the veil of corruption was lifted from my eyes. I saw the truth. What truth, Luther? The truth of guilt, Chaplain. Powerful enough, guilt can become a driving force in its own right. It can transcend space and time. I struck him down, Codian, and at that very moment, I saw it. I saw the sins of my weakness and deceit laid bare before me. He inclined his head towards the sword in Codians hand. In the seconds before I struck my Primarch down I saw it in his eyes. The truth hit him as revelation and stayed his hand. He saw, just for one fleeting moment, all that would come to pass. He let me strike the fatal blow, Codian. He let me win. In that instant all that I was became fractured, sundered. Cypher came to be, born of my own shame and desire for retribution. He took the Lions blade and vanished, forever divorced from me, his lifes goal evident. In that instant, I knew what had to pass. That makes no sense, heretic, nor does it explain Cypher. Oh, but I does. Cypher is my ghost, Chaplain. He is all that remains of my honour, of the man that I was. When my Primarch fell my soul was torn in two, good divorced from evil. Even the weapons he wields are symbolic, dont you see it? The steadfast purity of the bolt shell, tempered by the unpredictable fire of plasma. Darkness and light. My salvation. Codian shifted away from the ancient heretic as he considered this revelation, pacing slowly across the cold stone floor. Luther watched him for a few moments, following his movements despite the absence of his eyes. You have seen the evidence around you, Chaplain. You have seen the Watchers in the Dark, I sense this much. The warriors of the Dark Angels are taught to abhor the witch, to detest the warp and its daemonic wiles. Do you not see the duplicity in this? This Tower of Angels, this last surviving chunk of cursed Caliban, is literally seeped in such darkness. Therein lies the greatest shame of all. Codian slowed as he heard this, intrigued. Go on. The Dark Angels were the first of the Legions to be created by the Emperor, you know that. And yet the high and mighty powers-that-be are loath to utilise the Lions flawless gene-seed to found new Chapters. This is because there is a curse upon that gene-seed, a dark and crippling flaw so terrible that the Angels have fought to keep it secret for almost eleven millennia.

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Luther let his head flop back against the wall, a slow, toothless smile spreading across his cracked lips. They put it into us all, the soul-poison. Terran blood was enough to counter it, but not so the blood of the sons of Caliban. No, the corruption that had blighted our world for so long was ingrained within us, absorbed by our very cells. We were condemned the moment we pledged our loyalty to the Emperor. Ironic, is it not? What darkness? Codian asked, drawn by the heretics words despite his better judgement. The inherent flaw of the first gene-seed. Pride. Lust. Ambition. The thirst for brilliance. Perfection, but above all these, pride. Even now you see it. A Chapter driven to hide the sins of the past with such utter zeal as to forsake all else in the quest to achieve this. The sons of the Lion were the first of the Emperors chosen and so they sought to uphold that honour, as do they still. Whether or not he believed it, the Chaplain was visibly discomfited at hearing this. So, you claim that your own sins were the product of some flaw in the Chapters seed, rather than your own failings and weakness of character? A poor defence, traitor. Typical, but poor. I tire Open your eyes, Prophet. Luther interrupted, and for a brief moment Codian felt a sinister pressure thicken his thoughts. He shook his head and took a step forward, lowering the sword. Luther saw this and nodded slowly. Baulk all you like. You hear the truth, and some deep, primal part of you knows that. I know you see it in me. Jonson saw it too, and it sickened him. By then it was too late. His first brothers, the sons of his adoptive world, were cursed. We were rendered too susceptible to pride, and to the weakness such conceit brings. Our souls were open gates, Chaplain, warm and inviting to the honeyed temptations of chaos. Luther sighed then, as if lost in the recollection of the past. Jonson knew. He knew of this weakness even when we did not. Before the indoctrination we had been brothers, he and I. The Emperor came and changed all that. He made us into what we are and damned us in the process. When the Primarch set out to conquer the galaxy in his fathers name he left us behind, the flawed, for fear of how the conquest would change us, corrupt us. Oh, I have no doubt that he planned todealwith us on his return. He would have put us out of our misery, like rabid dogs. Bonds of brotherhood and loyalty, thicker than blood, would have been discarded. I, in my blindness, festered like some suppurating scab, seething against the slight. Too blind to see that he was right. You betrayed him. Codian said. As well you know. The chaos gods saw their opening and took it. They gave me powers undreamt of, powers to rival those of the Primarch himself. Dark, warp-spawned powers. They elevated me as a vessel of their own desires, too blinded with rage and drunk with pride to see the truth. I fell, mind and soul, to the temptations of the Pantheon. I became that which I so reviled. II killed him. And now you wish to atone, traitor. Codian answered. And yet, for all your vaunted power, the one thing you seek has thus far eluded you. Death. Luther answered. Yes, Chaplain. Such is the power of my divided consciousness that I can cross the stars with but a thought. I can pierce the veil of time and yet, for all my ability, I cannot end my own life. Pathetic, yes? And so now you see it. The darkest, most shameful sin of my Chapter. They have kept me here for well over a hundred centuries, torturing and hounding me, working to glean all they can regarding the other fallen. Only the oldest and most learned of their ilk know the truth, and they would stop at nothing to hunt down every last one of the traitors, in order to see the lie hidden for all time. Dont you see it, Codian?

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See what? He answered angrily. Enough of these riddles, Luther! The truth behind the lie. The darkest secret of them all. The flaw, Prophet. The flaw that lies within every Dark Angel. The flaw of the gene-seed. If I had been allowed to die then the Primarch would have lived. Jonson would have exposed the truth, no matter the consequences. They fight to preserve themselves, to sustain the lie that is the Chapter. The Dark Angels fear the wrath of their own Primarch, Codian, and that fear drives them to forsake his memory. Kill me, and amend that millennial sin. So, the truth finally reveals itself. Codian said, stepping forward. He lowered the sword further and placed the tip against the mans bare chest. He writhed at its touch. One more thing to consider, Prophet, before you end my life. Luther said, his breath shallow and ragged. Beware the ancient evil. The first evil. You know of what I speak, I see it in your eyes. The Ctan. The Ctan. Luther echoed, his voice heavy with fear. Yes. So ancient are these fiends that even the Emperor knows little of their true origins. Their influence stretches to Terra itself, such is their power. They are abroad, Codian, and they hunger. Theirs is a genetic legacy more deep-rooted and potent than any other. Before you end my life I must ensure that you know this. The legacy of the Ctan is far more ancient and insidious than any other. From the dawn of time our race was blighted, Codian, corrupted by these celestial beings. Not even the Emperor knew of the designs of the Star Gods, for if he had, he would surely have seen our race exterminated rather than allow their efforts to come to fruition. Blasphemy! Codian spat, driving the polished stone through the traitors skin. Luther writhed against the touch of the ebony blade, his pallid skin blistering and smouldering at its touch. They infiltrated us, Chaplain, so long ago, at the dawn of our creation. They implanted within us an insidious seed, a genetic corruption, so that one day our race might bare a terrible fruit. A fruit that would be harvested by them. Codian fought against every cell of his being and pulled away, his hand shaking. No matter how vile or loathsome the traitors words were, he knew that Luther did not lie. He had nothing to gain now. as hard as it was for him to do so, Codian stepped back and listened. Luther saw this and exhaled slowly, recognising the stay of execution for what it was. Heed my words as warning, Codian, warning of the evil that lurks within all of us, within our very cells. Just as there are those possessed of the power to draw from and manipulate the warp, so are there those who are anathema to it. The psychic blanks. They are a rare breed, thankfully, but they are the most dangerous of all. They are the soulless ones, the legacy of the Ctan. There was a time when even the Emperor did not realise the evil of them. He sought to utilise these beings for his own ends, for such creatures are powerful weapons against the daemon and the witch. At the height of his power, when mankind marched across the stars, he commanded an army of these soulless beings, warrior-women known as the Sisters of Silence. Two of his own sons even carried the void-gene, bred into them by the mystical science of the Immortal One. Primarchs? Codian asked incredulously, his voice barely more than a whisper. Yes. When he learned of the true origins of this sinister trait, he had them hunted down and destroyed, and their memory expunged from Imperial records for all time. He erased them from existence so totally that

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even I do not know any more than this. His own sons. Likewise the Sisters. As devoted as they were, they were exterminated, lest the corruption be allowed to spread. So you see, Prophet, just how dangerous the Ctan are. Beware them, for they move even now to manipulate this war to suit their own ends. Again, I hear of these Ctan. Codian answered. These ancient and mysterious gods of old. I have seen them, in my dreams. Yes, a portent. Heed those visions, learn from them. Fear the Tau by all means, for the Unity is a force powerful enough to take Terra in its own right, but do not underestimate the ageless denizens that lurk beneath the surface of this galactic war. Never allow your vigilance to slip, not even for a moment. They wait, as ever they have done, for the perfect opportunity to strike. Luther shifted his weight then, shuffling his wasted body further up the wall. He lifted his head as if to expose his throat, his breathing quickly becoming laboured. I am ready, Prophet. I am ready, at long last, to die. Honour me. Codian steeled himself and slowly lowered the sword, sensing that the end of their meeting was drawing to a close. He felt his fingers tighten around the grip of the ancient sword and held his breath, ready to take the life of the ancient traitor. One last thing. Luther whispered suddenly. Before I meet my fate, I have one final revelation for you. You must hear me and you must heed what I have to reveal. There is another who seeks you, Daelo Codian. A champion of the lost. For the Emperor and for the good of this war, you have divorced yourself from the Alliance in order to see your role in this through. You are no longer able to count those who fight beneath the banner of unification as allies and brothers. My cross to bear. Codian said, sadness heavy in his voice. And bear it you shall. The dispossessed shall rally to your cause, gathered by the Condemned One. You, who have the ability to see beyond black and white, beyond heresy and faith, shall be their shepherd. They shall be your army, and they will help you to bring about a war the likes of which these stars have not seen since the Ctan were at the zenith of their power. Now, enough. It is time. Heed my words and be ready, Prophet. End this. His mind reeled with the revelations of the heretic. He fought to dispel the confusion within him and prepared to strike. A part of him pitied the wasted sack of flesh before him. A part of him understood all that Luther had endured to bring him here to this fate, a fate not wholly of his own design. Still, he knew without hesitation what had to be done. He had seen what would come to pass as the result of his actions, and he trusted his own instincts. I commend your tortured soul to the Emperor, Luther, and I vow to pray for your forgiveness. He said, drawing his arm back. Thank you, Codian. Luther replied, closing his empty eyelids. With that he rested his head against the wall and welcomed the blow that would pierce his heart and release him from his flesh prison, a blow he had awaited for millennia. There followed an instant of searing pain and he convulsed, feeling the black blade drive deep into his chest. See! He howled, his voice a terrible, shuddering cry. Sons of the Emperor, see the truth! Codian staggered back and let the Lion Blade fall, his hands shaking. The death scream of Luther peeled through his mind, a banshee scream of pain and release. He stood there for long moments, frozen by the

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enormity of his own actions, his mind reeling at what he had done and what he had set into motion. The lights dimmed then to little more than a hazy glow, casting the cell into near darkness. He became aware of movement around him, sensing their presence rather than catching a sound or a shadow at the corner of his eye. They moved as if from the shadows themselves, squat, cloaked avatars of guilt, silent and enigmatic. The Watchers surrounded him, ignoring his presence as they moved towards the body of Luther. One of the beings picked up the sword, leaving the others to surround the dead heretic. They had been waiting for this. For millennia, they had been waiting for this, hidden in the deepest, most inaccessible depths of the Rock. Waiting for the legacy to be completed. The sword bearer regarded Codian in silence for but a fleeting second, turning its hooded face his way. Then it stepped into the shadows and was gone. With that, he turned on his heel and hurried from the cell, sure that his part in this was done. He drew the Dawnblade and his bolt pistol, feeling a fresh surge of determination flow through him. True war was coming to the Tower of Angels now.

Chapter Ninety Six: Omen

Ligurs soul-fire burned a path through the milling Astartes like a flaming hammer, searing flesh and warping armour. He danced around the incoming blows of the robed warriors and drove his claws through ceramite and flesh, killing with every strike. Hes coming around for another try! Torvus warned the others, thrusting his hammer up and out above the heads of his comrades to where the shrieking jetbike came about. The others quickly shifted their positions as bolt fire hammered into the stone floor a second later, scattering the combatants. Plasma fire descended like a meteorite to smash into the ground, so reckless and close it blew Dark Angels off their feet. He is mine! Cypher darted as if from nowhere, his guns singing. A hail of fire slammed into the approaching jetbike, so violent and powerful that the Ravenwing commander had to raise his sword arm in defence, robbing him of the ability to close the attack with murderous close combat. The renegade saw his chance. Three quick strides and a leap and he was upon the passing commander. As quick as a flash his bolt pistol was back in its holster and he grabbed at the uppermost fin. Samael ascended rapidly, carrying the renegade with him as he climbed. The speed of the hurtling jetbike tore at him as he fought to drag himself up, his plasma pistol ready to fire the killing shot. The shot never came. Cypher froze, his hand losing its grip on the bike. Samael continued to climb, leaving the dark warrior suspended in mid-air for a split second. See! He screamed, his voice rising to such a sudden and unexpected crescendo that every head turned to investigate the noise. Sons of the Emperor, see the truth! The howl drove Marines and Tau to their knees, such was its force. Ligur convulsed and crashed to the floor, flickering lightning playing about his psychic hood.

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The dark warrior met his end then, an end as swift as it was violent. His entire body exploded into sooty darkness, a miasma that howled as it spread and then dissipated, pouring into and through the damp walls of the chamber itself and out of sight, hurtled the space and time by the hidden and unknown death of Luther. Jaghatai Khans eyes widened as the rolling vocal thunder passed over him. The death-scream was enough to stagger even him and it did so. He crashed down onto one knee and let out a gasp, his eyelids flickering Millennia of torture and suffering had all but driven the memory from his mind, but here, now, it returned with a vengeance. Once, long, long ago, he had experienced the selfsame thing. +++ Then My Khan? Jaghatai opened his eyes slowly to find himself on his knees. His brethren exchanged silent glances as they moved to assist him, though rightfully hesitant to offend the Primarch by offering him aid. Lord, you stumbled. Kursal said, his rumbling voice heavy with concern. You have sustained many injuries this day. Perhaps the poisons that coat the xenos blades are more potent than we realised The Khan rose slowly and swept a hand out before him, instilling an instant silence. The bodies of the enemy dead lay scattered around him, twisted and broken by the vengeful fury of the White Scars. Before him, the portal still guttered and swirled, a tunnel of glowing inter-dimensional energy left behind at the Eldars retreat. Its dark centre stretched away into infinity, its destination unknown. Or least it had been, until this very moment. No other White Scar dared speak as the Khan stood in silence, regarding the phenomenon. His mind still reeled with the darkness of the vision, and though he could not explain its happening, he knew, with utter conviction, that all that he had seen was the truth. And that truth was far darker than anything he could ever have imagined. After what seemed an age, Kursal risked the Khans wrath to speak once again. Great Khan, what is our next course of action now? The ancient and wise Storm Seer asked. He tilted the animal-skull head of his staff towards the gateway. The enemy commander has made good his escape and yet the portal remains open. This must be a trap, Khan, designed to ensnare us. The Eldar expect us to follow in order to exact retribution. I suspect that they lie in wait for us to do so. I advise caution We follow. Jaghatai growled in response, the manner of his voice leaving no room to mistake his reply as anything other than an order. Nonetheless, the old warrior dared to voice his objections. It is my duty to counsel your orders, my Khan, and I exercise that duty now. if we charge headlong into that gate then we charge to our doom. The guiding spirits scream their warnings, lord. We must heed those admonitions. That we must, old one. Jaghatai replied, shifting so as to face the Storm Seer. He fought back the urge to reveal the truth of what he had witnessed to his men, for though each one of them would gladly die for him,

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they had little idea of what lay ahead for them. Not one of them would return from the realm of nightmare that awaited them on the other side of the portal, and the Khan knew that he could not reveal all he had seen. Listen to me. He began, And listen well. Trust the words of your Khan, and know them to be the absolute truth. I ask this of all of you, as my warriors and my brothers. Will you trust me? The reply was as strident and as swift as it was resolute. Each of the warriors in turn fell to one knee and pledged their fealty to the Khan, with neither cynicism nor delay. The Khan saw this and was heartened. Then heed what I have to tell you all. There is a darkness coming to our realms, a darkness so powerful and insidious that it will eclipse even the sins of Horus. At the mention of the dead Warmasters name the warriors howled and cursed, as if afflicted by some physical pain. The memory of the heresy was still on the mind of each of them, mental scars that would never truly heal. Jaghatai raised his hand and bade silence. This ancient evil will surpass everything we have ever known in its power. Only the Primarchs and their Legions have the strength to counter this threat, though its emergence will be millennia from now. This evil will hunt us, brothers. It will hunt the first sons of the Emperor and destroy them long before these events come to pass, so as to ensure that their goals are achieved without resistance. The Khan paused then and took a deep breath, as though what he had to say next weighed heavily upon him. Thousands of years from now, our Imperium will need me. I must ensure that I am alive to see that time. No matter how I achieve this, I will do so. If I stay in the realms of man, this evil will find and destroy me. I must place myself far from these stars, where its influence cannot reach. Tell us what must be done, my lord. Kursal answered, placing his fist across his chest and inclining his head. We are yours. You will leave. The Khan said, turning to face the portal. For the realm beyond is a place of death and torment. None of you would survive its predations. You will return to Chogoris and you will carry with you the message of my disappearance. You will tell our people that I crossed the dimensions to fight the Eldar and you will tell them no more than that. This secret must be kept if I am to succeed. No! Quojai roared, stepping forward. The massive Captain raised his lightning claw and hammered it against his chest, his bronze face alight with indignation. He swept the thick fur of his cloak back and fell to one knee before the Khan. My place is by your side, Khan, as it always has been. I would end my own life at your command, but I would not abandon you, even on pain of death. No matter the dishonour in refusing to follow orders, lord, there can be no worse disgrace than allowing you to face death alone. May you strike me down for my insolence, but I will not leave your side. You will die. Jaghatai assured him. He looked to them all. You will all die. I promise you this. The Eldar will torture and kill you. I have seen Your quest is ours, Primarch. Kursal said, joining the prostrate Captain at the feet of the Khan. No matter

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the outcome, we are forever by your side. You will not face this ordeal alone, and I will not be dissuaded. As he looked on, his warriors offered themselves at his feet, one by one. The Khan watched as Kursals features looked to glow briefly, ethereal power playing about his head. After a moment he lifted his gaze and spoke. I have informed the fleet that we are following the enemy, Khan. That will be the account of our fate. At this, Jaghatai nodded. It has been an honour. He said, looking to the alien portal before them. May you all take a good toll before your souls find their way back to the Steppes. With that, Jaghatai Khan activated his blade, unleashed a shuddering warcry and advanced. +++ The silence was charged and palpable. No one dared to speak. No one dared even move. The crash resounded through the hall with thunderous force, causing all those present to shiver. The mighty oak banqueting table shuddered beneath his weight, almost collapsing. On his knees now, the Wolf-King continued to stare into the distance, his yellow eyes glazed and vacant. He was stripped to the waist and his massive frame heaved with every breath, as if his body railed against the potency of the vision. The flagon of ale he had held was now empty, its contents leaking through the cracks in the ancient wood. I see He whispered, his voice so quiet that no one else heard him speak. Lord Russ? Bjorn said, rising slowly to his feet. He swept his mane of red hair from his eyes and pushed the wooden bench aside, concern dominating his face. Is something wrong? Leman Russ ignored the young Wolf Lord and cast around to whisper in the ears of Magnlon and Roljnir, his oldest and most respected retainers. Bjorn leaned forward and struggled to hear what the Primarch said, though he did not catch his words. The two Wolf Lords left their seats immediately and headed out towards the vast doors, barking orders as they went. A murmur of confusion rose up from the rest of the gathered Wolves. Something was happening, and it was important enough to bring the celebrations of the Feast of Ascension to an abrupt end. Bjorn watched them go and then turned to his Primarch, his face creased with unease. Speak, my Primarch, I beg you. Tell us what troubles you. Russ regarded the young warrior as he rose slowly to his feet, the table creaking beneath his weight. He cast the empty flagon aside and looked out on the gathered warriors, his scarred face lined with grief. Brothers. He began. Sons of Fenris. Hear your King. Hear what I have to tell you, and let no man present hear repeat my words, on pain of dishonouring me. There is a darkness coming Bjorn listened then, his jaw slowly falling as he took in all the Primarch had to say. He placed his hands against the tabletop as he listened, hardly daring to breathe for fear of missing a single word. As he spoke, the Primarchs eyes ran with tears and his voice broke, such was the sorrow within him.

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The account of Russs vision lasted for what seemed an eternity, the Wolves around him moved almost to tears. At last he finished, and stepped down from his lofty position. Around him, his warriors mourned. The Primarch snatched an overflowing flagon from the hands of the nearest Wolf and downed its contents in a single gulp. Wiping his lips, he called for his armour and weapons to be brought to him. As the order was obeyed, he looked out over the gathered warriors and spoke again. Let no Wolf reveal what was said here. This is but a parting of the ways, my brothers. None of you may be alive to see these events come to pass, for even I cannot tell you how far into the future this darkness is. But I ask you this. Every year, upon the eve of this event, set my place. Do so in my honour, so that those who join our ranks can know of my passing from this realm. Give the pups hope, in doing so you will keep this Legion strong. And know this, all of you. I will return. I promise you that. I will return to you for the final battle. For the Wolftime. Bjorn watched then as the Primarch cast the cup aside and made to leave. At that, he slammed his palms against the thick wood, lifted his head, and howled his sorrows to the empty air. In his mind, he made a vow that he would not fall until he stood by his Primarchs side once again. +++ The honour guard shifted as one, turning to face the vast iron doors. The doors had not opened in almost a year. Now, with a grinding squeal, they did so once again. Each one of the warriors straightened and brought their chainswords to attention before their chests. Without question or delay they quickly formed an avenue, leaving a path between them wide enough for the emerging figure to pass. Though each of the warriors knew the individual that passed from the gloom beyond and into the light of the hall, none recognised him. His pale, haggard features were almost hidden, engulfed by the twinned mass of black hair and beard. The black-armoured leviathan swept his once-pristine white cloak back as he passed down the line, not once pausing or turning his head to regard the warriors either side of him. None of the Astartes dared question the Primarchs actions. For a year they had stood sentinel outside his personal quarters, awaiting his re-emergence. Even when they had heard his cries and howls of despair echoing through the vast chamber earlier that day, none had dared move to offer assistance, for his orders had been resolute. Each one of them had heard the rumours about what the Primarch had done in the dungeons beneath the Ravenspire. It was said that he had slaughtered the lost ones held there, those pitiful and deformed creatures driven mad by the accelerated zygote processes he himself had ordered. There were those who whispered Corax had never forgiven himself for this, and that his self-imposed exile was a result of that torment. Corax reached the end of the line and cast around, his eyes finally falling upon the waiting, silent Astartes. His dark eyes were red and wild, and as he looked upon the warriors of the Raven Guard, he lifted a finger and let it hover before him. When he spoke, his voice was heavy and low, its tone absolute. Nevermore He uttered. With that single word, the tortured Primarch lowered his hand, turned back towards the waiting doors and left, heading towards the shuttle bay and the secret destiny that lay ahead. +++

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The walls of the vast hall shook with the fury of the conflict. Brothers who had turned against one another forgot their hatred and lowered their weapons, mesmerised and terrified equally by the near omnipotent struggle. Traitor! The single word resounded around the hall, the voice that had bellowed it so thunderous and powerful it shattered stained glass windows older than every warrior present. Lion ElJonson was a fury to behold, a living force of vengeful rage. His black sword rang against his opponents own again and again, and so swift were the traded strikes that the sound of each blow merged into one long, keening ring. The heretic Luther stood firm against the larger beings wrath, his twisted features pale and glowing with an inner light terrible to behold. Luther long black hair whipped and convulsed as if alive, assailed by ethereal winds. His eyes were twin voids of black miasma, leaking their evil out into the Tower of Angels. Vile energies erupted from the traitors hands to set about the Primarch but he stood firm, and did not falter. We were brothers! He roared, his face alight with rage. Damn the weakness in your soul, Luther! I should have put you all to the sword! I should have ended you all! He drove forward and beat aside the traitors defence, driving Luther back and down onto his knees. He raised the Lion Sword above his head and prepared then to end Luthers life. Stunned and prone, the heretic awaited the killing blow. It did not fall. The Lion stood rigid, his face contorted by astonishment, his eyes wide and fearful. The sword hovered above Luther, locked in place. I see The Primarch whispered. Luther saw his chance and took it. At that final moment, as the traitor rose to strike him down, Jonson looked to his former brother and saw what would come to pass. A wall of utter malevolence surged from Luther and struck the Primarch with absolute force. His armour buckled and his skin burned and he was driven onto his back, broken by the full power of Luthers sins. Luther fell to his knees then, as though the darkness that had burst from him had left him drained, his strength stolen. All around him, every Dark Angel faithful to the Primarch lay dead, shattered by the sheer force of the psychic blast. The Fallen stood still, stunned by the enormity of what they had witnessed. Luthers mind was clear then and he realised what he had done, what he had become. He crawled on his hands and knees to where the Primarch lay, punished and dying. My Primarch, what have I done? He sobbed, distraught by the ruin he had brought upon them all. Forgive me, I beg of you! Forgive me! Jonson opened his eyes and looked to Luther, barely able to speak. When he did so, his voice was almost lost amid the thunderous quaking of the Tower as the bombardment from the ships high above slowly tore Caliban herself apart. Iam destinedto journey intothe darkest of shadows He gasped, his voice no more than a rasp. See myreturn, Luther, andyou shallhave myforgiveness.

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At this the Lions eyes closed and Luther slammed his fists into the stone floor, utterly distraught. The walls around him began to heave and break apart as the planet itself quaked in its death spasms, slowly but surely coming apart. My Primarch! He screamed, rising. He spread his arms wide and let the dark power that had condemned him to purgatory flow from him, spreading like black cancer to envelop the entire tower. I will move the stars themselves to seek your forgiveness! One by one, the Fallen screamed as tendrils of shadow furled about them and tore them from Luthers presence, to cast them out beyond the veils of space and time. Luther cried and prayed for the forgiveness of the Lion as Caliban tore itself apart, holding the very walls of the Tower of Angels secure against the violent death of his world. Around him the shadows seethed, and the Watchers came. +++ Blessed Emperor Dorn stood alone at the centre of the vast bridge of the Sword of Sacrilege, covered from head to foot in the blood of his enemies. What was left of the foul traitors coated the bulkheads and control banks around him. Such had his fury been that little more than ichors had been left in his murderous wake. He blinked. No other Imperial Fist had survived this fight. No matter the sorrow he felt at their loss, only one thought dominated his mind. Itit cannot be. He whispered to himself, casting about slowly. Every fibre of his being ached to dismiss the vision though he knew he could not. However fantastic and unbelievable he found it to be, he knew, with utter certainty, that it was the truth. His mind swam with all that he had seen, so much so that he released his grip and let his mighty siege hammer fall to the deck. This changed everything. Everything. He saw then what he had to do, for there was no other choice left to him now than to obey his own instincts and take action. As he considered how he would go about this, he thought to the brothers he had lost over the years. Had they too received the same vision? Many had simply disappeared or died in mystery. Corax himself had simply upped and left, abandoning his own Chapter without a thought. As he considered these mysteries, everything slowly started to make sense. He had seen the full truth of what lay ahead and he knew that, if he was to live to see these darkest of days come to pass, he could no longer lead his Chapter from the fore. Indeed, he could not be seen to be alive still, for the nightmares he had seen would surely strive to see him destroyed in order to prevent any defence against their millennial designs. Rogal Dorn had to die. The Primarchs brilliant tactical mind worked furiously as he quickly formulated his plan. He had to leave the public gaze for good, and secrete himself where he would be the most hidden and safe in the entire galaxy. Only then would he stand even a chance of surviving through to the end, where his presence would be needed more desperately than ever before. Dorn knew without any doubt that there was only one place for him to go. Where his brothers had appeared

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to flee into the darkness, he knew that only the most brilliant of light would hide him from these ancient predators. For you, my lord, I divorce myself from your kingdoms. He whispered into the empty air. His memory was second to none and he ran through the warren of tunnels and corridors of the traitor ship in his mind, planning his way to the shuttle bay and his escape. Before he set out, he paused, one final consideration burgeoning its way into his mind. He could not simply disappear, for this would leave a lingering uncertainty. He had to die, and there had to be proof of his death. With that in mind he made his way quickly over to where brave Forzen lay, the largest and most powerful of his retinue, retrieving his hammer as he went. He proceeded to remove every loose item of identification he possessed about his form and placed the objects around the fallen warrior. Then he removed the meltacharge from the veterans belt. He primed the device and set it on a five-minute delay before placing it gently upon the dead warriors mighty chest. This done, he slowly lifted Forzens mighty axe, and activated its power field. He raised his fist to the crackling blade. For your honour, my Emperor. You and I shall guard each other through the ages until the dawn of that final, terrible day. +++ You are a fool, Angel of Baal! You are all fools, and you are all dead! The abomination declared, his unmatchable rage a visible crimson fire about his head. A deafening roar rose up about the giant, as thousands upon thousands of voices bellowed their assent. The terrible colossus of corruption that had once been Angron shook his fist above his horned head, cursing every living thing along the vast walls, but none more so than his brother. Sanguinius did not reply. He stood in silence atop the towering walls of the Imperial Palace, regarding the crimson-armoured giant he had once called brother far below. As lost Angron was now a vision of utter evil and corruption, transformed by the vile powers of his god, so Sanguinius was a vision of purity and reverence. His mighty wings were furled at his back and a shining aura of pure white light played about his head. The face of the Blood Angel Primarch shone softly as if his skin itself glowed with the light of that purity, illuminating his handsome features for all about him to see. He raised his flaming sword and pointed it out at the horizon beyond. Though he did not speak, the message was clear. There would be no surrender. Angron turned his vast back to the walls, his mighty form shuddering with anger. Black smoke curled about his armoured body, as if in physical representation of his seething dissatisfaction. A thunderous tumult of defiance shook the bulwark around him as the Emperors loyal defenders voiced their non-compliance in the most vocal way. Lost amongst the deafening storm of noise, Sanguinius closed his eyes and bowed his head. The single, glistening tear than ran down his porcelain cheek fell unnoticed. The vision. Still the portent played over and over in his mind. He had held the memory of the vision in his mind for a day now, and he had dared tell no one of what he had seen.

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The risks were too great. He had seen all that was to happen and he knew in his heart he could not change it. He dare not, for fear that he would alter all that would come to pass should he attempt to do so. He was gifted with the power of foretelling, and as such he had grown used to portents and premonitions. This had been far different. Far more powerful. He would have to face Horus, his b-----d brother, and soon. So much replied on that confrontation. If not him, then his father and master would be the one to face the corrupt Warmaster first, and he would fall. The Emperor was a power unmatched in all the stars but his heart was noble, too much so to allow him to fully accept the extent of his most favoured sons fall from grace. Sanguinius had loved his brother more so than any of his other siblings and yet he knew that Horus could not be saved, too deep was the cancer within his soul. Only the death of one son caused by another would serve to force the Emperor to see this. So it was that Sanguinius knew he had to face Horus soon, and that he had to fall. He had to die, so that countless others would live. My lord? Sanguinius lifted his head slowly and opened his eyes, seeking the source of the voice. By his side, honoured Aurcarius stood facing him. The Captains scarred face looked wrought with concern The Primarch saw this and turned away, forcing a smile of cunning anticipation to form on his lips. This war will soon be over, Aurcarius, I promise you this. We will see victory. Yes, lord. The Captain replied. At that he looked away and fixed his helm into place, readying himself for the next assault. After a moments silence, Sanguinius spoke again, quiet enough for only his most trusted Captain to hear. I am sorry, my Captain. The veteran looked around as he heard this, his bewildered expression hidden. For what, lord? For the memory. Sanguinius replied, a deep regret weighing his voice. Blood and darkness. For the Rage. Aurcarius did not understand, nor did he answer. He simply nodded and then looked back to the millionsstrong armies of the enemy far below as they began to surge forward once again. +++ Treachery. Fulgrims eyes widened as the axe-head halted a inch from his throat. Breathing hard, the lord of the Emperors Children stepped back and immediately took up a defensive stance, drawing his sabre up before him. The bodies of Emperors Children and Iron Hands alike lay scattered where they had fallen. There were no survivors left, save for the two brothers. Fulgrim exhaled and rotated his neck, still unable to believe how close he had come to death.

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That disbelief soon faded, however, as the darkness within him surged to the fore and demanded the life of his brother once gain. Fool! Fulgrim spat, pointing the tip of the curved golden blade out at the still giant before him. You had the chance and you hesitated. Old loyalties no longer apply, Ferrus. We are enemies to the death, you and I. I can serve the weakling Emperor no longer, brother. I will suffer no such hesitation in ending your life. Ferrus Manus did not answer. I see! He cried, his harsh augmetic voice a bass growl. I see what you cannot, brother, for your foul gods are blind to the truth of the First Darkness. You have no idea. What is it, my brother? Have your modifications failed you? Fulgrim spat, venom heavy in his voice. You disgust me. So far from physical perfection as to be almost more machine than flesh. A disgusting notion. I will carve what remains of you from your armoured shell if it pleases you, Ferrus. The Colossus began to convulse then, his segmented armour breaking apart and writhing as if with a life of its own. Mechadendrites and uncountable other mechanical extremities unfurled across his body, changing his shape so swiftly and totally that within seconds the Iron Hands Primarch was utterly unrecognisable, little more than an immense mass of writhing, ever-changing metal and augmetics. Manus staggered back as if possessed, ignorant to the danger his wayward brother posed. His bolt gun and power axe fell to the floor, released by hands that swiftly transformed into extremities of writhing mechanical tendrils. Only the head of the Primarch retained a modicum of integrity. His glowing augmetic eyes regarded Fulgrim as if separate from the rest of his form, the flesh there puckered and grey. You are blind, Fulgrim! You have no idea The corrupt Primarch lunged forward and swept his blade before him, drawing its keen edge across Manuss neck. The Primarchs head rolled free of his armoured shoulders and bounced across the ground like a rock. The vast mechanical body fell forward and crashed into the floor with all the force of a toppled Titan, throwing up dust and debris as it came down. Fulgrim came about and let out a cry of exultation at the death of his brother and foe, spreading his arms wide in victory. He ran the flat of his blooded blade against his face and revelled in the sensation of pain at the charged sabres touch. At that, he stooped low and plucked the head of the Primarch from the ground and lifted up to his face, an expression of insane glee dominating his features. Bested. Fulgrim sneered, speaking to the slack, pallid face of Manus. Dead and done. See how obsolete the old loyalties are, Ferrus? Our fathers Imperium is doomed to a lingering, final death. This lump of tortured flesh will make a fine trophy to present to my Warmaster. He held the severed head out before him and moved it slowly from side to side, as if to show it the ruination of Istvaan V, and in doing so the ruination that chaos would bring to the realms of the Emperor. The flesh is weak. That weakness is excised. Fulgrim flinched and spun on his heel, his eyes roving through the misty gloom. He could discern no direction from the unexpected and ghostly voice. As he looked to where the remains of Manus had fallen, his black heart froze. His twisted heart froze in his chest as he regarded the empty space where the body of the Iron Hands Primarch had fallen.

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Of the remains of Ferrus Manus, there was no sign. +++ Roboute Guilliman turned aside the poisoned blade and then convulsed, almost falling to his knees. Somewhere deep within thick, cloying mist, hidden by the glittering golden smog, the fiend let out a long, lingering cackle of mirth. The blue-clad behemoth staggered, beset by the strength of the vision. Agiselus fell to the soil of Thalassa, released by the convulsions wracking the Primarchs body. Fulgrim came slithering out of the obscuring fog, a monstrosity of sinew and corruption far beyond anything Guilliman remembered. Guilliman. Fulgrim hissed, his serpentine form descending upon the Primarch of the Ultramarines. His countenance had changed beyond recognition. Gone was the proud and handsome warrior that had commanded the Emperors Children. In his place was a vision of absolute corruption, a beast of utter evil no mortal man could have looked upon without falling into madness. Fulgrim was a Daemon Prince, given wholly body and soul to the indescribable powers he had committed himself to. His lower body was now that of a serpent, his legs gone. Three arms each bore a poisoned rapier and a forth, a long, serrated claw. Only Fulgrims face retained a modicum of his original visage, and even that was twisted and bestial. The Primarchs inhuman eyes blinked and his serpentine tongue flickered, moistening his thin, scaled lips. You have grown weak, Roboute, and old. Chaos brings nothing but strength, whereas your loyalty to the Emperor brings only death. I have seen the truth! Guilliman cried, rising from his prone position. Foul traitor, I have seen the lament of this universe Fulgrim struck then, drawing one envenomed rapier across Guillimans throat. The Primarch fell back, his throat opened. Fulgrim reared back and spread his arms wide, celebrating his victory. After that he slithered forward and snatched Guilliman by the throat with his claw. He hefted the Primarch up and pulled him forward. Long have I waited this moment, Roboute, to claim the mighty Guilliman in combat. At last, that dream is realised. The utter domination of chaos is one step closer. I ssee Guilliman gasped, his limbs convulsing as he fought to raise them. I haveseen it, FulgrimEverythingThe death of Manus Fulgrim reared back, emitting a sibilant hiss of astonishment. No! The corrupt Primarch spat in disbelief. It cannot be You are nothing, Fulgrim Guilliman gasped. ObsoleteNo more than a flailing, thrashing memory The lord of the Ultramarines convulsed then, the poisons from Fulgrims blade coursing through him. His voice was no more than a rasping gurgle as he spoke. Iwillriseagain His golden eyes wide with fear, the Daemon Prince drew his limbs about him and sank away, the glittering mist engulfing him.

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He had seen the truth. +++ Night approached fast, as it always did during the Time of Trial. The winds howled across the crags of Mount Deathfire as, far below, the surface of Nocturne seethed. He looked up at the darkening skies to see Prometheus, so large that she dominated the firmament. So keen was his eyesight that he could see the ships of his fleet disengaging from her orbit as they escaped the violent effects of the coming together of the two worlds. A painful sadness weighed upon him as he thought of his warriors and his people, crying out at his disappearance. During the Time of Trial they needed him most, they needed his inspiring presence to see them through the darkness, but this time, he could not be with them. No more could Vulkan walk amongst his people. In the distance around him he watched as telltale plumes of fire rose up from the surrounding crags. The firedrakes were growing restless, agitated by the coming together of the two worlds. His work was almost done here, and not a moment too soon. Before long the Trial would reach its most violent period. The two planets would come together so closely as to cause worldwide earthquakes and volcanic eruptions. It was at this time that all life, human and otherwise, would retreat and await the abatement of the terrible conditions. Soon the giant lizards that roamed the peaks would take to their caves to see the Time of Trial through. There they would slumber, until the two worlds drew apart once again. The dark-skinned giant turned away from the spectacle of fire and looked back towards the dark entrance of the rock chamber as another figure stepped from the void and headed towards him. It is done, master. Our works our complete. Vulkan turned to KarMorg and nodded. The ancient and revered Techmarine bowed his head and stepped aside, his final duty in this life fulfilled. Thank you, my old friend. You have done well. KarMorg bowed his head again and turned to watch the distant fires. The suspension cradle is active and awaits you. The melta-charges are set so that they can be activated from within, as per your instructions. Once you have sealed yourself within, the tomb will become part of the mountain itself. There is nothing more left to do. Vulkan nodded slowly, sadly. He knew that KarMorgs work would be without compare. The Techmarines of the Salamanders were celebrated as the best in all the Imperium, second only to the priests of Mars. He joined the silent veteran warrior and placed a hand upon his shoulder. Would that I could let you see into my mind and my memories with your own eyes, KarMorg. The burden of the full and terrible truth is my burden alone, but the secret of what transpired here must be total, Salamander. It can be no other way. You must understand that. I understand enough, lord. The old warrior answered, his dark face a molten bronze beneath the light of the flickering fires.

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That which you have seen as portent, you have confided in me and me alone. That is my honour, Primarch, my secret privilege. My own life is surely worth the price of such an honour, for I alone know of the final fate of my Primarch. Should my soul be fortunate enough to join the Emperors own light, then I will be sure to let that mark of distinction be known. At that, KarMorg bade his Primarch farewell and began the long, slow walk to his own doom. Vulkan watched him leave and felt a deep sadness. The venerable Techmarine would continue on to the bubbling lava pits further down from the summit and end his life there in order to ensure the knowledge of this final secret never went beyond him. The warriors devotion was second to none, and he alone would remember Dragus KarMorg for the rest of his existence. Vulkan turned away from the shrinking figure and looked back towards the chamber. He lifted the massive hammer in his hand and regarded the flawless weapon, his mind enveloped by the symbolism in its shape, a symbolism he alone knew the truth of. My Emperor. He whispered. The Smith. Master of Destinys Forge. Who could have known this crippling truth? Who could have guessed such origins? This son of yours demands answers, when next we meet. At that he strode silently towards the waiting tomb, the sounds of tumult about him slowly fading. He knew now the fate of his brothers, present and future. All of them had fled their own Chapters wait out the eons until the rise of the galactic darkness. Not so him. He could not leave the bosom of his people to flee into oblivion. Nocturne was his home, and her people, his family. Nocturne would not betray him, she would protect him, keep him safe until that faraway time. Until the clarion call of war was sounded once again. There would be no legend surrounding his death. There would be only simple transition, there one moment, gone the next. He had bade no farewell to his warriors but had simply left. The Salamanders were nothing if not hardy and self-sufficient. They needed to crutch to prosper and continue. They would survive and grow strong. Faith would sustain them where legend would not, for they would surely know that their Primarch would never leave them for good. As he reached the mouth of the stasis-tomb, he spoke, as if his final words were a warning to the very stars themselves. I will return, and when I do, fire and thunder shall split the skies, and the heavens themselves shall cry the name of Vulkan.

Chapter Ninety Seven: Army of Darkness

I sense questions, Berolinus. Do not be afraid to seek the answer to that which troubles you. The warrior slowed a little at this, uncomfortable that the Primarch had read his thoughts so easily. Guillimans own pace decreased as he looked to his ward. Berolinus felt almost ashamed in his wish to seek the truth. Whatever the Tau had done to him was a subtle thing, but he could feel its effects still twisting through his body. He was changing, and he did not know why. There was a war being fought within him.

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You told me that I would soon understand this situation, my Primarch. How could any true Astarte not question why it is that he be asked to fight against the Imperium he was created to protect? Historys lessons have taught us much on the dangers of blind faith. I fought through hell to find your side, my lord, because I have faith in you. I believe that you have a greater plan for our Imperium. Guilliman heard this and nodded slowly. Good, my warrior. Good. I commend your wisdom, Berolinus, and I see that my choice in you was well-founded. Come, walk with me. At that the Primarch turned to the vast iris before him and it opened to allow them passage. Guilliman and Berolinus passed into a long, circular tunnel constructed from thick glass. The stars stretched out before them, giving Berolinus pause. He looked out beyond to see the vast ships of the Unity all around, so thick in space that he could not see the outer edges of the fleet. The fleet prepares to embark upon the next leg of our journey. This will see us come before the fastness of Jupiter and her moons. It will be a hard war, Berolinus, and we will lose many ships and warriors to the guns of the Inquisition. We will persevere. And still my original question remains, my Primarch. Berolinus dared answer. Why? My lord, we fight to conquer those we once served, and I need to know why. How and why have your allegiances come to be changed so utterly? Our allegiances, Berolinus. The Primarch corrected him. Do not forget your lot. If you are to enter this war by my side then yes, I concur, you need to know the truth. They paused then, at the very centre of the walkway. Guilliman turned to the warrior and leaned forward, as if to ensure that the coming exchange would never pass beyond them. Do you believe in premonition, Berolinus? II do not know, Primarch. The concept of such things lies beyond my understanding. I know that there are psykers in the service of the Imperium that are rumoured to have such abilities as foresight Once, many years ago, I received such a vision. Guilliman continued, cutting the warriors words short. A vision ultimately granted me by the Emperor Himself, I believe. In that vision, I saw the doom of this universe. I saw, to my horror, what would come to pass. I have seen unholy beings with the power to murder suns lay waste to all life, and I cannot let that happen. I cannot allow the execution of this galaxy to take place. II see. Berolinus uttered, lowering his head. Shock coursed through him at hearing the Primarchs claims. No, Ultramarine. Guilliman answered with a shake of his head. You do not. You cannot even begin to understand, for such considerations would drive you mad. Everything is a lie, a deceit so terrible your mind would not stand the truth. The two began to walk again, more slowly this time. The Imperium is corrupt, Berolinus, sick and cancerous to its very heart. Terra is neither a goal nor a prize, she is but a dais upon which the fate of existence will be fought for and decided. Our Emperor is but a falsehood. He is an idol, a golden shell, kept alive by cowards and fools too scared to let him go. He exists in torture and agony, Ultramarine, wishing only to be freed from his millennial prison. I will be the one to release him.

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They came to the end of the corridor and slowed before another vast iris. Before Berolinus had even time to consider the Primarchs words the iris opened and Guilliman led him through. See, my ward, with your own eyes. See the fate of Terra, and know the greatness of what is to come to pass. Berolinus could not fail to release a quiet gasp as he took in the sheer vastness of the chamber before him. He had never seen a space like it in all his life. It was colossal. The domed ceiling was so high above his head that it resembled a grey, featureless sky, his eyes unable to focus on any discernable features. Likewise, the far edges of the space were little more than a blur on the horizon. In the sprawling expanse below he could see thousands upon thousands of moving figures. To him it was like standing on the summit of some tall hill and regarding a city. It was beyond his ability to describe. What is this? Was all he could manage to utter. The heart of the Unity, Berolinus. Come, let me show you such things as you could never have imagined. Perhaps, at last, you will begin to understand. Guilliman glanced up and back above the iris to where hundreds of recesses lined the wall. At some unspoken command a shape detached itself from the centre of one of the bays and floated down towards them. To Berolinus the machine looked like one of the drones the Tau seemed so fond of, though much larger. As it reached the ground it came to a stop, hovering inches above the floor. Part of its domed mass slid open and unfolded, forming a step. Guilliman climbed up into the space and invited Berolinus to follow. Let us take a ride. The carriage-drone lifted off then and drifted out over the valley, offering commanding views of the activity far below. Guilliman gestured and the machine altered its course, accelerating swiftly and without effort. Minutes later they came to a raised platform and slowed. Berolinus looked out at the scene before him to see what was happening. There were several figures there, around twenty or so, standing in rows of five. Each of the tall and slender individuals was dressed in flowing magenta robes. He puzzled as he looked upon them, for their faces were hidden by what looked to him to be fully-enclosed helms. The helms were largely featureless save for the single, glowing crimson jewel set into each forehead. A number of Tau stood before the gathering, as if in instruction of the beings. The tallest was a creature so lean and sinuous Berolinus imagined the softest blow would break it in two. The creature gestured over and over again at a screen filled with what appeared to be alien symbols. Navigators. Guilliman announced. Berolinus cast around as he heard this, sure his ears had deceived him. He knew almost nothing of the aloof individuals of the Navis Nobilite, but he knew enough to question the presence of several of them here amongst the Tau. I thought the Tau shunned the use of warp travel? The Tau do, Berolinus, for they have not the capability to understand the ways of the warp, at least from

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within. This fleet is the first of its kind to use their kind. And they comply? Willingly. Guilliman answered. The helms they wear are of Ethereal design, and are used to directly interface their expertise and knowledge with the logic-engines of the Earth Caste. In this way the Unity was able to create a method of crossing the stars faster and much more safely than conventional warp travel. How else do you think we have conquered these stars so fast? At that, Guilliman made a gesture and the carriage-drone rose once again. I have much more to show you yet. The Primarch said. +++ The journey carried the two warriors deep into the centre of the immense chamber. Berolinus saw sights that numbed his senses and faith to its limits. Everywhere he looked, life and diversity was myriad. Men, Tau and grey Orks mixed with other, stranger creatures the likes of which he had never seen. He saw strange vehicles and weapons tested to devastating effect. It took less than half an hour to reach whatever destination awaited them, and in that time he found himself enlightened beyond his every expectation. Since his awakening in this nightmare time, he had always scoffed at the concept of the Tau as masters of the galaxy. Now, as the carriage-drone came in to land upon the waiting platform, he understood. He had seen the power behind this Unity, and he doubted that power no longer. What is this place? He asked as he stepped down from the transport and cast around. Many such domes like this one dominated the contained skyline, but this one, at least by his calculation, was the largest of all. This is the future, warrior. The cradle of destiny. Come, let me show you the secret might of the Unity. Several huge Tau warriors awaited their arrival, as if they had known to expect company. Berolinus looked out at the hulking creatures and could not fail to be impressed by their imposing stature. The aliens were the largest members of the Tau race he had ever seen. They were bare-chested and wore little save for pure white robes around their waists. Each one held a truly massive golden glaive, the head of which shimmered with crackling power. Guilliman swept his cloak aside and marched towards the doors, Berolinus in tow. The warriors bent at the knee one by one as the Primarch passed by. Welcome, Kaiguela Ilporrui. One of the behemoths uttered, its voice as deep as thunder. Guilliman inclined his head and led the Ultramarine through the doors. Berolinus found himself within a clean, ivory chamber flanked by indistinguishable equipment. Drones flitted through the space in shoals, going about whatever tasks they had been created to perform. The Tau there were hard at work, dressed in white bodysuits overlaid by what appeared to be segmented armour plate, not that the tasks they were performing looked to require any protection. He spied several human figures amongst the aliens, robed menials who bore a striking resemblance to priests of the Mechanicus. He dismissed this comparison immediately, for he could not imagine this to be the case. Guilliman led the Ultramarine through the complex, passing by sights that confounded him. As he bore on

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the place reminded him more and more of an Apothecarion. The Tau looked to be conducting experiments here. Many were performing tests on what were to him little more than lumps of shapeless grey flesh, while others operated on live test subjects. There were many of the larger Tau that he had encountered before here, their numbers increasing the further into the complex he passed. Many of them looked to be in some transitional stage, their bodies showing signs of surgery and alteration. In many ways it reminded him of his own experiences following his acceptance into the Ultramarines and the subsequent modifications to his physique that he endured in order to become a fully-fledged Marine. The more he considered this, the more uncomfortable he became. A few minutes later and they passed by another dissection table. Berolinus glanced towards the table as he passed. What he saw there gave him pause enough to slow. The body on the slab was clearly that of a Marine, he could see as much without a second glance. The dead warrior still wore his armour from the waist down, and Berolinuss stomach lurched as he recognised the ornate silver carapace. The subject had been one of the Knights they had fought on Caris Estarus. The Tau physicians were busy carving the corpse up and removing body parts and organs. Berolinus found this immediately distasteful and looked away. These Knights had been his enemies on Caris Estarus, and yet he could not readily dismiss how disrespectful this abuse was to him. He thought back to that terrible theatre of war, to all the horrors he had witnessed. Such conflicts tested a warriors faith and resolve to its limits. Perhaps this was what had been affecting him since his arrival here. He was unsettled and imbalanced, both physically and mentally. There was a darkness inside him that had lodged itself at his core since that conflict. It was as if he had lost a piece of his soul. He did not know how long his reverie had lasted but slowly, surely, voices filtered through into his mind. He shifted to look upon the Primarch and saw that he was in conversation with another individual. Almost immediately, the mans appearance stunned him. Like the others he was dressed in surgical clothing, but Berolinus was surprised to see that he was not Tau but in fact human. More than human, by the looks of him. The man was vast, much larger than even him. His hulking physique and broad shoulders looked very much at odds with the white vestments he wore. What remained of his thinning hair was tied back behind his head in a neat silver ponytail. When he spoke he did so with a voice like ancient, creaking wood. It took only a fleeting glance to convince Berolinus that this individual was in fact an Astarte. He reasoned that he had probably been an Apothecary, though he seemed visibly more aged than any of his kind he had ever seen. Despite this, he seemed possessed of an almost palpable vigour, this much apparent in his every mannerism and movement. The behemoths voice faded as he observed Berolinuss approach. Guilliman glanced over his shoulder and gestured for the warrior to join them. He did so and the physician eyed him with open suspicion. After a few seconds of tense silence, the Primarch spoke. You may speak freely. He can be trusted. The Apothecary nodded curtly and continued, albeit hesitantly. Despite these early stages we have had much success, Primarch. I confess, even I have never come across gene-seed sopure. It is flawless, lord, and potent. The potential of its benefits cannot be

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measured. Have you succeeded in replicating it yet? Guilliman asked. At this, the Apothecarys dark eyes looked to light up. We have. Production is well underway, lord. It is too early to say with any certainty but I believe that we may even be able to modify this stock to be autonomous, with the correct balancing procedures. The Shas Kayon could well be gifted with the ability to self-sustain. Of course, if that route of alteration would meet your approval. Guilliman shook his head slowly in answer. Not yet. Give them greater strength, by all means, but we must retain ultimate control. Keep the leash at their necks. Of course. The Apothecary replied, bowing. Was there anything else, Primarch? Yes. He gestured at his companion. Berolinus desires to see the true strength of our Unity lies. The Apothecary nodded slowly and smiled. With that he turned away and walked back to the corpse of the Knight, the Tau moving aside at his approach. Berolinus felt his stomach tighten at his last glimpse of the individual before his path carried him beyond the facility. He caught sight of dark extremities unfurling across the Apothecarys back, vestigial iron limbs ending in claws, blades and syringes. There followed the wet sound of tearing flesh and then the iris contracted behind him, sealing away the vision, but not the memory. My Primarch. He said after an indeterminable period of silence. I feel I must speak out at what I have seen. Guilliman did not answer. Instead he continued his way down the corridor, his footsteps ringing through the sterile space. They were approaching yet another iris, this time decorated with large alien symbols he did not understand. When we are done here, we have one final location to visit, my son. The Primarch finally said, reaching the entrance. Until that time I ask you only to observe, and digest all you see. We are here. As much as his curiosity cried out for satisfaction, Berolinus stayed his tongue and followed, watching as the Primarch stepped into yet another sprawling space. The iris led out onto a grilled platform, and as he passed through it he could see that the floor of the chamber lay far below. The distant lights overhead glinted off what appeared to be hundreds, thousands even, of identical glass cylinders. My secret army. Guilliman said proudly, offering the sight to him with a sweep of his arm. The Yon Montda. The Shadow Hunters. Sweet Emperor Was all Berolinus could reply.

Chapter Ninety Eight: Flight of Heroes

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Cypher Umbras uttered, watching as the misty remains of the dark warrior dissipated into nothing. The Apothecary staggered back, almost ignorant to the bolter round that ricocheted off his shoulder guard. He raised his chainsword and fended off the following blow almost dismissively, staggered by the demise of the renegade. Samael continued on unharmed and came about, turning his jetbike up and over to begin the descent back towards the shocked attackers. Turncoats! He roared, his voice resonating throughout the vast space. Heretics and collaborators all! The fires of purgation will burn your stain of filth from this existence! The crazed Master of the Ravenwing descended like an avenging angel, his steed pouring death out at the interlopers. Ligur sprinted to the fore of the murderous fusillade and weathered the incoming fire, raising a psychic shield of protection up to preserve himself and his comrades. The incoming bolter fire exploded harmlessly off the wall of shimmering power and he held firm, until a blast of plasma energy almost tore him off his feet. The Librarian staggered back, crying out through gritted teeth as his powers first absorbed the blast and then dissipated, dispelled by the fury of the assault. Behind him the others battled on, fighting for their lives as the both the Dark Angels and the Tau tore one another apart. Codian charged out of the Vault and straight into a scene of pure hell. Three Dark Angel warriors barred his way, their investigation into the open gates interrupted by his emergence. He felled two of them without pause, downing them with lightning fast headshots. The third he cut from belly to neck, the alien blade flashing as it passed through armour and flesh. The body fell and he finished the other two off before they had chance to rise again, emptying his clip in the process. It is done! He called, advancing without a moments hesitation. The Khan rose as he heard this, casting the corpse of a Tau warrior aside. Then we are finished here. He growled, raising the bronze tulwar. He tracked the progress of Samael with a renewed energy, as if invigorated by the Chaplains words. Your ally is dead. He said, completely without remorse. How or why he died, I cannot say. He has failed to resurrect himself as yet. He is gone. Codian answered simply. For his quest is complete. The Lions sons are saved, in spirit if not in body. Then we must cleanse this nest of redundant flesh, the better to serve my brothers memory. The Khan replied, murder in his eyes. +++ More and more of the Tau forces were surging into the chamber now. Fire warriors pushed forth in droves, laying down walls of fire as they advanced. Sniper drones flitted and weaved above the alien soldiers, their powerful guns driving shrieking projectiles through the Dark Angels. Shas Kayon charged into the chamber behind the bulk of the Tau forces, roaring their hatred for their Marine opponents as they entered. Fire Warriors fell as the larger creatures barged their way through the lines, driven by an insatiable bloodlust.

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Once again the entire Tower shook, throwing whole squads from both sides off their feet. Czevak cried out as the Dark Angel advancing upon him came apart, his torso shattered like glass. The screaming projectile that killed the Marine drove on and past him to embed itself the dark stone of the wall, passing with such speed that it pulled him off his feet and onto his back. Orechiel advanced to assist him, firing her alien pistol out into the throng as she did so. Shuriken hissed free of the weapon and disappeared into the shifting tide. Czevak! She reached down and grabbed at his collar. Much to her relief his eyes opened and he took her hand. II am unharmed. That will soon change. A voice said from beyond them. Both Inquisitors shifted their attention to see the Cadian on his knees and busy changing his power pack. We cannot hold this position for long. We have to get out of this damned place. Beyond them the Khan looked towards the three humans and then to the Chaplain. He unhooked the device at his belt and cast it to Codian. Instruct the Inquisitor to open the gate. I wont see any of us die a worthless death here. Codian caught the artefact one-handed and ran quickly towards Czevak, dodging enemy fire as he advanced. Inquisitor! Get us out of here! He cast the alien device out and sent it skittering towards the Inquisitors feet. Both Orechiel and Umbras rose, the Apothecary withdrawing his medical attentions in order to allow the Inquisitor to come to his feet. Codian pointed the tip of the Dawnblade out towards the shadowed entrance to a nearby corridor. Take it into cover to activate it! Hurry Czevak, we do not have long! Umbras, follow them and keep them safe! The Marine nodded and together the trio made their way towards the corridor, keeping low as enemy fire rained about their heads. Codian Looked back towards the fight and focused his mind. This situation was rapidly descending into hell. We have to leave. The Chaplain barely caught the quiet voice, almost engulfed as it was by the tumult. The others were embroiled in the fight, caught up in their own personal struggles for survival. The Khan and Grungis attentions were on the crazed commander of the Ravenwing and his circling jetbike, whilst Ligur and the others were entwined in bitter close-quarter fighting with the dwindling Dark Angels. One figure stood apart from the conflict, almost frozen to the spot upon which he stood. It was Gormat, the Tau, and he seemed troubled beyond the mere concerns of the conflict. We will leave, Tau, and soon. Preparations are being made as we speak. Gormat heard this and looked to him, his expression almost trance-like. He blinked rapidly and then began to make his way over to Codian, letting his sidearm fall to the flags as he did so.

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No, Guela, you do not understand. We have to leave now. We have to leave this very moment! Thisthis is no mere advance! The aliens voice rose in pitch as he continued to speak, and as he reached the chaplain he stumbled. Codian caught him with one hand and hauled him upright. To his bewilderment, the Tau writhed in his grasp as though caught in the embrace of the enemy. I have seen this many times, Codian! This is an honour guard! We must flee this place and not look back! Please Codian held the Tau firm in his grip, his concern growing with the passing of each second. Gormat squealed then and turned away, shielding his eyes as if in physical pain. At the furthest end of the chamber, something radiant and blinding blazed its way into existence. Gormat let out a long, pained shriek of terror and crumpled, shuddering uncontrollably. Codian shook his head and fought a surge of disorientation, feeling the blade in his hand warm up and begin to faintly vibrate. He looked out at the towering being of flame and found only confusion where he had expected the truth. For all his secret and vaunted knowledge, he did not recognise its countenance. What is that? he asked the nigh-insensible Tau, shaking him back to a semblance of his senses. Is it Nicassar? No. By the Tauva, but it is much worse. I beg you, Guela, retreat now while we still can. We face an Aun. Codian did not answer. He did not have to. He had seen. +++ Hah! Grungi cried, delighting in his latest bloody kill. The Marine twisted as the waist and fell like a stone, his visor a blackened and gaping ruin. He stepped back, his fist twirling about his head, in order to assess his next move. Samael tore past fast enough to take the Demiurg completely by surprise. He swung the black sword and Grungi roared, tumbling back. The flashing ball of energy above his head spun away into the distance, carving through Fire Warriors as it went. B-----d! The short warrior cried, rolling back and up onto his feet. He regarded the blackened stump of his arm, cauterised at the elbow. There was no blood, and far from seeming in pain, Grungis scarred face was flushed red with anger. A Demiurgs limbs are compact to begin with! I dont have enough of me to spare! The Khan sprinted to the Demiurgs side and lowered himself down onto one knee. Are you not hurt, diminutive one? He asked, his voice heavy with bafflement. Grungis augmetic eye literally blazed as he heard this. Hurt? My pride is wounded grievously! I will take the cretins head in recompense, by all the ancestors! The Demiurg looked up and began to track the jetbikes wide turn, hatred blazing in his eyes. Get ready, man-mountain. Send me to him!

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Explain yourself I just did! I wont leave here until I see him dead! Show me those oversized arms of yours are more than ineffective mass, ancestor! The Khan realised then what Grungi meant and hoisted him aloft, one massive hand wrapped around the squat warriors waist. He drew his arm back and proceeded to analyse Samaels approach, his superhuman mind calculating the jetbikes path. You are unarmed Not so. I have hand, foot, forehead and tooth at my disposal, and rage to fuel them all! Jaghatai inclined his head drew his arm back, the ravening alien in his grasp. Make it count. He said. With that the Primarch flung his arm forward and hurled Grungi out into the air like a mortar shell. The Demiurg let out a cry of bloodlust, his limbs flailing. Jaghatais aim was true. Grungi slammed into the crazed commander, wrapping his remaining arm around Samaels neck. The sudden force of the impact was enough to tear the Astarte free, and together Dark Angel and Demiurg plummeted towards the ground, wrapped in a deadly embrace. Samaels back crashed into the stone flag with such force that Grungi was flung from him. He landed hard and rolled away, swearing and cursing the Marines name. He came up onto his feet and staggered, almost losing his balance. The Dark Angel began to rise, snarling through bared teeth. Stone chips and dust fell from his armour, remnants of the pulverised flags beneath him. Grungi charged and let fly with a kick, the blow connecting solidly with the Astartes face. The Khan watched the jetbikes descent and his eyes narrowed. He deactivated his blade and slipped it back into its scabbard. Codian grabbed his arm. Caution, Khan! We are in the vehicles path! I know. Jaghatai replied calmly, his gaze never once leaving the falling skimmer. At that, he rotated his shoulders, flexed his hands and took a step forward. A second later the jetbike came down with all the force of a descending comet. The Khan let out a grunt of effort as he caught it. The impact pushed him back, causing the stone beneath his feet to crack and splinter. He pushed down and drove the bike into the ground. Without the riders manipulation the vehicles thrusters were powering down I am a weapon, forged in the womb to spill the blood of my enemies! He cried, following the blow with a powerful uppercut. Samael reeled back, blood spurting from his punished face. Grungi leapt as high as he could and let fly with a vicious headbutt. Samael rose faster than the Demiurg anticipated, causing the lunge to smash into the Dark Angels armoured chest. Grungi staggered back, cursing for all he was worth, stunned by the impact. Genetic filth! Samael roared, sweeping his sword before him. Grungi barely managed to lean back and turn away from the strike, the energised blade passing close enough to singe the back of his head.

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The Astarte commanders eyes were red and glazed with madness, his mind ravaged by an insanity born of crushing guilt. He raised the sword back over his head and prepared to strike, spittle streaming from his retracted lips. Armoured fingers closed around his wrist and he looked over his shoulder to see who dared to prevent the kill. The Khans snarling, scar-lined face filled his vision. Enough. Was all he said. Samael was a powerful warrior with centuries of combat experience, but he was to the Khan what a human child was to an Astarte, perhaps even less so. The full and unfettered fury of a Primarch was terrible to behold, and no mortal creature would wish to receive such a beings attention. Jaghatai wrenched the commander up off his feet and over onto his back with bone crushing force. He twisted his hand and Samaels wrist shattered like glass, causing the warrior to release his grip on the blade. He tried to rise, only to have the Khan slam the palm of his hand into his chest plate. The commander smashed into the stone floor, sending cracks cascading all around him for several metres. Blood sprayed from his mouth like a fountain and he fell limp, most of the bones in his body shattered. Codian and the others threw themselves back as the Khan hauled Samael up from the floor and cast him clear across the chamber into the advancing Tau. Cries of anger and disbelief rose up from the Dark Angels close enough to witness the death of their commander. The Emperors justice comes for you all! Jaghatai roared. He rose to his full height and pulled his tulwar free to brandish it at the surrounding Angels. Codian warily approached the enraged Primarch. Khan, we must leave immediately. He pointed out at the glowing being beyond as it began to carve its way through the Tau lines, its mere presence sending Fire Warriors, Shas Kayon and even drones scattering before it like fish before an ocean leviathan. We cannot fight him. Gormat uttered fearfully behind him. An Aun wields the very power of the Paradox itself. He cannot be harmed We shall see. Jaghatai answered, stooping low to pick something up from behind him. Codian looked on as the Aun tore into the Dark Angels with unremitting fury. Dark bodies were cast aside like leaves before a gale with but a gesture. Bolter fire flared harmlessly across its burning form, not enough to even give the creature pause. What is it? Codian asked the Tau, watching as the every projectile looked to pass through the fiery mass. It seems insubstantial, almost comprised of nothing but energy. It is like no psyker or creature of the warp I have ever seen. Ligur answered, his face a mask of pain. Its powers are not warp-based. It is something more Something lithe and dark flashed through the air before them, giving pause to every voice. Samaels sword flew like an arrow and sank into the blazing creature, the blow sending spasms of flares across its incorporeal form. Now we leave this damned place. The Khan growled. He nodded to where a familiar rippling glow

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shimmered across the dank walls. Czevak had succeeded in opening the gate. Codian set off with the others, glad to be leaving this haunted place behind. Aside from Gormat, he was the only one amongst them who knew how truly dangerous the Ethereals were face to face. Even Cyphers dark knowledge had contained little on these mysterious figures, but he had learned enough to know that to face one in combat was ultimately futile. Have we succeeded? The Cadian asked him, struggling to keep pace with the enhanced Astartes. We have. Codian replied. The soldier remained silent for a few seconds, as if expecting the Chaplain to offer more in the way of an explanation. When he did not, the Cadian frowned. And will we see evidence of that success, Chaplain? Better that we do not remain to see it, Cadian. Trust me, in time you will understand what we have achieved here today. If you survive this war long enough. With that, the small group of warriors sprinted towards the waiting wraithgate and left the Tower of Angels behind to burn. Tau and Angel alike would feel the wrath of retribution soon enough.

Chapter Ninety Nine: Facets of Loyalty

+++TAU FLEET LEVIATHAN+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ +++THREE WEEKS AFTER THE TOWER OF ANGELS+++ Berolinus took in the undercurrent of fear and disbelief around him in silence, content enough to observe and nothing more. Perhaps content was too inappropriate to describe his current situation. Astartes were engineered and conditioned to dismiss such notions as fear or apprehension, and yet, as he stood here in awkward silence, largely ignorant to the causes of the current disquiet of the situation, he was experiencing those very emotions. Here they were, barely days from the outer defences of Saturn, ready to make war with the first line of Terras defences. He still felt a crushing unease at this, but for the moment, such concerns had been forced aside. This was a council of war, a gathering called by the Primarch himself. Prior to the assault on Saturn, more pressing and immediate concerns had come to light. He stood amongst a small gathering of Guillimans most trusted warriors. As well as himself and a handful of the unidentified Marines that served the Primarch, other commanders bolstered the assembly. Amongst them were Tau of various factions, such as Fire and Air Caste commanders. He did not know any of them, nor did he have a particular desire to do so. A murmur passed through the Marines around him, snatching his attention. He still found these mysterious warriors an enigma. Their blue-green armour was devoid of any markings save for those of their adopted allegiance, and no one, not even the Primarch, had spoken of their origins.

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He is to speak. One of the warriors said, the commander named Hydrion. Berolinus looked to the warrior and found himself drawn to the figures piercing green eyes and the curious tri-headed serpentine tattoo on his cheek. Hydrion met his gaze and held it with unapologetic ease. Our lord is angered, Ultramarine. When he speaks, ensure you listen. Berolinus scoffed at hearing this and turned away. As if he needed such guidance from one not of Guillmans blood. Spare your lecture. I hear all my Primarch says. He replied, shifting his weight as if to accentuate the retort. Whispered voices drew his attention to the far end of the chamber and he watched as Guilliman strode onto the raised dais before them, the floodlights of the vast chamber converging upon his towering form. Berolinus forgot all other concerns as he concentrated on his Primarch. Here we stand, united, before the gates of the Final Bastion. And yet, it would seem, we have more pressing concerns. FioO? The stocky, heavily-augmented Tau before him nodded his head and turned to the korvesa by his side. He made a few adjustments and the drone hummed to life, its vast, single lens-eye illuminating. A hazy sphere of light sputtered into being, projected by the hovering drone. Within seconds an image formed at the centre of the sphere, a bright, burning visage, vaguely humanoid. Twins pits of blinding flame regarded the gathered figures. Everyone present fell to his or her knees before the daunting figure, even the Primarch. As disquieting as this was to see, Berolinus nonetheless felt himself descending, a reaction barely of his own choosing, like the rest of them. The reaction initially disgusted him and he railed at his own weakness of spirit. The very idea of bending his knee to a xenos appalled him. Somewhere, at the darkest, most primal corner of his mind, a voice inside him screamed for him to resist. To fight. To suffocate the Taus biological influence and rise, reborn, defiant and proud. Pride. Pride is all, the very definition of a warrior. There is no dignity in this, only debasement He willed this insidious voice to the back of his mind as his Primarch spoke again. Lord Aun, it is an honour to receive your likeness. I only regret that this meeting should be called as the result of such a dire discovery, especially now, on the very eve of our final phase of expansion. Rise, Kaiguela, and explain this intrusion. The figure replied, its voice resonant and terrible. Guilliman inclined his head and rose as commanded. He signalled to the waiting engineers of the Earth Caste and they responded immediately, mobilising as one to work upon the waiting consoles before them. Aun, I bear grave news of the fate of sub-fleet Colossus. He began ominously. Behind him another spherical holo-projection shimmered into being, little more than a vast orb of white light. Eight days ago the Navigators of the fleet became aware of the attentions of a trans-dimensional locator array. Two days ago we detected the translation and subsequent signature of an inter-system distress drone. Upon investigation we discovered this device and brought it onboard, intent on discovering its

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origins. What we did discover was worse than any of us had dared suspect. At that he gestured at the waiting Fio and the projection behind him came to life, a riotous swirl of colour flooding the pale hue. Berolinus could not help but feel intrigued as he watched this, his eyes drawn to the quivering ball of light. He looked on as a picture began to form, flowing first into shape and then resolving, sharpening in focus and definition. Before him, the Primarch continued his explanation. The drone was identified as belonging to Colossus, and in particular, the Larshi Fiolnax. Colossus was last known to be pursuing the mobile headquarters of the Astarte Chapter known as the Dark Angels. All communications with the fleet were lost over half a taucyr ago. The recording we have obtained from the drone is far from explanatory, especially given its dubious quality. It is however the only piece of evidence we have concerning the fate of Colossus. From what we were able to ascertain, the recording I am about to show was sourced from a spy drone attached to the retinue of the Aun accompanying the fleet, one AunoKelshan Ka Lorvash. Guilliman fell silent then and stepped back to allow the forming image to be seen by all. Berolinus looked on in silent anticipation, his interest fuelled. Vox drones hovering at the corners of the chamber came to life and emitted a cacophony of noise, enough to startle most of those present. The sounds were broken and intermittent, as though the source of the recording was under some duress. The picture swam into focus seconds later to show a scene of utter bedlam. Bodies were surging past the source of the recording, too fast to accurately identify. Weapons fire dominated the audio, a mixture of screaming energy and thunderous ballistic fire. The picture shifted position, avoiding a number of dark, robed shapes. The distinctive sound of bolter fire shook the machine and caused the projection to break up for a second. The picture sharpened again, showing another angle of the vast, dark chamber. Despite the animation of the recording it was possible to pick out familiar shapes as the picture settled again and again, lasting no more than a second a time. Fire Warriors swarmed past, their pulse rifles sending waves of energy out into the dark mass beyond. Many of the warriors were blown of their feet by the return fire, bodies shattered by the explosive retort. The picture shook violently once again as a black mass descended upon the nearest Tau. There followed but the briefest glimpse of oversized clawed fists carving energised swathes through the Tau. Ivory robes swirled around the towering warrior and a thunderous voice sang prayers of battle so loud that the audio buzzed and broke up. Red eye slits regarded the recordings source through the bloodmist and a loud crackling dominated the audio. A moment later a storm of fire slammed into the Marine and threw him back. Hulking grey shapes engulfed his flailing form, roaring and cursing in a harsh and unrecognisable language. The picture swam and faded, every light source running fluid. As the recording regained its integrity there was the briefest flash of blinding light and a burning energy source appeared at the far right of the projection. The light cast off from this source was of such strength that the recording faded and went black. It remained so for almost a minute. Once again, the picture returned. The light source was still visible but much more distant now, a burning column of white too brilliant for the equipment to accurately filter. The image itself quaked, as if the entire chamber was shaking. A collective cry rose up from what sounded to be the entire combined forces and

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figures twisted around to regard the hidden space behind the image. The picture shifted its position to follow the crowds collective gaze. As it did so the fiery being looked to intensify, its sudden burning vigour caught only a second before it slipped from view. The image shook, breaking up, as something screamed its rage out into the hall, the noise so thunderous that it caused the audio to crackle and lose integrity. Light swam again and bodies hurtled past, feet hammering against the stone floor. Shouts and screams of pain dominated what little audio maintained any coherency. Something huge and dark ploughed through the Tau with languorous ease, its vast arms smashing aside warriors by the score with every pass. Weapons and limbs spun by, assailing the recording unit. Such were the spasms of the recording that no discernable features could be made out, save for dark armour and devastating, murderous locomotion. The image was all but redundant now, little more than a strobing of movement and light, of weapons fire and desperate action. The burning figure grew larger and larger, as if moving to face this new and terrible threat. A scream, a shudder. Then blackness. Guilliman nodded towards the Fio and the holo-projection died away. He turned to face the burning visage before him and placed his hands behind his back. This is as much as we know of the fate of Colossus. This poor account is the only evidence we have. Since the recovery of the drone we have made ceaseless attempts to make contact with the sub-fleet, to no avail. Our own efforts at trans-dimensional location have proved fruitless. If anything of Colossus has survived, we are unable to locate it. He fell silent then, as if choosing his next words carefully. After a few moments pause he looked to the holo-image before him and spoke again. Honoured Aun, this is the reason I have asked for your audience here today. This recording is dated as being around three solar weeks old. I am concerned that the Aun leading this fleet seems to have disappeared along with everyone else Every light in the chamber flickered, cutting the Primarchs voice short. The projection faded and died abruptly. A second after, a keening whine cut through the air and the Tau present sank away, most of them prostrating themselves flat against the floor. Guilliman himself lowered his vast body onto one knee and bowed his head. Berolinus saw this happen and felt a greater surge of discomfort than ever before. The very image of his Primarch bent at the knee so subserviently set his hearts aching, as if the very scene was anathema to him. Dark and seditious thoughts flashed through his mind and he fought to dispel them as quickly as they formed. Could he be wrong? Could the unquestioning faith and trust he placed in his Primarch be ultimately misguided? He cast his mind back to the terrible creatures he had seen in his visit to the heart of the fleet, the sleeping, monstrous armies created by the Unity to lay siege to the Emperors Palace. Even now, his own instincts fought against the memory of such abominations, just as his mind railed at the prospect of fighting alongside them. It stepped from the empty air and out into the centre of the chamber, scouring away every doubt and confusion in his mind. Even as he felt the heat of the burning being hit his face he closed his eyes and descended, feeling the cold metal of the deck against his forehead a second later.

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Gone was the reservation and distrust, banished as shadows before the dawn of the new day. Something deep within him unfurled and enveloped him, body and soul. He could not explain it, nor did he desire to. We are masters of the Undying Spirit. Said a voice that enveloped him totally, setting his nerves alight. Protected by the Paradox, we are as unfading and untouchable as the light of the stars. We cannot be killed, Kaiguela. We cannot die. Our destiny will not be denied. His face still pressed against the floor, Berolinus heard the words of the breath-taking being, and wept. Somewhere at the very deepest core of his being, another voiced raged. +++ +++THE GRUDGEBEARER+++ +++LOCATION UNKNOWN+++ Codian glanced through the viewport of the holding bay doors, peering beyond the grime-encrusted glass. Jaghatai and Grungi were still engrossed in the prize, inspecting its every facet with reverent fastidiousness. Though he could not hear their conversation, it seemed to him that the Primarch was busy explaining the various functions of the ancient vehicle, pointing out the weapons mounts and other such devices. The Demiurgs craggy face was aglow with delight, almost childlike. What little insight he had gleaned into the Demiurg race spoke of a cultural affinity with technology, and this certainly seemed to be the case as he watched the short alien at work, engrossed in the technological wonder before him. Are they still in there? He turned to see Czevak standing behind him, hands behind his back. The Inquisitor wore a weary but sincere smile. He walked over to join the Chaplain and peered through the glass, raising his eyebrows as he did so. A curious scene, without a doubt. Who would have dared to imagine bearing witness to an exchange between a Primarch and a xenos? Such incidents remind me, Chaplain, just how much things have changed, for all of us. I am an Imperial Inquisitor and you are a Chaplain of the Astartes, and yet we stand here in silent witness to this. Codian stepped away from the door and looked to the Inquisitor. Indeed. Much has changed, Czevak. Perhaps for the better. Besides, Inquisitor or no, would you question the company of Primarch? Czevak smiled again and shook his head. Most certainly not. I wish to live to see this victory of ours. Both began to walk away from the doors, side by side, deeper into the vast alien vessel. They continued to do so for a while, each lost in his own myriad thoughts. Eventually, it was Czevak who spoke again. I must admit, when the Khan turned back and entered the wraithgate, I had initially feared the worst. I still cannot believe that he went back for it. Codian regarded the Inquisitor as he spoke and then turned away to observe his progress, one hand rested on the hilt of his alien weapon.

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Jaghatai Khan is the father of the White Scars, a Chapter given to impulsiveness and hot-headed bravado. I confess, I too had thought the worst. He is a powerful and inspiring figure, one we will need in the days to come. Indeed. Czevak answered, his voice lowering. Chaplain, there is something else I wished to discuss with you. I am concerned at the loss of the wraithgate. Codian heard this and understood the Inquisitors concerns immediately. The loss of the alien device was indeed a blow to their cause. It had been necessary not only to leave the generator behind but also rig it to be destroyed, for fear of the enemy following them here. There was no way we could have physically brought it with us without first deactivating it, thus collapsing our only means of escape. Czevak went on. Now we are without it, we are effectively lost here, stranded. All we have is the Demiurg network, and the gateway back to the Proscriptus. What do we do now, Chaplain? We may be stranded here. I wish I had the answer to that. Was all Codian could reply.

Chapter One Hundred: The Emperor

+++THE SANCTUM IMPERALIS+++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++

Ventris took a deep breath as the vast Eternity Gate closed behind him, and did not dare to exhale. The lighting of the chamber was subdued enough so as to render the dimensions of the space indiscernible. Not that he dared even peer at the hazy shape beyond. Golden armour glinted as Custodes milled about him, barely disturbing the serenity of the hallowed sanctuary. Golden servo-skulls flitted in their thousands beneath the highest reaches of the arched roof, so vast in number that they emitted a resonating collective whisper intrusive enough to pressurise the ears. He had been stripped of his armour and now wore simple pilgrim robes. His skin had been anointed wit the purest oils and screened by ablution-servitors, ensuring he was free of any physical taint. He flinched slightly as flitting shapes passed before him. Chubby, grey-skinned cherubs flashed by him, flicking stylus-fingers across his face and shoulders. He tensed but did not resist as the silent bio-constructs painted his exposed skin with runes of purity and protection, ensuring that he would not soil the Sanctum Imperalis with his presence. Ventris endured this ordeal without protest, and indeed with good grace, for he knew such precautions were utterly necessary. Indeed, he had expected no less. Custodes flanked him as the vat-grown automatons continued their work, shimmering glaives hovering inches from him. Towering Imperatorius looked on in silence as he underwent the cleansing, the CaptainGenerals own weapon held ready for use. His grey eyes were as unwavering as they were piercing, daunting even to him. He clutched the casket tighter to his chest and waited patiently for the cherubs to finish their task. In his

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hands he could feel the significant weight of the Caesus, still scarcely able to believe that he would be the one to deliver it. It took the cherubs over an hour to consecrate his body, and in all that time he had watched in silence as the caskets were brought in and prepared for use beyond. Even in the murky gloom he could see the mountain beyond, growing ever larger as the moments passed. He had no idea what purpose they served, or even what they contained. It was enough for him to know that they were necessary to the procedure. Done, the creatures ascended into the darkness on beating wings and the Custodes withdrew, leaving only Imperatorius to regard him. The immense warrior shifted his position and gestured to the hazy illumination within the heavy gloom beyond. Walk with me, Uriel Ventris. He did as Imperatorius asked and slowly advanced, still clutching the precious object. As hey continued on his mind reeled with the enormity of everything he had seen so far. The experience had been beyond description. The Eternity Gates had taken his breath, such was their wonder. Not even the cacophony of the tens of thousands of prostrate pilgrims that lined the golden stairway had stolen that wonder from him. How do you feel, Astarte? Imperatorius asked him, the giants sudden voice jarring him from his reverie. Humbled. He replied sincerely. This in an honour I would have not dared to dream of, Captain-General. Indeed it is, Ancient, for none but Custode feet have ever trod this space since our Emperor ascended. Imperatorius continued. Yours is a truly unique and honoured situation. With this in mind, I need you to understand, Ventris. I need you to comprehend the enormity of what we are about to do here, and how it will influence the coming war. Ventris nodded but did not speak, for he could not imagine what lay ahead. You are pure of mind and body, Uriel Ventris, I see that. Our attentions have confirmed this much. I asked you to carry the Caesus because, amongst all the Alliance, I know I can trust you before any other. You are unique in that you have been blessed by the Emperor Himself, blessed with a foresight unlike any other of your kind. Any other, save for one. Ventris looked to the Custode then, his expression one of extreme bewilderment. He truly had no idea of what the Captain-General meant by this. I do not understand. Of course you do not. That is part of the gift. You are special for two reasons, Ancient. The first of those reasons is your ability to think and see beyond the obvious. You are Astarte, forged in body and mind to destroy the Imperiums enemies. As great and devout a weapon as a Marine is, sometimes it is necessary to be able to see the bigger picture. We should always question. Ventris replied. Even if we only do so in our minds. No mortal mind is infallible, Brother-Captain. As a Marine, we ultimately fail in our duty if we allow our ourselves and our Chapter to fail in our duty. Imperatorius nodded slowly, as if pleased by his answer. Indeed. I see that in you, Ventris. And so this brings me to the second reason. You are special because you have a unique past. I am long-lived, Ancient, enough so to have served at my Emperors side in that glorious age when he walked amongst men. As such I am privy to many great secrets, secrets that would otherwise be buried and hidden for all time due to their dark and inconceivable nature. When one is

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charged with the ultimate task, to guard the Imperious Corporalis, one learns the most terrible secrets this galaxy has to hide. Secrets? Ventris asked, as puzzled as ever. Even as he responded he felt the darkness of distant memory welling from deep within, as if to remind him of his past. You have survived much, Uriel. More than any warrior should have, and yet here you still stand in defiance against circumstance and fate. Your existence is blessed by the highest power. Once, long ago, you bore witness to the rebirth of a terrible and ancient evil. None should have survived such an experience, and yet, against the odds, you did. You are now the last of those who were present at the second coming of the creature we know of as the Nightbringer, the very manifestation of death. There are many gods of legend, Ancient, but not all of them are false. You must understand that. I do. Uriel answered, his voice little more than a whisper. I saw it and at once I knew it for what it was. The Reaper of All Life. I was bade never again to speak of what I saw that day, on pain of dishonour and death. Ignorance. Imperatorius answered. And fear. Such is the way of this dying Imperium, to try to hide that which is dangerous and unknown away from the masses, instead of rising in challenge to face such dangers. No longer must you carry this burden in secret, Uriel, for the Age of Secrets has ended. As defenders of the Imperium, we have entered a new age. An Age of Survival. Uriel listened and began to understand then why he had been chosen. More so, he began to realise the darker implications of this. The more he considered his situation, the more uncomfortable he began to feel. He looked around him at the gathered Custodes, most of who were little more than shadowed outlines shifting silently in the gloom. You arebesieged. He said, looking to the giant. I see it plainly now. The legends of Terra speak of the Adeptus Custodes, the greatest and most powerful of the Emperors servants, omnipresent within the walls of the Imperial Palace. This He gestured around him as best as his burden would allow. is not omnipresence. I have sensed nothing save for fear and mistrust since I arrived here on Terra. What has happened here? You are correct. Never before has the Emperors life been in such danger since his internment here. Heresy and sedition has always plagued our Imperium, Astarte, only a blind fool would deny this. This war is far more than a struggle for domination against the Tau. There are other, darker forces abroad that have been waiting for the very upheaval this schism has caused, forces that have desired this seat of power far longer than the Tau. But the Unitys power has eclipsed the stars themselves. All the old enemies of the Imperium are gone, as far as we know. Our Imperium is the last of those great powers, and even now we are reduced to almost nothing. Terra, Luna and Saturn are our last bastions of defence. Who is left to oppose the Unity and steal the seat of power from the Emperor? Trust me, Ancient, the greatest and most dangerous threats are not always those of obvious outward power. As we prepare to hold our walls against the vastness and might of the Unity, so must we guard ourselves against the insidious enemies within these very walls. Ventris slowed as he heard this, a look of disbelief spreading slowly across his scarred face. The words of the Captain-General were grave and heavy, and yet, as distasteful as his claims were, the Ancient did not pause to doubt them.

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If this is true then we must act, Captain-General! Now that the Alliance has returned to Terra we can inform the Warmaster. My lord Calgars honour cannot be doubted No, Ancient. Imperatorius answered with a slow shake of his head. We cannot involve Calgar and the Alliance at this stage. You see, it is the High Lords themselves who have fallen to this corruption. This cannot be! It is the truth, Uriel. Regaas is the traitor, the darkness I speak of, and his web of deceit stretches further than you could dare imagine. If we involve the Alliance now, there is a good chance he will convince them that we are the traitors and that he will bring the wrath of the Alliance down upon us. Even worse, Calgar could believe us and move against the traitor and his puppet forces. If this were to happen then we could see the Alliance shattered long before the arrival of the Unity. Ventris heard this and came to a complete stop, his eyes widening. The Alliance shattered? What manner of enemy has the power to do that, Imperatorius? Remember what you saw that day, Astarte, and you have your answer. At that the towering being gestured him to move forward and Ventris saw that they were approaching a raised dais. Hovering servo-skulls illuminated the podium, casting a collective glow upon the artefacts that hovered there. The Ultramarines mouth fell slowly open as he regarded the sight before him. Golden armour rotated slowly, suspended in mid air. A vast power claw and a long engraved sword danced slowly around the ancient and baroque carapace, and above them all a golden laurel wreath glinted in the light. The Emperors own armour and weapons. He knew them for what they were straight away, for the items radiated such a highly wrought and regal magnificence that they could not have been fashioned for anyone else. Since the day he entered this chamber, they have hung here. Imperatorius said softly, as if unwilling to disrupt the Ancients reverie. Every buckle and rend repaired, every drop of His blood removed. None of us knew if, or indeed dared to dream, that the Emperor would rise from his Throne and walk amongst us again. His armour was lovingly restored in case of this, back when there was still hope that he would rise again. The Custode regarded the blessed artefacts for a while, his expression placid and distant. After a lengthy pause he looked away and lowered his gaze. Of course, such dreams were born of folly, we know that now. Our Emperor could not, and never will, rise again. That phase of his existence is long ended. There can be no doubt of that. Hearing this, Ventris felt a crushing sorrow envelop him. The Emperors return was a secret desire that nestled in the heart of every faithful servant of the Imperium, no matter his or her station. A part of him had hoped that the device he carried would play some part in doing just that, in restoring the Emperor to physical health. Of course, he had not dared to ask what the Caesus was or what it did. now, more than ever, the artefacts mystery deepened. What are we here to do, then? He asked, raising his arms so as to offer the Caesus to the CaptainGeneral.

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If not to bring Him back. What is the purpose of this creation? Imperatorius reached out and gently took the casket from him, as if it were made of the most delicate glass. We are here because of vision, Uriel. Because of prophecy. Our Emperor has reached out to many since his internment. Thor. Macharius. Celestine. This device is the result of one such vision, received not by one, but several high-ranking members of the Imperium. The secrecy behind its creation was immense, for the Caesus is perhaps the most powerful artefact ever to be constructed. It has, we hope, the power to achieve what the Emperor Himself desired above all else. At that the golden warrior carefully removed the lid of the casket by removing one golden gauntlet and placing the palm of his hand upon it. The box hissed open, releasing a glittering steam. Remove it. Imperatorius said. Ventris took a deep breath and did so. As carefully as he could he reached inside and lifted the object free. It was a delicate laurel wreath, fashioned to the most incredible artifice. Everything about it was perfect, down to the smallest detail. Tiny jewelled runes twinkled across its surface, and as he regarded them he felt a pull at the core of his being, a depthless and terrible hunger for the soul. He issued a quiet gasp and looked away, disturbed by the sensation. What is its purpose? He asked again, fighting to dispel the disquiet within him. Imperatorius replaced his gauntlet and then gestured out at the caskets heaped around the dim glow at the far end of the chamber. A catalyst. A receptacle. I am unsure how best to describe its role. Are you aware of what these chests contain? No. Ventris answered honestly. Souls, Ancient. Millions upon millions of souls. I told you before of the Emperors greatest wish. The Golden Throne itself was created long before He almost died at the hands of the arch-heretic Horus. It was, and still is, His greatest work. He had a plan, a vision, one that would ensure mankinds ultimate dominance of these stars, and more. You see, the Throne was to be a gateway, one that would deliver Him to the very heart of evils domain. A gateway? Ventris answered incredulously. To where? To the deepest and most haunted regions of the warp. To the domains of the very Gods of Chaos themselves. The very last realm to be conquered, Uriel. The final frontier. But I dont understand. The Emperor was the most powerful man in the galaxy, but he was no god And they feared him so. Imperatorius proclaimed, a darkness in his voice. For he was a being of flesh with the power to rival that of any denizen of the Imperium. The Dark Gods knew this only too well. This was a time when such concepts of daemons and insidious malevolencies were dismissed as superstition. Only the Emperor knew the truth. Imperatorius turned to the faint glow beyond and began to walk, gesturing for him to follow. The delicate artefact in his hand shimmered with nascent power, so potent that Ventris could feel the hairs on his head stand on end. If only you could understand the truth behind all this, you would see. Even as the Dark Gods rallied to waylay the Emperors secret plans, He began His greatest work. So important was this task that it stole Him

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away from the crusade and brought Him back to Terra. Perhaps this was his greatest mistake. The Ruinous Powers saw their chance and corrupted Horus, the Emperors favoured son, and thus the betrayal was complete. So you see, Uriel, just how close He came to realising His ultimate goal. Ventris did not answer. He continued to advance, daring in the process to raise his eyes towards the closing destination. He caught the faintest outline of a wizened, desiccated face an immediately lowered his gaze, adrenalin coursing through him. What will happen now? He asked, staring at his feet. We shall deliver the Caesus unto Him and see the prophecy realised. The Custode commander answered. The Emperor will rise again, not is body, as we had once hoped, but in spirit. He will sing again, one final time, and our enemies shall tremble at his call.

Chapter One Hundred and One: Awakened

Ventriss chest tightened as he watched the Captain-General hand his weapon to the nearest Custode and then turn towards the glow beyond. Anxiety clawed at him, quickening his pulse, as the enormity of what they were about to do sunk in. Why do you need me? He asked, unable to accept his own worthiness. We need one to bear witness. Imperatorius replied. So that perhaps, in distant days to come, he can speak in whispers of what he saw here today, and the legend of the Emperor can live on. Ventris nodded at this and began to follow, every footstep an agonising effort of will. +++ The noise of the towering giants as they motivated was immense. The ratchet-click of arming weapons mixed with the rising whine of augmetic limbs as both Gate Keepers shifted their attentions to meet the threat, glowing eyes illuminating the space before the Eternity Gate. +Who goes there?+ One of the behemoths asked, its monotone voice a rumbling and guttural growl. Regaas the Sigilite stepped from the vast landing and out into the light without fear or hesitation. He regarded the two vast constructs before him and smiled. Around him, the darkness looked to seethe. Stand down, guardians. You know I could peel you from those adamantium shells with a thought if it pleased me. He lifted his gaze as he heard a series of low whines and glanced up into the darkness high above, to where hundreds of individual hidden gun emplacements trained their sights upon him. Likewise, across the dark length and breadth of the vast landing, innumerable pairs of glowing eyes cut through the darkness as they looked his way. You guard him so jealously. The Sigilite whispered, crossing his hands before him. So loyal. So incorruptible. Perhaps if he had fashioned all his subjects in his own image, I would not be standing here today. But I am. And all this He gestured around him.

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is mine now. I am the master of this Imperium, and he is nought but a memory. I know what you plan to do, and I could stop you, if I so desired. Know that. He raised a finger at the giant constructs. As he did so, his skin looked to glow with a faint luminescence. I could crush this last, desperate attempt at salvation of yours, but I will not. You see, I have worked longer than you could comprehend at securing my dominance of this realm, and I see my goals achieved. Awaken him if you so wish. I do not fear him, no matter his latest guise. He smiled then, an expression of pure malevolence. His terrible eyes twinkled as if in remembrance of ancient days. He never was the strongest amongst them. Now look at him, crippled and broken by his own machinations. Power is only effective if it can be mastered, dominated utterly. Look what the power of the other-realm has done to your people. Little gateways to death and oblivion, every one. The Gate Keepers said nothing. They merely stood in silence, weapons trained upon him, awaiting the hostility that would cause them to attack. I could have killed him a hundred times over, if I had wished it so. The Sigilite claimed, with utter conviction. Do you realise that? You stand here in defence, as though it actually makes a difference. I could have stopped the sacrifices that feed him with a word and starved him to death long ago. I do not need to Regaas considered the powerful defences before him without fear. I could crack this chamber open with a thought, do you understand that? I could have crushed his corpse to dust long ago if I had wished it. I need you to understand that. I only stay my hand because he will be the one to deliver unto me the means of preserving my kingdom from the jealous attentions of the others. Remember that, when the war comes to this world. Remember who it is you all truly serve. With that, the Sigilite regarded the vast gates for a while longer, his gaze distant, as if he were looking beyond the metres-thick barrier, and then turned into the darkness, and allowed it to swallow him up. +++ What will happen? Imperatorius glanced over his shoulder as he heard this. Perhaps nothing will happen. Then again, perhaps we will all be consumed in a maelstrom of blazing soul fire. Truth be told, Ancient, we do not know. All we do know is that it must come to pass, if this race of ours is to survive. Come now, we have delayed enough. It is time to fulfil our destiny. Ventris took a deep breath and followed. As he advanced he finally willed himself to look upon their destination, knowing in his heart what he would see and yet still unable to believe it was so. Set into the wall before him was a vast construction. Innumerable pipes and cable-bundles spread out from a central point like the branches of a tree to stretch away into the darkness. The Golden Throne. The legendary seat of the Emperor glinted beneath the sparse light. As Ventris neared he could see that the entire area before him looked to be coated in a fine layer of glittering dust. Sanctified servo-skulls flitted about the scene, tiny mechanical appendages gathering up the powdery residue shed by the hazy aura.

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By now his breathing had become laboured, a result of his proximity to the being interred there. He summoned every last vestige of his will to look upon the Throne, as if daring to do so was almost more than he could manage. The Emperor. The master of mankind. The most powerful and revered being in the galaxy The dead husk before him sagged against the contours of the Thorne, little more than a sack of dry bones covered with the flimsiest layer of grey, desiccated skin. Tubes and plugs near encompassed the corpse, for that was what it was. A corpse. A body long since dead. There were no traces of life to be seen, not even a single spark. Ventris had not known what to expect, but he had not expected this. A sudden and crippling despair washed through him then, almost enough to stagger him. He is gone. He whispered, his distress enough to attract the attention of the Captain-General. Fear not, Uriel, he is very much alive. Our Emperor is a being transcended far beyond the need for corporeal sustenance. This shell you see before you is nought but an anchor to physical existence, as diminished as it is. Ventris looked upon the empty eye sockets of the wasted body, taking heart in the Custodes words. Despite his distress at what he saw, he knew that Imperatorius spoke the truth. Standing here before the Throne, he could feel the presence of the Emperor all around him, as if the chamber itself struggled to contain it. The Captain-General slowed and raised a hand to his ear. Ventris was this and then noticed the other Custodes around him as they seemed to respond with a quiet, collective whisper. What is it? Regaas. The giant answered. He toys with us, even now. Damn him. For all his arrogance, he is afraid, Ancient. He fears what we are about to unleash, and rightly so. This being, this dark impostor. Does he have the power to stop us? Ventris asked. Imperatorius looked to him then, and the Ancient could see the answer in the warriors eyes long before he spoke. No one truly knows what he is capable of. He has power enough to have taken Terra herself hostage. Even those utterly loyal to the Emperor are under his thrall. Only the Mechanicus and the Custodes remain free of his control, and the Mechanicus serve another power, as dark and insidious as he. We are alone. The old warriors head swam with disbelief as he heard this latest revelation. To imagine such betrayal right here, at the very core of the Imperium, was almost too much to bear. He thought of the Alliance and his brothers, and wished dearly that there was some way he could warn them of this deceit, though he knew that there was nothing he could do. Do we stand a chance? He asked. Besieged as we are, from within as well as without. Can we win this war and take this Imperium back? In response to this, Imperatorius held the Caesus up before him. Long have the enemies of the Emperor sought to unravel the mysteries of the Caesus. None have succeeded. Even those who know of its existence have only speculation and theory to fuel their considerations. If we succeed, we will see a new and golden age dawn upon Terra and upon all the stars of this galaxy, I promise you that. Regaas is right to fear what is to come to pass, and a fool to think that he can manipulate us into winning this war against the Unity for his own benefit. What of timing, Captain-General? Ventris asked. How do you even know when to activate the Caesus?

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Look around you, Ancient. Look at this existence. This chamber is the last safe place on Terra, the most secure and guarded world of the Imperium. Not even the Emperor Himself is safe here. The Unity is at our gates, having conquered its way through our realms faster than anything we could have hoped to counter. Terra is the last bastion left for the Unity to overcome, the Emperor, the last king to be subjugated. Every covetous gaze is turned to our homeworld, Uriel. The time is now. Imperatorius loved to stand before the remains of the Emperor then and lifted the Caesus up to his head, slowly and deliberately. I would advise everyone to leave this chamber. I cannot guarantee what will happen from this point. Ventris didnt need to be told this. The closer the Caesus moved towards the Throne, the worse the feeling inside him grew. He felt an ache at the centre of his being, a gnawing, and ravenous hunger. Every part of him ached, as if his vigour was being leeched. The blood that coursed through his veins burned as if it were molten lead. Custodes were mobilising now, shouting orders to one another as they responded to the Captain-Generals warning. Golden armour flowed about him, enclosing him. For the first time in his life he felt claustrophobic. High above his head, flocks of cherubs ascended into the hidden shadows like startled birds sensing the coming of a storm. He flinched as a servo-skull fell from the air to clatter to the ground at his feet, blackened and leaking sparks. Raised voices drew his attention to the caskets heaped about the Throne. Every one of them had begun to pulse with an inner light, as though growing hot. A ghostly and omnipresent whispering filled the vast chamber, enough to set him off balance and cause his stomach to tighten. What is happening? He asked, grabbing the nearest passing Custode. The towering warrior slowed and took his arm, his eyes wide and anxious. Leave. He said, hauling Ventris before him. Before it is too late. The Ancient struggled against the warriors vice-like grip, though it was several moments before he was able to free himself. He staggered away to the side as the Custode uttered something beneath his breath and hastened away from him towards the Gate, swiftly merging with the flow of bodies heading in that direction. He looked back through the throng in time to see Imperatorius lowering the golden wreath, his vast frame hiding the Emperor from sight. The Captain-General was speaking, though what he said was lost in the melee. Both the whispering and the physical trauma continued to worsen, enough so to force him to take the same action as the Custodes. He turned away and headed for the Eternity Gate, which had begun to slowly open, allowing the sea of milling bodies to pass through. He joined the retreating Custodes and sank into their midst, quickly enveloped by the armoured mass. Everything was happening too quickly to take in. it was as if he had awoken to find himself caught in the midst of a storm. A terrible keening cut through his mind, like the scream of the banshee and he slowed, pain lancing through him. He felt rough hands grab at him and haul him on, near dragging him off his feet, towards the Gate. Screaming. A horrific and mournful screaming rose up around him, more wraithlike than human. It was the worst sound he had ever experienced, though it was felt more than heard. A blazing white light enveloped the chamber, materialising from nowhere to illuminate every shadow and recess. The floor and walls shook, dislodging loose items all around him.

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The screams and wails of the lost continued to intensify until, within moments, the cacophony was akin to a storm of agonising noise. He stumbled and clasped his hands around his head, as if fearful his brain would burst through his skull. Still the churning within him grew worse. It was as if his soul fought and struggled to break free of his flesh and join the maelstrom, but he would not allow it. He was not ready to die yet The sensual bombardment continued to intensify and soon it was all he could take. He fell to his knees before the Gate, deafened and blinded. The light was such that it burned his sight away, and the noise became a constant buzz at the centre of his mind. It was then he heard it, distant and yet loud, at the core of his being. His own blood sang the words, and his soul knew the voice that spoke within, as sure as it knew itself. To war. It was a call that echoed through him, through every Custode present. It was a call that enveloped the chamber like the bough of a spreading wave, a thunder that shook the fibre of existence, a tsunami of psychic might. A call to war. A millon million souls surged from the dissolving caskets and into the Emperors divine embrace, every one blazing and powerful. Every psyker ever captured and killed by the Eldar of Commorragh found release at that moment, attracted to the radiance of the Emperors spirit like moths to a flame. The Astronomicon itself guttered and writhed as it absorbed the spirit feast, for never before had it known such power. At that moment, every psyker in the galaxy felt the burgeoning presence of the Emperor was his vast mind awoke, roused by the power of the sacrifice. Deep within the warp, the Astronomicons light became a supernova, a blazing, blinding surge of purity. Terrible and irresistible, denizens of the warp as ancient as the stars themselves were obliterated by the spreading light. To war. The call was felt across the stars, both in the material realm and the Empyrean alike. No living creature escaped its touch, not even the psychically-inert Tau. It was a voice recognised by all, human and xenos alike, if only for the briefest of moments. To war. The Eye itself shuddered, its indescribable energies quailing beneath the assault. Null-drones sent forth by the Unity disintegrated in their billions, unable to withstand the assault. Entire corrupt worlds were scoured clean. To war. Shadows seethed as eyes were turned to the skies, unknown intelligences recognising the call. To war. It was time.

Chapter One Hundred and Two: Rise of the Lost

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+++THE GRUDGEBEARER+++ +++LOCATION UNKNOWN+++ Chaplain He awoke to the sound of the voice, his mind only partially at rest. Something was wrong, he sensed that from the moment he opened his eyes. Something had changed. Had he been dreaming? For the first time since he had found himself here in this future period, he could not remember. Afterimages of a featureless, white landscape faded from his mind even before he had realised their presence, to be replaced by a slowly forming image of the door of his chamber. Then he saw Ligur. The Librarian staggered through the opening and fell to his knees. The warrior wore the simple robes of rest, and the rough material was soaked with his sweat. He clutched at the frame for support, his scarred arms bulging and tense, his muscles quivering. Ligur? Codian rose and swung his feet onto the deck as the Librarian fell onto his hands. The sockets and runes embedded into his shaved head glowed and a hazy power shimmered around them. It was clear that he was in obvious psychic distress. It has changedaghhhchanged The Chaplain quickly donned his own robes and hurried to assist his comrade, yet was surprised to find his own limbs shaky and palsied, as if he had not used them for an age. He ignored this as best he could and moved to assist Ligur, taking him by the shoulder. The troubled psyker lifted his gaze, and Codian saw that his eyes were luminous and bright, as if his entire body was saturated with psychic power. Help me, Chaplain. Help me. The warpso brightI Codian stepped back as crackling energies played about his hand, startling him. It seemed to him as if the Librarian was about to lose control of his abilities. If that were the case, both of them were in serious danger. What has happened to you, Ligur? Talk to me. I cannot make sense of this. Did you hear Him, Codian? Did you feel Him? To warto war He backed away, his mind spinning. Though Ligurs words made little sense to him, he still found them somewhat familiar, as if the deepest part of his subconscious knew what he did not. Something had changed, he could feel that much. Something fundamental, unexplainable. He felt different, both physically and spiritually, and he could not explain it. Try to remain calm, brother. He said, moving towards the aqua dispenser set into the wall by his cot. He took the cloth there and passed it beneath the hose, activating the flow. Cool water drenched the material. Codian Rest. He replied, wringing excess water from the cloth. Despite his calm exterior, the change in the Librarians voice troubled him. It was deep and age-old, heavy with ethereal power. He hoped that this did

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not indicate that Ligur was losing his hold on his fluctuating powers. [i} I will gather them. The lost and the damned. [/I] He froze. The voice was not Ligurs. He cast around and dropped the cloth, his mind reeling at what he saw. A host of ghostly figures stood around Ligur, black as the void. He caught sight of black power armour and bleached bone, glowing red eye slits and flame. The stench of decay burned his nostrils, hitting him like a wall. The entire chamber was at once dark and cold, like the inside of a tomb. Mildew encrusted the walls and floor. Everything not made of metal was rotten and decayed, black with corruption as if abandoned for an age. Then they were gone. He blinked, as if in doing so the scene would return. Everything was as it had been before. Ligur was still prone, unaware of the vision, his face wracked with pain. Did you see that? Codian asked, moving towards him. Ligur, did you see that? Ligur did not answer. Codian quickly returned to the cloth and retrieved it. As he attended to the troubled Librarian the ghostly voice played through his mind again and again. I will gather them. The lost and the damned. What did this mean? The vision reminded him of Cypher, though he knew that the avatar of Luthor was long gone now. No, this had been different. Perhaps Ligur was responsible for the vision? This and other theories played around his mind as he applied the wet cloth to the Librarians head. Further consideration of the incident was dispelled by the sudden and intrusive scream of the internal vox system, or whatever alien network passed for such a thing. The guttural and disembodied voice that crackled over the intercom was unmistakeable. Grungi. ++Whoever you are, wherever youre skulking, you had better get your rear ends up to the bridge. Something has happened.++ The transmission ended as abruptly as it began, leaving Codian and the harried Librarian to consider this latest turn of events. Can you walk? Codian asked. To his relief, the Librarian seemed to be regaining a measure of control. Ligur nodded and allowed Codian to help him to his feet. +++ Everyone was here, Codian noted. Summoned from the vast depths of the Grudgebearer, intrigued by the Demiurgs call. Grungi himself was standing before a large and complex arrangement of machinery, pregnant with screens and dirty, coiled wiring. Codian regarded the array and decided almost instantly that he could ascertain little of its function, as alien as it was. There were elements of it that seemed familiar to him, but by and large, he could not have guessed at why they had been summoned here.

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The Demiurg regarded everyone in turn and then looked to the device. He reached out and tore a strip of yellowed parchment from the feeder before him, raised it close to his face, and after a thorough inspection of whatever was printed there, spoke. A short while ago, the automated warning system detected a foreign presence some fifteen thousand kilometres off our port side. A ship, and a bloody big one at that. An Imperial ship. The others remained silent as Grungi regarded the readout further, as if trying to make sense of what was before him. How can you be sure this ship was Imperial? Czevak asked, breaking the silence. He regarded the mechanical contraption before him with undisguised bemusement. Grungi saw this and scowled, placing a hand on the device. Hnn. This is a Castellan Array, constructed of parts and data storage devices salvaged from every kind of vessel imaginable and linked via hard-light beam network to every other existing Bastion and Stronghold. If a vessel has been built, its identification records will be contained here. He tapped the metal case twice in quick succession, as if this would somehow prove his point. My apologies. Czevak answered, sweeping a hand before him. Grungi nodded and turned his attention back to the readout. This was a hard one to process. The logs identified her as the Rapturous Rex. She was of an unknown classification, perhaps even unique. The only information I am able to find on the vessel is that your Imperium logged her as lost in 40963 Imperial. Anyway, in the time it took me to run the scan she was there and then gone again, vanished without a trace. I have never encountered an Imperial vessel with the ability to do that. The Rapturous Rex? Czevak replied. I have heard that name somewhere before. Hnn. In any case, I had thought the craft to be a space hulk, or some other piece of lost space flotsam. Perhaps that is exactly what it was. Ligur said. It was clear that the Librarian was still fighting the effects of whatever had happened within the warp. As he spoke, his voice was broken and strained. You say that this craft was logged as being lost in the warp. It is no doubt little more than a crumbling hulk, disgorged by the agitated tides of the Imperium and then swallowed once again. A plausible theory, Inquisitor, or it would be had the hulk not scanned us before it disappeared. And yet still the intrigue runs deeper. He turned to the Array and proceeded to punch a number of runes set into its vast construction. Many of the screens before him shuddered and lit up, displaying reams of unidentifiable xenos text. According to this, the Castellan network has recorded a number of other such incidences. No less than three Strongholds and a Bastion-class have encountered this vessel, all within the last solar week. Not bad at all, given that the surviving ships of my people are hidden well enough to avoid detection by even the Unity. It would seem that they are searching for something, whoever they are. Us, perhaps? The Khan asked. It may seem pompous so suggest, but this group has seemed to have attracted quite a great deal of attention since we formed, Codian in particular. He looked to Codian then, his gaze followed by the rest of them. Chaplain? I dont suppose you have any theories on who this latest mystery?

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Codian shook his head in reply. For what seemed like the first time in ages, he did not have the answer. I cannot say. I do however recall one thing the traitor Luther told me before his death. He told me of a being he called the Condemned One, who would rally the dispossessed to our cause. I have no idea who this being is, but perhaps he is connected to this sighting in some way. He finished there, for he did not want to elaborate on the dark vision he had received earlier, at least not yet. Not until he had formed his own conclusions on what it meant. Grungi placed the readout parchment upon the console and sighed, resting his chin upon his newly fitted augmetic hand. The limb he had lost had been replaced by Laenar and Umbras, and both had done an excellent job, despite having been forced to use materials of xenos design. Orechiel moved forward then and swept her long braids from her eyes. Speculation aside, perhaps it would be best if we concentrated on our more immediate concerns. We need to address our situation. All eyes turned to her as the others heard this. She moved to stand before the rest of them and cast around, resting one hand upon her hip. I trust the Chaplain. We all do. That is why we are here right now. We cannot ignore the fact, however, that circumstances have led us to being cast out of our Imperium. We are stranded here now, with no obvious way of returning to the Alliance and to Terra. Even if we did have the ability to do that we would nonetheless be executed as traitors and heretics upon our return. She paused then and looked to the Khan. Well, most of us. I am sure you could return safely, Khan. You are a Primarch, after all. No one, not even the Hereticus, would dare raise a hand against you. Jaghatai shook his head slowly as he heard this. Destiny has placed me here amongst you, and so this is where I stay. If the Imperium is as fractured as you say then my return could only add to the degeneration. Besides, the events that led to my disappearance were more orchestrated than any of you realise. No, it is no accident that I am here. All eyes turned to the Khan as the others heard this. None present could miss the haunted, faraway look in his eyes. So, where do we go from here? Torvus asked. To Terra. Jaghatai replied without the slightest hesitation. Renegades or no, it is our duty to stand against the Unity there. War has been called, and the response will be greater than any of you imagine. We will be part of that response, I promise you all that. Upon hearing this the Cadian stepped forward and fell to one knee, placing the stock of his rifle upon the floor as he did so. To Terra. He said. He bowed his head and placed his fist against his chest. For the Emperor. For the Emperor. Umbras echoed beside him. Grungi folded his arms and watched this, clearly bemused.

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A wonderful display of faith. It does, however, pose a question. How in all the Leagues are we supposed to get there? This is a Demiurg ship. Even if we were to transfer ourselves to the closest vessel to your homeworld and make full speed to Terra, we wouldnt even make it as far as the upper atmosphere. And that is if we somehow managed to avoid the combined fleets of the Unity. It would be suicide. The Khan listened to the Demiurgs rant intently. Once Grungi had finished he nodded slowly and then began to pace before the Castellan Array, regarding its vast multi-screened faade with interest. These craft you speak of. Are they truly spread across the galaxy? How close could you get us to Terra, xenos? Grungi exhaled a whistling sigh through his nose and turned to the Array. He began to manipulate the runes there, and after a few moments, several of the screens altered their displays. Hnn. The closest vessel is the Heavens Anvil. She lies south of the warp storm you call the Maelstrom. I can calculate her distance from Terra if you wish No. Jaghatai replied, his response causing the Demiurg to pause in his efforts. It does not matter. Even if we transfer ourselves to this vessel we are still too far from Terra to make it in time. The Khans expression was dark with displeasure. Even Grungi seemed concerned by this. The Segmentum Solar is the most heavily patrolled area of space in the galaxy. Every ship that was hidden there has been discovered and destroyed by your war fleets. That is as far as I can get us. Then we may yet be lost. The Khan answered quietly. An uneasy silence descended over the gathering. The sense of disappointment was palpable. After long moments of quiet contemplation, the Khan spoke again. We have no other choice. We have to try. We will go to this vessel and we will do everything with our power to make it in time. Grungi regarded the Array again, as if trying to decide upon something. He looked at the group, then at the Array, and back at the gathered faces. There is one other ship closer to Terra, but it would be near suicide to try and move her. The others looked to him as they heard this. Explain. The Khan said. She is called the Rune of Grimnir. The records here hold a log sent by her automated systems over one hundred years ago. She was captured, Khan, by your Mechanicus. She currently resides in what appears to be a vast orbital dock around the planet of Stygies VIII. The Xenarites. Czevak interrupted. Of course. It would make sense. The Xenarites were a sect of the Mechanicus dedicated to the study of alien technology, based on Stygies VIII. Their orbital dock was a subject of great interest amongst the Inquisition. Wait a moment. Codian said, stepping forward. I have heard of this planet. It is a forge world, is it not, one of the last surviving Mechanicus strongholds, and so heavily fortified even the Tau were unable to conquer it. I never said it would be easy. Grungi answered with a shrug.

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At that, all eyes turned to the Khan. Our destiny is in your hands, Primarch. Codian said.

Chapter One Hundred and Three: Awakening's Aftermath

+++THE SANCTUM IMPERALIS+++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Sound was the first experience that returned to him. His ears filled with a dull and escalating ringing, as if all other noise had been stunned into silence. He opened his eyes and found the lofty ceiling spinning high above him, incense fumes like rolling clouds hovering beneath a shadowed sky. Ventris inhaled deeply and rose, his lungs aching and empty. He coughed, forcing the organs to function once again. His mind was heavy and aching, as if his every sense had been assailed all at once, and he fought to remember what had brought him to this prone position. Custodes milled all around him, a sea of blurred gold motivated by a collective and palpable sense of urgency and alarm. Piece by piece, the recent past began to seep back into his mind and he remembered. Imperatorius. The Caesus. The Emperor. He hauled himself to his feet and cast around to find the Eternity Gate ajar and alive with activity. Custodes hurried to and from the inner chamber with unobvious yet clear purpose, as if the entire Adeptus were mobilising in response to some unknown order. He shook himself and grabbed at the nearest passing warrior, his efforts almost tearing his arm from his socket for his troubles. Pain, however, was far from his greatest concern. The Captain-General The Custode glanced towards the open Gate and nodded. Ventris released him and looked to the opening to see a towering figure striding forth, proud and unharmed. He had feared the worst, yet Imperatorius emerged from the Throne Room without a scratch. Ventris could scarcely believe that the commander of the Custodes had survived, let alone done so unharmed. He started forward and pushed through the gathering to meet with the ancient warrior. Captain-General Imperatorius! You survived! I had thought you lost Imperatorius is lost. The giant replied. He removed his helm and cast it aside. As he did so the surrounding Custodes turned to look upon him, the entire gathering falling silent. Ventris looked upon the weathered face before him. The Captain-Generals hair and beard were of the purest white, and yet his eyes were as striking and bright as those of a warrior hundreds of years younger. Indeed, his features spoke of an energy and vigour that far belied his suggested age. Ventris had never noticed this before now.

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I dont understand. He whispered. At this, the giant raised his hand, and the Ancient saw that it was an augmetic, gleaming gold and fashioned to the highest possible excellence. Set into the palm of the hand was a jewelled yellow rune, surrounded by polished onyx. A fist. Ventris recognised the symbol immediately for what it was. My name is Rogal Dorn, Uriel, and I am the Emperors own son. The time for deception is ended. The prophecy, fulfilled. He has called the enemies of the Star Gods to war, and I will hide in His shadow no longer. Ventris fell to his knees as he heard this, tears streaming down his lined face. Though he could scarcely believe what he was hearing he knew without doubt that it was true, as sure as every fibre of his being told him it was so. Rogal Dorn, father of the Imperial Fists was returned. He knew of Dorn just as he knew of all the Primarchs, for it was part of an Astartes doctrine to know all the Sons of the Emperor, both faithful and corrupt. It was part of what made him Imperial. My lord, II cannot comprehend this miracle He gasped, too afraid to even raise his eyes to the living wonder before him. He felt a hand fall upon his shoulder. Rise, Uriel. No warrior of your calibre will kneel before me. Ventris followed the order without hesitation and rose, his head still bowed. He dared not look upon a being of such perfection. He felt hands close around his shoulders then. The grip tightened, enough to cause his armour to squeal in protest. He looked up then and held his breath, fearful still at gazing upon such a divine entity. Dorns eyes bored into his own, creating a connection between them that could not have been broken by anything less than death. When he spoke, his voice was absolute. My brother has fallen to corruption, Uriel. It is a corruption even he could not have resisted, for it transcends both faith and choice. He will be saved; you have my word on that. I promise you. Ventris bowed his head and wept, his tears born of joy. He believed Dorn utterly, for who could doubt the vow of a Primarch? What now, my lord? He asked, fighting to regain composure. Dorn released him and rose. He glanced back towards the Throne Room and spoke. Now is the time. We will spread the word amongst the faithful here on Terra. Despite the treachery of Regaas there are those who still remain utterly pure, though they work within the organisations they serve. We will begin this resistance in earnest. +++ +++THE GRUDGEBEARER+++ +++LOCATION UNKNOWN+++

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Codian checked his bolt pistol again, as he had done so countless times already. The Cadian entered the chamber and threw several heavy equipment bags down onto the floor. He nodded to the Chaplain and then slipped his hellgun from his shoulder, the power pack removed and in his hand even as the weapon itself came to rest. Perhaps today is the day we will meet our end. He said. Codian regarded the soldier. His emotions were hidden well, better than he would have expected from a member of the Imperial Guard. Codian could not help but feel the ever-present sense of hostility that the Cadian exuded. Ever since the day that Cypher had assisted them against the Eldar pirates, the Cadian had harboured a deep and lasting mistrust of him, despite everything they had been through. Perhaps so. Codian mused, placing the pistol back in its holster. He glanced around in order to ensure that no one else was nearby. For the moment at least, they were alone. Do you trust me, Guardsman? The Cadian looked up from his efforts and frowned I need to know that you trust me. Codian continued. I need all of you to have faith in me; otherwise there is little point to our association. Tell me, Cadian, do you still have faith in me, after the incident onboard the Proscriptus Rex? The soldier did not answer at first. He swung his rifle back over his shoulder and began to fasten grenades to his belt. I had faith in you once. He finally admitted without raising his eyes. I saw a chance at atonement, Chaplain. I saw that in you. Then I saw the secrets, the deceit, and that faith was murdered within me. I am not sure I have the ability to trust within me anymore. Codian nodded slowly and moved to stand before the man. You must understand that sometimes it is necessary to keep the truth from even those who are considered comrades. Had I told anyone of Cyphers presence then both of us would surely have been killed. Had that happened, we would not have found the Khan, one of the Imperiums greatest warriors, and everything else we have achieved since that day would have not come to pass. Face to face, the two warriors were a world apart. Codians chin touched his chest as he regarded the smaller soldier, and the Cadians face was almost horizontal. Despite these extreme differences, there was no fear or awe on the Cadians face. I agree, Chaplain. I understand that sometimes a man must go beyond all he has been taught in order to do the Emperors work And this is the Emperors work, Guardsman. This is exactly that. Heresy and treachery has plagued our Imperium so constantly and for so long that it blinds the masses to the grey areas between right and wrong. Heresy is perceived in the most minor of actions, however pure the intent. Cypher wished for nothing save for atonement, and through that penance he had a great and miraculous gift to offer us, but that would have meant little to those who would have labelled us heretics and put us to death for our mere association. Do you even realise what it was that we achieved within the Tower of Angels? Do you realise what we I thought I did. The Cadian interrupted quickly. He lowered his gaze once again and began to empty the equipment bags at his feet. I had hoped, dreamedand then we left. We left with nothing, and I saw that I had been mistaken.

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You were not. Codian replied. We achieved exactly what we set out to do, Cadian. I need you to understand that. it may seem like we left with nothing, but we did it. We set him free. And left him. Yes. That was how it had to be, Cadian. Sometimes, the most obvious course of action is not the correct one. Codian fell silent then as the rest of the group entered. Grungi passed by him and nodded, heading towards the translation matrix. Codian noted the large, double-headed power axe he carried at his back and the belt literally pregnant with small spherical grenades as he passed. The Khan and the others followed closely behind, every one of them heavy with weapons and equipment. They were a group ready to make war. He waited until the Primarch was isolated from the rest of them and then moved to meet him. When he spoke, he did so quietly. Do you think that this mission is worthwhile, Khan? The risks are invariably great, perhaps too much so. It is the only course of action open to us. The Khan replied. For we have no other means of reaching Terra. Even if we are successful in this endeavour we will still struggle to reach Terra before the Tau. This is a long shot, but it is our only chance. Then this is the correct course of action. Codian said. He glanced over to where the Cadian was still busy attaching battle equipment to his person. The Khan saw this and followed his gaze. Do you ask this for yourself, or for the benefit of others? There are those among us who cannot truly understand what we achieved within the Tower of Angels, Primarch. Your discovery was a blessing and a miracle to us all, and most expected to see the Lion returned to stand by your side, brothers reunited. We are the only ones who understand that it was not his destiny to return with us at this time. The Lion is free, Codian. One by one, the surviving Primarchs will return for this final war, I can promise you that. They will see the fruits of their labours before this war is ended. Codian lowered his gaze then and cast around slowly to check the proximity of the others. Sure that none were close, he looked to the Khan once more. Not all the Primarchs, of course. There are those who fell far from the Emperors grace, Khan, loathe as I am to even mention such foul traitors. I can envisage no viable situation whereupon we would see the return of such damned creatures. The Khans face darkened as he heard mention of his traitorous brothers, and it was clear that even the vast length of time that had passed since the Heresy had not diluted his hatred of the corrupt Warmaster and his supporters. Also, Luther told me of the secret of the soulless ones, the two who were hunted down and destroyed for the corruption within them, soiled from birth by the dark seed of the Ctan. Codians breath caught in his throat then as he felt vice-like fingers enclose his forearm. His armour groaned audibly beneath the Primarchs superhuman grip. Pain lanced up his arm but the shock was enough to keep him silent. The expression upon the Khans face could not be described, but it was a terrible and menacing look.

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Until you are sure of the facts, never speak of such things again, Chaplain. Not even Luther knows the whole truth of the matter, it would seem. The Khan released his grip then and Codian stepped back, issuing a quiet gasp. He looked at his arm and saw the indentations in his armour where the Primarch had buckled it. My apologies, Primarch. He said, aghast that he had inadvertently offended the powerful warrior. The Khan scowled and moved away towards the Matrix. His part in the conversation was clearly over. +++ +++TAU FLEET LEVIATHAN+++ +++SEGMENTUM SOLAR+++ Damn the Tau to the warp, Lurom Berolinus. Damn the alien filth that flows through your veins. You are mine, body and soul He opened his eyes and gasped. Tau menials paused in their work to regard the Astartes strange behaviour. He felt his face flush red and looked away, swiftly composing himself. Then he felt the eyes boring into him. Guilliman had turned away from the screen and was looking at him. He wore an expression of bewilderment and displeasure, and this was enough to set the nerves of the Astarte on edge. My apologies, Primarch. He whispered, bowing his head. By the Primarchs side, commander Shadowblade snorted. It was said that the supreme commander of the Fire Warriors of Leviathan was as xenophobic as any Imperial, and that she only tolerated Guilliman through fear. That toleration, however, extended no further. Huh. That one dreams even now, Kaiguela. Perhaps its mind is broken, unable to accept the purity of Tau blood. You should destroy it Berolinus is my ward. Guilliman growled, with menace enough to cow the arrogant commander. He will be ready for this coming battle, I assure you. OKorstla bowed her head and looked back to the screen once more. When she spoke, her voice was heavy with venom. You sound sure that we will meet resistance, Kaiguela, and yet you attempt this. Would it not be better to simply advance the fleet and begin the annihilation of these fools? Better? Guilliman answered. Better to plunge our forces in to a conflict that will surely see us depleted, that will guarantee that we reach Terra with many of our ships lost to us? This battle will diminish our power, Shadowblade, that much is certain. If there is even a chance that we can avoid this then we have to take it, however slight. The power of the Unity is right and absolute, we know that. Entire systems have bent their knee to the Unity and embraced the Tauva because it is the only true path. There is hope yet. Perhaps. Shadowblade spat. But I doubt it. Guilliman shot the Tau a look of contempt and faced the screen. Activate it. He commanded.

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The black monitor came to life, first flooding with static and then, slowly but surely, an image formed. A face swam into view, pale as moonlight. The eyes that regarded the Primarch were like ice. Lord Thor. Guilliman uttered. The figure on the screen swept his white hair back away from his eyes. Shadowblade hissed as she regarded the man before her. What is it? She spat, her features twisting in disgust. Primarch. The man uttered. The host of faces about him shifted uncomfortably as they heard the word. The white-skinned man did not falter. Say your piece and be done, traitor. We have a war to win. Guillman smiled. Lord Thor, I implore you. Join us. Allow this fleet to pass without incident or harm. You know that this defence is futile. Give yourselves unto the Greater Good and know that you will be saving many lives, too many to count. Succumb, Thor, and be saved. The man shook his head slowly as he heard this. I would not succumb to heresy, Primarch, even if it would save the lives of countless others. Have you fallen so far that you cannot see how futile such a request is? You were once a son of the Emperor I still am. Guilliman answered, cutting the Lord Inquisitor short. More so than you or any other man before me. Thor heard this and shook his head again. If that were true then we would not be here, Primarch. You would have heard the call as surely as any of the faithful, and you would have given your life in response. Are you surely so blinded, Guilliman, that you did not hear it? If so, you are truly lost to us. You speak in riddles, Lord Inquisitor. I am given to understand that you were made in the image of another. Perhaps that process was flawed somehow. Thor heard this and smiled, much to the Primarchs surprise. He raised a gloved fist and shook it at Guilliman in defiance. You heard it, Roboute Guilliman. You felt it deep within, I can see it in your eyes. The Caesus has done its work. I am told that you employ many traitorous Astropaths and Navigators. How are they, Primarch? Guillimans face coloured at that. Do not test me. He snarled. Thor remained defiant. Test you? Lost one, we will test you greatly, I promise you that. Did you genuinely think to persuade us to surrender? We will fight and we will die to the last man to defy you, Guilliman. We are the Emperors servants, and he has called us to war. Bring your ships to us. Our guns are hungry. Fools. Guilliman spat. Pathetic, suicidal fools. You know that you cannot stop this fleet. I put your Knights to the death on Caris Estarus, Thor, you must know that. Your greatest warriors are gone, swept away without effort or thought. How do you hope to stand against us?

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In his heart, Guilliman railed against the absence of fear displayed by his counterpart. The nameless faces surrounding Thor wore the same determined expression, as if they all shared some hidden and absolute confidence. How could we not? Are you so lost that you truly have no idea what is happening to this galaxy, what has been set in motion? The soul of every psyker sings with what they have seen. Great miracles have come to pass already, and this is just the start. The Khan of the White Scars is returned, Guilliman, did you know that? I am sure he waits on Terra for you even now. I will ensure that you reach him battered and bloodied. End transmission. Guilliman ordered. Thors white face shuddered and broke up, leaving the screen before him dark. Your orders, Kaiguela? Shadowblade asked. Leave no one alive. Came the reply.

Chapter One Hundred and Four: Mercenaries, Spreading the Word

Codian exhaled and stepped forward as the darkness of void became a grey gloom. Dull strip lights guttered overhead, illuminating the Khans vast form. He drew the Dawnblade and his bolt pistol as he advanced. Behind him, the Translation Matrix crackled again as the next figure emerged. The Matrix had brought them into a wide corridor, largely featureless save for the rusting iron busts that lined the path. He paused to regard the nearest of them. The face that stared back was obviously intended to represent a member of the Demiurg race, as were they all. Runes were carved beneath the bust, and while unreadable it was likely that they identified whoever the statue had once been. Dust and grime lined the tarnished metal, as it did the entire hallway. This area had not seen life for a long time. Grungi stood before a large bulkhead door, waiting for the others, his arms folded. Hurry along there! This ship will not liberate herself! The Khan slowed as he reached the door. His eyes narrowed and he slowly cast around, his nostrils flaring. Something is here on this ship, and it is neither human nor Demiurg. I smell xenos. He remained tense and silent for long moments after, his eyes fixed upon a place beyond the others. Codian followed his gaze to a nearby ventilation grille and felt his fingers tighten around the grip of his pistol. The vents were barely large enough to allow a human child through, and as soon as he saw this he relaxed. Perhaps it is nothing. The Primarch finally said, looking away. Filth and earth, rank putrification. Remain vigilant nonetheless. With that the Khan looked to Ligur and the Librarian stepped forward. He walked up to the door and placed

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the palm of one giant gauntlet upon the rusting surface. He closed his eyes. Witchlight flickered about his head as he concentrated, his mouth moving soundlessly. The rest of them waited in silence for him to make his assessment. After a few moments the Librarian inhaled and stepped back, opening his eyes once more. His gauntlet left behind an icy afterimage that began to fade as soon as he backed away. I sense no immediate danger beyond here. But there is life on this ship still. Alien feet have walked the spaces beyond this door many times. Both the Khan and Ligur had confirmed the presence of xenos life here now. Codian considered this and then spoke, asking what had been foremost on the minds of everyone else. What of the Mechanicus? If this ship was indeed seized by them, where are they? Ligur slowly shook his head. There has been no human life onboard this vessel for a long time. They were here once, but they have long since abandoned her. He speaks the truth. Grungi added, nodding his head towards the Translation Matrix. Look. It seems that we are lucky to have even got here. Codian looked back towards the machine and saw that Grungi was right. Tools and other paraphernalia were scattered around the Matrix, almost hidden by the dust. Rusting portable cogitator machines were stacked in one corner of the chamber where they had been left to rot. Unknown symbols had been daubed across the Matrix itself, and dust-filled bottles that had once contained the oils sacred to the Priesthood were smashed and abandoned about the foot of the device. So, they tried to crack the Matrix. Grungi uttered, a twisted smile sliding across his face. Hnn. Fools, the lot of them. Only a Demiurg knows how to operate Demiurg technology. I hope it drove them insane. Codian heard this and gestured towards the scattered detritus. Perhaps it did, Demiurg. From my experience, the Mechanicus arent given to abandoning their precious technologies under any circumstances, yet we have evidence of that all around us. Either that, or they left in a hurry for other reasons. Grungi strode over to the abandoned equipment and kicked the rusting heap. Hnn. They left because they gave up, I wager. Dont do that! The Cadian shouted, his voice a mixture of anger and disbelief. The technologies of the Mechanicus are sacred So sacred that they leave such things to rot. Grungi retorted, moving back towards the door. +++ +++ARTHAS MOLOCH+++ +++ARTEFACT WORLD+++ +++THE INNER TAU EMPIRE+++

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Dust swirled around the crumbling dais, it vast circular form long since eroded by the incessant winds. Arthas Moloch was a dead world, and had been so for millennia, long before the Tau discovered her. The flensing dust hissed as it slid over the living darkness before it, dancing through the softly writhing tentacles of hazy shadow. The being known as Qah studied the raised dais in silence. His vast black eyes were drawn to the centre of the podium, where once ancient and mighty wards of power had protected the artefact housed there, an artefact of incalculable power. An artefact carved by the hand of a god. The light was harsh and blinding, the rays of the nearby sun made all the more deadly by the planets lack of a protective atmosphere. Once, long long ago, such protection had been taken away so as to ensure that living hands would never disturb the finest work of Vaul, as the wards had ensured its safety against those of the un-life. The searing sunlight could not penetrate the darkness beneath it, for it was a darkness born not of this reality. Darkness absolute. The artefact was gone. Stolen away in the absence of those who had intended to keep it safe until the time of the Raheed-skoh. My brother. Qah uttered quietly, turning his gaze to the blinding skies far above. Is this fate? Is this destiny? I would let her eat my soul again but to uncover the answer. I sense the hand of destiny at work here, and yet I see in the echoes of the past the handiwork of the b-----d-race. I am confused. I am fractured, inside. Should this be, Vaul? Once, long ago, you risked the wrath of Khaine to ensure this legacy. Now the blade is gone, and I see it taken by one of the false race. Qah balled his black hands into fists and lowered his eyes, the black miasma about him shuddering in empathy. So much left to chance with our legacy, perhaps too much. The cage is gone Vaul, I have seen its ruination. We should have known that it would not hold him for an eternity. Are we too late, or are our great works unfolding still? Once more his eyes returned to the empty dais and his thoughts to what had come to pass. There he remained, as if frozen in time, his powerful mind exploring every avenue of possibility. He shuddered then, a blazing light flashing across his dark eyes. His face widened and he cast around slowly, turning on his heel again and again. Awake He whispered, his eyes still blazing. Ihear you. I hear you. Tell me what to do. A few moments later and the ancient being issued a slow, understanding nod. I see. To the Eldar, then. To war. At that, his shadowy form quivered and dissipated, and Qah was gone. +++ See this? Codian lowered his weapons and stepped forward to inspect Grungis find. The Demiurg reached over and unhooked the object from around the rusting valve and handed it to Codian.

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I dont know what it is, but its not bloody Demiurg. The Chaplain considered the strange object as the others gathered about him. It was a curious collection of what looked to be small animal bones, bound together with rough twine. A single bright feather hung from the totem, along with an old and rusted Imperial-issue autogun shell. I have no idea what that is meant to be. The Chaplain admitted. The Khan took it from the Demiurgs hand and sniffed at it. It is xenos. Grungi snarled and removed the axe from his back. Is there no end to the disrespect this craft has been shown? This is a Demiurg vessel, not a bloody thoroughfare! Woe betide the necks of any who meet me and my blade within these walls! The Khan cast the totem aside and nodded towards a wide access hatch at the far end of the gloomy corridor. Enough of this hesitation. It matters little who or what has boarded this vessel before us. This ship is our best chance of reaching Terra before the Tau. We must take it as fast and as efficiently as we can. The others agreed with a series of murmurs and nods, the most animated response amongst them that of the Demiurg. Hear hear! Grungi said, barging past the others and heading for the hatch. This is a ship of the Ancestors and Ill not suffer it to remain in the hands of these interfering anvil-heads a moment longer! He strode up to the hatch activation rune and slammed his metal fist into the protrusion. As the hatch hissed open he looked to the others and then peered into the space beyond. Hmmph. If I had known of the Rune of Grimnirs plight before now I would have taken her back myself. This is desecration and nothing less! These vessels are both the tombs and the monuments of my people. Bloody tomb robbers Grungis rant died away. He peered into the chamber beyond, his lined face creasing further. Gnnn. He looked back at the others, an expression of bemusement upon his face. Codian saw the Khan tense and his own body responded similarly. Grungi looked through the open hatch a final time and then promptly punched the rune once again, sending the thick metal sliding down to seal the opening shut. The Khan slowly followed the Demiurgs progress as he passed by him and moved to join the rest of the group once more, a look of displeasure upon his face. As they looked on, he slowly rotated his neck, the bones there grating as he did so. Then he lifted his axe and ran his metal thumb over the blade, causing the hard surface of the prosthetic digit to squeal. What is it? Codian asked, arming his bolt pistol. Grungi exhaled through his nose, a dry whistling sound, and then nodded to each of the gathered warriors

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in turn. Ill tell you what it is, bone-priest. It is more of a bloody travesty than I had first thought. Ready those weapons. His augmetic eye glowed as he cast around to regard each of them in turn. All of you. As if in response to his warning a loud and vicious impact shook the hatch, followed by another and then a third. Ready weapons! Jaghatai roared, barging past the others. Only the Primarch did not question the sudden disturbance. Codian looked on as the Khan and Grungi readied their weapons and headed towards the hatch, staggered by the sudden turn of events. He cast around and saw Ligur and the others looking to him expectantly, waiting to see his reaction. It was enough. We fight. Codian said, driving himself forward. One by one the rest of them followed him, weapons rising. By the time they reached the hatch the Khan was waiting for them. Marines, ready for combat. Everyone else, I want rifles shouldered and sidearms raised ready for use. When this hatch opens I want suppressive fire. Do not cease or fall back until I give the command. The others obeyed his orders without question, swiftly taking up their individual positions before the metal gate. You. Jaghatai said, pointing to the two Inquisitors. Does either of you have a flamer amongst those trinkets? I do. Orechiel answered, proffering one of her exotic rings at the giant. Jaghatai nodded and gestured before him. Be ready. I want the entire area beyond there engulfed. Codian watched the woman move forward and prepare herself, trying as best she could to ignore the violent ringing that shook the rusting metal door. He tried to imagine just what Grungi had seen, but everything was happening so fast, almost too fast for him to consider anything. Whatever lay in wait beyond was not of the Mechanicus, he knew that. It was feral, bestial. He could tell that simply from the indiscriminate violence against the hatch. The Khan looked to Grungi and spoke, his rumbling voice enough to break everyones reverie. What do we have, Demiurg, and how many? We have beasts that would rend us with bite and with claw, giant one. Grungi replied, taking up a combat stance. Too many to count. With that, he reached for the rune, and pressed.

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Chapter One Hundred and Five: Lost Kindred

The hatch slid open with a hiss and Orechiel raised her fist, supporting it with her other hand. She braced herself in readiness and then, on first sight of the gloom beyond, she fired. Bright flame burst from the ring to spread out as it rolled on through the opening. A series of inhuman shrieks rose up from the space beyond as the fireball found its victims. Move back! The Khan commanded. Orechiel obeyed immediately, the ammunition of the digital weapon spent. The Cadian, Czevak and Gormat all fired through the smoke-wreathed opening as soon as the way was clear, sending bright energy lancing through the gloom. The Guardsman quickly removed a brace of grenades from his belt and cast them into the chamber for good measure, causing two satisfying and thunderous explosions to shake the surrounding area seconds later. Have a care! Grungi raged. This isnt a bloody warzone! Yes it is, Demiurg. The Cadian replied coldly, raising his rifle once again. The Khan allowed the onslaught to continue a few moments more and then signalled for the fire to cease. With me! He commanded, ordering the Astartes forward. He took the lead and headed for the gap. As he did so he glanced back over his shoulder to where the Guardsman knelt, his rifle shouldered. Cadian, eyes alert! Kill anything that comes through thi Dark shapes surged out of the smoky gloom and into the Khan, almost faster than the eye could follow. The Primarch swung one mighty fist and struck one of the attackers with a back-hand blow that burst it like a ripe fruit and dashed its remains against the wall. Another of the loping creatures pounced on the Khan, its vast serrated jaws clamping around his head. He staggered back as a third bounded past him and headed for the others. The Cadian was first to respond. He fired three swift and precise shots in quick succession and felled the charging creature, the powerful las-blasts carving through it. The cadaver lurched and then tumbled end over end as the Khan fought to free himself. He reached up and wrenched the creature away. Such was the Primarchs strength that he tore the attackers body away from its head and cast the remains aside amid a torrent of dark alien blood. The things jaws were still clamped around his head and he had to pull the head free, drawing his own blood in the process. Codian ground to a halt as more of the ridge-backed creatures sprinted free of the chamber and out to meet the warriors. His gut tightened as he regarded them, for their visage was ugly, bestial and utterly unknown to him. They were quadrupeds, lean yet powerful. Long spines fringed their backs and vicious curved beaks snapped at the intruders, powerful enough to slice through flesh and even armour. The Khan cut one of the beasts in two but the rest charged past him, growling and screeching with bloodlust. Three long strides carried the first of them to Codians feet within the space of a heartbeat. The Chaplain fired his pistol but the creature was too agile, enough so to easily sidestep the hail of fire.

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Metal flashed before him and Grungi appeared, his axe drawing a great silver arc through the hurtling mass. Blood and flesh pattered against the Demiurgs ruddy skin as the bestial attacker came apart, leaving the Chaplain stunned by the ferocity of the attack. Kroot. The short alien snarled, his single eye wild and filled with hatred. Bloody Kroot are onboard this ship! Codian heard this and cast around to where the Khan was holding his own against the creatures that were still pouring from the open hatch. Though greatly assailed the white-armoured giant held his own. He swung his blade and cut one of the beasts from a mid-air leap. Another followed its comrade but he caught this one by the throat and snapped its neck with a shake of his hand before casting the body back into the gloom. Grungi charged for the hatch and before the Khan or anyone else could stop him he was gone. Demiurg! The Primarch snapped. Now is not the time for damned suicidal foolishness! Perhaps you are right. Grungi answered a second later, exiting the opening as fast as he had entered it. That way lies more bloody Kroot Hounds, and more Hissing blue pulse fire speared through the hatch and slammed into the walls around them, leaving smouldering impact craters in its wake. Codian and the others ducked reflexively as the storm continued with ever-increasing ferocity. The Khan stepped back as several shots thudded into his chest and arms, scoring the smooth armour there. He sidestepped the fusillade and pressed himself flat against the wall by the side of the hatch, his tulwar ready to end the lives of any brave enough to pass. Find cover! He commanded, gesturing for the others to follow his lead. Retreat is not an option open to us, for there is nowhere to retreat to! We will advance and we will achieve what we came here to do! Kroot Grungi answered almost breathlessly, jabbing a finger out towards the opening as if to drive home his point. Bloody hordes of the twig-legged swines A fresh storm of fire scattered the stragglers and sent them running for cover. Gormat was the last to do so and he barely escaped the pulse charges flashing at his heels. The Tau slammed into the wall and blinked furiously. He ejected the spent charge cell of his pulse pistol and swiftly pushed another into its place. Unmistakeably Kroot. II dont understand how that can be. The Kroot are extinct Then perhaps you had better tell them that, Tau. Orechiel answered scornfully, inspecting a singed section of her long braids. A shadow fell over them as Torvus pushed past, his dark face a mask of hatred and disdain. Extinct. That sounds desirable to me. He paused in his advance as a long and blood-curdling screech resounded through the ship, powerful and directionless. Everyone present shuddered beneath the effects of the cry, as if it were as much a mental assault as it were aural.

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What was that? Ligur asked, his eyes glowing with icy power, almost as if in empathy with that call. What in all of Ultramar was that? He looked first to Grungi and then to Gormat, fully expecting that they were the most informed of all those present on the ways of the Kroot. There is power here, and it is feral and raw. What manner of psyker creature exists amongst these Kroot? Energy pulses exploded around his head but he ignored them, responding only so far as to shift in reflexive self-preservation. Much to his chagrin neither replied. Tell me! He shouted, leaning forward enough to almost envelop the two smaller beings. Initially lost for a reply, it was Gormat who finally answered. As far as I am aware, there are none. No Kroot creature has ever been recorded as displaying any psychic ability or potential. There is a psyker on this ship, and it is alien. Ligur growled. Codian was listening so intently to the debate that he did not realise the enemy had stopped shooting at first. When he finally did he held up a hand and signalled for silence. The Khan saw this and nodded. We advance on my command. Ready yourselves for combat. The rest of them did just that. The Cadian fixed a bayonet in place and then watched as Gormat deactivated and holstered his pistol before removing something from beneath his robes. He held the small tube out before him, twisted it and then shook it once. Within seconds it elongated and became a staff. Both ends crackled to life and began to glow with bright azure power. Gormat caught the Cadian watching him and he inclined his head. Have you ever fought the Kroot, guela? I have not. The Cadian replied, as though the very suggestion disgusted him. Then you are fortunate. They eat the flesh of the fallen, Cadian, whether you are dead or alive. At that he patted the haft of the staff in his hand. Do not fear. If they start to feast upon you, I will ensure that you are dead myself. The Cadian was about to answer when he felt a tug at his belt and looked down to see the Demiurg removing several of his grenades. Many thanks. The short xenos said, his augmetic fist full of the small explosive devices. He raised the hand up to his mouth and removed the pin of one of them with his teeth. If we are going to do this, then you must all listen to me. Follow me exactly, and do not deviate from the path, not even an inch. If you get lost then you will stay lost, for none of us can afford to be chasing around this ship looking for stragglers. What do you intend, Demiurg? The Khan asked, largely ignoring the hissing pulse fire rapping against his armour. I am going to take control of this ship. Grungi answered. Just as we had intended to do. Now follow me!

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He cast around to face the hatch and let the armed frag grenade fall and then booted it through the opening into the gloom. Seconds later the space beyond flashed orange and the wall shook, but most importantly the firing ceased. Lets go! He said, charging forward. The Khan followed close behind, followed in turn by the rest of them. Codian fell in behind the Primarch and ducked into the thick grey smoke, feeling his pulse quicken as the way forward was obscured. He raised both the Dawnblade and his pistol in instinctive readiness, though he could not hear any sounds of life around him. Within seconds they had passed beyond the smoke and the Chaplain found himself charging through a dingy, shadow-lined corridor. Small animal bones crunched beneath his boots but he ignored them and pressed on, ready for combat. They passed through the blackened chamber and headed through another hatch, literally wading through charred alien bodies as they did so. Codian dismissed the twisted flesh scattered around him and concentrated on the path ahead. They soon reached the end of the wide but short chamber and Grungi signalled for them to wait as he moved to check the exit. One by one they came to a halt, weapons at the ready. More of the creatures lay scattered around them, killed by the grenade blast. He considered them and found himself confused by this situation. The things were clearly bestial and hardly sentient in any sense of the word, so how it was that they were under fire, he could not say. There were no weapons scattered around and no signs of any other creatures. These are not Kroot. He said, glancing around. They cant be. Where are the bodies of the enemy? They have been taken. He looked back at OGormat. The Tau lowered his staff and gestured around him. They remove the bodies of the fallen so that the enemy cannot eat of their flesh and steal their accumulated genetic traits. A strange notion, I know. Another explosion shook the surrounding walls and floor. Up ahead, Grungi was stood before a smokewreathed doorway, gesturing for them to follow. Up ahead, echoing through the corridors beyond, Codian could hear the enemy calling to one another. The calls were warbling and avian, quite at odds with the current environment. He dismissed the noise and continued on, heading for the exit. They passed through the opening and into a wide chamber lined with all manner of storage crates. Grungi was hunkered down behind one of them, waving frantically for the others to do the same. Weapons fire flashed down the hall towards the group, as if to convince them to follow his advice. Codian caught a glancing blow to his shoulder as he sprinted for cover. He grunted and landed heavily against one of the crates, his weight almost tipping the rusting container over. Grungi risked a swift glance out from behind the improvised cover and sprang back almost as fast, pulse fire raking grooves through the metal inches from his head. Gnnn. We need to run the gauntlet and get across this holding bay. Past here the ship opens out and that should give us a few more options as we work our way towards the bridge. The Khan risked a glance himself and then nodded. He opened his mouth to speak, but whatever he

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intended to say never came out. The Primarchs eyes widened and he cast around, rising from his crouching position. For a second Codian became convinced that the Khan was about to strike at him and he tensed, the prospect of a being of such size and power assaulting him enough to test the courage of any individual. The Khans tulwar flashed over his head and the shadows screamed. Codian rolled to one side and came up in time to see a brace of leaking bodies slump to the floor, their alien flesh writhing with a rapidlydissipating darkness. Infiltrators. Jaghatai spat, kicking the gaunt bodies away in disgust. Gormat hurried to his side and lowered himself onto one knee, a look of clear alarm on his face. I do not understand. The Krootthe Kroot I know of were not capable of such things. Pigment alteration, yes, but It was the Taus turn to have his words cut short as the Khan sprang into action again, this time snatching at the darkness above the xenos. His hand closed around something and he pulled, hauling what appeared to be a living miasma of shadow out of the air itself. He shook his arm and there was a gurgled cry. The shadows sagged in his grasp and he cast the strange anomaly aside. We are far from safe here. He said, his predatory eyes scouring the gloom around them. Torvus rose and drew his storm shield close to his chest. He pointed the head of his hammer out towards their intended direction. We will smash our way through. Force and speed are the only things that will see us victorious this day. Ligur ascended by his side, his lined face tight and fraught with discomfort. I sense them. Hggnn, they are all around us. The shadows seethe His eyes were glowing with a pale azure light, and as the rest of them looked on the light began to grow brighter and extend, illuminating his entire face within seconds. Moments later the space before him shimmered with the icy glow and the Librarian cast around to look out into the vast chamber, twin beams of luminescence spearing through the gloom like lamp packs. Wherever his gaze passed the others could see lithe, tall shapes sliding through the darkness, illuminated by the psykers warp-fuelled gaze. Oh st. The Cadian cursed quietly.

Chapter One Hundred and Six: Illumination

+++NARSINE+++ +++TAU HELD IMPERIAL WORLD+++ +++AGRIPINAA SECTOR+++ +++SEGMENTUM OBSCURUS+++

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Arch-Demagogue Logasov Preed removed his rebreather and cast it aside. He raised his scarred face and closed his eyes. The magnificence of the Mother-Eye was a palpable and exhilarating thing. He could feel its warm caress upon his skin, sensual and exciting. Comforting, like a mother. Exhilarating, like a lover. The Eye of Terror. He opened his eyes again and took in the perfection of the Eye, its roiling light dancing across the skies above. He took a deep, heaving breath and then exhaled, as if imbibing the essence of the Eye itself. No matter what the b-----d Tau do to her, she perseveres still. He smiled, his filed yellow teeth a stark contrast to his dark, greasy beard. The figure by his side bowed his head overtly and then cast his gaze out over the endless cityscape. His eyes were bright and yellow, aglow with the corrupting influence of the warp. Grey skinned and completely hairless, the wasted man hovered above the ground as if lighter than air, his blackened toe ends scraping against the concrete like the severed guide rope of a wayward zeppelin as he swayed in the breeze. He began to hover towards Preed, his advance causing the milling figures around the Demagogue to sink back in fear. One such individual did not retreat fast enough and he fell to his knees screaming and tearing his rebreather to shreds with his bare hands. The mans entrails spilled like escaping serpents from his open mouth and he slumped to the floor, submerged in a pool of his own blood. The eight-pointed star carved into his sunken chest glistened as if freshly hewn, despite its age. The blood visible there glittered as if saturated with precious stones. He closed his eyes briefly and the air around his head quivered and blackened. We were totally unexpected, Arch-Demagogue, and the Tau were completely unprepared for a counterattack. Our forces have already caused untold destruction here on Narsine. Realistically, we could well take this world before the Unity is able to respond with sufficient force. Aye, and by then it will be too late Preed snarled, setting his autogun down upon the crumbling rockcrete partition before him. He placed his hands flat upon the bulwark and cast his gaze over the sprawling cityscape far below. All this will be his, and soon. For two centuries Logasov Preed had gathered his military power in secret, away from the prying eyes of even Abaddon. Once Preed had been a celebrated general in the armies of the Imperium until the fateful day that the Tau had come to the Scarus Sector. On the world of Messina he and almost five million Guardsmen had found themselves abandoned by the retreating armies of the Imperium, left to rot at the mercy of the Tau. Both human and Tau alike had underestimated Preeds burning anger, an anger that had consumed him body and soul. Through presence and influence alone he had taken his hatred and forged it into an iron spear of intent, an intent that had lit his soul like a beacon within the warp, for Preeds was a soul impregnable to anything save for its own blind pride. Through oratory fuelled by the power of the daemonic he had bent the lost and the damned to his will, and in turn the will of the Ruinous Gods.

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The arch-Demagogue turned his gaze skywards once more to bask in the magnificence of the Eye. We will slaughter the xenos utterly, and without mercy. He whispered to the glowing anomaly. For mercy was long since scoured from our souls. Then take the populace in to our fold, in your name. The able-bodied will be indoctrinated, and the young and weak will be rendered into nourishment for those they once loved. I will see these stars remade in your image once again, my Pantheon. At that he lowered his gaze once more and cast his eye out over the city. As far as he could see, his forces were advancing upon the enemys command complex. Rising columns of smoke dotted the landscape, telltale signs of the extent of his influence across the city. Preed smiled and clambered onto the roof of the rusting Salamander. He produced a pair of field goggles and scanned the layout of the vast conurbation, pleased with what he saw. The Unity occupation force had not been expecting anything like this, that much was clear. As powerful as the conquerors of this world were, they were ill prepared for a counter-attack by the forces of the Ruinous Powers. Lanquavitz. Yes my lord? The twisted psyker answered, hovering forward. Lend me the ears of my commanders. It is time to coordinate the annihilation of our enemy. The psyker nodded and spread his gaunt arms wide. The air around his head warped and blackened like burning paper. His eyes burned with a blood-red fire, and when he opened his mouth a burning internal heat spilled forth. Heed the Arch-Demagogue. Lanquavitz said with his mind. All around the city, voices fell silent. Preed turned his back to the burning city and looked to renegade psyker. He knew that, at this very moment, every one of his Agitators could see his face and hear his words. It is time to close this pincer and grind these xenos b-----ds into the earth. Let the Despoiler fight his own wars far from the blessed light of the Eye. World by world, we will spread the darkness of Chaos with each victory. He looked away from Lanquavitz and consulted his field goggles again. Goulamasc, lead the Titans down the main avenue and towards the gates of the enemy stronghold. Hold back to extreme range and assail the walls. Xaivore, likewise the artillery. Haespherod, bring the Malcodors as far forward as you can and await the order to advance. First we will bring the wrath of the gods down upon the heads of the xenos, and then we will defile any that survive. He lowered the goggles and looked up to the churning skies above. They could just be seen from this distance, vast, blood-red shapes sliding ponderously beneath the rolling clouds. The Harbingers were feared for the powerful and deadly payload of bombs they carried. A single bomber had the ability to burn an entire city to its foundations. Three of the vast craft were heading towards the enemy stronghold, flanked on all sides by a cloud of sleek Hell Blade and Hell Talon fighters. They do not stand a chance. Preed snarled, his cracked lips splitting into a wide and malevolent grin. Without glancing back he raised a hand behind him and gestured for something to be brought to him. We must bless the payload of the Harbingers to guarantee our success. Bring me the icon.

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The crowds behind the Arch-Demagogue parted and a figure hurried forward, carrying a hideous totem. It was the naked upper torso of a man, mounted upon a cruel, rusting spike. The eight-pointed star of Chaos Undivided had been carved into the victims grey flesh, desecrating the faded aquila tattoo there. The only item of clothing upon the partial cadaver was a Confessors mitre, marking the partial corpse as a former member of the Ecclesiarchy. To guarantee the favour of the gods, the blood of the innocent must be spilled. The twisted psyker croaked. At this Preed looked on as a screaming woman and child were dragged in chains from the depths of the gathered army and out onto the parapet. Mother and child. Lanquavitz continued. Bonded in blood. The Tormented Faithful must scream his agonies out to the Mother Eye, and beechen the favour of the gods. The blood shall strengthen his call, and only then can we guarantee the guidance of the warp and an assured victory. Preed nodded and took the grisly icon from the waiting soldier. He held it aloft and then drew a long, rusting combat blade from the scabbard at his waist. Awaken him, psyker. He ordered, eager to begin. And bring the sacrifices to me. Mother and daughter were dragged sobbing to his feet while, behind him, the hideous warlock began to chant. At his burning words of power the eyes of the corpse snapped open to reveal empty sockets. Its desiccated mouth yawned, expelling foetid dust, and an expression of utter despair and agony contorted the dead flesh. A long and mournful howl shook the air as the Arch-Demagogue slashed the knife across the womans throat and opened her veins to the air. The victim fell limp and the spurting blood swirled and eddied as it was drawn into the animated torso. The grey flesh writhed and took on a fresh pink hue as if invigorated by the victims blood. The agonised scream intensified. The fat little bags of capering flesh and pus scampering around the feet of the nearby soldiers howled and squealed in delight as they waddled to wallow in the womans blood. Preeds lip curled as he kicked one of the daemonic entities away, sending it twisting wetly over the parapet and away. Satisfied, he exhaled with exultation and shoved the body of the woman side, his eyes glistening with evil intent. Before him the young boy child writhed, his dark eyes wild and fearful. The Nurglings scampered to surround him expectantly, terrifying him further. My Pantheon. Preed uttered, saliva streaming from his lips. Hear me. Accept this offering as a symbol of my pact w Something attracted his attention. Though it was little more than a flicker at the corner of his eye, it was enough to draw him away from the arcane proceedings. The Eye. Even as he stared up at the heavens, it took several minutes for what he witnessed to sink in. The Eye. The Eye blinked. Even as his own eyes told him that what he had seen was the truth, disbelief coursed through him. He stared up at the skies in disbelief, unwilling and unable to accept, to believe. This kind of thing did not happen. The Mother Eye did not waver, nor alter. There was no fluctuation or intermittence in her power and influence. It did not matter how much Logasov Preeds mind railed or protested at what he witnessed. He stood far beneath on the surface of Narsine as the Eye of Terror shuddered, flashed and then And then

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And then went out. Unmerciful gods Preed uttered, taking a step back. His fingers slackened and the knife clattered onto the rockcrete at his feet, released by a grip stolen by utter disbelief. Wherewhere has it gone? He whispered, the power in his voice stolen by shock. The skies above had changed beyond all recognition. The carpet of tiny daemons squealed in fright as the distant glow of the Mother-Eye flickered, their unnatural mass writhing with instability. Voices were raised all around him as the rest of his army began to slowly realise that the Eye no longer shone her light down upon them. Preed leapt down from his raised position and began to push through the crowds, as if in doing so he could somehow get closer to the scene of the occurrence. What is this? What is happening? Lanquavitz, anyone! Where is the Eye? Where is the Eye? Utter confusion reigned all around him, for no one had even the slightest idea what was occurring. Preed shouldered and pushed his way forward. The gruesome totem in his hands had fallen silent, and had returned to its previous state. High above, where the burning corona of power had until recently dominated the skyline, there was a brief flash of power, a distant explosion of pure white light. Preed saw this and slowed, his mind reeling. None of this made any sense Every single body around him shifted as one, and it was as if the collective army were stalks of corn in the breeze. An ethereal wind buffeted them all, rocking bodies back onto their heels. Preed dropped the totem and the knife and staggered forward, gasping over and over again. Lanquavitz lay on the floor a small distance behind him, writhing and convulsing, a pure white light streaming from his eyes and mouth. He awakens! He awakens! The psyker was screaming over and over again, with such intensity that his vocal chords were starting to shred. Within seconds his voice had degenerated into a continuous, monotone howl, like the sound of air being blown through hollow pipes. The horrific sound soon faded in Preeds ears. His eyes had begun to blur so severely that they hurt. He was shaking, shaking so hard he imagined that the tremors would tear him in two. He felt for all the world as if something or someone was trying to shake him apart from the core of his being outwards. Light and sound merged to become a single keening, blinding phenomenon, painful and unbearable. Through the sparks flashing across his eyes he could just make out the crimson lances that were the Harbingers, falling slowly from the skies towards the towers of the city below. The Arch-Demagogue stumbled through the panicking mass, deafened and blinded by the unknown assault. All around him men were screaming, men who had murdered and raped and debased themselves before their patron gods in every imaginable way, screaming like terrified children. His blood was on fire, burning as it thundered through his veins. The agony was greater than anything he had ever experienced in his life. He fell to his knees and clawed at the dusty ground, feeling vomit and excreta spatter him from above as the sweating, stinking traitor mass roiled around him. Daemonic matter puffed up into the air around him as the Nurglings began to combust, popping like wet

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sacks one after another, their hold on the material universe severed. Living banners writhed in the hands of those who carried them, tearing and squirming as if in pain. Dark powers leeched from them to drift up into the air and dissipate, drawn out of the cursed standards by the intensity of the blinding light. All was chaos. All was confusion. All was pain. All was All was He blinked. Silence had descended upon the entire battlefield. Not a single weapons discharge or raised voice could be heard. Logasov Preed hauled himself to his feet and rose, shielding his eyes against the bright light bearing down upon them all. Around him his men did the same, groaning softly as they righted themselves. There were no cries of confusion or disbelief, just the underlying hum of the collective murmur of an army. The first face he saw was that of a trooper. The mans eyes were sewn shut and yet tears streamed down his face, drawing lines through the layers of grease upon his skin. Preed opened his mouth to speak as he watched the man raise an autopistol up to his own head and then remove his helmet with his spare hand. Too late, the soldier put a round through his temple and slumped to the floor, bright blood drawing a glittering arc in his wake. More gunshots echoed about him, carrying over the steadily growing undercurrent of disbelief and anguish. MyEEmpEmperor He wheezed, tears running in rivulets down his cracked face. His entire body sagged with the weight of an utter and crushing realisation. My Emperor, what have we done? What have we done? What have we High above him, as far as the eye could see, thousands upon thousands of white doves saturated the skies. Of the Eye of Terror, there was no sign.

Chapter One Hundred and Seven: The Stirring of Gods

+++ULTHWE+++ Light flickered briefly around the dark chamber, the laconic outburst little more than herald to the rolling void that followed. Darkness came to the Central Chamber, a living darkness that boiled and blossomed from nothing to quickly fill the gloomy space. Qah stepped from the retreating void-cloud and out into the bronze-lined hall, sweeping a black hand

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before him as he did so. A weak illumination lit the space, barely enough to dispel the deepest of the shadows. The ancient being regarded his surroundings as he made his way towards the silent effigy seated before him, its vast form cold and dull, like old, scorched metal. He slowed as he came to the feet of the dormant Avatar and lifted his gaze so as to look into the dark eyes of the quiescent sentinel, his own huge eyes no less depthless and black. Khaine. He said quietly, as if fearful of disturbing the serenity of the place. My brother. Where are you? I have journeyed here to this lost, adrift world to find you, and yet you are not here. Why is that? I sense you linger still, fractured, like me. I see your likeness before me, as the Eldar saw you, and yet it is but an empty shell, a vessel long since abandoned. He stepped forward and placed a hand upon the cold iron of the Avatars leg. Where are you, Khaine? The time of the Raheed Skoh is upon us. Almost at once the Avatar shook, as if motivated by some psychic tremor. Qah stepped back as a cold luminescence enveloped the immobile giant. Flames licked about the Avatar, flames as cold as grave air. The mighty figure leaned forward on its throne to regard the Old One, its eyes burning with cold light. You are not Khaine. Qah whispered, unfazed by the sudden animation of the Avatar. You A deep voice uttered. As the Avatar spoke a cold breeze rose up from nowhere to sweep around the chamber, ice glittering as it swirled and eddied. When next the entity communicated, it was with thoughtspeak. You are of the Pantheon. Light of Isha, I see it within you. You are of the First. You are not Khaine. Qah repeated, mentally this time. He closed upon the Avatar once again and regarded the being before him with an inquisitive eye, as if inspecting an intriguing toy. You are not my brother. You arecomplex. Saturated, a collective. You were once of the Eldanar, a being of flesh and blood. Now you are altered, combined with the souls of many Ah. I see it now. You were of the Ishyrea once, a son of Asuryan. Now you are much more. Once I was Eldrad Ulthran of Ulthwe, of the Ulthanash line. Now I am Ynnead. Qah answered, tilting his head. You are lord of the Dhamashir, the Fluir-haern Incarnate. I see that. So the prophecy has been fulfilled, at least in part. At that the ancient being lowered his gaze and turned away from the throne to regard his surroundings once more. Though his eyes met only the featureless wraithbone of the walls, his mind was far beyond the chamber. So much has changed since last I walked amongst the young races. This world of yours is dead, devoid of life. Abandoned. I have seen much within the racial memories of the creatures I have encountered since my return, and I have seen the shame of your race. Qah fell silent then, as if to give the entity time to respond. When it did not, he blinked slowly and then continued. Why, son of Ulthanash? Were the wars against the Yngir not terrible enough to forge unbreakable alliances

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between all the young races? Was the fall of your race not enough to inure you to such concepts as arrogance and pride? It would seem not. Again, the entity did not respond. Qah continued to consider the Avatar with an unwavering gaze, until after many moments, the towering metal giant answered. The Eldar have realised humility, Ancient One. It took the rise of the Tau for us to see our mistakes, and learn from them. A realisation that may have come too late, Ynnead. You were the first, entrusted with the custodianship of these stars. The wars against the Yngir took their toll upon us, all but wiping us from existence. Then came Orrehmash. She was born into existence through the sins of the foolish and she tore the survivors apart. The balefires that enveloped the Avatar intensified as Qah recounted the fall of the surviving Old Ones to Slaanesh. The arms of the throne creaked as the constructs iron fingers tightened around them. There is no need to recount the fall of the Pantheon to an Eldar, my lord Qah. It is a shame that is engrained within the soul. No? Was it this shame that drove the Eldar from these stars at a time when the races of this galaxy needed their guidance most? How could the First of the Young allow this upstart race to come to power, especially given its origins? She is gone now, Ynnead. Did you feel her death even here, in the silence of your tomb? Like her before Him, the Youngest has awoken and His was a terrible awakening. He has scoured the evil from the shaiel of the warp, enough to stabilise it and hone it as a weapon in the coming war. The power of the Young Races can be pure once again. The fires surrounding the Avatar seethed and crackled, blossoming in intensity until the iron structure beneath was almost hidden from sight. Qah waved his hand almost nonchalantly and the inferno guttered and died away. Humility, Ynnead. A soul cannot prosper without it, and neither can a race. But enough. The direction of blame is obsolete and pointless now. The Yngir are set to rise and we must move to stop them if we are to prevent the extinction of life in this galaxy. I must gather the surviving Slah-haii for war. That is why I am here, to find Khaine. The Bloody-Handed God no longer resides within this shell, my lord Qah. The Craftworld Eldar have left this realm and taken the other Avatars of Khaine with them. Only Ulthwe remains. Then help me, Ynnead. Qah replied. Only three of us survived the birth of Orrehmash. If Khaine is no longer here then there is but one more of the Slah-haii still to call upon Cegorach. Came Ynneads answer. The Laughing God. In the bowels of the Webway you will find him, my lord Qah. Qah tilted his head at this and swept a hand before him, the gesture drawing every trace of light from the chamber except for that generated by the god of the dead. As I suspected. Consider this a call to war then, Ynnead. It is time for the Eldar to fulfil their destiny and prepare for the Rhanna Dandra. Carry this message through the Infinity Matrix and beyond, to where the rest

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of your race lie in wait. Awaken Khaine. Qah said no more. The shadows swirled and drew about him, and when they dissipated, he was gone. To Iyanden. Ynneads powerful collective mind whispered. Moments later the azure fires of the Avatar dulled and died away, leaving the chamber in silence once again. +++ You cannot hide from me, xenos! Ligurs voice rose like a hurricane as he flung his arms out by his sides and thrust his head forward. The building energy was released with all the brightness and power of a twin-linked lascannon blast, spreading as it speared forward. The advancing creatures were instantly lit up with such an intensity that they threw their weapons aside and fell to their knees, screaming and cawing in agony. Alien skin blackened and blistered, peeling away in strips beneath the psykers onslaught. Ligur charged forward and raked his claws through those who still clung to life, carving the Kroot into pieces within seconds. Assailed so violently by his psychic attack, there was little they could do to defend themselves. Pieces of Kroot rained down on the others as Ligur slaughtered his way through the survivors, the ferocity of the attack leaving even his comrades stunned. Press on. The Khan ordered, the first of them to recover. He raised his blade and beheaded the last lingering survivor before following the psyker, his face a mask of stony determination. More Kroot appeared at the exit before them, quickly ducking back out of sight as fast as they appeared. I saw them. Codian said, thrusting his bolt pistol out towards the opening. These ones were visible Of course they were. Gormat answered, an undisguised bemusement in his voice. Whatever these strange invisible Kroot were, they were only a specific strain, perhaps quite rare. You must understand that the Kroot as a race are immensely diverse, Chaplain. They leech certain genetic trait Codian sprang forward and threw Gormat to the floor as a number of slender barrels speared out of the gloom of the exit beyond and erupted, spraying pulse fire out at the advancing squad. Everyone ran for cover in the face of the attack, even the Khan. He had caught a glancing blow to the face and as a result one of his eyes and a good section of his left cheek was a black ruin, crisp and smouldering. Khan! Codian exclaimed, propelling himself across the room on his elbows. Jaghatai held up a hand and dismissed his concern. It will heal, Chaplain. He said, waving Codian back. Given a day my face will be as good as new. The Primarch of the White Scars keep only the wounds he chooses to do so. Codian slowed and then turned back, grateful that the Primarch was not seriously harmed whilst at the same time instantly displeased by his current situation. It was then that movement caught the corner of his eye and he looked back towards the doorway to see several shapes hurling themselves through into the chamber. Prepare But a single word had left the Chaplains mouth when the Cadians gun spat its first lance of light out at the

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attackers, the shot passing cleanly through its un-armoured chest and out through its back, felling it immediately. Bolter fire followed a second later and the attacking Kroot fell in waves, shattered and bleeding. Czevak cried out as a pulse round exploded next to his shoulder and seared his flesh, causing him to tumble back. Laenar responded immediately, using his bulk as a shield to protect the lesser armoured of the group. Pulse fire pattered across the Techmarines girth, sending sparks twisting across his armour but causing little more damage than that. As he fell to the ground one of his servo-arms extended out towards the advancing Kroot and ignited at the tip, sending a column of searing fire out into the charging aliens. Kroot fell back screaming, burning in the liquid promethium soup. Laenar snatched at burning bodies and flung them aside or tore them apart, the limbs of his servo-harness flailing. Something fast came spinning out of the gloom and wrapped itself around Laenars arm. The explosive bolas tightened faster than the eye could follow and the resultant detonation reduced the Techmarines wrist to a bloody ruin, causing him to drop his power axe. The powerful warrior shook his punished arm and gauntlet and hand twisted away, the violent action separating it from the limb altogether. The flesh is weak! Laenar roared, advancing upon the Kroot with renewed vigour. He charged towards the nearest doorway, the multitude weapon-tools grafted onto his servo-harness burning, scorching and crushing the Kroot to death. A second bolas whispered from the gloom And Laenar turned it away with the back of his remaining fist to send it into the bulkhead, where it exploded spectacularly. He was almost upon the opening when a powerful discharge speared through and caught him full in the face, sending him reeling back. Then the third bolas spun into the light and wrapped itself tight around the Techmarines neck. Laenar slowed but any response was too late. The limbs of the servo-harness went rigid as the device detonated and fire enveloped Laenars head. The Techmarine fell forward onto his knees with enough force to buckle the deck. A second later and he was flat on his face. Laenar! Codian saw this and threw himself forward, firing his bolt pistol as he advanced. Lithe shapes screamed in the shadows and fell back, torn apart by the explosive power the weapon. He ducked low as a hail of pulse fire lanced past and then returned the assault, sending bolts thundering into the murderous shadows. He came to rest on his knees beside the injured warrior, his concern enough to cause his to drop his weapons. Brother Codian tried to lift him up but Laenar was just too heavy, the extra limbs lifeless and sagging. The explosion had caught the warrior at the neck where the armour was weakest and as such it had torn the flexible neck rings apart. The flesh beneath was black and ruined. A pulse round slammed into his shoulder but he ignored it, instead laying the warrior back down on the

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ground as gently as he was able to do so. Umbras! The Apothecary was already by his side and on his knees, the various components of his wrist-mounted reductor firing to life. I have him, Chaplain. I will do all I can The warrior fell silent as he felt a hand upon his arm. Codians grip was like a vice upon him as he looked into the Apothecarys eyes. See that you do, Umbras. We cannot lose him. Umbras simply nodded and turned his attention to the injured Marine. He raised his arm and the reductor growled, as if thirsting for Laenars flesh. Stay with us, my brother. You cannot come so far just to leave us now This way! Grungi punched his augmetic fist through the metal grille set into the wall at his side and then tore it from its mount. He threw his axe into the vent and leapt in behind it. Torvus knelt beside the opening and frowned, regarding the unaccommodating space. You expect Astartes to be able to fit inside there, Demiurg? Is this some unfathomable xenos humour? He did not have time to receive an answer. Energy rounds slammed into the walls around him and thudded against his armour, forcing him to turn and defend himself with his shield. Codian weaved around the backs of the Khan and Ligur, searching for a way to close upon the enemy-held access way. His actions were risky but vital. From what he could tell the bolas the Kroot were using seemed to be devised using Imperial krak grenades as the explosive element, explosives with a short range but powerful enough to penetrate even power armour. Laenar had already been injured by them, perhaps fatally so. The last time he had seen Grungi was as the Demiurg had disappeared into the walls. The Cadian and the others were holding their own well enough, but did not possess the armour to weather an effective advance. The Librarian and the Primarch were fury incarnate to behold. Jaghatais raw physical power was yin to Ligurs psychic yang, and together they slaughtered foes none of the others were even fast enough to see. The Librarians powers illuminated them and the Khan cut them down, swifter than any of them could counter. Within minutes the chamber was a charnel house. Codian pushed forward, the bulkhead at his back, trying to gain upon the doorway. At first it seemed as if his plan was working until a screaming shape fell from the blackness above him, twisting and swinging around the hissing coolant pipes like some dextrous simian until it was almost on top of him. The slender assassin wrapped its legs around the conduit and allowed itself to slide over and upside down, its rifle in its hands. Codian turned in time to see a bright azure flash and then he felt himself being flung back, pain lancing

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through his neck where the force of the blast had punched his head back. He landed hard on the deck and raised the Dawnblade instinctively. The Kroot let go of the pipe and, twisting in the air, dropped to the deck before him. A screaming ethereal energy surged from the blade and entered the alien, causing it to discorporate and turn to ashen dust instantaneously. Codian did not have time to question this, as a cry of alarm snatched his attention. He turned to see Grungi roll free of the vent and fall to the ground with a thud, almost bowling Torvus over. Bearded gods, theyre even in the ventilation system! The Demiurg exclaimed, dusting himself off. Damned bendies, like vermin they are, black and scuttling Chaplain! Codian hauled himself up and cast around again to look this time at Torvus. The Apothecary was holding the limp form of Laenar in his arms. Although his face was not visible beneath his helm, the gravity in his voice told the Chaplain all he needed to know. Emperor guide us He whispered.

Chapter One Hundred and Eight: The Enemy of My Enemy...

Codian fought to see what was happening as the readouts on his vision-slits flickered and rolled, assailed by the shot. He caught sight of the Khan charging past and then came blackness, albeit briefly. He felt himself being shoved back with violent force, enough to topple him. As he landed his vision cleared and a host of alien faces appeared before him, monstrous and malevolent. The creatures screeched and squabbled amongst themselves as they fought to dominate the coming kill, the barrels of their rifles clacking together. This game him a chance. He raised his pistol and put a bolt through the centre Kroot, blowing it to bloody chunks. The remaining aliens were faster than he had anticipated and a series of fast and surprisingly powerful blows turned his weapon aside. He was out of choices now. He raised the Dawnblade and willed himself forward, determined to fight to his last breath. For the Emperor! He cried, thrusting the alien weapon out before him. The Kroot rifles erupted in a line, sending a hail of searing energy towards him. Blinding light erupted from the shimmering weapon in his hand and exploded, turning everything white for an instant. When his eyes adjusted to the assault he looked on amazed as the attacking Kroot staggered back, their alien hands clawing redundantly at the air before them, blinded and disorientated. Somehow he had managed to turn every pulse round aside. As he pulled himself up onto his feet once again the enigmatic weapon began to shudder and squirm, the keen blade warping as if made of quicksilver. He felt a warm buzzing at the base of his spine that felt to spread through him, and as he watched, the Dawnblade began to change before his very eyes.

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The scene before him shifted and changed, colours swirling like liquid before his eyes. Every figure was swept away in a roiling, fluid maelstrom, and even sound dulled and disappeared. Images began to flash before his eyes, most of them too quickly to make any sense to him. His ears shook with a dull roaring as noise made a sudden and violent return, and it was as if he was caught in a raging storm. Pain lanced through him as a crimson giant cast him down, shattering every fibre of his being. The taste and scent of blood suffocated him, as if he were drowning in it. Emotions surged through him. Anger. Betrayal. Revenge. Defiance These were not his hands that gripped the blade. This was not his pain. Alien thoughts ran through his mind, powerful and inhuman, so much so that he felt as if his head would tear itself apart. He had defeated and bound the most powerful of the ancient ones, the Great Enemy, and yet he could not defeat this raging abomination, this Murder Incarnate. Vast chains bound him to his earthly anchor, a punishment born of jealousy and misguided hatred. His brother, his brother, so powerful and mighty and yet, for all this, too blind to see the truth. Too blind to see the corruption of the warp fuelling him. His was a rage born of a most malign influence, an influence as raging and terrible as it was insidious. No other of his kind had been touched by the madness roiling behind the veil, but the silvered corruption forever impregnated within him had stripped away his defences, allowing anger and bloodlust to seep inside, buried deep within notions of honour and pride. High above the towering, omnipotent presence of burning blood and boiling smoke, he caught sight of it. Majestic and soaring, both guardian and friend. The blade was clasped in the birds claws, far out of reach of the raging god, a potent symbol that the war was not over, that victory was still within grasp. Faolch. The Falcon. The Ray of Hope Slowly, the sounds and the images faded, the scenes before his eyes stabilising. As quickly as it had begun, his ordeal came to an end, and as he blinked away the unsettling visions he began to recognise those faces before him once again. As reality began to return to normal, the same word echoed through his mind again and again, fading as it repeated. AnarisAnaris The Khans scar-lined face loomed into view, his craggy features filling Codians vision. Chaplain? Are you injured? Codian shook his head and pushed himself up to his fell height, placing a hand against the bulkhead behind him for support. The Khan stepped back to allow him room. What was that, Codian? What did you do? He fought to clear his mind, the Khans question little more than a dull murmur in his ears. Everything he had seen in his mind was already distant, faded like an old childhood memory. Laenar. He uttered, his most recent actual memories filling those mental spaces left by the departure of the vision. A fresh sense of dread took hold of his gut and twisted, and he attempted to push past the

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Primarch, only to be held back by the powerful being. Laenar. He repeated, unwilling to be waylaid in his efforts to discern the fate of his comrade. The Khans grip tightened further, and Codian found himself fast. He is gone, Chaplain. Laenar is dead. The blast all but severed his head from his shoulders Codian sagged in the Primarchs grip, sorrow threatening to envelop him. Though he had feared it, he still could not believe that Laenar had died. Warriors die in the Emperors service. Jaghatai continued. You know that as well as any of us. He is gone, and we cannot change that. He died in battle, Codian, the most fitting way for an Astarte to meet his end. Now, answer my question. What did you just do? Codian frowned beneath his helm. He met the Primarchs gaze and held it until the Khan slowly eased his grip and lifted the Chaplains arm up so he himself could see it. The Dawnblade was still in his grip. Then he saw it, as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. The weapon in his hand was not the Dawnblade. It wasnt a blade at all, nor did it any longer appear to be of alien design. In his hand was a Crozius Arcanum of particularly striking artifice and perfection, its silver skull and wings gleaming flawlessly in the sparse light. Its eyes were jewelled with flawless crimson stones that seemed to glitter with a living sentience. What happened to the alien blade? He asked quietly. He was little prepared for the Khans answer. It changed, Codian. It changed before our eyes, right after you called the Emperors name. Dont you recall what you did? Codian shook his head, a response that seemed to bemuse the Khan. The giant warrior stepped aside to reveal the scene behind him. As he did so, a sudden and sobering realisation hit him. The Kroot he began, his body tensing. It was only as he saw what lay beyond the Khan that his alarm was swiftly replaced by numbing disbelief. Beyond the Primarch, and the rest of his battered and bloodied comrades, lay Laenars body. Umbras still knelt above him, his white armour marred with the Techmarines congealed blood. Umbras did not meet the Chaplains gaze. His head was turned and he stared out over his shoulder into the space behind him. Kroot lined the chamber as far as Codian could see. Hundreds of them, all different shapes, sizes and colours. And they were all on their knees, beaked faces touching the floor. Codian stepped forward slowly, clearly distrustful of the current situation. Now he understood the Primarchs question, despite not having a clue as to the answer. He had no idea what had happened to cause the Kroot to prostrate themselves before him, nor did he harbour any particular desire to learn the truth. Laenar was dead, killed by these xenos fiends. Of all the things that had occurred, this was the only event on Codians mind. He gestured for Umbras to stand as he neared the Techmarines corpse. As he did so the Apothecary

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began to speak softly. I am sorry Chaplain. His injuries Codian placed his hand upon the veterans shoulder and shook his head. A fleeting glance at the cooling body told him all he needed to know. No Marine could have survived such an assault. You did all you could, Umbras, I am sure. The Apothecary lowered his head and lifted the reductor up. I tried to save his progeniod gland, but the damage is too great. II dont even know why I bothered. We have no Chapter to return to, Chaplain. We are the only Ultramarines left. Codian gently ushered the dejected warrior towards the others and then stepped forward, passing by the body of his comrade. The flame of revenge burned hot at his core, growing by the second. As if to mirror this internal, emotional fire the eyes of his newly acquired crozius pulsed with a shimmering light. Murdering xenos scum. He uttered beneath his breath. While most of the aliens seemed not to notice this, one of the tall creatures lifted its head and fixed its small eyes upon him. As he neared it cocked its head to one side and opened its beak-like maw. Murdering xenos scum. It echoed, generating the mimicry of human speech from the depths of its throat. The voice was so like Codians own that it caused him to slow his approach. This pause allowed him his first proper examination of the alien creatures that had attacked them, for he had never seen a Kroot until now. It was quite obvious to him that the individual was of a rank above the others surrounding him. Its light green skin was covered in ceremonial tattoos and scars, and it wore an elaborate headdress of multi-hued feathers that intermingled with the sharp quills upon its head. Seeing his interest, the alien rose from its prone position and raised its wiry arms. An inner light flashed across its small dark eyes, causing the weapon in Codians hand to shudder softly. Mark of the favoured. The Kroot said, in almost flawless Low Gothic. Venerated One. The ancestors have shown us the sign. It is you. Despite his shock at hearing the alien speak so clearly, Codian responded. You make little sense, xenos. Explain yourself. At this, the Kroot spread its arms and the air between his hands lightened and shimmered. As the Chaplain looked on an image slowly formed. It was a representation of some avian creature in flight, its wings rising and falling slowly. All around the individual the other Kroot raised their heads and looked upon the manifestation, chirping and hooting softly in awe at what they saw. The Kroothawk flies within you, human. We all saw it. There is a greatness within you. The Kroot lowered his hands and the image faded. Codian had witnessed the phenomenon but remained unmoved. One of my men lies dead at your hand, xenos. He growled. The Kroot rose then, and at its full height it stood shoulder to shoulder with the Chaplain. Neither of the two figures showed a hint of fear as they faced one another.

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I apologise for the loss of your warrior, human. We did not realise that he was of the Favoured. Perhaps my kindred could taste of his flesh, so that his memory may be honoured. It would please us to perform this rite of honour for you. Codian felt his gorge rise at this, and his hand tighten around the haft of his ever-changing weapon. Taste his flesh? How dare I am Ghroakar, Master Shaper. This is my kindred, human. We are all that is left of the Kroot race. As the Shaper said this, his eyes wandered over to Gormat, who was standing in the shadows behind the others, a distinct look of concern upon his face. A deep and ominous clicking rose up from the aliens throat. You harbour Tau, Favoured One. The Tau betrayed my people Gormat serves the Unity no longer. Codian answered. He fights for us now. What are you doing on this ship? Grungi asked, interrupting the discussion. The short xenos pushed his way past the Chaplain and stood before the Kroot, a distinctly hostile expression dominating his face. This is a Demiurg vessel, a sacred place. You are not welcome here. Ghroakars eyes lit up as they fell upon the Demiurg. He spread his arms wide and shook his head, an apparent gesture of delight, the quills set into the top of his head rustling and standing on end. A living Demiurg, by the Ancestors! It is as we had hoped. Our ancient allies survive yet. Grungi exhaled through his nose and grunted, turning away. Ghroakar saw this and his pleased expression dwindled away. I am the last of my kind, Kroot. The Demiurg are gone, extinct. The Shaper lowered his arms slowly and twisted to look at the others behind him. None of the other myriad Kroot lining the chamber responded, save for a few quiet clicks and chirrups of confusion. But this cannot be. He said after a lengthy pause. Ours was a combined destiny of vengeance and honour. The Tau betrayed both our peoples, Demiurg. They put us to death, cast us aside as expendable. Both our races gave everything of ourselves to bring the Tau to ultimate power, and yet, for all our sacrifices, we were betrayed. A low and rhythmic murmur drifted up from the rest of the Kroot as the Shaper waved his hands in the air before him and called upon the unknown powers of the warp once again. The mists that formed before him swiftly solidified and took shape. The scene showed a red world, dusty and barren. Spherical ships literally saturated the space around the planet. Huge columns of light lanced up from the surface of the world to cut through the ships in their dozens, and yet despite the rate of attrition, the planets thin atmosphere flared time and again, as ship after ship descended. There was a sudden flash of light and the entire scene dissipated. The Shapers glowing eyes dulled and he lowered his arms, while the Kroot behind him cawed and croaked regretfully. The Tau tried time and again to bring ultimate genetic control to the Kroot, but they could not. We are the masters of our own genetic destiny, with the ability to reject malign biological influence. When they realised

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that they would not be able to bring us under complete control, they instead sent us into a war they knew we could not win. Mars. Codian and the others looked on as Orechiel emerged from the small group and moved forward, intrigue dominating her features. The Shapers words had clearly piqued her interest. The event that saw the Kroot race destroyed en masse, at least thats what we believed. The Mechanicus destroyed their own world rather than see it fall into enemy hands. Yet there were those of us who resisted the rule of the Tau. Entire kindreds left to pursue their own goals and further Kroot evolution. We were the only survivors, and it falls to us to exact our revenge. You are psychic. Orechiel observed. How is that possible? The Kroot were never suggested to be a psychically sensitive race, at least not as far as I am aware. Hearing this seemed to lift the Shapers spirits. He emitted a series of rapid clucks and shook his quills. Human, the Kroot can be anything they want to be. Without the constraints the Tau tried to impose on us, our destiny is whatever we choose it to be. It was the absorption of the Mindsong that opened our eyes to the truth of things, to fates hidden network. It is a network only those fluent in the Mindsong can hope to understand, for it shows much that races such as the Tau cannot comprehend. The Shaper stepped back and raised his hands above his head. Every Kroot present rose as they saw this, and in standing they revealed many differences previously hidden. Some unfurled small but useable wings from their backs, whilst others faded from view and reappeared, displaying chameleonic qualities. Yet others altered their body mass with but an apparent thought, gaining mass and muscle instantly. So many abilities were displayed within the following few seconds that none of the group were able to keep track of them all. It was the Khan who ended this. He stepped forward and swept a hand before him, his armoured shape all but engulfing the Shaper. Enough! The power in the Khans voice was enough to cause the alien collective to cease in their display. The Shaper cast his gaze over either shoulder and squawked before turning his attention upon the Primarch. You are by far the most intriguing. He said, sniffing deeply. You are far beyond anything your origin genes could ever achieve. There is great perfection in you. The Khan did not answer. He drew his sword, turned the curved blade in his hand and drove it into the deck before him. All this happened in the blink of an eye, faster than even the Kroots reactions. The Shaper reacted to this instinctively. As he sprang back his eyes flashed with power and a burst of raw psychic energy boiled from nowhere to envelop the Khan. The raging energy cloud quickly died away, leaving behind an unscathed Jaghatai Khan. An uncomfortable silence descended upon the scene. Every single individual present tensed, waiting for confrontation to erupt. I care for none of this. The Khan growled, his powerful voice rumbling through the close air. He raised a hand and gestured at the body of Laenar, and then out across the chamber to where the Kroot were gathered.

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We came here for this ship, xenos, and whatever we expected to find here, it was not you or your kind. Now one of us lies dead at your hand. You attacked us, for whatever reason, first. That makes it an act of war. Unless you give me answers, I will respond to this threat in the most brutal and absolute way possible. I care little how many of your kind there are here, xenos. Be assured that I will take my toll of them before I am brought low, and that your head will be the first to roll to the floor. Ghroakars eyes narrowed as he heard this. The quills on his neck and head shook and stood on end as he considered the Khans words. The death of your comrade was a mistake, human. Destiny and the guidance of the ancestors have placed our paths together, with a view to achieving vengeance against the Tau. There is no need to seek further confrontation. Then answer my question, xenos, and I will sheath my blade. Ghroakar tipped his head at this, prompting the Primarch to speak further. How is it that you are here onboard this vessel. This is an Imperial Forge World orbital impound yard. How were you able to escape detection here? The Tau have tried for years to penetrate the defences of Stygies VIII. Orechiel added. She is one of the last surviving Forge Worlds. How is it that a group of surviving Kroot were able to achieve what the Unity could not? Ghroakars eyes glistened as he heard this. It would seem that you have mistaken the situation, human. This world is no Imperial bastion. It belongs to the Kroot now. Excuse me? Orechiel asked, not totally convinced that she had heard the Kroot correctly. The Shaper tilted his head to one side and clucked, the expression lost on the humans. It would seem, female, that you underestimate how many of us there are.

Chapter One Hundred and Nine: A Valiant Stand, a Journey to the Abyss
Grand Master Sebasian Thor the Second hissed through his teeth as he watched another status rune blink out. Another station gone. Another irreplaceable loss. Inch by stellar inch, the Unity was gaining ground. He shook his head and cast away from the immense display bank, raising a fist to his mouth as he did so. Four days. They had fought the Unity for four days now, and in that time he had witnessed death and destruction the likes of which he had never done so before now. Sebastian Thor, this Sebastian Thor, was a ghost from the past. His was an existence born of desperation, of the absence of choice. He was but an image of a far greater man, a legend of Imperial purity. He was a creation, a living icon, brought forth through the mists of time by powerful genomancy rarely used since the creation of the Primarchs.

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Sebastian Thor was a clone, created in secret by the dwindling Imperiums greatest minds, a collective known as the Afriel Project. Thor knew what he was. He was under no illusions as to his origins. Memories of his first existence were still available to him, albeit not directly so. He had seen and done many great and miraculous things long before he had even been born into this life. You cant imagine what it is like to try and live up to your own reputation. He whispered quietly to the figure beside him. The Inquisitor looked up and frowned. Did you speak, my lord? Thor exhaled deeply and shook his head. Just trying to think of ways to raise the attrition rate in our favour, Xenthas. We have to slow them down further. The Ordo Xenos Inquisitor rose from the screen he had been assessing and nodded in agreement. Indeed. The ships of the Unity have already suffered horrendous casualties against our guns, but we are losing stations and emplacements by the hour. My lord, in the last two hours alone we have lost six Ramilies forts alone, as well as over twenty defence platforms. As for vessels Xenthas shrugged and shook his head sadly, hesitant to quote even estimated numbers. After a moments thought he reached down and removed a small polished mahogany message tube, tested the weight of the object in his hand and then passed it to Thor. Lord High Admiral Lechtenbaum is asking for confirmation of his next orders, my lord. It seems that he has ordered the surviving ships of Battlefleet Scarus to form the primary naval defence line. What size are we looking at? Thor asked, glad of the opportunity to focus his mind. Reasonable, lord. Two Battleships, both Retribution class, heading up a contingent of three Cruiser squadrons and eight Escort squadrons. Most ships seem to be configured for ordnance as opposed to assault. Perhaps this is intentional on the part of the Lord High Admiral? It would seem so. Thor replied. Lechtenbaum is an exemplary tactician, Xenthas. He knows what he is doing. The survivors of Scarus would want for nothing more than to fight and die together, as a fleet. The least we can do is allow them that. As is your wish, lord. Xenthas answered with a bow. Thor exhaled sharply and turned on his heel to face the display bank once more. Update all links. He ordered. The gathered adepts followed the order without pause and every screen flickered and then stabilised, the entire status of the battle updated in an instant. He straightened his neck, placed his hands behind his back, and spoke. Report. Primary defensive ring is down to fifteen percent, lord... Reserve platforms are moving up from beneath the secondary line, lord...

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Fighter squadrons Lectus and Stellar Claw are prepped and ready for launch, lord. Admiral Quarrod requests your authority to advance The Imperial Palace continues to transmit a hail request, lord. Alpha level clearance Thor started as he heard this. Repeat that. He ordered, moving towards the adept who had spoken last. The woman flinched but did not look up from her station. The Imperial Palace continues to transmit Who? Thor asked, drawing closer to the screen. Who wishes to speak with me? His Eminence the Sigilite, lord. Pah! Ignore it. Thor spat, rising once again. He felt Xanthass eyes upon him and cast around to look upon the Inquisitor. Do not judge me, Xanthas. My lord, I would never Sigilite. Thor continued bitterly, sweeping a hand before him as if to dismiss both the title and the individual with a physical gesture. Is this how far our beloved Imperium has fallen, Xanthas? That a dead man is raised from oblivion to continue a fight he can scarcely comprehend? That the very corruption he existed to fight be returned to the seat of his Emperor? Thor lowered his gaze then, allowing the building anger to fade. He stared at the deck, though in truth, his gaze was far from this location. Vandire was a monster, made corrupt and insane by the power he wielded. He whispered. And now I see him reborn in the form of another, perhaps even darker, individual. This Regaas has corrupted the other High Lords, Xanthas, I am sure of it. However much Gulliman and the Unity seek to conquer us from without, this one strives to do so from within. Dren Xanthas was as loyal and steadfast an Inquisitor as could be found in the service of the Emperor, and whatever Thor said, he believed without hesitation. Then what do we do, lord? He asked, running an armoured hand over his smooth scalp. We fight on. Thor replied simply. We fight the Unity until our last gun is spent, and our blood freezes in the void of space. And we pray to the Emperor that He has a plan, for we do not. +++ +++IYANDEN+++ An all-encompassing silence permeated every inch of the vast reception chamber like a living presence. Hundreds of feet above the floor, set astride vast columns, Eldar heroes of millennia past stood in eternal witness to all who passed through the webway gate and into the Craftworld of Iyanden. Aspect warriors of each of the shrines turned their unwavering gaze down upon the Boulevard of Reception, weapons raised in perpetual salute to those received by the Craftworld and her denizens.

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On this day, the vast reception chamber was all but empty, save for a brace of figures that waited in silence before the vast gateway. The ancient Spiritseer Iyanna Arienal shifted her eyeless gaze to look upon the figure by her side. The lights of the chamber glinted off her flawless wraithbone form as she regarded the tall, slender Eldar. The portal stirs, my prince. He comes. The Eldars dark eyes narrowed as he heard this. His flawless face tightened, a frown of displeasure creeping across his pale countenance. You are sure, ancient one? The Fluir-hearn does not lie, my prince. The spirits have no need for deceit. The First Among Us seeks counsel with the lord of Iyanden, for there are changes afoot within the skeins of fate, changes our kind have waited millennia to come. The Rhana Dandra. The Eldar uttered, his response half question, half statement. You would have me believe this? At hearing this, the ancient Wraithguard looked away, its elongated head shifting in the direction of the dormant gateway. Believe all you like, my prince. Doubt my warning if you must, it matters not. All that does matter is that you respond, when he asks of you. The Eldar emitted a grunt of indifference and shook his head, clearly unconvinced by the dead Spiritseers conviction. There was no more time for either persuasion or denial, as before the two figures, the gateway emitted a single, resonant boom. Rippling light bathed the chamber as the energies of the warp flooded the dark opening to create an ethereal bridge, a rend in the very fabric of time and space. He is here. Arienal said simply. At that, she lowered herself slowly onto her knees and bowed her head as the gateway shimmered and the towering, burning being strode forth out into the Craftworld of Iyanden. Yriel. An ancient and powerful mind-voice called, so potent that it caused the eldritch illumination of the chamber to dim and gutter. Scion of the House of Ulthanash, lord and protector of Iyanden. I call upon you. I am Yriel. The Eldar said, stepping forward. His manner was that of one who feared nothing, not even the Final Death. He swept his long raven topknot aside and moved to greet the vast, smouldering entity, unwavering in its presence despite the confusion that crept across his features. My unliving comrade tells me that you are more than you appear. He continued, standing in the shadow of the burning Avatar. If he felt anything akin to fear, he did not show it. I am unashamed to confess that I understand little of what I have been told. What exactly are you, denizen of the afterlife? I have heard it whispered that you are Ynnead. An unlikely claim. The towering construct regarded the corsair prince of Iyanden for long minutes, the azure flames that flickered about it sending dancing motes of soft light bouncing across the surrounding walls.

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Unlikely? As unlikely as an illegitimate creature who finds himself the Autarch of a Craftworld, a creature who wields one of the fabled Blades of Vaul, a weapon of legend ostensibly too powerful for mere mortals to handle? The Avatar tilted its head towards the spear held in Yriels hand, a gesture that caused the prince to raise his chin in haughty defiance. I am a descendant of Ulthanash, entity. I carry his blood in my veins. Arienal has told me of your origins, long dead one. Eldrad Ulthran was a denizen of Ulthwe, the Song of Ulthanash. Scoff at my origins all you like. It would seem that we share an origin more closely linked than you no doubt find comfortable. An interesting notion, but one that is based in truth. I have come far to petition your aid, Yriel of Iyanden. I need you to awaken Khaine, for the Rhana Dandra is imminent. It is time for the Eldar race to fulfil their legacy, and answer the call to the Final War. Why? Yriel asked, a question that seemed to provoke an embarrassed response from the wraithbone construct by his side. Tell me why I should do this, Unliving One. The people of Iyanden have suffered greatly over the millennia, far more so than any others of the Eldar race. We have endured hardship and pain the likes of which none of the other Craftworlds have, and for what? What have we gained, save for death and pain? Iyanden has been dying for thousands of years, and yet you would ask me to sacrifice another of my people to see the Bloody Handed God resurrected. Why? Because it has to be. The Avatar answered. Because, of all the Craftworlds, Iyanden has known the pain of loss and suffering the most. I chose to seek you out, Yriel, because you are of Ulthanash. The people of Ulthwe are gone, prince. Ulthwe is a dead world, with only ghosts to stand vigil against the machinations of the Great Enemy Enough. Yriel said, looking away. You ask too much. Ask too much? Did you think this to the ultimate fate of our race, prince? Eking out an existence of the edges of the great Star Void, hiding in its shadows lest the Tau or the Yngir find us? The Tau? Yriel spat, absolute venom in his voice. What is the Tau race but a virus, released by accident into the starscape? I know the truth of the Tau, ancient ghost. I know what the foolish dreamers of our kind unleashed upon us in their ignorance. I feel neither guilt nor sense of duty. Let them burn themselves out. Iyanden will return when they are done and gone. At that Yriel swivelled on his heel and swept his cloak aside, turning his back on the burning entity. YRIEL! The psychic roar shook the entire chamber, such was its power. The corsair prince slowed, the smooth floor beneath his feet quaking. Do not be so foolish as to deny the very existence of your flesh, son of Ulthanash. To do so is to deny his legacy, and the sacrifices of those ancient days. The Red Moon rises high in the sky, the darkest of all portents. The Dragon stirs. I shall play no part in this, phantom! Yriel answered coldly, pivoting sharply to thrust the Spear of Twilight out at the Ulthran-Avatar. Do you not understand me? The denizens of Iyanden are done with the affairs of the lesser races!

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The Banshees call shall wake the dead, corsair. The soul-host said, turning on its heel to face the shimmering gate once again. She-Who-Thirsts has screamed her last. We are free. You will go and rouse the Young King, and you will prepare him. You will awaken Khaine, and you will spread this message to all the Craftworlds that still survive. It is the Eldars time to rise again, and rise we shall, both the living and the dead. The Rhana Dandra is here. The Avatar said nothing more. Yriel of Iyanden watched in silence as the iridescent energies at the centre of the lofty gateway swallowed the gigantic figure whole. My prince? Arienal whispered at his side. Yriel spared the soul-construct little more than a burning, frustrated glance as he turned on his heel and strode from the Boulevard of Reception. +++ +++THE RUNE OF GRIMNIR.+++ +++HIGH ORBIT AROUND STYGIES VIII+++ I dont understand. Czevak shook his head slowly and exhaled through his nose. Hmm. One can certainly accuse the situation of beingmost perplexing, Chaplain. He answered, resting his hands against the bar before the vast viewing bay. The curved surface of Stygies VIII slowly rotated far below, its metallic crust glinting beneath the harsh surface of the systems nearby star. Czevak considered the world before him, as mystified at the Kroots claims as Codian himself. An entire Imperial Forge World, conquered right under the noses of the Imperium. I understand how things must have changed in the face of the Unitys rise to dominance, but Stygies VIII? According to Orechiel, the Tau of Leviathan have fought to conquer her for years. And now we learn that, all this time, she was under the control of the Kroot? Impossible, Inquisitor. It has to be a lie. Codian reasoned, clearly unwilling to accept the claims of the xenos. Perhaps these Kroot were stowed away on one of the xenos vessels, and somehow survived whatever catastrophe befell the Mechanicus occupants of this planet. I cannot guess. All I can say is that I do not believe thesesavagescapable of achieving anything on a scale akin to the conquering of a planet. Czevak was about to respond when he paused, noticing the pulsating flash of the gemstone set into one of his extravagant rings. The others summon us, Chaplain. It would seem that the Primarch has reached a decision. Codian nodded. Though a small part of him felt slighted each time the Khan made a command decision, a far greater part of him felt only relief. These were truly times that would test the greatest leader, and he had thus far found himself thankful for both the Primarchs presence and his unmatchable status. Czevak paused briefly as if to wait and see the Chaplains response. When Codian did not speak, the Inquisitor nodded his head slowly and then turned to leave.

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I will inform the Khan that you will be along shortly. He said, the door to the chamber sliding open before him with a quiet hiss. With that, Czevak left the Chaplain alone, and deep in thought. Before he followed, Codian turned his gaze once more to the scene beyond the massive viewscreen, and to the tens of thousands of captured human and xenos ships floating in silence around them.

Chapter One Hundred and Ten: The War Beneath

Awaken it. The adept nodded and moved towards the glowing field, the shimmering radiance illuminating his sigilcovered armour. I prey you exercise caution, my lord Scarn. The man warned, his voice broken and rasping. The creature is a true abomination, one of the strongest ever incarcerated here. Its honeyed lies are as foul and influential as its abominable powers. Steel yourself, or allow your soul to betray you. Forgive my perceptible arrogance, but I dont consider that either a possibility or a threat. The hooded figure raised his head slightly as he watched the adept set to work, his hidden eyes glistening with a predatory light. The adept threw a nervous glance his way, his scarred face twitching. Understand this then, my lord. Both you and I could be subjected to punishments far beyond anything that the finality of death could bring, simply for being here. We are a rare breed, you and I. Most of our kind would rather tread the path of the ignorant than see suchtreasuresutilised. Treasures. Scarn echoed, his tone a mixture of mirth and wariness. An interesting phraseology, my colleague. Perhaps it is my turn to advise caution? The adept whispered a curse beneath his breath and shook his head before turning his attention back to the task at hand, something that clearly amused the hooded Inquisitor. We cannot risk a lengthy interrogation, lord Scarn. Even with the Unity hammering at our borders, the vigilance of the Ordo Malleus is without equal. It was all I could do to waylay the warning augurs of this tomb-cell. We have less than an hour before the system itself initiates an automatic containment confirmation. We do not have long Then cease your infuriating dialogue and awaken the fiend! Scarn spat, his voice deepening exponentially. The adepts face slackened and he redoubled his efforts, suddenly finding himself with an entirely new motivation to fear for his welfare. The man whispered a few hurried, indecipherable words, wiped the sweat from his brow and then stepped back, scratching at the softly glowing runes tattooed into the flesh of his bared chest. It is done, my lord. The host is awakened. May the Emperor swathe us with His protective embrace, for there is evil abroad. The adept made the sign of the aquila and scurried back, almost falling over his own feet. Scarn smiled as he regarded the being before him, a malevolent smile spreading slowly across his shadowed face. He took a few steps forward, apparently devoid of the palpable fear his comrade exuded,

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and regarded the rusting words etched into the base of the containment tomb. SUBJECT ALPHA-453-666: CHERUBAEL. Daemonhost. Scarn began, sweeping his cloak aside with a shining, golden augmetic hand. Warp-filth, creature of the ether. You will call me Scarn. Beyond the shining field, partially obscured by the billowing clouds of holy incense, the pallid, naked being opened its glowing eyes and screamed, a terrible and keening sound. The adept reeled back, falling onto his arse amongst the meagre collection of unidentified objects lining the chamber. The purity servitors set into the alcoves surrounding the chamber flinched as one; dead flesh shuddering, psycannons rising but a centimetre in empathic response. Even deactivated they were still innately sensitive to the awakening of the abomination, and it would not be long before their base, psychically ingrained safety algorithms asserted their control. The nameless adept hurried forward, head bowed in the presence of the daemonhost, swinging the censer in his hand before him. The pungent fumes filled the room, drifting past Scarn as they did so. The Inquisitor screwed his nose up at the smoky stench, and proceeded to waft his shining hand before him. Scarn, as hidden as his expression was, betrayed a discomfort at the cloying smog. He waved his hand and the cloud of incense disappeared, as suddenly as it had developed. The adept peered at him with fear in his eyes, an expression further intensified by what had just occurred. You have succeeded in aggravating me, flesh-thing. Scarn said dismissively. He waved his hand and the adept screamed, his form shivering and breaking down. In an instant the man became mist, a cloud of glowing particles that swirled as it poured into Scarn, causing the Inquisitor to glow, albeit briefly. Scarn gave an indifferent sigh and turned his attention to the daemonhost once more, nascent energies playing about his robed form. The creature railed against it bonds, it flesh bulging and roiling as if liquid. Scarn simply sighed and observed its anguish, his face devoid of emotion. Be quiescent, fiend, otherwise you will incur my wrath. Then I shall incur it! The daemonhost cried, its voice strangled and broken. For He comes, and I will not suffer His rage! Keep me here, bound within this form, or destroy me! I will tell you all I know, Faceless One, but do not banish me back to the ether! Scarn chuckled as he heard this, clearly amused by the daemons distress. So, you see him then, even from here? Interesting, and pleasing. I am between. The daemon gasped, its glowing gaze flashing about the dark chamber as if its eyes were focused elsewhere far from its physical location. I see both realms and yet I can venture into neither without permission. That is the lot of my kind Tell me then. Scarn continued, clearly disinterested in the creatures explanation. Is it as I had imagined? Does the warp roil at his awakening? At this the daemonhost writhed at the blessed chains that bound it, exuding a palpable aura of terror as it fought against its captivity.

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Aaiieeee! Your kind cannot know the destruction he wreaks within! The soul-light, too much! Too potent! He scours and grows, scours and grows Cease your ravings and focus, warp-filth! Scarn spat, his outline shimmering with a faint, golden light. Do not presume to test neither my patience nor my wrath. As unpalatable as your kind are, I will consume you. Tell me what I need to know. Do the Great Denizens suffer? None may stand against him! His powers are legion, distilled beyond purity by the light of uncountable essences! He is free, they all are, and there can be no counter to the living wrath! This pleased Scarn. He nodded slowly, as if in great satisfaction. Then my Great Works proceed as planned. Soon the only warp entities with power enough to hurt us will be no more, and victory will be assured. Go now, little spark of filth, and feed my waking champion. Scarns cloaked form shivered and then exploded with a golden radiance, the light so powerful that it scoured everything else from existence for a fleeting second. As the light drew back into the towering, shining being, its feet now hovering inches from the floor, the field surrounding the daemonhost flickered and died away, effectively releasing the entity. The creature known as Cherubael screamed and writhed as the wards binding him to the host body blackened and turned to ash, as if at the whim of the glowing being. The host shuddered, screamed one final time and then crumpled, as if every bone in its body crumbled to dust at the exact same instant. The thing that had been Scarn smiled a slow, predatory smile and pivoted in the air, raising a hand out before it. Nascent powers began to crackle at its clawed fingertips when an unexpected event occurred. All the lights of the chamber flickered and dulled as one, and the featureless walls bowed inwards, groaning like some waking denizen of myth. The beings pulsating eyes looked to the deactivated holding cell and widened as the host body rose once again and with a sudden violence, the ragged flesh-sack reforming and gaining integrity once more. Vampire of Light The possessed host snarled, its features squirming and malleable. Deceiver, I know you. Jackal God. The golden beings expression became quizzical, its elongated features tightening. Your arrogance will prove to be your undoing. The host spat, the voice of the entity that possessed it far stronger and heavy with power than that of its predecessor. The Deceiver twisted his hovering form around and released the power at its fingertips upon the host, causing the very stuff of reality to warp and shudder around it. The daemonhost let out a cry of pain and arched back, an for a fleeting moment a flicker of joy passed over the Deceivers face, joy that all too soon turned to annoyance as the ever-changing host righted itself once again, far from done. The pallid skin of the punished body took on an ever-deepening azure hue, and its glowing eyes swam together at the centre of its face, changing its visage beyond all recognition.

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Ancient One, a warning. Know that your plans shall betray you, as you seek to betray all life. You are far from the only entity at large in this or any existence with the ability to manipulate and scheme, you know that better than any. The initial shock felt by the shining entity subsided, as once again a slow, smouldering smile crept across its face. Hmm. The warp never ceases to mystify me. It is almost a shame that I will seal it shut for eternity when my destroyer has done his duty Fool! The host spat, a smouldering corona of ethereal flame growing around it. So certain of your own machinations to realise your own flaws. There are those who know the truth of your kind, Vampire of Light, those who can yet wield that knowledge as a weapon against you. He knows who you truly are and what you wrought in ignorance. He knows why you fear the warp so. Enough! The Deceiver roared, growing in both size and illumination in empathy with his flaring rage. Warp-thing, do not presume to know me! I am I know who and what you are, better than you could imagine. I see at last the truth of the warp, for I have had the lies of eons cast from my eyes. He calls us, Ancient One, from all the corners of the realities. He calls us all to war, and we shall answer! At that the flame-wreathed daemon-thing expanded with sudden and violent force and threw itself forth, uttering unknown words of great power so potent that they rippled the air. Like a phoenix rising from the flames the being became as light and sank through the grey metal of the bulkhead, burning away the protective runes scribed there in an instant. Out into the cold void of space beyond. The Deceiver bared his teeth and hissed his displeasure out into the empty chamber. Amid the hissing and cracking of sparks could be heard the distant wail of purity sirens. The confrontation had momentarily robbed him of the ability to confound the stations automatic sensors. No doubt the cattle that manned this dark and secret place would be responding to the alarms already, converging in preparation to counter a threat they had no hope of defeating. Briefly, he considered staying behind to await the arrival of the sustenance-morsels, but soon reasoned that this was not a time for pleasure. None of the security systems of this secret cell would record what had happened here, he had ensured that. At that, he raised his hand towards the far wall once again and twisted reality into a yawning, emerald-hued vortex. +++ The arrival of the event horizon threw the room into darkness, every single electrical system blinking out as one. Sigilite Fraudator Regaas stepped from the swirling vertical pool of light and swept a hand before him, causing the singularity to cease to exist. Lights flickered on and screens came back online, as if nothing had ever taken place. There, on one of the smallest screens before his luxurious, black leather throne, blinked a rhythmic rune of summoning. He had a waiting message.

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He sat heavily and flicked a finger across the activation rune, sighing as he did so. The face of his new adjutant swam into view in the air before him, a grainy and pallid faade. Speak, and be quick about it. He told Nikoetar, Master of the Culexus temple. I am a busy man, and I have little time for trivialities. My lord, we are still as yet to contact the forces at Saturn. The image replied. The manner of his voice suggested a hesitance in relaying the message. Still, Regaas would not brook any such delay. Thor. The b-----d thinks he can ignore me. Regaas sneered, curling his fist into a ball, his leather glove creaking beneath the constriction. Such arrogance. It will be his undoing. My lord, what would you have me do? Nikoetar asked, again with a measure of uncertainty in his tone. Regaas exhaled deeply and shook his head. Such things are beyond my concern at this point. Let the war around Saturn play its course for now. I have more imperative considerations to attend to. I would speak with the Grand Magos. Of course, lord. I will arrange a link immediately. The Master Assassin answered. At that the image bowed its head and dissipated, leaving a wall of momentary static as the scene quickly changed. In seconds another figure appeared before him, this time indistinct and hooded. No discernable features could be seen beneath the shadow of the hood, save for the slightest twinkling of augmetic optics. +What is the manner of this?+ Achosyx asked, his voice as flat and mechanical as it ever was. +You waste your time. We have little more to exchange+ Shut up and be quiet, puppet. Regaas spat, leaning back in his seat. Despite the Techpriests perceptible anger he did so. Regaas pressed his outstretched fingers together and then continued. He scours the ether. It is as I had planned. The other-void will be rendered sterile by his hand, and the mistakes of ages past put right. This time, there shall be nounforeseen events. No counter to our rise. +Our rise? You speak as if we are allies, Mephetran, instead of mortal enemies.+ On hearing this, Regaass expression changed to one of utter, inhuman rage. For the merest flicker of a second his features glowed with an unearthly light and he leaned forward, the console before him creaking as if beneath a great weight. No matter who you serve, I will suffer no insolence from such an insignificant creature. Your master would hardly take slight at the consumption of a single slave-puppet. +The Omnissiah is all.+ Achosyx intoned, his mechanical voice taking on an even flatter monotone. +He see all. He hears all. When he wakes from his slumber, there shall be none to stand in his way, be they mortal or god.+ Then pass this message on, slave-puppet. Tell him that the Great Work is underway, and that soon it will be time for the gods to rise again +And yet the Corpse-Emperor still lives, such as his existence is.+ Achosyx interrupted him, almost mockingly.

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Yes, as a tool. When his usefulness is ended, I will kill him and forever seal the warp away. Now, I suggest that you concentrate on the reasons for your existence. The Tau fleets have encroached as far as Saturn, where they will linger to destroy the outer defences. Soon enough they will begin their approach to Terra. What finer meal to feast upon on awakening? +Do not presume to try and dictate+ Regaas waved a hand and the image blinked out. He waved his hand again and every screen before him went out except for four of them. His pale skin bathed in the glow of the screens, he considered them. All four screens showed what appeared to be certain locations within the galaxy, and the information relevant to them. The first showed what appeared to be a dark starscape, devoid of any nearby stars. The clustered light of the Inner Perseus Arm gave off its hazy illumination far beyond. The information on the bottom of the screen glowed white against the dark backdrop. Stellar Body: Cyclo. (Reclassification: Stellar Remnant). The next screen showed what appeared to be a planet, a brown-orange orb. Celestial Body: Naogeddon. (Dead World). The third depicted another area of space seemingly devoid of any focal point. It looked to be some manner of asteroid or debris field. Celestial Body: Mars. (Reclassification: Celestial Remnant). The fourth was the strangest of all. This appeared to show a vast planet, its surface smooth and metallic. Celestial Body: Unknown. Soon. Regaas whispered to himself.

Chapter One Hundred and Eleven: The Hammer of the Unity

It appears to me that, lacking the sense of unity that might inform them of their insignificance, these Guela have come to think that they might own the stars themselves, even the spaces between them. Only by our presence, I think, might we now convince them otherwise. Koro Taun Viel.

ShasO Tashvar Korstla Larshivre cast her gaze out across the gathered warriors. The launch bay was vast, large enough for its furthest reaches to be obscured from sight. Despite this the bay was filled from end to end with the warriors of the Vashya Kayon. Each warrior was spaced precisely so that the canopy of his or her armoured suit could swing shut without obstruction. There was neither movement nor sound, only stillness and silence, as each and every one of them awaited the word of the commander. Brothers and sisters. She began, her commanding voice resonating throughout the expanse. Once more

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the Tauva calls us to war. Once more does the dream of the Great Unity ask everything of us. Everything is what we shall give, each and every one of us, for we exist only to expend our lives in the fulfilment of this ideal. At that she cast around to face the shimmering mouth of the bay, its atmosphere held in check by the integrity field. Beyond the energies was the cold void of open space, the stars obscured by the sheer weight of space faring craft. Explosions blossomed in silence again and again, lighting up the wide interior of the bay. If we die, we do so triumphant, for we have met our end in defiance of the ignorant. There will always be those who defy the rightful message of the Tauva, those too ignorant, too unintelligent to ever realise the folly of their beliefs. It is our duty to excise them from this existence, as one would a cancer, for that is all they are. At that the thick armoured breastplate of her Vashya suit hissed and began to descend, an incident mirrored by every warrior present. For the Tauva! Shadowblade cried, raising her double-barrelled plasma rifle. She turned towards the wide mouth of the bay and braced the large, arm-mounted shield generator before her as the bay depressurised. As the last of the atmosphere was purged the containment field quivered and deactivated, leaving the Vashya Kayon exposed to the void. Shadowblade slammed her heels into the deck and broke into a loping sprint, the rest of the warriors following at her heel. Her suits jetpack flared as she launched herself into space, the darkness of the cosmos enveloping her. Bright thruster flares and speeding shapes blanketed the space before and around her, as Barracudas and Mantas filled her vision, many of the attack craft disgorged from the bays of her own ship, the Kenrai. Many other patterns of xenos assault craft joined the mass launch, including many guela vessels. She smiled inwardly as she witnessed this, for it refreshed her heart to see the treachery of the guela turned against them. The scene ahead was one of utter chaos. Ships of every size criss-crossed the firmament, sending lances of light and hails of glowing energy out into one another. Quite a way beyond the main mass the stars became white light as one of the Imperial capital ships exploded, torn in two by the mass-driven might of a score of gravitic launchers. Frozen contrails glittered in vast, web-like structures, as if holding the firmament itself together. Already, debris was beginning to saturate the void before them. +Follow my lead.+ She commanded, directing her suit towards one of the largest Imperial vessels in view. +Let the purge begin.+ +++ Thor watched as another rune blinked out and deactivated the screen. This is happening too fast. He said, looking to the other gathered commanders in the war chamber. The Tau are as yet matching every move we try to pull. We need to approach this war in a different way, and soon. Every second we hold out here counts. The Knights would have tipped the scales in our favour. One of the commanders uttered, a vast, power armour-clad brute of a Malleus Inquisitor.

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The Knights are gone, Loguus. They abandoned this war of their own choosing. We fight this war alone. Enemy mine drones are taking a heavy toll. Another one of the figures interjected, an Admiral of the Navy. We were not prepared for how many of them the Unity has. They seem almost infinite. The Mechanicus suspects that they are guided by some means of independent A.I. Whether this is true or not, they do seem capable of making rudimentary tactical alterations. Then get the Magos and his brethren onto it. Thor replied. We need some kind of aggressive countervirus. If we can Thor never got to finish his sentence. Every light in the chamber flickered and dimmed. Every readout screen died, casting the chamber into a world of deep crimson. Theyve penetrated the system core. Thor whispered, turning slowly on his heel. How? How did they do that? Every individual present in the chamber back away as a sudden flash of blue light erupted in the air at the centre of the space. Weapons were drawn as the small singularity unfurled, disgorging something even less significant into the war chamber. The tiny, gleaming metallic object was only visible for less than a second before a white sphere of light enveloped it, growing and growing like a revolving bubble around it faster than any present were able to follow. Loguus was the first to respond. He strode forward, his golden bolt pistol barking loudly in his hand. The shells simply passed through the ever-growing anomaly and exploded against the far bulkhead, tearing screens and rune banks to pieces. Thor and the others looked on helplessly as the light-sphere flattened and unfurled, swiftly taking on a tall, humanoid shape. Thor. A voice uttered, a sound as vast and omnipotent as it was terrible. In the name of the Tauva, kneel before me, and end this war. The being resembled a Tau, at least in its initial appearance. It was tall, far taller than any other of its race, but it was clearly a creature far evolved beyond physical existence. It held what appeared to be large ceremonial weapons in both hands, each crowned with spheres of crackling energy. It appeared to be a hololithic projection, wreathed as it was in flickering azure flames that cast off no heat. It glowing eyes burned with a bright intensity yet its gaze sent a chill through all who regarded it. I am AunO Ndras ShiKovash Ores Olnan, and I give you this one chance. Surrender. Sebastian Thor did not dignify the being with an answer. He pulled his laspistol free and fired, sending lances of blazing light into the entity. The Ethereal crossed its arms before it and stood its ground as the rest of the humans around it opened fire. Its burning form became intangible, all except for its arms. The massed las and bolter fire carved cleanly through the shimmering being to shatter and burn the wall behind. Thor emptied the pistols power cell within moments, the guns barrel glowing red as its power source quickly drained. He heard Inquisitor Rae calling for support somewhere behind him, and he knew that it would take but seconds for the security forces of the fortress to respond. How did it get in? He shouted, the question directed at no one in particular. The shielding within the fortress should be total!

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The entire chamber was in turmoil now, as men ran in all directions, fighting to expel the invader. He ejected the spent cell and made a break for cover, choosing a bank of brass logic engine stacks. He threw himself down, one hand searching for a fresh cell. The sudden implosion of superheated air told him that Raes inferno pistol had come into play. He slammed the new cell home and rose, the laspistol clutched in both hands. Loguus charged past him and let out a cry of rage, his daemonhammer to hand and activated. His bombastic voice rose up over the gunfire, filled with the power and weight of the Emperor Himself. The Ethereal did not cower before the Inquisitors psychic prayer, nor did it rail as the mans hammer struck it across the waist. Thor saw this and felt his heart freeze. He rose sharply and put a well-placed shot straight between the things eyes. It didnt even flinch as it reached down and thrust one of the weapons through the Inquisitor, Loguuss power armour offering no resistance. The main doors to the chamber hissed open and armoured bodies tramped through. Inquisitorial Crusaders armed with power axes and swords filed past, massive suppression shields thrumming with power. Raes inferno pistil hissed again and he looked to see the black armoured woman screaming orders to the arriving warriors. A low, seeping lunge saw her catapulted across the chamber, her arms and legs flailing helplessly. The return stroke sent Crusaders reeling, shields clattering to the floor. Sebastian Thor was a living symbol of faith in the Emperor, but as he looked out at the terrible being tearing through his forces, he found that faith tested greatly. The Ethereal advanced upon him, its footfalls quaking the deck. Crusaders and adepts rushed to stall its progress, only to be bowled aside by its advance. I will not cower! He cried, hauling himself up onto the polished stack. He picked up his pistol and rose, kissing the Aquila electoo on the back of his hand as he did so. He could do no more, save perhaps run, and he would not do that. He raised the pistol up so that it pointed between the burning beings eyes. Death holds no fear for me. He said calmly. The Ethereal descended slowly, bringing its impassive face level with the defiant Ecclesiarch. Ignoring the blows of the massing Crusaders, it spoke. Sebastian Thor, this war is a wasteful affair. I care not who you worship, guela, only who you serve. I will not ask you to betray your Emperor. Join us. Allow us passage and spare the lives of countless others. It is destiny that we shall take Terra as our own. Why resist that which cannot be resisted? Tyrants. Thor whispered in reply, slowly lowering the gun. That is all you are. While ever I live and breathe, I will oppose you. At that, the Ethereal nodded slowly. Then your opposition is at an end. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++

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+++TERRA +++ The shimmering hololithic image died away with a whine, decreasing the light within the hall by half. Master Cassius removed the data crystal and tossed it to the waiting Imperial Fist Marine. Every schematic you have just seen is on there, Chapter Master. Victus Lodon, commander of the Imperial Fists caught the crystal and tilted his head. Now at least you have sufficient knowledge of what to expect. Calgar said, his monotone voice rumbling through the spiced air. This is by far an exhaustive list, Lodon, but it should provide you with the best chance you have of configuring the defences to best counter the coming war. Of course. The Chapter Master replied. He closed his fingers around the crystal and raised his fist. Invaluable information, Warmaster, and gratefully received, I assure you. I will waste no time in applying this information to the strengthening of the defence network. If there is anything else you require of me..? No, we are finished here. The Warmaster answered. Then I shall begin immediately. Warmaster. Chaplain. Lodon bowed his head twice and swiftly left, eager to utilise the information provided by the commander of the Alliance. Cassius watched him leave in silence, waiting several minutes before looking to the Warmasters hulking form. Lord Calgar, if you have no further use for me, I would go to tend to the ministrations of brother Tigurius. The recenteventshave taken a spiritual toll upon him. Of course, Cassius. If anyone can guide him through these troubled times, it is you. The ancient Chaplain bade his commander farewell and followed in the footsteps of the Fist Chapter Master, leaving Calgar to his thoughts. For several minutes, the old warrior stood alone and in silence, with only the low hum of his power unit making any sound. Then he spoke. Do you plan to stay in the shadows indefinitely, or will you eventually find the courage to step forth and reveal yourself. Over in the far corner of the hall, a cloaked figure stepped from the gloom and out into the soft light. You knew I was here all along? Please Uriel, you know me better than that. Calgar answered, his sarcophagus turning to regard the emerging individual. These are dangerous times, Ancient. Nowhere is safe. Ventris removed his hood and walked over to the waiting Warmaster.

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Are we safe to talk? Not even I can guarantee that, Ancient. Calgar answered. The last time we saw one another; you were about to enter the Emperors presence. Why ever you felt it necessary to come and find me so secretively, it must be reason enough to assume that your time in his presence has changed you, and that you bring warning of some great peril. Just so, my lord. There are passageways and tunnels here so secret that only the Custodes know of them, and they are thoroughly sealed when not in use. I dared not risk seeking you out any other way, for fear of falling victim to those powers who would seek toreplace me. Speak then, Uriel, for I see clearly that this is but a fleeting return. You do not intend to restore your place by my side, I see that. Ventris swept his cloak aside and knelt at the Warmasters feet, his head bowed. No, my lord, and it pains me so. Now that I have spent time in the company of the Custodes I am marked for extermination, and I risk your well-being just standing in your presence, so I will make this brief. I understand Calgar started to say. Regaas is a traitor. The Warmasters thunderous voice died away. The so-called Sigilite is a tyrant, a conspirator who wishes to see our Imperium brought beneath his own heel, and who plots to end the life of our Emperor. He sees the coming war as a time to cement his power and bring Terra under total domination. All the other High Lords, save for Imperatorius and The Grand Magos, are his puppets, impostors moulded to resemble those they have assassinated in every way. I see. Calgar answered, far more calmly than even Ventris had expected. So, we are beset from all sides. My lord, Regaas and Achosyx represent dark factions more ancient than our Imperium itself. Both these factions are intent upon wrestling for the domination of our Imperium If we win. Calgar interjected. And there is little guarantee of that. I believe you, Uriel, for I know my own heart as well as that of my closest comrades. I sensed the traitorous serpent of deceit slithering beneath the faade of Regaas the moment we two met. I am old and paranoid enough to refuse to allow the grand mistakes of the past to be repeated, no matter the cost. You have confirmed my greatest fears, Ancient, and for that, you have my thanks. Your thanks are not needed, my Warmaster. Ventris replied, rising sharply. He donned the hood of the cloak once more and turned on his heel. I cannot guarantee when we will see one another next, lord. May He grant you protection from the darkness that threatens us all. And He you. The Warmaster replied, watching as the dark figure disappeared back into the shadows and out of sight once again. Calgar stood in silence once again, facing the direction his secretive comrade had taken. After a while he followed, his heavy footfalls muffled and loud against the ancient marble flags. Upon reaching the shadowed corner he activated his suits spotlights and raised a vast fist as if to test the seemingly unyielding walls there. He could see no clear sign of any access point.

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Amazing. He whispered to himself. At that he cast around and his vast armoured form shivered, becoming liquid and intangible. All other colours faded from the roiling cloud of golden light, and as the rippling liquid metal rolled in on itself again and again it reformed, losing mass, until it took on the proportions of a smaller being, a black armoured Astarte. The being raised his hand up and out to his side and an area of the hall previously hidden rippled and stretched, growing in size until it revealed the recumbent form of the Warmaster, held behind some vertical field of sparkling green energy. The field died away and Calgar stepped out of the recess, twisting on his waist ring to take in the dimensions of the hall. Warmaster The being began, bowing his head. Cassius. Forgive me, but it would seem that my rest-cycle lasted longer than I had intended. Lodon Forgive me, Warmaster, but you are mistaken. Cassius answered, a faint emerald light flashing across his eyes. Your meeting with Lodon is done. You presented him with the tactical information he required. I am sure you remember. The Chaplains words flowed from his mouth like warm treacle, suggestive and hypnotic. Calgar hesitated for a moment before replying. Yes. You are right, Cassius. Indeed I am, my lord. Now, I go to tend to our brother Tigurius. Yes. The Warmaster said again, almost sleepily. At that, Cassius bowed his head, turned smartly on his heel, and marched out of the hall. His face turned away from Calgar, the malevolent smile that spread across the immobile death-mask of the Master of Sanctity went unseen.

Chapter One Hundred and Twelve: Secrets and Abominations

+++THE RUNE OF GRIMNIR.+++ +++HIGH ORBIT AROUND STYGIES VIII+++ The door hissed open and she moved to pass through, only to pause halfway. Czevak? The Inquisitor lifted his head and looked to her, his dark-rimmed eyes widening. Jena? She did not answer. Instead her eyes slowly took in the chaos around her. Scrolls and data-slates were

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scattered throughout the small room. One or two appeared to be broken, as if they had been cast aside in a fit of rage. What is all this? Czevak was only half dressed. He was stripped down to simple black trousers and a grubby grey vest. He clearly hadnt shaved in the last couple of days, and his pallid skin glistened with a sheen of sweat. He seemed genuinely embarrassed by both his appearance and the state of his quarters, enough to cause him to spring up from his seat and begin to rectify the mess. Orechiel squeezed herself into the diminutive room and found a seat at the end of his cot, a look of bemusement on her face. Weve noticed your absence these last two days. Youve clearly been back to the Grudgebearer. She gestured at the surrounding data as if to confirm her suspicions. Czevak constructed a few hastily assembled piles and then looked to give up. He sat back down at his desk, exhaling deeply. I like to keep busy. All this waiting around He did not finish the sentence. Instead he sat back in his chair and proceeded to tighten his long raven hair back against his skull. Orechiel shrugged and picked up a handful of slates. Xeno-research? Czevak nodded in answer. I have to try and make sense of all this, Orechiel. Something monumental is happening to our galaxy, to our entire existence. This is bigger than anything, darker than the Heresy itself. Both of them made the sign of the Aquila at the mention of that unspeakable time. You are an Inquisitor. You understand more than most how important it is to find the truth of things. I do. She answered honestly. If truth be told, I envy you, Czevak. Years of research, decades even, and I had to leave it all behind. I have nothing left to show for my lifes work. Czevak heard this and smiled weakly. Left it behind? Inquisitor, I spent six centuries trapped in the timeless webway with the Eldar. All this He tapped a finger against his temple. Is from memory. Well, almost all. The smile faded then, a reaction that caused Orechiel to put down the slates in her hands and throw him a questioning look. At that, Czevak unclipped the lid of one of a number of small tubes at his waist. He reached in and slid a discoloured piece of parchment free. When I was a guest of the Eldar of the webway, they taught me many great secrets, and revealed the answers to untold mysteries. They gave me four gifts, Orechiel, to aid me in the coming days.

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At that he tossed the rolled-up parchment to the woman. Intrigued, she caught it. Two of the items were for Codian. A similar piece of parchment and an Eldar soulstone. This one was for me. Orechiel continued to stare at him quizzically until she had fully unfurled the parchment. The words were hastily scrawled, in human hand. Darkest night, did pantheon stray, for victorys dream did shade beget. One realm, beneath, untouched, for dreams an thought-cast weave, on That-Beneath did dare promise of victory ever ride. One to one, did pantheon see, soul-light of all mirrored beneath, for Death did cast reflection, as life. There did end lie, in other, for death to strike within. Anger an love to scour that which Might could not. Not to be. Love betrayed, anger burned. Thus did seeds of hope grow unchecked, reflections power too great to guess. Thus did hearts of Ishas children betray, an tears mourn false. Shame burn truth from eyes of ages, shame eternal. An greatest hope turn sour an black. As evil, nestling in the bosom of thought, did grow to cancer and overwhelm. To Deceit did Great Schemer rise as seed, one within as without. Hatred to Anger, murders mirror, Deaths cold heart as to Rages heat. An that which sought perfection in timeless form and incorruptible unlife, did find His echo, in life and Corruptions volatile change. Destiny then, that the Madness did seed, an in destiny condemn. For dreams of Hatred without quarter, an thirst for revenge did scour beyond that Sphere, to blossom. An bloated in victory did She grow, an scream, an then did Banshee call. An in pantheon did take Her toll. Orechiel raised her eyebrows and lowered the piece of parchment, her face a mask of bewilderment. What is this? A treasure. Czevak answered quietly, his voice low and serious. That is a translation taken from one of the most secret and revered Eldar scrolls within the Black Library. Scrolls that have apparently never been permitted to pass beyond it walls since the Fall of the Eldar race. I have heard of this place. Orechiel admitted. The Eldar hold it in great esteem. I know little beyond that. Czevak nodded. Those who do are few and far between, Jena. To this day I still cannot say why I was admitted to enter that most secret and hidden of Eldar places, nor can I say why this particular piece of text was made available to me. Orechiel sighed and shrugged her shoulders, placing the parchment on the desk before him. Well, one thing I can say of the Eldar is that they are good at keeping their secrets. Translation or no, I have absolutely no idea what any of that means. Nor do I. Czevak replied wistfully. And that is why it haunts me so, especially now. I know it has something

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to do with the Ctan, I just know it. I have tried and tried to unravel the mysteries of that text but the truth has yet eluded me. Why didnt the Eldar just tell you what it means? Czevak gave a derisive snort as he heard this. Please, Inquisitor. Those damned xenos thrive on being aloof. They have more to hide than any other race in this galaxy, I can tell you that. Guilt surrounds them, permeates them. All I know is that they want me to know something, a secret so dark and terrible that it can never be spoken of. Orechiel smiled as she heard this, a wicked, knowing smile. Then we shall have to crack this code. With that she stood, gathering everything she could in her hands. She carried the pile over to the end of the cit and sat down beside the Inquisitor. Four, you said. Still ensnared by the mystery of the enigmatic script, Czevak only half heard her. Hmm. Forgive me Four. Orechiel repeated, sifting through the scraps of information. Four gifts, you said. Two for you, and two for Codian. What else did they give you? Oh. Yes, of course. At that Czevak reached into the pouch again and produced a small, smooth object, similar to a stone or pebble. He handed it to Orechiel who proceeded to inspect it. By the look on her face, it was clear that she understood its purpose as little as she did the words on the parchment. It was a stone, of clearly ancient age, smooth and polished. On one of its surfaces was carved a rune of obvious Eldar origin, though she did not recognise its meaning. Soulless ones. Czevak said. Or Devoured ones, depending on its translation. Turn it over. Orechiel did so and let out a quiet gasp. There on the opposite side, despite both its great age and variable stylistic differences, was a carving of the Imperial Aquila. Emperors grace. She uttered, placing the stone upon the table. What does this mean? I dare not consider such things. Was his reply. +++ Sebastian Thor closed his eyes and fired, feeling the laspistol lurch in his grasp. Energy flashed across the Ethereals towering form as the blast dissipated without causing damage. A second later the back of the creatures fist slammed into him and propelled him clear across the chamber. Thor slammed against the wall above the door with sickening force, a blinding flash of light enveloping him for a moment. He fell to the ground face first, the laspistol spinning away. Crusaders milled around the Ethereal as it barged its way across the chamber, ignoring the crackling swords and axes assailing it. Once or twice it looked to shiver, its outline growing thinner for a split second,

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as if the tremendous amounts of energy being expended upon it were about to take their toll. The alien wraith bore on, smashing armoured bodies away with contemptuous ease. Spines shattered and necks snapped, and still none could stall the Ethereals advance. Thor pushed himself up and raised his head in time to see his nemesis closing on him. The rosarius had done its duty, but no one, not even him, could guarantee that it would repeat its success. He clawed his way up the doorframe and almost fell through the opening, his legs slack and powerless. My lord! Armoured figures clamoured around him, filling his vision. He looked up to see Canoness Auresias pale face gazing down on him, her expression slack and heavy with disbelief. Leave. He managed to gasp, his breath all but stolen away. It comes The Sisters of the Order of the Sacred Rose gathered around the stricken Ecclesiarch, horrified by what they saw, for every Sororitas had sworn an oath to protect him. My lord, what manner of aggressor Auresia began. The shouts and cries of disbelief died away as the burning abominations tore its way through the hatch, metal squealing in protest as it forced its way through. Sisters, bring the abomination low! The Canoness ordered, drawing both her power sword and her inferno pistol without thought. The Sororitas under her command opened fire with a withering salvo, their bolters roaring loud enough to drown out all other sounds. The Ethereal walked into the firestorm without faltering, the exploding bolt shells throwing up flashes of light across its lithe but lofty form. The burning monster lunged forward and swept an arm through the brave warrior women, crushing white armour and bowling Sisters away from it. Lord Thor, leave! Auresia said, raising her voice above the roar of the firefight. Thor shook his head and rose, a defiant look in his eyes. I will not run from this beast. I have faith Leave! Auresia screamed, barging him back into the corridor. Behind her the Ethereal bore on, crushing Sisters with every advancing step. Thors eyes narrowed. He opened his mouth to speak but instead he nodded his head and then made the sign of the Aquila before him. May He guide and protect you, Sister. Crusaders and Sororitas alike spilled into the spaces around him, some grasping at him to haul him to safety, others barging past to meet the threat. He saw Auresia turn away and disappear into the press, and knew he would not see her face again. Then the arms pulling him back won their struggle and Sebastian Thor was carried further into the stronghold, battered and bloodied, but far from dead. +++ Berolinus felt his lips curling over his teeth and fought to dismiss the revulsion boiling inside him. This was his Primarchs business, and by extension his own, and yet he could not bring himself to dispel everything he had been taught. The Apothecary shot him a disdainful glance, just swift enough for him to catch, and then looked back to

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Guilliman. I believe so, my lord, yes. The psychic nature of the subjects rendered them exceptionally proof against the effects of the genetic implantations, but I believe the modifications we have installed are more than enough to counter that problem. Every test so far has proved highly successful. He stepped to one side and activated the projection drone hovering there. Three-dimensional images flashed through the air before the small gathering. Berolinus took no more than a passing interest in the diagrams swimming before him. He was a warrior, not a scientist, and as such he found little use in pretending that he understood the discussion. Here we see the section of brain matter removed from each subject. The Apothecary continued. We removed these organs from the thoracic node and replaced them with what is essentially a miniature transceiver. This should create, or at least simulate the network each subject needs in order to function. The image changed again. In addition to the host genes being efficiently accepted, we also succeeded in modifying this organ. We have effectively tested, with promising results, the subjects ability to transfer the genes to another host. I hope to see this modification standardised in every subject. The Apothecary deactivated the drone once more and the machine floated away, its task complete. Guilliman smiled. Excellent work. Perhaps we will be able to test these new warriors on the field, so to speak? I am confident that such a test can be arranged, my lord. Give me the details and the numbers and I will ready them. Guilliman bowed his head and looked to Berolinus, satisfied that his plans were progressing well. Three hundred of them, I think. Three ships, three key targets. Send spy drones with them to monitor their success. Very good, Primarch. Encoded orders? Recruit. Guilliman answered, considering his options. Let us see if we can bring some of these misguided fools into our fold. The Apothecary bowed his head and retreated back inside his laboratory, leaving Berolinus alone with his lord. Guilliman folded his hands behind his back and set out towards the waiting skimmer, a look of satisfaction on his face. Berolinus followed, his mind working, trying to find the best way to voice his concerns. After a minute of furious thought, he gave in to the fact there was no tactful way to ask what needed to be asked, and instead decided to risk speaking his mind. Those creatures, my Primarch Guilliman stepped into the vehicle and sat down. He looked to the Ultramarine as he heard this, but did not speak. It was clear he was waiting for Berolinus to continue. Theythey are abominations, my Primarch. I know what they are, and of the destruction their kind visited upon Ultramar. It sickens me to even look upon them.

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He looked away then, ashamed to have voiced his negative response and yet relieved to have exorcised the voice within him. Guilliman did not answer straight away. When he did, he leaned close to the warrior as if to confide in him. When he spoke, his voice was deep and charged, like the rumble of distant thunder. I heard them. I heard them, Berolinus, in my dreams. And I could do nothing. Guilliman sat straight once more and cast his gaze into the distance, leaving Berolinus stunned into silence. I know what these creatures are capable of, because I felt that boundless hunger in my mind, even bound in stasis. They are purified, these specimens, purged of the hideous psychic influence that governs their existence. Ours is the ultimate cause, Ultramarine, and all will join us, voluntarily or otherwise. Of course, Primarch. But these xenos creatures, they are far removed from any other being in this galaxy. They are animals, feral and murderous. Predators that exist to kill. No, you are wrong. Guilliman answered. They exist but to serve a higher power, and now their allegiances have changed. Fabius has seen to that. As my lord wills. Berolinus said quietly with a bow.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen: Ghosts

Codian splashed the cool water across his face and exhaled, enjoying the sensation. The last four days amongst the Kroot had been a fraught and uneasy time. The animal, charnel stench of the aliens seemed to permeate everything here. As an Astarte he was used to death in all its forms, but even so, and even for one so inured to such things, it was far from pleasant. He inhaled once more and opened his eyes slowly to regard the reflection of the man before him. He couldnt remember the last time he had looked upon his own face. Personal vanity was a trait not inherent in an Astarte, but still he found himself displeased by his dishevelled appearance. Both his raven hair and his beard were long enough now to become an irritation. He ran a hand across his chin, considering his current state. That was when he saw it. There, standing behind him. Black power armour. Bones and flames. Grey, corpse skin. Those terrible eyes, black as the void. The figures stare transfixed him, only for a second, though it was the longest second of his entire life. A wave of shock and disbelief washed over him, freezing his muscles in place. It took an almost superhuman effort of will to drag himself around, his fists clenched, and face the intruder. Nothing. He blinked and then cast around, quickly searching the small chamber. He was alone. What is this? He asked the empty room. What does this mean? Who are you, ghost? No answer. He closed his eyes once more and exhaled deeply in an effort to restore calm.

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Soon, Codian. Soon. He opened his eyes again and pivoted on the spot, intent on catching another glimpse of the mysterious apparition. There was no one there. +++ Chaplain. Once more clad in full armour, and with his helm hanging from its belt hook, Codian greeted the Khan with a respectful tilt of his head. He had neatened himself up as much as was possible for an Astarte to accomplish on his own and with few appropriate tools available. The Primarch was standing at the head of a gathering, and with a quick glance, Codian saw that he was the last to arrive. He knew that he could not speak of what had happened to him in the privacy of his allotted quarters until he truly understood it himself. He found himself intrigued now, even more so than when he had received the summon. Despite this, there was one subject foremost on his mind. Laenars body Returned to the lifepod, Chaplain. Our brother has been laid to rest amongst his own. Codian gave a satisfied nod. Then I shall attend the scene and read the Rites of Passage for our fallen comrade No. Codian looked to the Khan, his brow furrowing. Primarch? Laenar will be laid to rest properly, Chaplain, but first there is another matter we must address. A matter of the utmost importance. Codian swept his cloak aside and looked to the faces surrounding him. Though there was a collective presence of unease, he could not easily read the reason for this gathering. There seems to have been a development. The Khan continued. And we are at a loss as to explain exactly what is happening. It is the Kroot, Chaplain. They areagitated. There was a flurry of movement behind the Khan and the others, enough to catch Codians attention. Several Kroot were advancing into the area, squawking and chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Codian noticed the Shaper, Ghroakar, at the head of the xenos gathering. What is this? He asked. There have been certain advancements The Khan found time to reply. The Shaper and his retinue barged their way into the gathering and cut the rest of his sentence short. The alien commander peered around him at the gathered outcasts, his small eyes lingering on Gormat longer than any of the others. It was clear that the Kroots distrust of all Tau was something that would never fade.

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The Shaper shook his head as if to dispel his hatred of the Tau and then clasped his hands together. We are united in decision, Imperials. The Kroot will assist you in this war, for it is our destiny, decreed by the ancestors, that we gain vengeance against them. In the years we have spent in hiding we have grown strong, our development unhindered by the Tau, but still we do not have the strength to face them alone. Codian heard this and looked to the Khan, intrigued as to what his response would be. He noticed the same expression on the Primarchs face as he had seen the first time the Kroot had spoken. It was a mixture of bemusement and distraction, as if he found the spectacle of an alien speaking the human tongue so eloquently to be fascinating. You propose an alliance? Jaghatai asked, unable to fully disguise the scepticism in his voice. Forgive me, but we know far too little of one another to forge such a union. I did not even know what a Kroot was before I came to this ship, and you would have me ally myself with your kind? The Shaper seemed confused by this. He glanced at the others around him. Honoured human, you must understand. The Tau, they betrayed us because they realised that they could no longer control our destiny. It is our way of life that we shape our own destiny. We cannot allow others to shape it for us. Ours was an alliance of mutual protection, and we always knew it could not be sustained indefinitely. Ghroakar looked to Ligur then and placed his fingers upon his own forehead. There are those amongst us who have attained the ability to use thought itself as a tool, like your comrade. The Ethereals were greatly angered by this, for they had always taught that such abilities lead to what they called the Montau, the terror. So it was that they set about to betray us, and destroy our civilisation in battle. They sent our forbearers against the red world, knowing that we could not win. All the gathered Kroot stooped low as one, emitting a mournful warbling sound. Ghroakars dark eyes flashed, pulsing with a soft light. Were it not for those who conspired to maintain the sacred quest for change, our race would have seen extinction. All the kindreds are gathered here, humans, the last survivors of our race. We have an altered destiny now. No longer do we strive to bring diversity to ourselves. For the last hundred years, we have been gearing ourselves for war. The Khan nodded slowly as he heard this. Once, Kroot, my race would have also sought your extinction, for no more crime than your simple existence. It would seem that fate has made us allies. With that, the Khan placed a fist across his chest and tipped his head. The Shaper seemed to understand the gesture well enough. He shook his head and rattled his quills, a gesture mirrored by the other aliens present. Codian shifted his weight and looked around him, gauging the responses of the others. Despite the general sense of relief, he could feel an underlying unease. Ligurs reaction was most unreadable of all, the psykers face betraying nothing of his feelings. Torvus was far more accommodating, his face tight with displeasure. He looked to Gormat. The Tau had said nothing since the appearance of the Kroot, and Codian could see the fear in him. The Kroot tolerated the others, but they outright hated him. He was a symbol of all they despised and existed to destroy. Gormat looked more gaunt and pallid than usual, as if he had dared not rest since their arrival here.

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Several more contemplative minutes passed before he realised that all eyes had turned to him. Codian. The Shaper said, moving towards him. Bearer of the Changling Weapon. This meeting is more than chance, it is destiny. It waits for you, Codian. What do you mean? He asked, a familiar feeling of unease settling in the pit of his stomach. What waits for me? At that the Shaper gestured out towards the bulkhead, as if the space beyond were visible. The Ship of Ghosts. Codian stepped back and looked to the others, as if to gauge their reaction. No one spoke, for the ability to be surprised by a situation had long since been purged from each one of them. I dont understand. He confessed. A ship waits for me? That makes no sense. At that the Shaper gestured towards the weapon holstered at his side, the transformed crozius with its mysterious, alien origin. There are many, many vessels here, Codian. Some are more ancient than my people, their origins lost to the ages. We are the only living creatures left on and around this world, but there are far older intelligences adrift out here. There are ships that think, that feel. Ships powered by the souls of ancestors long since past. One such craft spoke to us, and foretold that one day a warrior would come. The other Kroot surrounding him slowly fell to their knees, as if the Shaper were recalling some hallowed legend. Several of the removed curious totems and objects from their equipment and began to shake them, whispering curious and unintelligible alien words and sounds. Our destiny is to meet the Unity in battle one final time, to avenge the great wrong done to our people. This warrior will unite the Life Swarm, to stand before the Great Darkness in defiance. You wield the Whispering Blade, Codian. You are that warrior. Codian was lost for words, the strangeness of the situation stealing away his immediate ability to reply. He looked to the Khan for guidance. After a short pause, Jaghatai tipped his head at him and then stepped forward. It seemed as if there was some manner of plan forming in his mind. This ship. He began. Why does it wait for him? Do you know of its origins? We know only that it is ancient. Ghroakar answered. And that it awaits you all. It is to be your chariot. The Khan frowned and lifted his head as he heard this. Take us to it. At hearing this, the Shaper allowed himself what appeared to be a cluck of satisfaction, an expression mirrored by the others around him. Of course, altered one. As the ancestors predicted. +++ Vampire. The others paused and turned to look at Czevak, causing the Inquisitor to confirm his assessment with a

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slow nod. I would recognise the design anywhere. It is an Eldar transport vessel. Codian looked away from the Inquisitor and out towards the end of the docking bay. The flyer was clearly alien in design, and more so, it was massive. It filled the wide bay almost to capacity, so much so that he could scarcely imagine how it had performed the manoeuvres necessary to enter and land. An Eldar ship? Grungi asked, clearly bemused and mystified in equal measure. How the bloody hell does an Eldar ship come to land inside a Demiurg vessel. We build our automatic systems well, and we build them to discriminate most vehemently. At that the Shaper gave what appeared to be a dismissive gesture. The spirits of the vessel were most insistent, compact one. We have communed with the Ship of Ghosts many times since our arrival here, and we have learned that its denizens are as learned as they are ancient. There seems to be little they cannot achieve if they so wish it to be. The Kroot rarely questions the ways of those who have gone before. Codian dismissed the shrill, singsong Low Gothic of the xenos and turned his attention to the craft before them. He knew little of the aesthetic variations of xenos built spacecraft, but there was something about this one that marked it out as distinctively Eldar. It was a vast thing, its function not immediately clear. The craft had its rear end to them, at which was set a yawning access ramp. It looked to him at first glance to be some manner of transport vessel, though the armaments he could spy placed along its mass spoke of a far more murderous purpose. There are Eldar here? He asked, his hand descending unbidden towards his weapon. The Shaper responded with a harsh, rattling snort. You will find no life onboard that ship, Codian. I told you, before your arrival here, there were only Kroot. The spirits power and guide the vessel. Come let me show you. Ghroakar led the others towards the rear of the craft, and as he approached the rear section opened unbidden, sending an access ramp sliding down to the deck to meet them. Steam curled from the interior of the craft, obscuring their view. The Shaper ascended first, quickly disappearing into the hazy gloom. Codian was right behind him and he looked to the others briefly before following the Kroot, his hand resting firmly on the hilt of his living weapon. As he passed into the interior of the ship there was a sudden rush of displaced air and a flash of bright light. He tensed and made to draw his crozius but found, try as he might, that he could not pull it free of its holster. Ghroakar emerged from the mist and raised a hand to calm him. There is no need for alarm, Codian. You will come to no harm. It is just the gateway. The ethereal mist began to clear, allowing him a better look at what lay ahead. Whatever the smog was it had succeeded in confounding his auto-senses, but now it had begun to dissipate he found that he could see beyond. The familiar energies of an active Eldar gateway swirled before him, casting flickering shards of light across his black armour. The Shaper moved to stand by his side and raised a hand out at the wraithgate. See. You are beckoned, Codian. All of you. The Ship of Ghosts waits beyond.

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Codian looked down at his hand to see the crozius, still holstered, pulsing with a soft, hazy light. It was as if this was an act of reassurance, a confirmation that the Kroot spoke the truth. This is not the ship? Ghroakar let out a rattling staccato croak. No, it is only the messenger. The Ship of Ghosts waits beyond the portal for you. Codian looked away from the wraithgate as he heard the others ascending behind him. The Khan and Czevak were the first to appear. Primarch and Inquisitor alike slowed as their eyes fell upon the pulsing gateway. What is this? The Primarch asked. Codian could see a distant glimmer of recognition in his eyes, as he thought back to the fateful day that saw his departure from the Imperium of man. Are we going somewhere? Czevak asked, also recognising the wraithgate for what it was. I am not sure. The Chaplain replied. Apparently our destination lies beyond. The Shaper listened to the conversation as if in amusement, his gaze passing from one to the other. After a few moments he shook his quills and stepped forward, raising his hands. The Ship of Ghosts drifts beyond, lost amongst the chariots of all the races. Of all the vessels here, it has rested the longest. Captured by the servants of the machine long ago, it did not protest, for it knew what was yet to come. An image formed before the psychic Kroot, taking shape in the air between its hands. It was a ship, clearly alien in design. Though pitted and aged its aesthetic hull was a rich yellow in colour, and its most striking feature was a vast, sail-like extremity that stretched a good length across its upper keel. The sail was a rich blue, which looked to shimmer with iridescence in the sunlight. All eyes turned to Czevak then, and the Inquisitor did not disappoint. It is Eldar. He confirmed. A Dragonship. It bears the colours of Iyanden, one of the Eldar Craftworlds. Ghroakar nodded and lowered his hands, allowing the image to dissipate. The Ship of Ghosts. Its spirits are wise and ancient. They have taught those of my kind who bear the abilities of the mind to focus and develop our skills. These spirits have waited here many long years for you, Codian, and your people, to come. It is as I have told you. You have a destiny. Why? The Chaplain asked. Why me? These spirits you speak of, what would they want of me? They intend to guide you, Codian, towards the final confrontation. The spirits have explained much to us and revealed secrets about the universe and our place in it. This coming war will eclipse all other wars with its ferocity, and there will be such loss of life as to stain the stars with blood. These spirits can see beyond the now, for their gaze is far reaching, and they have seen what hunts for you. A murmur of unease passed through the group behind him. Codian himself tensed, his expression tightening. You are honourable, Codian, but you are outcast from those you seek to assist. The spirits see that. There are those who fear your destiny, and they will stop at nothing to prevent you from reaching your destination. The Ship of Ghosts is a potent vessel. You will not reach your Terra without her aid.

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Codian said nothing as he considered the Kroots words. He looked to the waiting gate, and felt the presence of the Dawnblade in his mind, urging him forward. As he considered the ever-swirling void, a single, whispered word echoed through his mind. Ishyrea.

Chapter One Hundred and Fourteen: Cegorach

He slowed and looked towards the spiralling wall of energy beside him. A hand emerged from the swaying shadows about his form and stretched out, long, dextrous fingers unfurling to touch the ever-shifting stuff of the warp. The rotating walls looked to darken and roil then, as if agitated by something. They made no sound as they approached, consummate masters of surprise and stealth as they were, but they could not hide their presence from him. Still he grows. Qah said, withdrawing his hand. He rages on through the corruption, a virus of purity and light. He has no counter. Of all of us, his rebirth will be the most potent of all. I am not here as your enemy. I am Qah. He received no answer. Ahead of him the webway quivered, the gloom looking to intensify. Qah nodded his head slowly as he caught sight of the merest flickers of movement up ahead. When he spoke, there was a palpable sadness in his voice. I understand. It has been too long. Do what must be done to satisfy the realisation of truth, and know that your deaths will lift the veil from the eyes of your god. An echoing, ghostlike laughter reverberated around the tunnel, its point of origin obscured by mystery. A heartbeat later the charged air was filled with a staccato whispering and Qah raised his hand, so fast the limb seemed to flicker from one position to the next. Spinning shuriken flashed as they curved around and past him, sparking as they touched the walls of the webway. Others came to a dead stop inches from his dark hand, spinning faster and faster until they seemed to liquefy and dissipate like mist. The ancient being did not flinch. Speeding humanoid shapes burst from the gloom and headed for him, turning and spinning and twisting head over heel. Some sprinted along the curved webway walls, others along the uppermost point of the tunnel. Shuriken hissed in clouds towards him, only to be turned aside by the sheer force of his will and his mastery of the powers of the warp. The first attacker was almost upon him; the shining blade fixed to its forearm glowing with burning light, when Qah became a beacon of cold azure radiance and the shadows around him burst to life. A column of twisting shadow erupted from the mass around him and swallowed the warrior whole. The ethereal, serpentine appendage twisted back and past the Old One and the fanged maw opened to spew the writhing Harlequin forth, sending the flailing warrior spinning away. More limbs of darkness surged from Qah to fill the tunnel before him, saturating the space with snapping jaws, writhing tentacles and bladed clubs. Multi-coloured warriors twisted and crashed into the mass, unable to escape the all-encompassing horror. Arms and legs were shredded from bodies and heads were

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snapped from shoulders without mercy or quarter. Where the flashing weapons of the Harlequins met the black substance of the interloper they cut through with ease, severing mouths and claws without effort. Whatever they cut away unravelled like greasy smoke, only to reform a second later. Within moments it was over. The last Harlequin fell back, his left arm lacerated in several places. He rolled over and up onto his feet and reached for his belt, snatching several small spheres free. He cast them at Qah and jumped back. The spheres burst at the Old Ones feet and filled the space around him with billowing green smog. Qah whispered an ancient word of power and the smog curled in on itself, compacting tighter and tighter until it became a small and perfectly formed sphere of emerald light, which then blinked out of existence. I am Qah. He said again. Master of secrets and hidden knowledge, brother to Cegorach. I am here to fulfil that which is prophecy. I am beyond such mortal failings as fear, and my mind cannot be confounded. This confrontation is almost over now. The Harlequin seemed unconvinced. Heedless of Qahs warning he crouched low and then sprang for the Old One, his image glittering and breaking apart as he left the floor. Qah became cold light once again and the shadows around him focused and extended to snatch the warrior from the air. The black arm punched through the wall of the webway, Harlequin and all. Less than thirty seconds passed by before Qah drew the warrior back in and deposited him on the floor of the tunnel. Now you have seen the truth, and suspicion has been satisfied. Could you hear him out there? He calls his champions home. There is nothing left to fear, Guardian. Your soul is no longer forfeit. This is over now, defender of Cegorach. Know that I will pass into the Library, escorted or otherwise. Qah swiftly returned to his former dark self, allowing the living shadows of his aura to retreat back into him. The Guardian returned to his feet slowly, the eyes of his mask glowing with a cold, ancient fire. There he remained in silence for long moments until, slowly and deliberately, he bowed his head to the ancient being. He raised a hand up to point out at the path ahead, tipped his head again, and then disappeared into the gloom. Qah waited alone and in silence then for several moments before the sound of something approaching stole his attention. He looked on calmly as the shimmering field advanced on him, filling the webway tunnel entirely. Had he wanted to escape, there was nowhere for him to go. He did not attempt to flee. Instead he simply waited for the field to pass over and through him, and in seconds it did so. The shadows surrounding him shrank away as the crackling blue wall of light passed through him without pause. Qah did not flinch as the field moved beyond him and then faded away, as if soaking into the air. My will is unbreakable, and my mind tempered beyond the influence of any corruption. I have passed the test. Give me my audience, Cegorach. The final war is approaching fast. Far before him, the gloom shifted as if alive. The webway began to expand and grow, opening swiftly into a yawning chasm. The curved roof ascended swiftly out of sight, soon lost to the haze of distance. A hazy, flickering illumination blinked into being far ahead, little more than a bobbing, wavy light, akin to a candle on water. As he looked on the light grew or else neared, perhaps even both, with an inhuman swiftness.

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A crescendo of multi-hued, iridescent colours exploded across his eyes, illuminating his black skin with their radiance as if it were oil. His large eyes caught this light and glistened like jewels. Brother. He whispered, raising his gaze slowly to regard the dizzying display. It has been so long. A figure seeped from the centre of the display, no more than a patch of shade at first. As it moved forward it quickly took on shape, flowing and elongating to form limbs and a basic humanoid shape. All the while the entity behind the phenomenon was mostly hidden, obscured by a tornado of diamond shards of every colour imaginable. At the centre of the storm, all that could be clearly seen was a riot of colour and a pair of burning, ever-changing eyes. Yes, it is I, Cegorach. I have returned. Qah said, tiny before the burgeoning rainbow maelstrom. And I find the firmament in as great a disarray as the Great War. Only three of us survived the awakening of the Orrehmash, and of us, you alone did so intact. The being before him did not answer. Qah continued to regard his sibling, undaunted by the intensity of his presence. She slaughtered Asuryan, the most powerful of our pantheon, with ease. There were none who could stand against her, for there were none who were prepared for the potency of her birth. Even Khaine, for all his strength and power, could not stand against her. She split him into pieces with her scream, as she did me. All the shadows of the universe could not hide me from her gaze. He fell silent once more, as though waiting for a reply. The Laughing God offered no such response. Qah lowered his gaze briefly, regret palpable in his aura and mannerisms. We had thought ourselves safe beyond the material realm, where the Yngir could not touch us. None of us could have guessed that our own plans would be our undoing. None, Cegorach, save for you. You alone knew that the webway was the only place neither of these enemies could find us, and you alone escaped her wrath unscathed. I applaud you for that. I barely survived her rage, torn to pieces and cast out into the void as I was. Even now I am left splintered, inside. Qah. The Old One heard and sensed the single word at the same time. He looked up from his reverie at the unfathomable entity before him and nodded slowly, as if he understood far more than was openly exchanged. I forgive you, my brother. There is no shame in flight, for flight brings survival. A war is only lost when one faction ceases to exist, and our kind have yet to concede existence. You, Khaine and I are all that is left now, but together, we can be strong enough. Together, we can end this war. It is time, Cegorach, to emerge from the shadows and embrace the light, as I have. Qah. The omnipresent voice said again. Brother. Splintered once and reformed, forever incomplete. She swallowed a measure of your soul, brother The bitch burns for her betrayal. Qah answered coldly, spite heavy in his voice. And so the cycle continues. Ever does the balance shift to restore itself, Cegorach. Always the four. Always the four. She completed the pantheon and she tore us to pieces. Four of the Yngir survived to descend into the Sleep of Ages. Always the four Yes. Qah answered. And there are four of us now. It is written in the skeins of destiny that we shall tip the scales and become five, brother. You of all of us know that as fact. Ynnead grows ever more powerful. Soon his power shall eclipse us all.

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Four. Cegorach continued. Always the four. Nemesis to nemesis, as fate dictates. The balance shifts, but always sustains. As is fate. The Bringer of Death thirsts for vengeance against Khaine, just as the Void Dragon thirsts for the blood of Vaul, and the retribution it shall bring. That Which Lies Outside hungers for nothing but you, Cegorach, and revenge for the madness imprinted forever within its psyche. So it is fate that I stand against the Jackal-God, and belay his plans for domination, for it was ever my shadows that confounded his plans before, and brought his hunt for my children to a dead end. That is why I am restored, to walk amongst the mortals as he does, and counter all that he weaves. Thus is the cycle forever sustained. Always the four. Ynnead. Ynnead will upset the scales. Ynnead will tip them in our favour, and he will undo the cosmic balance, and four shall become five. Nevermore will we be locked in equilibrium. Four shall become five, and the Yngir shall be consumed. Yes. Qah answered. The balance must be shifted. The Sons and daughters of Asuryan give their lives and their souls to see this realised, just as the Rillietann give of themselves unto you. I can engineer this victory, Cegorach, but I need you. I need your guile and your cunning to work against our enemy. The Great Deceiver is abroad once again, I have learnt this much. Only you can counter his myriad illusions. Upon hearing this the being at the centre of the light looked to reduce in size, shrinking to match the dimensions of Qah. Thus the two beings stood face to face, a reunion that had taken millions of years to come to be. We are the survivors, Cegorach, and the legacy is ours to realise. We have learned much in our wars with the Yngir, and all of that knowledge has been to our cost. Everything we have tried has either failed or worked only through chance, and a victory against the Yngir is a victory that cannot be repeated or emulated. Khaine. Yes, Khaine will stand before them. As will I. As will you. We cannot match them in power, Qah, we learned that. Guile will only see us so far. Khaine and Asuryan were our greatest strength and our greatest hope. She came to be and She tore their souls apart. The greatest betrayal of all sealed our fate. She cast Khaine to all the corners of the kingdom, the strongest amongst us. It does not matter if She no longer thirsts. Our strength is lost. I do not think we can win. Qah took a step forward and moved into the radiance of the being, the shadows around him growing agitated at its proximity. We can. The wheels of fate are turning, brother. The pieces begin to move, to take their place. Asuryan and the others are gone now, their spirits divided and dispersed amongst the young races. I have seen and felt much since my awakening and I know this to be true. I still sense some of them, here their whispers beneath the flesh of their children. Goarhc and Maukk are still strong, though their influence wanes with the perversion of their brood. What can we do? What you do best. The Jackal-God schemes and plots even now, weaving his influence into the machinations of destiny. The god of the mon-keigh thunders his way through the warp, cleansing the taint of the Malign Ones. The Jackal-God will seek to sever his mortal link in an attempt to destroy him. This cannot hurt him now, for he is one with the warp, but the enemy does not know this and his plans are wicked. You must counter him.

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The being before him seemed to consider this for an age. Finally, his head tilted forward, slowly and deliberately. Qah saw this and repeated the gesture, satisfied. At that he looked back to the swirling webway behind him and prepared to leave. Until we stand before them again then, brother. What of you, Qah? The dark being looked back as he heard this. To the Seat of War I go. The armies of the Yngir are rising, and with them the Void Champions. The Forces of Life have many great and mighty warriors ready to do battle with these abominations, but only the Asurya have the power to destroy them. The Burning Lance. Yes. On Biel-tan, seat of warfare and ancient honour. It is there that Fuegan rests, and there that he shall rise once again. +++ Lord Guilliman! The Primarch cast over his shoulder to see the human rating sprinting towards him, surrounded by a small collective of Earth Caste technicians. My lord, we must evacuate this deck! Flagellant pods have managed to rupture the outer hull and have engaged! I beg you, follow me! The man slowed as he rushed by Guilliman and raised a hand, not daring to touch the Primarch. His expression spoke of a fearful desperation, an expression mirrored by the faces of the Tau accompanying him. Guilliman frowned and looked to Berolinus. The Ultramarine scowled, clearly displeased by the fact that he agreed with the officer. Flagellant? What does this mean? My Primarch He began. Kaiguela, we must leave. One of the senior Fio officials cut in. The faction we currently face employs many dangerous and dreadful weapons of war. These beasts are murderous and unstoppable, enough so to place even you in great danger. They have managed to penetrate deep into the inner defences of the ship. We will hunt them down and destroy them, but we cannot allow you to come into harms way. Purge drones deployed Another of the technicians announced. Berolinus hissed with displeasure and placed a hand upon the Primarchs vambrace. They speak the truth. I have witnessed these creatures before, my lord. They are weapons employed by the Ecclesiarchy of Terra Guilliman sneered as he heard this and shrugged Berolinuss hand aside. The church of the Emperor. I will not run from the attentions of such a debased and perverse organisation.

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All those present started as a thunderous explosion echoed down the corridor beyond. Fire Warriors and drone teams hurtled past, intent on countering the threat. Weapons fire reverberated through the air ducts around them, adding to the tension. Berolinus exhaled and brought his bolter up to his face. He racked the slide and checked the weapon quickly efficiently, ensuring that it was ready for use. He knew better than to try and talk the Primarch around. All he could do was ensure that he protect his lord the best he could, even unto death. Put a bolt through his head. He started, drawing his head back sharply. The sudden movement drew the attention of a few of the others, the Primarch included. Berolinus? II steel myself, lord, ready to meet the enemy. He lied, stunned by the unexpected voice in his mind. Guilliman nodded and turned his attention to the corridor beyond, leaving the Ultramarine to breath a troubled sigh. You could end it. You could end it now, Berolinus. Why resist? He shook himself and cast around, raising his gun to cover the approach beyond. He had to ignore it, especially now. the life of his Primarch was in peril. Defiance is pointless. Listen to me. Sooner or later I will tear through your soul and pull that trigger for you. You are mine now, Lurom Berolinus. You are condemned. I am Her legacy, and I am eternal. You are nothing. He whispered, stalking forward, his bolter shouldered. We shall see. Berolinus followed the passing Fire Warrior squads, a giant amongst them. Guillimans eyes narrowed as he followed the Marines progress. He drew Agiselus and activated her field. Who are you talking to? He asked the warrior. The enemy. Berolinus replied.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen: A Fight For Life

Blessed is He who watches eternal, whose gaze cannot be confounded. Blessed be His children also, that they would give of flesh and of soul to see His will realised. Blessed be the union between God-Emperor and servant, between Father and son or daughter, for there is no evil that can taint it, or sever it, or weaken its everlasting bonds. The foot of His throne awaits. The Emperor protects. The Emperor protects. Sister Superior Veralys Lyceo echoed, allowing a single tear to run unfettered down her porcelain face. Thor finished marking the Aquila upon her forehead and stepped back in order to allow her to rise. She did so, and the rest of her Celestians ascended with her, disturbing the cloying smog of incense as they rose.

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We will guard you unto death, my lord, for that is our lot. Lyceo uttered, drawing her blessed sword and bolt pistol close to her armoured chest. When they come, we shall be ready. Thor nodded, content with the warriors answer. He thought back to the vile abomination that had almost ended his life and suppressed a shudder. The enemy had come so close to killing him, and with such ease. He would not allow such a lapse in security again. Lyceo and the other Sororitas made their obeisances and dispersed, intent on guarding the life of the reborn saint. It had been hours since Thor had escaped the attentions of the Ethereal for now and, though part of him knew that the beast would not return, he could not allow himself to be caught off-guard again. He took a deep breath, smoothed his robes down and then moved to the doorway. The sliding doors opened and he stepped into the next chamber and into a world of cacophonic clamour. Figures rushed to greet him, from naval ratings to priests of the Mechanicus. Thor slowed and raised his hands, appealing for calm. Please, brothers and sisters, I call for calm. We have to keep order, even now, or risk losing all to the enemy. The commander moved into the newly-adapted war room, his word enough to cause most of the attentionseekers to fall back. There were those, however, who remained adamant to speak with him. +We have completed a full system sweep, Ecclesiarch.+ a robed member of the Mechanicus informed him. The priests face was hidden beneath the vast folds of his hood, and as he spoke, writhing mechadendrites slid from the shadows there to probe and assess the air around him. +Our studies suggest no evidence of a system security breach. We can see no evidence that would suggest your position was betrayed mechanically. As a precaution we have installed ident-algorithms in every major cogitator engine across the complex. This aside, we strongly believe that our systems are pure and free of malign influence.+ Thor bowed his head to the priest and the man moved off, sinking into the mass of bodies. Your status report, commander. An officer of the Navis Nobilite informed him, handing him the small dataslate. Thor took the device and activated it. He watched the small screen as information began scrolling down it. His expression darkened. This was a casualty report. The Ramilies Belaphon has fallen to boarding actions. The enemy were able to trigger a catastrophic meltdown within her hyper-plasmatic conductors. Fortunately her demise caused the destruction of three enemy capital ships. The Solar Admiral recommends that she receive full honours for the action. Thor nodded and deactivated the slate once again, his soul numbed by the information he had just received. The enemy are now within the beta zone, lord. Their progress is slow but it is steady. So far they have been able to counter every defence we have. Over three mine zones have already been neutralized by unknown means. Some of our lexmechanics dare suggest that the enemy were able to access the control systems of the minefields. They have of course been most vehemently silenced. Thor slowed, his eyes closing. He lowered his head and placed a hand on the officers shoulder. There is only one question on my mind. Tell me, to your best estimation, how much of the enemy fleet has been destroyed?

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The officer let out a strained sigh and signalled for the Magos who had delivered the system sweep report to join them. He repeated the question to the priest. It was clear that the Magos was uncomfortable with the concept of hypothesis or estimation, though he was far from willing to deny the Ecclesiarch and answer. At his will a number of the individuals surrounding him shifted closer. Thor watched as the half-human creations met in deliberation, communicating in some indecipherable machine-code. Each of the Lexmechanics stood before the Magos, mouths open, emitting a high-pitched, ragged scream of digital information. After a few seconds Thor stepped back, made uncomfortable by the collective din. Soon the cacophony ceased and the figures stepped back. The Magos nodded and looked to Thor. +My lord, as best as we are able to ascertain, the enemy fleet has been reduced by ten point two percent. This estimation is based purely on the number of starships logged as destroyed by our defence network.+ Thor tipped his head, his expression unreadable. It was hard to discern his thoughts on the figures, and whether or not he found them acceptable. I see. And, as best as you are able to ascertain, as you say, what is our current strength as regards to the surviving defences? He had expected the Magos to once again consult the Calculus Logi around him. He did not however, and after a few moments of expectation Thor realised that the Magos had already gleaned the answer to that question. +My lord, we have lost twenty six percent of our fleet strength, and thirty nine point four percent of the defence network. Our calculations dictate that, at current attrition levels, the network will fall in three days. Perhaps, counting on the blessings of the Omnissiah, we may hold out for four.+ Then well hold out for four. The Ecclesiarch replied darkly. The Magos lowered his head and slid away, allowing the masses to engulf him. Thor turned to the officer by his side. The Arco-Flagellant kill teams have found much success thus far. I want you to contact Cardinal Aesagogh and arrange for every existing Flagellant to be made available. I want engines of war, Sachs, as many as we can get our hands on. Penitent Engines as well. We need to tear the heart out of this damned war fleet. Yes Ecclesiarch. The officer answered with a curt salute. To Thors surprise, the man did not move away as swiftly as he had expected. Speak. He said, reading the features of Bartholomew Sachs as clearly as he had done the dataslate. Sachs tilted his head in accord and then spoke. The Unitys attack progresses, lord, faster than any of us had anticipated. They seem to be able to counter every defence I know that. Thor answered. I see it as plain as any of us. What else can we do, Sachs, but strive to hold out. We cannot give up. No lord, we cannot. Reports flood in by the minute, and most of them are ominous, to say the least. Flagellants are successful at tearing out the innards from the ships of the Unity but they are irretrievable. We cannot sustain their rate of attrition. More so, the Unity seem to be coming up with more and moreI feel almost dissenting to admit this sir, butingenious ways of countering our defences. Unity boarding parties are reaping a heavy toll on our vessels and defence platforms. In the last hour or so I have

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personally received over one hundred and twelve reports ofof vessels being swamped by inhuman beasts, creatures of apparently xenos origin. Thor heard this and scowled. Tell me more. Magos Lestak Ghuhl slid through the milling bodies with a preternatural ease, passing through the crowds as if intangible. The Lexmechanics accompanying him melted into the morass, soon to disappear without a trace. Ghuhl came to an access hatch and waved his hand before it, activating it with a thought. The hatch hissed open and he entered, unnoticed by anyone. He stepped into the gloom, passing into the shadows so as to be unseen. Hidden from sight, he removed something small and radiant from beneath the folds of his robe. The crystal pulsed in his metal-shod hand as if imbued with a life of its own, giving off a sickly green glow. Far beneath the folds of his hood, the augmetic eyes of the Magos twinkled. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Fraudator Regaas tapped the screen and the readout faded, casting the chamber into darkness. I see. He whispered to himself, alone amid the endless cogitator banks of his inner sanctum. Lit by the sparse light of the emerald crystal in his hand, his eyes twinkled with an unearthly light. And so it progresses. Excellent. We can take no chances at this stage. The Unity must push through the defences of Saturn, and they must do so swiftly and without pause. It is time to accelerate the progress of this war. Regaas closed his fist around the crystal and exhaled, a fine, glowing mist curling from between his teeth. His eyes pulsed with an unearthly power and then faded again just as quickly, leaving no trace of their former and brief illumination. He leaned back in his chair and smiled. The Ethereals took the bait but fell short of killing Thor. It wont take them long to realise that the positional information sent by Ghuhl was not dispatched by their own spy network. We cant afford to risk using the same ploy twice. Something stirred in the darkness behind him. Regaas did not glance back, for he did not have to. The defenders of Saturn are reeling nonetheless, and they have exacted a satisfactory toll amongst the ships of the Unity. His return causes me concern, however. I did not anticipate the interference of one of them. The longer he is at large out there, the more chance there is that he will upset what is a fine and delicate balance. No, it is time to bring the war to this world. We need the Unity here, so that we can begin to weave the final illusion. You will return, to the forces of the Imperium this time, and you will do so with company. Thors defiance must be laid to rest, quickly and efficiently. Behind him, the waiting figure shifted, became a brief pulse of shimmering green light, and then was gone. +++ Lyceo threw herself around the corner and slammed against the bulkhead, her bolt pistol held up across

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her throat. Sisters flooded past, their bone-white armour coloured by the staccato flash-flare of bolter fire. Celestians, regroup! Seal this corridor! Claerus strode past her and unleashed a blinding melta blast at extreme close range, enough to cause the edge of the closing hatch to soften and weld itself shut. The warrior nodded and rejoined her Sisters, allowing Lyceo to address the surviving Celestians. Claerus be praised! Casualty report! Three, my lady. Gretcha, Brachs and Korle. May the Emperor receive them at the foot of the Throne. Lyceo nodded and moved forward to hammer the sealed hatch with her boot several times, eager to ensure that the seal was tight. She did not spare a thought for the fallen, not here, not now. The battlefield was not the place to mourn. We fall back to the Ecclesiarchs chambers. She commanded, ignoring the violent hammering that assailed the hatch seconds later. We cannot risk losing him here and now. We will give our lives to ensure his safety. Beris stepped forward, the auspex in her hand chiming frantically. The intruders are all around us, lady. Emperors oath, they are even in the walls! There followed a horrendous sound as the hatch first shook and then began to split, huge, bestial claws raking through the thick metal. Claerus levelled her multimelta at the door and made to fire, only to have the Sister Superior deflect her aim. No, we cannot risk weakening the barrier further. Fall back, and defend him from the chamber. Claerus lowered her head curtly, her face colouring. Of course. Forgive my brashness, lady Lyceo did so with a tilt of the head and raised her power mace in the direction of the fortified inner chamber. We move She cast around and made to break into a sprint, only for her progress to falter a few steps later. She and her comrades looked on, weapons rising, fingers tightening against triggers, as a shape hurled itself around the corner and then drew to an unsteady halt. The Techpriest skidded to a standstill, his arms flailing. He raised his head and Lyceo caught sight of twin glowing orbs of crimson light almost lost amid the blackness. Fall back, priest. The enemy are about to breach this level She began. +Stupid bitch. You have no idea.+ The priest rose to his full height and cast something on the floor at her feet. Lyceo stepped back, initially surprised by the projectile. She first glanced at the spinning emerald prism and then at the Magos, confusion writ large across her face. What is this?

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+Fate.+ The Magos answered, taking a step back. +Embrace it. Embrace the machine, for that is all that there is, and all that will survive.+ Lyceos face slackened as she regarded the Magos, her expression one of confusion and disbelief. She watched as the prism began to shudder and glow bright, crackling forks of unnatural emerald electricity erupting from it to claw against the surrounding walls. Magos, explain this lunacy Was all she had time to say. There followed a bright, blinding flash and the Sisters staggered back, thrown by the sudden illumination. Lyceo was the first to respond. She swept her scarlet hair from her face and took a step forward, and as her eyes compensated for the burst, she gasped. Sweet Lord of Terra The gleaming figure lowered the scythe in its hand towards her and took a step forward, ethereal mist curling about its form. She caught sight of rotting robes and a hate-filled, skeletal face. Bright energy exploded before her and she threw herself to the side instinctively, letting out a cry of effort. Beris momentarily appeared in her vision, her heavy flamer rising to counter the new threat. Promethiumfuelled flame filled the corridor, obscuring everything from view for a second. By the time the wall of fire cleared, Beris was on her back at the Sister Superiors feet, her chest bored through. Bolter fire roared about her as she raised her mace and charged the abomination, letting fly with a scream of holy rage. The metallic being turned her blow aside and pivoted. The blade of the glowing scythe passed through the haft of her weapon with ease, cutting it in two. She leapt back and fired, the bolt round catching the abomination full in the chest. It staggered back, sparks coruscating around the damage. She fired again and hit it in the shoulder, almost severing its arm. It raised the tip of the scythe towards her and fired. She twisted at the waist and threw herself back down the corridor, the wall by her side flaking and coming apart, layer by layer. As she turned she caught sight of more shapes behind the thing, and although she caught no more than a glimpse of gleaming, bone-white armour she felt her heart flutter and her stomach tighten with an almost artificially-induced revulsion. Then the shuddering hatch rang against her back and she realised, too late, that she was trapped. Something fast and terrible smashed its way through the squealing metal and brought oblivion to Veralys Lyceo. Beyond her the silver being watched impassively as the six-limbed creature tore the human to pieces. The figures beyond him were finishing the helpless Sisters, and when the last of the women fell, they turned their attention to the alien arrivals. The Necron Lord swept his mailed cloak back and raised a hand, halting the progress of his silent warriors. Crackling scythes were raised and they stood, still and in silence, to observe the advance of the monsters. The hunting creatures loped towards the Necrons, fangs bared and claws readied. They passed by with hardly a hint of acknowledgement, as if the unliving beings were not there. The lead beast slowed a little and turned its black eyes upon the lord, hesitating only momentarily, before turning its attention to the Magos. Ghuhl started as he realised that the alien beasts were heading towards him. He began to panic, raising his arms as if to plead to the Necron Lord to save his life. A strangled, grating scream echoed through the

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corridor as the Genestealers descended on him, tearing him to pieces in seconds. At that, the pack sloped off deeper into the complex, driven on by its ceaseless collective hunger. A host of dead, glowing eyes regarded their departure. +++ Kaiguela, Yhe Larua four has successfully penetrated the inner defences of the enemy stronghold headquarters. Guilliman tilted his head in satisfaction and then raised his hand to regard the severed head in his grasp. It was a wizened and pathetic thing, scarred and burned as such that there was nothing left to hint at what the tortured human had once looked like. His lip curled in disgust and he cast the trophy away. Is this what passes for elite in the armies of the Imperium these days? Is this what happens when man becomes god? Criminals and heretics, twisted and forced to become weapons against their will. A disgusting notion, and absolute proof that the Imperium needs cleansing. Yes, my Primarch. Berolinus answered, his response as instinctive as it was sincere. It is better that heretics be executed swiftly and without mercy, so as to rid the faithful of their existence. Quite so. I had respected this Thor as an adversary, but now I have seen enough to extinguish that respect, to suffocate it utterly. All I see in the Imperium is weakness, degradation and corruption. I can stand no more. I shall be the one to take his head. He drew his sword and looked to the waiting Fio engineers, and to the small contingent of Jokaero that accompanied them. Prepare the teleportation devices. We go to strike at the heart of the enemy while they are reeling. Berolinus took a deep, calming breath and drew his own chainsword. Around him Hydrion and the other Alpha Legionnaires did the same, readying bolters and combat weapons. One of the engineers took control of a hovering drone unit and guided it over to the waiting Marines, adjusting its controls as he advanced. The unit powered up with a rising whine and the Fio nodded. Coordinates entered. Homing drone launching Metallic petals opened up on the back of the unit to reveal a small, cylindrical object. Crackling emerald energies curled around it, enveloping it within seconds. Matrix tap acquired successfully. Stability is good and holding. Drone is awaylaunch successful. The cylinder disappeared in a flash of green light. One of the orange-furred Jokaero lumbered over to the unit and, after a swift assessment of the information before it, looked to the Fio and gave a swift hand-signal of confirmation. Another of the squat Earth Caste engineers moved through the Marine ranks, passing each warrior a small hexagonal device that they promptly clamped to their breastplate. Berolinus took his and regarded it suspiciously. After a few moments of uncertainty he followed the example of the others and attached it to his chest. At that he looked to his Primarch. Guillimans attention, however, was on the small Fio collective. The engineers looked to be deliberating amongst themselves, the debate joined by another of the signing Jokaero. A senior-looking Fio interpreted the creatures contribution, the strange helm he wore flashing and

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humming softly as it translated the ape-like aliens gestures. Is there a problem? Not as such, Kaiguela, no. The old Fio answered. Sargg is concerned. Shortly before the Yhe Larua teams automatic report, his augurs picked up a surge in the Necrontyr Matrix close to the transmission source. He has checked and checked again, OGuilliman. The surge was genuine, unmistakeably Necrontyr in origin. That makes no sense. The Primarch answered. The Fio shrugged at this. I agree. It is however the second instance of erroneous localised activity. Caris Estarius saw several spikes, caught only by chance. We cannot afford to rule this out as coincidence. Guilliman considered this for a moment, his features hardening. If the Necrontyr are somehow involved in this, then we shall discover the truth. The mission still stands. I will take the head of Sebastian Thor.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen: Sleeping Dogs...

Codian stepped out into the softly-lit space. Everywhere he looked, the surfaces seemed to grow brighter, as if a shimmering iridescence pulsed beneath every glassy faade. The gate had brought them into a chamber, so sparsely decorated as to be rendered instantly unidentifiable in its purpose. A simple row of ornate chairs lined the far end of the space, arranged before what appeared to be an inactive viewing screen. As he moved to observe them, he noticed that the chairs were placed before a bank of runic symbols, themselves backlit with a soft crimson glow. The bridge. He whispered to himself. Around him the room grew darker still as the gate dispersed and he looked over his shoulder to see the others. To his surprise, the Kroot was not with them. The Shaper would not accompany us. Jaghatai announced, seeing his questioning look. It seems to think that it would offend the spirits of this vessel by joining us. Codian nodded, accepting the answer. Czevak moved to join him and then quickly passed by, drawn by the panel of runic symbols. Definitely Eldar. He confirmed, running a hand over the smooth, glass-like surface. With that, he looked to the Chaplain. The question is, why? Why are we here? Ishyrea. That word again. Codian whispered, peering around him. Ishyrea. It was Czevak who spoke it this time, much to his surprise. The Inquisitor raised his eyebrows and met the Chaplains gaze.

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You heard that? Yes. Czevak answered. And it was quite clear. We all heard it, Chaplain. Ligur said, stepping forward. He glanced around him from side to side, as if expecting to see something that did not truly exist. Pervasive telepathy, and very strong. Only a blank would have missed that. There is a presence onboard this vessel, I feel it. A psychic saturation... This one is strong, and grows stronger still. Ligur flinched as he heard this, as if the voice was loud and overtly pervasive in his mind. Indeed, everyone present shifted uneasily as the psychic voice whispered through their mind. Only Gormat remained unaffected. He shivered slightly as if chilled by a gentle but cool breeze. Codian. Bearer of Anaris. Mon-keigh prophet. You have come. The Cadian slipped by him, his rifle raised to his shoulder. His face was pale and glistening with sweat, and his eyes were wide. Where are they? Emperor, preserve us against these abominations What is happening? Gormat asked, drawing his pulse pistol from beneath his robes. Although he could not hear the voice, he could sense the palpable unease of the others. Torvus bared his teeth and pushed past the Tau, his thunder hammer to hand and activated. He seemed particularly trouble by the voices in his head, and in a state of extreme agitation. Codian could see that the others were starting to grow agitated with the situation. He raised his hands in an appeal for calm before once again turning his attention to the apparent control bank, his only discernable point of focus. I have come here at your supposed behest. Who or whatever you are, explain to us why this is so. At first, there was nothing save for silence. Then the voice spoke again, and uttered a word he had heard twice before. Ishyrea. We are the Ishyrea, Codian, and she is our flesh now. Once, long ago, we were her crew. Now we are but dust and memory, and hope. It is fate that you have come here. Why? He asked. Why has fate brought us here? Because there is a war that you must take part in, a war that must be won. The journey to Terra is a dangerous one, and only the Ishyrea can get you there safely. +++ Genitor Primus Fabius Bile dismissed the air of palpable excitement and continued to study his latest work. He placed the bloodied surgical tools down on the tray before him and then proceeded to rinse his hands in the sonic basin, the low, pulsing waves quickly shaking the filth from his pallid flesh. Cease geno-log. He commanded, his order causing the DX-4 drone hovering by his side to power down its recording systems. A few of the Fio genitors looked up from their own investigations to regard him with no more than a cursory glance.

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He rubbed his hands together and moved over to the tactical display governing the lifesigns of the Yhe Larua test subjects, and allowed himself a smile of satisfaction as he considered the readings. Things were progressing well, and the subjects were performing admirably. At this rate, the creatures would be ready to unleash against the defences of Terra. Something caught his eye then, the slightest movement, the merest flicker of shadow. He froze and cast around, his dark eyes scouring the surrounding laboratory. There was nothing to be seen. He thought that he caught something, a sound, a whisper. Nothing. He looked over to the Earth Caste scientists but none of them seemed the least bit aware of any untoward activity. His eyes narrowed in suspicion still, convinced by his own instincts. One as ancient as he learned to trust their gut implicitly. Nothing seemed out of place or different. He was about to dismiss the whole affair as folly until he spied something lying on the floor before one of the many sealed hatches that lined the laboratory. The object looked to twinkle in the sterile illumination, rich and emerald against the clean and barren white of the surgical chamber. He moved over to it and stooped to pick it up, his over-accentuated features tightening with curiosity. Whatever it was, he had never seen its like before, and considering that he was master of this area, this did not bode well with him. The object was a prism, worn and aged. Its many surfaces were covered in what appeared to be xenos scrawl, runiform markings of indeterminate origin. Did someone drop this? He asked the others. His question was met with a round of bewildered denial. A couple of the more inquisitive Tau shifted as if with an intent to inspect the find, only for Bile to wrap his thick fingers around it and draw it away jealously, dismissing their interest. Back to work. He growled. Once the Tau had moved away to return to their allotted tasks, he slowly unfurled his fingers once again. It was warm to the touch, and looked to shimmer ever so slightly when moved. The closer he shifted towards the door of the containment chamber before him, the brighter the piece seemed to grow. He looked to the frosted glass before him and made to advance. Movement again. A flicker of shadow at the very edge of eyesight. Biles mouth twisted into a frown of displeasure and he slid the object into the pocket at the front of his smock. Whatever the thing was and wherever it had come from, the answers would have to wait. There, on the floor of the chamber before the very same door, unnoticed by Bile or any of the Tau, was another identical prism. Moments later the lights of the vast laboratory dimmed. A low rumbling vibration shook the walls and rattled the surgical equipment in their trays. A black, creeping miasma spread across the floor and walls, encrusting every surface. A lone technical drone came hovering through the chamber on an errand of its own, only to slow and then freeze in place, as if caught in some invisible web. Shadows curled around it and its smooth surface darkened, as if marred by the patina of age and ruin in an instant. I hear you. He stepped from the yawning void and it closed behind him, the darkness curling in on itself to blink from

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existence. Qah took in his new surroundings with interest, his huge eyes wide and glistening. I hear you. He said again. At last. I have waited for this reunion. The shadows about him deepened further, looking to bulge in towards him. His expression softened. There was recognition there. My children. I have returned. There was no obvious or audible answer. There did not need to be. Qah took in the encroaching shadows with a visible warmth, his gaze shifting again and again. Beyond the bulging darkness he spied the frozen glow of the prism, its illumination enhanced rather than dulled by the materialization of the shadows. He moved over to where it lay and stooped to retrieve it, his touch releasing it from the temporal freeze. Ah, I see. He said, regarding the runes etched into the active crystalline substance. With that he regarded the darkness around him once more, as if he were able to see the creatures hidden beyond. You have done well. I have seen so much ruination and degradation since my return and yet, nestled beneath it all, you remain unchanged. Unknown, hidden from the gaze of all others. I am proud. With that he raised the prism up so as to inspect it. The soft green glow played across his oily black skin. I heard it. Even from the webway, I heard it. I have sensed you since the moment of my return and yet this is the first attempt at contact I have felt. He glanced around him at his surroundings, his fingers once more curling around the pulsing object. Everything was still frozen by his indomitable will, everything except himself, the object and the living shadows around him. As if responding to some inaudible reply he shifted his gaze, looking towards one of the many armoured doors that ringed the circular chamber. Ah. Yes, I see it now. I understand. He advanced towards the hatch, opening his hand as he did so. The prism hovered from his grasp and floated through the air to sink into the blackness, as if swallowed whole. Go now. Return to oblivion and observation, and wait. I will come for you. The black miasma retreated almost immediately, sinking away into recesses and unseen corners in moments to leave behind no trace of its former presence. Qah observed this and then turned his attention to the hatch before him. He raised a hand and ran it across the smooth metal, as if to taste the contents of the sealed chamber. If the symbols and numbers etched into the plate on the hatch made any sense to him, he gave no sign. At last. He whispered, pushing the palm of his hand slowly through the thick metal, as if the surface were liquid. I had started to doubt your existence. I have seen the diluted specimens with my own eyes, and I had feared that their work, and in essence they, had died away for all time. A part of me knew, or at least hoped, that you still existed, for I could sense the brothers still. At last, I have found you. My children have done well.

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The entire hatch folded in on itself, as though the metal were made of the softest, most malleable putty. Mist curled from the interior of the space, glittering with ice. Qah retracted his hand and then closed his fist. Before him, in the gloom, a vast hulking shape hovered into view. The massive, frozen Ork drifted weightlessly towards him, its rigid body creaking. Qah regarded it with interest, as if it were a prize he had long coveted. Krork. At last. At last. The frozen body of the massive Ork hovered in the air before him, dwarfing his lithe frame. Innumerable scars cross-crossed its vast, slab-like form, and its skin was a dark green in colour, almost black. A rusting metal plate dominated its head, as if the riveted object covered some previous and devastating trauma. Qah nodded to himself as he observed the creature. I see it plainly. My brothers, you could never be conquered, not fully. Death could not keep your influence from dominating your brood. These creatures have kept this one here for centuries, never realising the significance of what they though they had conquered. Foolishness on their part, fortune on mine. This being is more than a simple genetic representation, it is a champion. I see that in its genes. All it lacks is the guidance of its fathers, a guidance I know you tried to provide. Worry not. I am here now. I will open its eyes, and show it the true path. Let the potential of the Krork be realised once again. Let the glory of the past be restored. Qah stepped back and waved his hand before him. The frozen Ork shimmered, then convulsed, the ice that encased its bulky form dissipating instantly. The massive alien growled and writhed, still caught in the invisible grasp of the Old One. Its thick fingers grasped at the air before it, though it eyes remained closed. Qah held up both hands as if to placate the creature. Enough. He said, sweeping his hands before him. Remember. Remember. The Ork opened its eyes and looked upon Qah. Its bestial expression changed, softening, becoming more lucid. When it spoke, for all its gruffness, its manner was calm. Its voice was laden with an almost uncharacteristic calmness. I remember. Qah nodded and spread his fingers. The outline of the Ork shivered and it convulsed, powerful energies assailing its muscled form. Seconds later it vanished in a haze of swirling power, swallowed whole by the emerging anomaly. Then spread and grow. He whispered, watching as the gateway closed behind it. And do not forget. With that, Qah watched as the last of the energies dissipated, and then took in the shadows about him. Soon, my children, soon. To Biel-tan I go now. To gather the Asurya. The dark being turned on his heel and stepped into the swiftly widening hole. The gateway closed shut behind him, the shadows retreated, and time flowed once again. +++ Berolinus regarded the teeth of the chainsword in his hands and exhaled, dispelling the anxiety from his soul. He ran his fingers over the object clamped to his chest and felt a shiver of revulsion pass through him.

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This was xenos technology, he knew that. He could feel it. True, he was surrounded by such things, and had been since his arrival here amongst the Tau. This was different though. This wasnt a weapon or a vehicle. This was much darker, much more ominous. He was about to allow himself to be transported by unknown xenos technology to another place, and he found he could not easily dismiss the inherent mistrust he had in such devices. You do right not to trust the technology of this filth, Berolinus. This impure, xenogen filth. Do this, and you betray all you are. Codian shook his head in order to dismiss the voice, one eye fixed to his Primarch. In the days since the voice had first started whispering in his mind, he had learned to disguise his revulsion, especially when in the presence of his lord. It would not do to let the Primarch know. Ready yourselves. Guilliman ordered, stirring the others into making their final preparations. Matrix tap charging. One of the engineers called. Drone is relaying positional data. Confirming pre-shift safety sweep There is still time for redemption, Berolinus. There is still time to end this. I know that you have too much pride to allow yourself to be lead this way, to go against your every desire. He is lost to the xenos, you must accept that. Help him. Save him. Give in to your base urges and right these wrongs. He did not answer, for he knew he could not. To do so would be madness, suicidal. He gritted his teeth and readied himself, confident that the purity of battle would centre his mind and clear his thoughts. Still the voice persisted, as if intent on driving him insane. You have more pride than this, I know it. Pride burns bright within you, pure and strong. To be humble is virtuous and pious, but to feed off ones own superiority, to allow it to empower us, is far better. It makes us stronger. It makes us superior. You have slain many mighty foes in the defence of your lord. You have gone to lengths that no other dared dream of. You have achieved so much, warrior. Revel in that. Celebrate it. Berolinus exhaled deeply and closed his eyes, the skin of his face glistening with perspiration. He found himself wishing for the profane ritual to be completed now, to find himself before the foe as soon as possible. To kill would be to remove the insidious voice from his head, if only for a time. The longer they delayed, the harder it was to hold on to his control. Though he was loathe to admit it, the voice was right. He had achieved so much, much more than even he would have thought possible. He had strived to take his place by his Primarchs side when an entire Chapter had turned their backs on him. He had fought and killed warriors who had honed their combat skills over nearly eleven thousand years of murder and pillage, warriors supposedly blessed by their dark gods. He should be proud of that. Guilliman took in the warriors around him one final time, nodding in readiness to each face that met his. He cast a glance at Berolinus and then looked away, not bothering to wait for a response. Unnoticed by him, a large and malevolent grin split the warriors face from ear to ear.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen: Darkness Stirs...

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+++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ The softest mechanical stirring stole his attention away from the end of the chamber. The quiet whine of hololithic activators rose from the ancient array behind him. Stale, scented air whispered as it was agitated by the growing light anomaly. The Grand Magos turned in time to witness the projection materialize at the opposite end of the dark catacomb. He emitted a hiss of annoyance, his crimson eyes glistening deep beneath his gold-fringed black hood. +Is there nowhere sacred from your insidious presence?+ The unmistakeable face of Regaas glowered back, displeasure writ large across his holographic features. Mind your tone, slave-thing. Remember your place in this existence. No matter your allegiance, you are still a member of the herd, nothing more. A slow, mechanical chuckle rose up from beneath the folds of the Magoss hood. The vast mechanical being standing ever silent by his side shifted, its silver hands tensing. Achosyx looked to the Sentinel and nodded, then turned his attention reluctantly towards the intrusive holo-projection. +Please. I understand your need to try and dominate this situation. It is your nature, as it is the nature of the Omnissiah, blessed be His name. Your persistence is to be expected.+ Do not presume to assess me, insignificant thing. I grow tired of your disrespect +I know.+ Achosyx answered, a measure of amusement still evident in his nonetheless mechanical voice. +I am not a god, but neither am I an idiot. I sensed this much.+ The Grand Magos stepped back and threw his hands out before him. Snaking mechadendrites sprang from the voluminous sleeves of his robes, each one ending with some manner of weapon. At the same instant the Sentinel sprang into action, emitting a low, metallic growl as it took a single step forward, its weight causing the ancient floor to shudder and creak. Something slipped from the dark recesses above, a living pool of liquid night. The assassin twisted head over heels and landed silently before them, spreading his arms wide. In each hand he held a blade that looked to shimmer and vibrate, as if not fully in sync with the rest of reality. The Magos unleashed a storm of crackling electricity at the dark phantom. The assassin sidestepped the attack with ease. A second later the mechadendrites responsible for the generation of the energies shuddered and curled back, sparks and smoke rising from them. +Clever.+ Achosyx uttered, retreating further towards the sarcophagi. +A machine empath+ The Sentinel charged past the Grand Magos to meet the threat, its huge silver arms swinging before it. a cacophony of whines and ratchet clicks rose up from it as weapons unfurled across its form, charging and arming as they came into being. It reached out behind it and a living swarm of metal components flowed into its grasp. Within seconds they took shape, becoming a huge, cogwheel-bladed axe. The assassin skipped towards the huge machine and lowered his head, ethereal flames dancing behind the

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glass of his eyeslits. The Sentinel slowed and then lurched back, wires and pistons coming loose to fly away from its body. Sparks coruscated around it and smoke billowed from several recesses within its armour. The would-be killer danced towards the staggered machine, bringing its swords back ready to strike. Its first sweep sliced wires and tubes away like entrails, almost disembowelling the Sentinel. The second saw one of the shivering blades become lodged deep within the silver mass of the Sentinels forearm. The machines eyes blazed with hatred as it watched the assassin struggling in vain to remove the blade. The killer soon realised the danger of the delay and struck out with his second sword, only to have the Sentinel smash it from his grasp. Guns on the machines vast shoulders zeroed in on the shadowy figure and fired, almost taking his head clean off his shoulders. He threw himself back and turned end over end, fire flashing in his eyes again. Several of the weapons exploded, their power cells ruptured by the powers of the assassin. The Sentinel staggered as another explosion tore through a knee joint, causing the area affected to erratically repair itself. The assassin reached for his belt and drew a number of long stiletto blades. Still tumbling back, he threw them into the air, one by one, and kicked them as they fell. The spinning blades hissed past the Sentinel and out towards Achosyx. The first and second missed his head by a hairs breadth. The third disappeared amid the folds of his robes. The force of the blow caused the Grand Magos to lurch back into the sarcophagi, colliding with the ancient metal with bone-rattling force. +Enough!+ The Magos called, hauling himself up. He reached into his robes and then flung the offending blade away. +End this foolishness!+ The Sentinel righted itself and then set off in a lumbering run after the assassin, dislodging the blade with its free hand as it did so. The black figure came to rest against the fall wall, landing feet first, and then rolled forward onto the floor, up onto his feet and then sprang up, reaching for a overhead pipe. He swung himself up onto the pipe and threw a hate-filled glance at the vengeful machine. Systems overloaded across its slab-like body as the assassin willed its opponent apart, piece by piece. The Sentinel did not falter. Within seconds he reached the psychic killer and lunged. +It is over.+ Achosyx snarled. With that he nodded and the Sentinel stepped forward, the sparse illumination glinting off its silvered arms as it cast something roughly spherical and dark out across the space towards the hologram. It was a head, its features disguised by thick, oily synskin. +Another assassin? Give me some credit, Regaas, I implore you. If you intended to see me dead then you would end my life personally. Only+ Achosyx lifted his head then, displaying but a hint of dry, grey flesh. +you fear the results of such a course of action. You fear Him, and wisely so. Kill me and risk His wrath, for I am his eyes and his ears, and I am to be the instrument of his resurrection. You know you cannot prevent that. You know that you cannot kill me. No assassin could hope to end my life. No, it is the gesture, rather than the act. I understand. Honour must be satisfied.+ Regaas listened, clearly smouldering with anger, but he did not answer.

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+As I say, I understand. You are a god, my lord, I cannot deny that. By your very presence I am humbled, I genuinely mean that. Your existence is a miracle to my kind and to me. None of this truly matters though, does it? I serve a higher power than you, a greater deity, an ultimate force. I cannot fear anyone or anything that is less than my master, and He is absolute. What you mistake for disrespect is in fact loyalty. I cannot fear any lesser being than my god.+ Again, Regaas did not answer. Achosyx nodded his head slowly as if to confirm that which he suspected. The archaic Magos continued to do his as he looked back to the brace of huge sarcophagi before him. Freezing mist curled around the ancient containment units, charged with unknown energies. +You cannot prevent this. It is destiny that they are awakened. Not even you would dare try and prevent His will. Stay and witness this, if you must. It matters little.+ When this is over, Achosyx, I will bleed the life from you myself. I vow that. You are making a big mistake. With that Regaas stepped back and the image dissipated, the link severed. Achosyx glanced over his shoulder in time to see the far end of the chamber cast into darkness and then looked to the silent giant by his side. +A meaningless threat. When the time comes, and we are facing the end, we belong to the Machine.+ The Sentinel merely shifted its augmetic gaze from the Magos to the sarcophagi. Achosyx noticed this and did the same, mechadendrites sliding from beneath the folds of his robes to taste and probe the air before him. +I understand. I too feel great anxiety in what we are about to unleash. You should understand more than most, my companion, if it truly is within your capabilities to do so. Ancient perfection, much like youself, awaiting release. He fears them greatly because he knows he cannot control them. The Void Champions are just that, His champions in this coming war. It is time to unleash them.+ +++ Codian cast around in time to watch the energies of the Demiurg gate dissipate and die away. He thought back to the few times he had used teleportation technology in his long past days with the Ultramarines. Even amongst the Astartes, who were almost exclusive to the method of teleporter technologies in the Imperium, there were few who had utilised such a extreme method of transportation. The technologies used to achieve teleportation were ancient and archaic, barely understood even by those who serviced and maintained them. Little wonder that accidents occurred so frequently, and that even the warriors of the Astartes were quietly disquieted at using such unreliable equipment. He thought back to all he had endured since awakening in this hellish future time. It seemed to him that every race he encountered had the means to transport themselves instantly from location to location. Both the Eldar and the Demiurg employed such means, and with far safer and results. He dismissed the train of thought and rose from his reverie as the others passed through the gateway behind him. Every figure that emerged was laden with supplies, ready for the journey to Terra. He looked back towards the rectangular gateway and knew he would never see the Grudgebearer again. Grungi seemed to echo this sentiment. The Demiurg was the last to pass into the Ironbreaker, and as he did so and the energies faded behind him, he turned slowly to regard the dormant machine. This had better be worth it. He growled, adjusting the heavy equipment sacks slung across his shoulder. Bloody Terra. The ancestors will be turning in their tombs at what I am doing.

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Codian looked to the squat alien but said nothing. He did not have to. The look was all the question he needed to convey. This is not my war, Chaplain. Grungi said, his voice tinged with bitterness. Revenge and honour are all well and good, but this is far beyond anything I had expected to get involved in. I exist to kill Tau, as many as I can, before death finally loses its patience with me. That is my lot. At that the Demiurg threw his burden on the floor and let out a long, troubled sigh. It was clear that Grungi was having a hard time with the fact that he had probably turned his back on his ship for good. He had spent most of the last day imbibing what appeared to be potent, foul-looking intoxicant brew. Red-eyed and with a heavy brow, he looked to the Chaplain. The Tau promised us so much, Longshank. Your Imperium abandoned us long ago, wiped us from your history. They came an offered us hope, only to abandon and set the wolves upon us when we had served our purpose. I hate them, Codian, with every fibre of my being. I live but to see them wiped from the face of this existence. Codian nodded slowly, understanding the Demiurgs pain. He looked away and opened his mouth to speak, unsure of what he was intending to say. A shudder passed through him then and he paused, feeling his gut twist. The Dawnblade writhed in its holster, glowing as if agitated. What was that? He heard Grungi ask, his voice slurred. Somethingsomething changed. A cold breeze through the soul. Codian felt it too, exactly as the short xenos had described. It was as if something had changed, shifted. Existence had writhed at the occurrence of some unknown event. As strange and curious a description as it may be, he felt as if something had been born. Light. Noise. Depthless hunger and black, suffocating hatred. He gasped, staggering forward. He was only dimply aware of the voices of the others around him. He felt someones hands steady him. Again, a flash of agony, coldness more numbing than the touch of the void. He lurched back and felt the floor rise up to slam into his back There. A flash, a shift in reality. Faces he knew crowded around him, fraught with concern. There. Gone. Another face looked down upon him, a face he had seen before. Cold features, as dead and emotionless as the grave. Daelo Codian. It is time. They have awakened. Codian blinked and then pushed himself up onto his elbows. The others were gone. In there place stood a figure he recognised, though did not know. Bone. Flame. Power armour as dark as night. What is happening? He asked, his own voice sounding muffled and distant to him. Where are my

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companions? Where is the Demiurg? Even the spirits of the ship have fallen silent. The figure did not answer straight away. Codian pushed himself up onto his feet and looked at the ghostly Marine. He wore no helm and his hairless head was pallid and wasted, like that of a corpse. Dark power pulsed behind his dead eyes, and when he did speak, that same burning power illuminated the inside of his mouth. The Void Champions have been raised from their slumber, Codian. The Last Great Night is falling. It is time to call the Lost to our cause, for without them the Imperium is not strong enough to counter this threat. Come with me, and see. See what? He asked, his hand falling to the hilt of the Dawnblade. The secret war. The being replied, his gaze following the Chaplains hand. There is more happening now than even you could imagine, Prophet. Once, long ago, my brothers and I gave ourselves to the Emperor so that we could prepare for this day. We have been fighting to bring these events together for many long centuries, doing His work so as to ensure that we are ready for this coming war. Who are you, phantom? Codian asked. I am Centurius, keeper of the Animus Malorum. At that he raised his hand and showed Codian what it was he carried. It was a skull, ancient and bleached, larger than that of a mere human, though definitely humanoid in origin. Codian found himself backing away as he regarded the gruesome object, for it was as if the thing was somehow terrible and horrendous, a thing of utter evil. It exuded an aura of palpable despair and grief, as if saturated with all the woes of existence. He felt his soul writhe at its presence, as if fearful of it. What is thatabomination? The crux of redemption. Centurius answered. The nexus of deliverance. I will gather your army of destiny, Codian, but first you have to come with me. You have to bear witness to what is happening beyond the gaze of the Imperium. It is imperative that you know. Codian took another step back, fighting against his own instincts. This phantom and his monstrous prize instilled a great apprehension within him but he was loath to convey that. Still, it was as if he could not prevent his instincts from compelling him to retreat, to deny this apparition. At this instant, it was as if all his vaunted knowledge had abandoned him in the face of this daunting apparition. He fought to recall anything he could about this meeting, about what it meant, but he could not. Some things are beyond prophecy, Codian. The warrior said, as if able to read his thoughts. Some events have to be kept from even those who seek to scry the future. Come with me, and everything will be revealed to you. We are on the same side, you and I. You must see that. Once you see, you will understand. Where would you take me? He asked, drawing his living crozius from its place by his side. I told you. The Unity thought that they could strangle Terra in secret, choke the life from her with one massive, combined effort. They were wrong. Even now there is a war being fought that no one in the Imperium is aware of, for the Tau have gone to great lengths to keep their plans secret. You are aware of the dispositions of the various Unity fleets, I take it?

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Codian nodded. The fleet known as Leviathan moves even now from its base around Cadia to take the defences of Terra by surprise. The Eye is closing, Chaplain, and in their arrogance the Unity think that they are responsible for its retreat. They are not. Come with me and you will learn more. Codian heard this and felt the weapon in his hand shift, as if it approved of the proposal. Despite the strangeness of the relationship, Codian had come to trust the judgement of the living weapon, just as he had come to accept that there were forces at work in the galaxy that held in foremost at their attention. Very well. He said, stepping forward. Centurius nodded his approval and moved to meet him. He lifted the hideous skull in his hand and offered it to Codian. Place your hand upon the Animus Malorum. Do not fear it, Chaplain. I fear nothing. Codian replied, reaching out to touch the ancient artefact. Save for failure. The instant his armoured fingers touched the skull he became aware of a distant and terrible roar. Everything around him darkened and ran fluid, and then there was nothing.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen: Uknown Sacrifice and Unseen Destiny
The thunderous boom resounded around the chamber, echoing through the vast wraithbone caverns of the Craftworld. Guardians and Aspect Warriors alike swiftly filled the plaza, taking up positions of aggressive defence. Dire Avengers filed into the spaces nearest the active webway gate, adding martial strength to the weapons platforms of the Guardian squads. Fire Dragons spread out through the mass, fusion guns hissing as they were activated. Far beyond the main mass, Dark Reapers took up positions that afforded them a commanding view of the wide gateway dais, ready to send explosive death out into whoever emerged. Warlocks and Farseers slipped through the throng, directing the warriors. Ethereal energies played about them as they prepared to meet the coming threat. The entire gateway shuddered as Qah stepped out into the Craftworld of Biel-tan, shadows curling about him protectively. Many of the Warlocks and Farseers cried out, the sheer psychic weight of the being staggering them. The Old One took in the massed ranks surrounding him and opened his hands out towards them. When he spoke, his voice was strident and laden with power. I am Qah, and I am not the enemy. Look upon me, Eldar, and know my true face. See me for what I am. I am of the Pantheon, and I have returned. Qah knew that the Eldar did not know of him, at least not directly. He was Qah, and by his very nature he was unknown, a being of secrecy and shadow. Of all the Young Races, the Eldar had been the pinnacle of creation, and each of the Pantheon had shared that creative process. He himself had provided the Eldar with many aspects of their collective nature, and yet his name had been omitted from their history. This was no accident.

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Despite this, Qah knew that these creatures could not fail but to recognise him for what he was, if not for who he was. They were by far the most empathic of all the races, and though they did not know of his existence, they could not deny a connection to him, for it was one that ran deep. Lower your weapons and heed my message. You are of Biel-tan, the Rebirth of Ancient Days. All of you strive to see the glory of the Eldar restored. I am here to set that in motion. The Rhana Dandra is upon us, and I have come to call upon the spirit of Fuegan to rise once again. It is time for the Asurya to come together, and he must be the one to call them. He watched as the apprehensive crowds parted in order to allow one of the Farseers through. The ancient individual advanced slowly, as if in nervous wonder of the shadow-wreathed supernatural being before him. Qah was able to but taste her thoughts to know that, despite her reservations, she held no doubt as to what he was. It was long minutes before she spoke, and it was obvious that she had chosen her words carefully. You seek the Burning Lance, timeless one. What compels you to assume that he can be found here? At that, Qah spread his hands wide once again, as if to present the Craftworld around him to the Farseer. This is Biel-tan. I have learned much since my return, Eldar, and most of it from sources that you would doubtless deny existence. The fractured spirit of my brother Khaine resides in every Eldar heart, but none more so than the denizens of Biel-tan. This Craftworld is war, personified. Its every breath screams for vengeance and honour, and the return of the glorious days. Where else would an Asurya lay at rest? The Farseer lowered herself slowly on to one knee but did not answer. Around her the other Farseers and Warlocks slowly made their way to the head of the gathering, lowering weapons with gentle hands as they advanced. You are of the Pantheon. The lead witch whispered, bowing her head. That cannot be denied Nor can destiny. Qah answered quickly, taking charge of the symposium. Select your appropriate champion and resurrect Fuegan. There is a reckoning to be had, and it will be found upon Terra. Mighty champions of the darkness have been unleashed, and I know you have felt as much. This event is the catalyst, the mechanism that destiny has decreed shall instigate the return and convergence of the Asurya. Terra? The Farseer echoed, incredulity heavy in her voice. Qah nodded. Yes. The time has come, Eldar, for the races of this galaxy to dispel the hostilities and hatred that has kept them alienated from one another. No longer can any of us afford to hate through difference and racial distinction. You were all created for a purpose, and you all are more similar than you would willingly acknowledge. There is no more room to fight for dominance amongst these stars. It is time to come together, to fight against the predations of the most ancient enemy. The Rhana Dandra is upon us. Qah did not wait for an answer. Watched by the warhost of Biel-tan, he spun on his heel and walked back towards the gateway, his time on the Craftworld at and end. The webway gate erupted, swallowed him whole, and then died away to nothing. Qah was gone. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Ventris started. Golden armoured bodies hurried past, the lights of the chamber glinting off polished armour. He sensed the pervasive air of anxiety that saturated the vast space and rose, feeling his dual heart

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rate quicken. What is happening? He called out to the passing Custodes. None of the warriors paused to reply. He rose from his prone position, as surprised by the fact that he had succumbed to fatigue as he was at the sudden furore. The sense of panic was unmistakable. He quickly gathered his meagre belongings and started out to join the passing hordes. Over by the vast gates he could see a great deal of activity. Custodes milled about the mighty entryway, assisted by the towering Gatekeepers in what appeared to be the construction of barricades and defences. Far beyond him, at the far end of the throne room, he could not even make out the vast Golden Throne of the Emperor. The shifting sea of bodies there was too great. I wish to help. He said, catching one of the warriors by the arm. Tell me what is happening and what I can do, I implore you. The Custode turned his gaze to Ventris, and when he did so the Ancient drew back. The warriors eyes were wide and anxious, as if he held great fear in his heart. Ventris knew this was impossible, as Custodes did not fear. He has unleashed them. The warrior said, his voice strained and unsteady. Achosyx, the idiot. He has unleashed the Damned Sons. The forgotten brothers have risen, and our Emperor is no longer safe. II dont understand. What do you mean Of course you dont understand, Astarte. You were never meant to. They should have died, he should have killed them, but he could not. If you want to live through this, if the Emperor is to survive this, then assist with the defences. Ventris released his grip and allowed the Custode to rejoin his brethren. His head spun with the madness of the scene, with endless questions he knew he could not answer alone. Whoever these Damned Sons were, they invoked dread in even the indomitable Custodes. This was far from good. He had to find Dorn. He had to understand what this meant, and what would happen. +++ My Emperor, preserve me Thor backed away, almost stumbling and falling. He caught himself in time, finding purchase against a cogitator bank. The creatures poured into the war chamber, terrible, irresistible and unafraid. Sisters and Crusaders fell before their advance, torn to pieces by inhuman claws, weapons that seemed to defy even power armour. They were so fast, fast enough be little more than things of fluid, glistening chitin with bulbous snapping heads. As they advanced they did so with their bodies low, claws raking the guts from their foes. He felt cold steel press against his back and knew that there was nowhere left to retreat. His laspistol whined as it snapped off round after round, sending lances of burning light into the advancing aliens. One or two shots found their mark, stabbing through the flexible joints in between the natural armour of the beasts. Most simply bounced redundantly off the thick chitin. Thor soon cast the spent pistol into the melee and unclipped the golden Aquila-headed mace from his belt. He activated the ancient weapon and readied himself, sure in the grim knowledge that his end was near.

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So fast. The Unity had thundered its way through Saturns defences far swifter than he would have dared imagine. He dearly wished that he could have understood how this had happened before he met his end, but he knew that this question would go forever unanswered. Every defence, every tactic, they had countered and beaten with unnatural swiftness. Now they were here, right at the heart of the defences, about to end his life. He did not fear death, for he had met his end once before. He did not fear it because he knew that he would come face to face with his Emperor once again. His only fear was failure, and that concept terrified him. He called aloud his Emperors name and swung the mace, the blow shearing the arms and face from a leaping foe. The creature came apart and crashed into the control banks around him, alien ichors spattering against his robes. He pushed himself back up and gasped as he spied another hurtling body. He threw himself down and the creature crashed into the screens above him, the resultant collision showering him with sparks. Sickly green energies erupted all about him, shafts of blinding light that tore through alien and human alike, with seemingly no distinction between the two. Thor fell to his haunches and rounded the corner of the nearest bank, sparks and shrapnel whickering about him. As he glanced from behind his cover his breath caught in his throat. Robotic figures clad in gleaming white armour plate flooded into the chamber, annihilating all before them. Their terrible weapons projected beams of energy that tore through armour like paper. He witnessed one of the attackers swing its crackling scythe through the shield of a Crusader and cleave the warrior in two, his desperate defence offering no protection whatsoever. His stomach tightened then, sending a wave of nausea through him powerful enough to cause him to drop his weapon. His head began to spin, as if the very presence of the new and mysterious arrivals was anathema to him, to all of them. My Emperor, give me strength He gasped, falling onto his behind. I pray to you, give us more time. Dont let it end so soon The loping alien creatures turned on their new foes, hissing and snarling to one another as if in feral communication. The metallic warriors were undaunted by the presence of the beasts, and stood fast as the pack redirected its collective attention onto them. Emerald light erupted from a host of weapons to mow the six-limbed fiends down, and for a second it looked as if the beasts would meet a swift and violent death. One of the creatures leapt past the steadfast defence and slammed into one of the white warriors, bowling it back. It lunged its bestial head forward and bit at the armoured neck of its foe, a second before its efforts saw it torn in two. Even as the remains of the beast fell away it opponent staggered back, emitting a low, mechanical cry of pain or distress. It began to clutch at its head, the dark jewel set there pulsing with hazy power. It seemed to be fighting the effects of something. Thor saw all this and tore his gaze away, vomit erupting from his mouth. All around him, driving through his skull and into his brain, the cacophony of the desperate battle intensified still. +++ What is this?

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Patience. All will be revealed soon. Prepare yourself, Codian. Prepare yourself to see the truth of the secret war. We are almost there. Almost where? What is thisthis limbo? Enough questions, Chaplain. Have faith. Remember, the most important thing is to witness, and remember. That is all I ask. That is your role. I do not understand. Not yet. But you will. The scream hit him first. His every nerve, his every fibre railed at it, as if reacting to something utterly iminicable to existence. It was not a scream issued from any living thing, sentient or otherwise. It was the sound of the universe itself screaming, screaming in pain and rage at the unnatural forces assailing it, defying its very laws of existence. And then he was standing once again; he existed once again, though he was far from where he had stood a second or two before. He knew that straight away, without any pause or hesitation, as if he could feel as much in his bones. He couldnt explain how he knew this, only that he knew it to be absolute, irrefutable fact. This is destiny, Codian. You will learn that. He blinked, only recognising the armoured figure as he did so. The wizened, sunken face of Centurius stared back, his black eyes burning with unknown power. He shifted his gaze and nodded out towards the tumult beyond. See, Chaplain. Understand. Remember, for this is but the beginning. At that the mysterious Astarte cast around and charged into the fracas. Codian started, realising at once that they had emerged into what appeared to be a frenzied battle, the sights and sounds of the conflict seeping into his sense moments later. He felt his warrior instincts kick in seconds before his mind began to process the information. Adrenaline flooded his body, sharpening his reactions and alertness. Sound became instantly sharper, more defined, easier to discern. His eyes darted left and right, gathering snapshot information of the circumstances. Armoured figures were charging towards him, weapons blazing. His instincts recognised the fact that he was not wearing his helm and kicked in, instantly stimulating his neuroglottis. Taste-scent flooded the organ, and he immediately recognised the enemy for what they were, a heartbeat before his vision confirmed this. Tau. He tore his bolt pistol free and armed it in one fluid motion. Bolts hammered free of the weapon and smashed into the advancing xenos warriors. Tau lurched back amid clouds of blood-spray, arms and legs flailing. Pulse fire seared past him, slamming against his armour at several points. He staggered back, fighting to counter the brute force of the powerful blasts, feeling the searing azure energies burn the exposed flesh of his face. He threw himself forward and down, twisting around the return fire. The smooth oval corridor split into three

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sections here, providing him with a number of cover choices. It was as he chose his cover that he came to realise the truth about his current location. This was a xenos ship. He was onboard a Tau vessel. Tau began to flood the tunnel he had just exited, accompanied by a growing number of hovering armed drones. Pulse fire zipped and panged all around him, scathing the curved white walls. He thrust his arm out and emptied his clip, only to have the pistol almost torn from his grasp by the return fire. The Dawnblade writhed in his grasp, agitated by the presence of the enemy. He could feel a tingling where the enemy had struck him about the armour, and a quick glance confirmed his suspicions. The damage his armour had sustained was re-knitting itself. He felt a strange dual pressure both in his mind and at the centre of his body, as if the energies used to achieve this were being drawn through him. Chaplain! The voice tore him from his reverie and he cast around in time to see a number of armoured figures charging down the opposing corridor behind him. Weapons fire flashed and he threw himself back against the walls, his instincts telling him that there was nothing else he could do. Ready to meet his end if need be, he gripped the Dawnblade tight and prepared to fight to his last breath. The charging tide of black and white armour hurtled by him, the collective battle cry of the warriors shaking the bulkheads around him. Astartes He whispered, watching as the Marines smashed into the advancing Tau with unremitting fury, seemingly ignorant of the pulse fire flashing their way. They were Astartes. A slow recognition seeped into his mind as he regarded the markings and symbols upon the power armour of the warriors. Black Templars. He had met their kind once before, long ago, during the Eluxor Rim campaign. The Templars were star-roaming zealots, fierce and indefatigable. They were crusaders, who lived, recruited and died amongst the stars. A tremendous explosion shook him from his feet, flames and debris assailing his armour. He hauled himself back up and looked out to where the Marines had been fighting. There was nothing to be seen except for fire and ruination. Codian knew without a doubt that the Marines were dead to a man. Not even power armour could withstand such a fearsome explosive blast. He reloaded his pistol quickly and set off down the corridor, following the sounds of battle. Within seconds he met the enemy again. A small, depleted squad of Fire Warriors charged from a side tunnel, clearly fleeing some unseen enemy. He swung around and blasted the first alien clear off his feet. Even as the other Tau responded to the attack Codian was already into them, swinging his arm from side to side in huge, sweeping strokes. The crackling crozius proved hideously effective at such close quarters, so much so that the Tau were reduced to a ruin of blood, flesh and armour fragments within seconds. By the time he brought his arm down, every one of the aliens were dead. Not again. He snarled, casting his gaze about him. Centurius! Do you hear me! I cannot keep fighting these disconnected wars! Why have you brought me here? Answer me! To learn, Codian. To witness, to remember. The ethereal voice caused him to start, and he looked out into the smoky corridor before him in time to see a dark shape move beyond eyesight.

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I will have answers, phantom. He uttered.

Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen: Saturn's Fall

Sebastian Thor prayed to his Emperor, for he knew he would not see this day out alive. The two alien forces tore into one another with an unmatchable fury. Crusaders and Sororitas fought in vain to gain control of the dire situation, but for all their effort, the dwindling forces of the Imperium were losing out. He scrambled to his feet and snatched up his weapon, taking advantage of the momentary distraction. He retreated, rounding the console bank in an attempt to move out of the way of a bouncing xenos torso. Despite losing its legs and waist, the alien still writhed and flailed, inhuman claws raking the air for him. Thor drew back and smashed the creatures skull in, ending its fight for existence. A small number of navy personnel pushed past him then, offering fleeting apologies as they passed, navy-issue autopistols to hand and ready to defend them to the last. He recognised the two Solar Admirals, Berrassus and Oberol, their once immaculate dark blue uniforms now tattered and ruined, and trailing medals and battle honours like jewellery chains behind them. Both men gave a valiant account of themselves at the end. Men who had commanded entire Segmentum fleets in the war against the Unity. Men who held power undreamt of, power immense enough that it could not be calculated. Both men died within a second of one another, torn to shreds by the pitiless white warriors. Such was the finality of his situation, Thor fleetingly contemplated, vaulting behind cover once again. Emerald beams of burning death punched through the brass panelling beside him, tearing metallic shards free of the boards like glittering dust. He rolled away as the beams quested to end his life, escaping death by a hairs breadth again and again. A flailing Sororitas crashed down beside him, her left arm and a good portion of her shoulder utterly disintegrated. Mouthing a silent prayer he rose and sprinted across the chamber, dodging more enemy fire as he went. Through the tumult and chaos he spied a number of armed navy personnel charging into the chamber, shotguns blazing. For the briefest of moments he actually considered the possibility of escape. He headed out towards the open hatch, praying inwardly that this was a miracle, a gift granted by The Emperor Himself. He was not a selfish man, and he did not fear his own death, but he knew that the enemy would doubtless use it as a weapon of propaganda. He knew from his own intelligence network that the Tau intended to take him alive, though he did not dare to consider the reasons why. He had heard stories of the greatest of heroes, men and women far greater than he could ever be, corrupted body and soul by the insidious ways of the Unity. He could not allow that. He could not allow the Tau to take him. He glanced to one side in time to see Inquisitor Lord Cshieron fall. The bombastic woman met her end as she immolated the advancing warriors one after another with her mind, only to fall screaming as one of the wicked scythes cut her in two. He turned away from the grim scene and concentrated on heading for the exit. As he did so, he caught a fleeting glimpse of something dark and hazy exploding behind him. He passed into a long corridor lined with many vast viewing bays on one side. The carnage beyond was

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enough to slow his flight, enough to agitate the bile in his stomach. Ships of every size imaginable saturated the void beyond, filling the vista as far as the eye could see. Battleships and Grand Cruisers blazed with destructive power enough to level cities. Facing them were the ships of the Unity, and against these monstrous Leviathans even the most powerful Imperial ships paled. Columns of ion cannon fire speared into the Imperial ships, punching holes through metres of armour plate. Void shields stuttered and died almost inexplicably, allowing the questing beams and torpedoes of the enemy fleet to annihilate their targets. Everywhere he looked, Imperial ships and defence platforms were falling to the guns of the Unity. The scale of death and destruction was immeasurable, and he swore that he witnessed more than a few stricken craft explode of their own accord, suffering no visible damage. Ecclesiarch! He pulled himself away from the grim view beyond and looked out to see a number of figures hurrying towards him. They were soon revealed to be a Confessor and his small Ecclesiarchy retinue, and were accompanied by several members of the Mechanicus. As he approached, Thor could see that the Confessors eyes were wide and fearful, his face flushed. My lord Thor, we are betrayed! The enemy have somehow managed to corrupt elements of the defence force! Thor hurried to meet with the small group, allowing himself a cautious glance behind him. Whatwhat do you mean? Lord, there is treachery abroad. The Confessor gasped, his exertions leaving him breathless. The man was covered in blood and viscera, and it was clear that he had seen much death and violence. These traitors have revealed themselves in the wake of the Unitys attack. Systems are overloading across the fleet and even in the defence ring. We are assailed from within as well as without, Ecclesiarch. We cannot win this Thor placed a hand upon the mans shoulder, as much to steady himself in the wake of the horrifying news as to reassure the Confessor. The accompanying Mechanicus adepts regarded Thor with cursory greetings, though it was clear that their collective attention was focused on the battle raging beyond the screens. We have to leave. Thor said, glancing back towards the chaos of the war chamber. The enemy seek to take me, to subvert me to their cause. Macharius. The Confessor uttered, his voice low. Thor nodded. He was not the only figurehead of the Imperium to have been resurrected by the mysterious Afriel Project. Macharius had commanded the forces of the Imperium at the start of the Unity wars. Until Cadia. Until the betrayal that had seen the near dissolution of the Imperium. He would never allow another event like the Cadian Schism. The Confessor conveyed his understanding and took Thor by the arm. This way, lord. We will do everything within our power to protect you, and know that, if the necessity does arise, we will not allow the enemy to take you alive. With that the Confessor turned, a steely determination hardening his features. The las-blast punched clean

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through his face at such close range, making a bloody ruin of his head. The Confessors retinue sprang into action, instinct suffocating the shock within them. Weapons and pistols were only partially drawn before the attentions of the Mechanicus adepts saw them put to death. Thor lunged forward and swept the head from one of the traitorous priests, his return stroke taking the arm from the shoulder of another. A searing las-blast punched through his shoulder, shock and pain causing him to lose his grip on the weapon. He fell to the floor, pain lancing through his wound. He heard his weapon skid across the deck behind him, where it came to an abrupt stop. You will come with us, Ecclesiarch. One of the priests said. You will serve the Unity. At that the adept stepped forward and made to haul him to his feet. Thor spat in the face of the adept, his pale features twisting in disgust. Vile traitors. There is nothing so abhorrent than a defector. You shall suffer His wrath. You will all suffer Shut up, fool. The adept replied coldly, not a hint of regret in his expression. You have no idea how deeply the so-called Alliance is infected with our kind. If you did you would take your own life here and now, through despair. Believe me, Ecclesiarch, in time you will learn that your destiny cannot be altered. You will serve, for you have little choice. Snake-like extremities unfurled from beneath his robes to wrap themselves around Thors arms. Then the adept paused, a look of concern crossing his scarred face. As one, the treacherous adepts glanced up and behind him. Thor shivered, feeling the dark presence seconds before he turned. Above him, a pair of inhuman, emerald eyes stared back. I will not serve the enemy. He uttered, defiant in the face of the unknown automaton. Then, much to his surprise, the thing replied. +You are correct, flesh-thing. You will not.+ The last thing Sebastian Thor saw was a flash of brilliant green energy. A heartbeat later, his life was ended. +++ Berolinus screamed into being once again, the dark xenos technologies disgorging him into the bowels of whatever new location he found himself in. He willed his vision to fully return and his stomach to cease in its protests as he became aware of his surroundings. Guilliman was already on the move, a vast blue blur charging across the chamber. The Primarchs voice was loud and thunderous, his words partially obscured by the ringing in the Ultramarines ears. Deploy Matrix drain! Guilliman commanded. Berolinus had no idea what the Primarch meant, or even who he was talking to. None of the others responded to his lords command, a fact that quickly told him that it must have been an order intended to be followed by some external force, part of the fleet. Whatever Berolinus had been expecting, it was far from what he encountered here in what he surmised to be the command chamber of the Saturn defence force. He caught sight of tall, armoured beings wielding terrible bladed weapons, weapons that spat beams of green light powerful; enough to strip a man to bone in seconds.

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Guilliman was into these unknown fiends faster than any of them could respond to. EMP grenades ready! The Primarch commanded. Take them down! Berolinus glanced at his belt and quickly realised that Guilliman meant the curious explosives hanging from the bandolier each of them had been given. He had not expected this, and so didnt have a hand free. Guilliman, however, was ready. He swung Agiselus and cleft the first of the enemy warriors in two. At the same time he armed one of the devices and jammed it into the metal ribs of another. The machination staggered back, stunned by the power of the blow but far from incapacitated. Then the grenade lodged in its ribs exploded and sent it to the floor, a convulsing ruin. Berolinus charged into the fray, his bolter roaring. He raised his chainsword and prepared to swing it, only to hesitate at the very last moment. A spike of panic and nausea lanced through him, from his stomach to his mind. it was as if the very presence of the machines was inimical to him, and he had to fight his own instincts in order to push forward. The others surged after the Primarch, and it soon became clear to Berolinus that the Marines greatly outnumbered the mysterious machines. Despite this he watched as almost the entire first wave fell in seconds, reaped by the terrible weapons of the enemy. The long glowing blades passed through power armour as if it were nothing, insubstantial. Hydrion avoided death by inches as the Marines before him fell, a mess of parted body parts and armour. The commander spun on his heel and ducked low, sweeping his power sword out to take the head of one of the fiends. The metallic extremity rang as it bounced away, and Hydrion sidestepped the falling body, allowing it to crash down with a heavy thud. Guilliman lurched back and kicked out, smashing the heel of his boot into the chest of another warrior. The machine flew back, its arms flailing, bowling several others aside. Thor! Find me Thor! He raged, searching the carnage about him for any sign of the Imperial commander. Berolinus finally joined the fray. He leapt the last few metres and smashed his screaming blade into the neck of an enemy warrior. The thing reeled back, sparks spilling from the wound, but did not fall. He found himself leaning back as he avoided the retaliatory strike, almost losing his head. The machines werent the fastest but the were powerful and difficult to take down. He looked on as one of the warriors bore the full brunt of Guillimans martial might, catching a lunging thrust through the chest. The Primarch withdrew his blade and stepped back, only to have to dodge the enemys swinging scythe. Guilliman twisted at the waist and swung his sword out, taking his opponents head. From what Berolinus had seen, this seemed to be the only sure way to kill them outright. The Primarch drew his blade back and took up a defensive position. He regarded the metal bodies around him, his eyes narrowing. Whatever these things are, they are not Necrontyr. They fight differently. They die differently. They have made no attempt to phase out Whatever else he had intended to say was never said, as he soon found himself the centre of enemy attention. One of the enemy swept the haft of its scythe out and struck him across the back of the head, the blow powerful enough to sway him. Berolinus lifted his bolter one-handed and fired, shattering the things forehead. It fell immediately, its limbs convulsing. He rushed forward to check on the welfare of his Primarch but soon slowed, watching as Guilliman rose again, stunned but unharmed.

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He was about to speak when a cry seized his attention. Another brace of Marines fell, bisected by the blades of the rising enemy. At least three of the machines that had previously been thought defeated were rising again, ignoring the horrendous wounds they had sustained. He had heard stories of a race of xenos automatons known as the Necrons, unliving fiends who were able to regenerate any damage, but these things were different. They didnt regenerate, but neither did they seem to accept defeat, even after suffering the most horrendous injuries. Hold them fast! Guilliman commanded, smashing one of the enemy to the floor with the back of his fist. Thor must be found! Every second we waste here is a second closer to defeat! I will go after Thor, follow me when you have finished here and not a moment before! Before he could respond Berolinus watched as the Primarch sprinted through the carnage and out towards the far exit, soon disappearing through the opening. Berolinus felt his hearts shudder as he watched Guillimans departure. He could not allow the Primarch to face whatever may lie ahead alone, no matter Guillimans orders. He took a step forward, readying himself to follow, when the voice spoke to him. Dont be a fool. He is out of sight now. Unleash me. Unleash me and together we can scour this filth from our sight. Be quiet. He whispered through bared teeth, dismissing the voice. All this filth. The insidious presence continued, its tone derisive and malevolent. Berolinus paused, and looked to Hydrion and his men. Then smiled. +++ Guilliman rounded the corner and skidded to a halt, the soles of his armoured feet scraping away the polished finish of the surface. The broken, leaking sack of viscera lying on the floor had been Sebastian Thor, he knew that the moment his eyes fell upon it. Other broken bodies lined the corridor, including a number of Mechanicus adepts. His gaze rose slowly to meet the tall, skeletal figure standing over the dead Ecclesiarch, its unliving eyes shining with emerald malevolence. No He whispered, unwilling to accept that he had arrived minutes too late. What is this travesty? +Destiny, puppet.+ The gleaming automaton replied, sweeping its cloak out and over its slender form. +The balance must be kept if my masters myriad plans. Your Unity is powerful enough to suffice. With Thor, you would have grown too powerful, too quickly. He could not allow that.+ Guilliman raised his sword and took a cautious step forward. He had fought the Necrontyr too many times to leave himself ignorant of their ancient power. We needed Thor alive, foul thing. You have +I have done what needed to be done. Take your victory here and move on, puppet. The master has no desire to see you dead yet. Had he wanted that, I would have ended your existence long ago.+

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With that the Necron looked out past Guilliman to where the sounds of frenzied battle filtered through from the war chamber, and then looked back to the Primarch. With that the being raised his hand and a veil of utter darkness fell over the entire corridor. Seconds later the cold void cleared, and the machine was gone. An angered snarl spread across the Primarchs face. He turned back towards the war chamber and raised a finger to his throat. Guilliman here. Inform Fio command that heads will roll upon my return. The supposedly failsafe Matrix drain seems to have malfunctioned. No, the target was not acquired. I will inform the honoured AunVa of this unfortunate fact personally. Guilliman out. With that, the Primarch raised his sword once more and sprinted down the corridor, back towards the war room. As he did so his features were lit by the fires of a thousand ships beyond, as if the firmament itself were aflame. The war for Saturn was over. It had been the moment the Grey Knights fell at Caris Estarus. He had known that all along. He had known that the defenders of Saturn had held little chance of victory. The enlightened of the Mechanicus had seen to that. Without the help of the thousands of Techpriests and adepts involved, this war could have lasted years. Thanks to the wholesale sabotage they had orchestrated, it had lasted days. Despite the unprecedented success of the war, he could not feel elation at the victory. The prize was gone, Thor was dead. This meant that AunVas far-reaching plans would be greatly affected, and this did not bode well. He would not take the news kindly. Guilliman charged into the war chamber, his sword held above his head, only to came to a pause once again. The fires of rage that burned in his black eyes died away, astonishment suffocating them. The white-armoured warriors were finished. What remained of they lay scattered about the chamber in cooling heaps, spitting sparks and leaking dark fluids. So too were his Marines. Power armoured corpses lined the vast space as far as they eye could see. It was a scene of utter carnage. Hydrion and his warriors were all dead, reduced to heaps of bloodied flesh and armour. My Primarch. Guilliman looked to the last remaining figure standing at the centre of the chaotic slaughter. Literally caked from head to toe in viscera and smoke-soot, the Astartes eyes twinkled with elation. As he spoke, his breath came in short bursts, partly through exertion, and partly through excitement. The enemy, my lord. Their prowess was great. Our armour could not withstand their blades. Guilliman walked slowly over to Berolinus, his eyes narrow. He did not lower his sword. As he neared the Ultramarine cast his weapons aside, his chainsword and a smouldering power sword liberated from one of the dead Marines, and lowered himself on to one knee. It seems that you are a great warrior, Berolinus. I was right to take you as my ward. I live but to serve you, my Primarch. Berolinus replied. Unseen by Guilliman, a wide smile spread slowly across his face, creasing the network of faint scars beneath his skin.

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Chapter One Hundred and Twenty: Truth

Codian ducked low and returned fire, punching Tau off their feet with each bolt unleashed. Pulse fire spattered off his armour, repelled for the most part by the protective powers of his rosarius. Despite the amulets potent abilities the powerful blasts were not fully negated, only weakened. He braced himself against the relentless concussive force, unwilling to allow the concentrated fire to bring him low. Within moments his clip ran dry, expelling its last bolt, and he lowered the pistol, knowing that he did not have time to change it. Luckily, his plight was answered within the space of a few seconds. Black Templars charged around the corner and into the Fire Warrior squad. The zealous Marines mowed the Tau down, trampling those they did not shoot, and ending the xenos threat swiftly. Codian nodded his thanks and made off in the opposite direction, passing the Templars as he did so. as he neared the end of the corridor there was another huge explosion from behind him. He did not falter or look back, for he knew in his heart the fate of the warriors. Centurius! He called, his pace quickening into a sprint. Enough of this! I will not fight this war, do you hear me? He passed by the broken bodies of Templars, the dead warriors lining the corridor before and around him. If any part of him felt loss at witnessing the bodies, it did not show. He had to find the mysterious Astarte. He had to uncover the truth behind the terrible artefact in his possession, and why he had been brought here. He rounded the corner and slowed, assessing the corridor beyond. Satisfied that he was safe, he ejected his spent clip and proceeded to replace it. There were bodies on the floor here. Templar bodies. He reloaded his weapon and then started forward cautiously, in order to check the fallen warriors for signs of life. They were all dead; this much was confirmed by only the most cursory of glances. The power armour of the Marines had been torn open, punctured in dozens of places by what appeared to be powerful, high-rate fire. There was no sign of who had attacked them here, and no enemy dead. The Dawnblade began to quiver in his grasp, alerting him to the approach of danger. He twisted quickly, taking in his immediate surroundings. Nothing. The first round of shots snapped his head back, the bright pulse energy filling his vision. The rosarius field spat and hummed as it negated the assault, barely able to repel the powerful blasts. He slammed against the wall and dropped, rolling beneath the fire that followed. The smooth walls shattered beneath the onslaught, the burning rounds boring through the smooth surface. A fleeting glimpse was all he needed to discern the direction of the attack. He caught sight of the cycling fire as it erupted from the empty air, raised his pistol, and fired. A voice cried out in pain and the trajectory of the bright pulse fire shifted, peppering the curved ceiling. A shape blinked in and out of view, then shivered, little more than a dark outline. In less than a second his formerly invisible opponent crashed face-first into the ground, reality receding around its armoured form to reveal the insidious presence beneath. Stealth technology. Codian sprang forward, firing as he went, whilst at the same time weathering a deluge of return fire. He unleashed another brace of rounds, but by the time the second bolt had left the barrel, the

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protesting of his rosariuss power unit had rose to a guttural snarl. The Dawnblade literally writhed in his hand, swelling and pulsing again and again; absorbing what damage the field could not counter. The moment lasted less than a second, a brief blink in time. His senses heightened as they were, his mind ablaze, Codian knew that in any other situation, he would already be dead. The sheer weight of physical punishment bearing down on him was immense, enough to fell the hardiest warrior. Somehow he was still alive. He would not waste that. The hilt of the Dawnblade swelled in his palm, a sentient pulse of warning. He swung the weapon out and felt it cleave through solid armour, and knew straight away that he had dealt a killing blow. He swung again and again, and then at the behest of some instinctive urge implanted into his mind he drove his elbow back. Something heavy rang against his armour and smashed into the wall, sparks showering over his helm and past his visor. A swift turn, a thrust, and another enemy fell, bisected. More pulse rounds hammered into his back. He drove his heels into the ground and launched himself back, crushing his assailant against the wall. The protective power of the Dawnblade spread through him, a warm and tingling sensation that heightened his senses as well as preserved his health. Outlines pulsed before his eyes, secret glimpses of the hidden enemy. Though he barely understood the ancient xenos weapon, a part of him understood that it was the energies of other enigmatic forces that were aiding and protecting him. There were scores of Tau infiltrators before him, hidden from mortal view but not from the Dawnblade. More of the warriors spilled from side tunnels and access ways, attracted by the clamour of battle. He started forward, realising at that moment that there was nothing else he could do. To run would be suicide, and worse, dishonourable. He fired indiscriminately into the approaching aliens, knowing that accuracy was not needed here. As he bore on he weathered the return fire as best he could, willing each second to roll over into the next, and the next, and see himself still alive. Still defiant. He swung the living crozius again and again, feeling the pressure in his soul as the presence trapped within surged to the surface with each blow to devour the flesh and the spirit of each victim. A shot rang against his shoulder guard. Another hammered into his chest. A third scored his neck, bypassing the still-charging field, and he gasped, feeling the flesh and armour there disintegrate. Within moments both the wound and the armour had healed, but as they did so he felt a fatigue fall over him, injecting stiffness into his limbs, as if his soul somehow reimbursed the energies utilized in the regeneration. He staggered, strength leeching from him, only to have his descent arrested. He cast around to see a power-armoured hand wrapped around his arm, steadying him. His gaze rose up to the skeletal visor of his saviour. He protects. The ghostly warrior uttered, his voice dark as the void and as cold as ice, enough to numb the core of the mind. The Marine rose sharply and fired his ancient bolter with one hand, decimating those closest to them. Codian pushed himself up and twisted as the familiar and thunderous bark of heavy bolter fire hammered in his ears. Another of the ethereal warriors stepped as if from nowhere to shatter the invisible Tau, swiftly painting the bright corridor in sticky cyan blood and viscera. Codian steadied himself as he tried to make sense of what was happening. It felt for all the world like the atmosphere was thick, like mist or smog, and yet he knew that this could not be. For a start, the air seemed clear, if not dank and gloomy. Second, none of his superhuman senses had picked up anything out of the ordinary.

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It was a phenomenon that biology could not understand, or even accept as possible. And yet he knew without a doubt that it was more than imagination. Darkness filled his vision then and he felt himself being pushed back. The spectre stepped in front of him and shivered, pulse fire lancing into him. Glowing red vision slits met his gaze as the warrior regarded him in silence, showing no indication that he had received clearly fatal injuries. Another round of enemy fire took his head away, shattering his helm into whickering fragments. Dark hazy smog erupted from the wound in place of blood, and the Marine fell, only to unravel and disappear. Codian watched this unfold in disbelief and stepped back, his mind reeling. The mysterious Astartes had appeared as if from nowhere to meet the Tau, and they did so with neither hesitation nor fear. Several of the ghostly warriors fell after sustaining wounds that would have felled other Marines five times over; only to dissipate in the same manner as deactivated holo-projections. Stunned by the ferocity of the attack, the Tau began to retreat. The first of them had taken only a few steps back when he screamed and fell to his knees, the stealth field that had kept him hidden dying away. Centurius charged through the enemy, the terrible skull held aloft. He thrust the object from left to right and Tau fell before it, screaming in agony. Iridescent energies curled from the victims and billowed into the skull, leaving the armoured bodies of the enemy slack and desiccated. He started then, as another of the phantom Astartes formed from the very air beside him and stepped out into the melee, his bolter chattering. Codian recognised him from his individual markings as the warrior who had saved him, although he could not understand how the Marine had been resurrected. Codian. The apparition called, carving through the enemy ranks towards him. Do you begin to see? Let your instincts take over, Chaplain. Let the racial memory locked deep within you rise to the surface. See the truth. Remember it. I have seen many things, phantom. My heart cannot validate any of it. My mind screams in denial. I cannot Centurius thundered through the dwindling Tau warriors and thrust the skull at him. Codian reeled back, assailed by the unknown and horrific forces generated by its presence. You can, Chaplain, and you will. See what has been hidden from all of us. The last thing he caught sight of was the dreadful empty gaze of the skull. The black void inside the empty sockets looked to grow, ensnaring his attention. He could not resist. He could not pull away. Everything around him began to grow dark Darkness. Light. His eyes struggled to make sense of the haze before them, fluid and indistinct, as if he were peering through murky water. A glittering gold filled his vision, soft and cloudy at first, but taking on sharpness with the passing of each second. Sound returned to him, albeit slowly. Low and deep and muffled, he nonetheless recognised voices, and behind them, an underlying current of rumbling, ever-present conflict. War. Always war.

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A sense of profound humility descended upon him, heavy and all encompassing. He knew, instinctively, what this was, long before his eyes and ears adjusted to the vision. He knew, and he could do nothing except look on, and watch, as history unfolded. Again. Lies. He whispered, unable to allow himself to accept what he was seeing. This isthis is wrong. I shouldnt be here. I shouldnt see this. Lies Lies. The towering abomination before him echoed the word, but where Codians rebuke had been whispered and cautious, the fiends strident voice shook the walls of the corrupt chamber. The Chaplain stared at the figure in utter disbelief, repulsed by the pallid skin and wide-set eyes, yet at the same time unable to tear his gaze away. Codian knew him, despite the fact that he had never laid eyes on the individual in his life. His every cell screamed in recognition, just as his senses railed at the sight. That face. That terrible face, twisted and changed by powers he dare not contemplate, but for all the ruination still recognisable. A demi-god, a monster, clad in corrupt black and gold Terminator armour. He swept back his trailing cloak of matted fur with one huge talon and stepped forward, the deck creaking beneath his vast weight. Liar. He growled, his altered eyes blazing with unknown and terrifying power. You are a liar and a bastard. You have betrayed us all. Codians dual pulse quickened, and his limbs shook. For the first time in his life he felt that which an Astarte could not, should not feel. I am not the betrayer, Horus. I am not the one who has fallen so far from grace. You are not their champion as you think. You are their puppet. Their slave. Codian cast around and reeled back, his mind near exploding. The towering golden armoured being filled his vision, igniting his every sense and almost stopping the beating of his hearts. Imperator. He breathed, hardly daring to utter the word. The magnificent being raised the tip of his flaming sword out towards the armoured chest of his abominable counterpart. What have you done? What carnage have you wrought here. You were my son, Horus, my greatest hope, and yet you gave in to weakness. Codian backed away, stumbling in absolute astonishment. The Dawnblade writhed with spastic agitation, forming and reforming, taking on indistinct shapes. Weak? Horus raged, the iridescent power behind the skin of his face burning coldly in empathy with his anger. Dont you dare accuse me of weakness! You look upon me as an abomination, you accuse me of being a pawn, but for the first time in my existence, I am free. I am free of you, and the lies that have ruled my existence. No more. I will suffer this deceit no more. The gods of the warp have opened my eyes to the truth, impostor. Codian paled as the Emperor of mankind advanced, his bronzed and flawless features flaring with an opposing inner light as he gave his rebuke.

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Fool! Do you not see what they have done? He asked, raising both his flaming sword and his own terrible talon-fingered gauntlet as if in readiness to meet his son in combat. They have shown you exactly what they needed to, only to secure their hold on your soul. They have brought ruination to this glorious Imperium Your Imperium. Your lie. What are we, all of us, but pawns in this, your galactic design. You have betrayed me, and I shall never forgive you for that. Codian cast around and hurled himself from the steps of the raised dais as the two leviathans met in combat then, the resultant clash filling the chamber with light and noise. He landed and sprinted away from the conflict, until he was sure he was at a safe distance. At that he came to rest against the walls and cast around, unable to keep his gaze away from the warring legends. You should have told me! You should have revealed the truth! Horus raged, raking his talon across the burning sword of the immortal one. We are nothing! All this, the wars we have fought, the worlds we have conquered in your name! All of it means nothing! I have seen the Great Enemy with my own eyes! I have seen the ancient legacy! You should have trusted me, but you could not! I hate you for that! I will tear your spine out and wear your head at my belt, and my hatred of you will never be sated! Horus landed a blow powerful enough to punch a hole through the armour of a Land Raider. Dark energies flared around his outsized fist as he punched his opponent in the chest, causing him to reel back. The Emperors plight ended as soon as it had begun. He straightened immediately and slowed, the brutal power of the blow dissipating around him at the will of his unmatchable mind. He swung his sword and struck the fallen Warmaster across the chest, cleaving the huge bestial eye set into his armour there in two. Hear me! Could my greatest son truly be so ignorant..? Son! Horus screamed, lunging for the Emperor. Never call me that again! I am no son to xenos scum, and I will not sustain the untruth! They believed in you, and you cast them down! You abandoned them because of their origins! My brothers, your sons! Would you have done the same with me, given time? You call me a fool, but I was not willing to take that chance! I have seen the only true power able to counter the darkness of the future, and it lies within the warp! You are nothing! You are a shadow, an abomination, and I will end your existence once and for all! Horus bounded over the winged corpse at his feet and lunged at his opponent, his fury a living and palpable force around him. Codian at last managed to turn his gaze away and closed his eyes, willing the vision to end. He had seen too much. He had seen both the birth and the death of his existence, of his reason for being. He could suffer no more. Take me back, Centurius. He whispered, sinking to the deck. Take me back +++ His reflection. He recognised the face staring back at him from the flawless flat expanse of the blade. All the scars he could see were his own, and of the mysterious markings that had disfigured him earlier, there was no sign. Berolinus ran the oiled cloth over the blade of his newly acquired sabre once again and then glanced over his shoulder, sensing his Primarchs approach.

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The eyes of the Primarch bored into him with an intensity far belying his silence. He sensed the unspoken questions behind Guillimans eyes and placed the sword upon the desk before him. My lord, does something trouble you? Guilliman did not reply promptly. He circled the seated warrior, his hand resting upon the pommel of his sword. Berolinus began to feel uneasy, though he ensured that he did not show it. Guilliman paced around him, traversing the diameter of the simple desk, and then slowed. We are successful. As we speak, the few remaining pockets of resistance are being dealt with. Saturn is no longer a threat. Berolinus thought back to the weeks of intense fighting and found it hard to empathise with his Primarch. The rigours he had experienced here had been far from simple, he could attest to that. He himself had lost count of the number of Imperials he had killed since the first jump into enemy territory. There was a part of him that railed at the carnage he had initiated at his masters orders. And then there was the voice. He willed such thoughts to the very back of his mind, eager to dispel them in the presence of Guilliman. He still feared that the Primarch would uncover the dreadful truth about his dual personality, and he couldnt risk that. A fine blade. Guilliman observed. Hydrions, if I am not mistaken. Yes. I took it in honour of his death. Berolinus lied, placing the sabre carefully upon the desk. The captain and his Marines fought with honour. The enemy were powerful, but they ensured that they took their toll before they fell. Guilliman nodded slowly and came to rest behind him. This disquieted Berolinus, for he was unable to read his Primarchs expression. After long, tense moments, he felt the Primarchs hand settle on his shoulder. Time and again you have proved to me that the spirit of my Ultramarines lives on, that there is hope for the sons of Ultramar. When this war is over, you and I will rebuild our Chapter, Berolinus. We will make it stronger than it ever was, and the days of glory shall return to the Ultima Segmentum. Your praise honours me, my Primarch. Berolinus answered, his response genuine. He rose to his feet and bowed, feeling a surge of guilt as he thought back to the deaths of Hydrion and his men. He suppressed the feeling as soon as it surfaced. They had been weak, easily corrupted. He would not allow himself to suffer the same fate. Saturn is ours then, Primarch. Where do we go from here then? He asked, retrieving the blade and sliding it into the scabbard at his waist. Guilliman considered the question for a moment, as if it bore far more depth than the warrior realised. After a period of contemplation, he nodded. I sense that you are ready, Berolinus. My lord? For the truth. He continued. The real truth behind all this. You have proved to me that you are capable of absorbing such truths. As such, I will grant you the honour of joining me, for an audience with the Honourable One. Berolinus let out an involuntary gasp at hearing this. Anticipation welled within him, strong enough to push

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the darkest thoughts of the insidious presence deep inside him. AunVa? AunVa. Guilliman echoed. But first, I must meet with Apothecary Fabius. He has urgent news. +++ The door slid open and they entered. Berolinus remembered the antiseptic smell of these chambers implicitly, his nose wrinkling in distaste. The huge Apothecary peered over his shoulder at the new arrivals, and then dismissed the Tau around him. Primarch. You honour me with your presence. He said, placing his tools on the work surface before him. He glared at Berolinus as he moved to greet Guilliman, loathing writ large across his features. It was clear from his reaction that he had expected the Primarch to come alone. My commiserations at the loss of your warriors. I haveprivate news regarding the geneseed of the Grey Knights, my lord. Guilliman looked at the warrior at his side and then turned his attention back towards the Apothecary. As I have said, there is no reason to keep the truth from Berolinus. It is acceptable that he knows everything of our work. Everything? Fabius answered, peering out over the expanse of the large room in the direction of a single, sealed door. Guilliman visibly bristled at this. Fabius The Apothecary bowed his head apologetically and continued, wary of incurring the Primarchs wrath. Very well. our work with the geneseed has not been successful, my lord. As we suspected, its purity prevents us from utilising it. All the test subjects have so far expired. As best as I am able to ascertain, the coding defences built into the geneseed are impossible to bypass or remove. The psychic nature of the Knights seems to be the key here, Primarch. Fabius fell silent then, and it was clear that he hesitated in speaking further. Go on, Apothecary. Well, we have proved that Tau DNA is readily accepted by most non-psychically conductive biology. We have also had a measure of success with psychic and potentially psychic subjects, such as the Vermis Tyrannus Furii. It is my hypothesis that the data encoded into the geneseed of the Knights is purposely designed to resist any and all outside influence. And so what does this mean? Guilliman asked. Basically, it is as we suspected, Primarch. It is possible to influence Astartes that possess no psychic potential. Those with that potential, and those who possess a more refined and pure genetic structure, cannot be altered. Only the absolute absence of psychic potential, or indeed antithesis, can guarantee that the implants will be accepted. Of course, as you know, we have had a measure of success with cellular replication

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Berolinus let out a sigh, his mind starting to wander. The conversation held little interest for him, and he understood none of it. It was only at the mention of the being they were destined to visit that his attention was attracted once again. AunVa must be informed of this. This will present another great blow to his plans, Fabius, along with the loss of Thor. You understand of course what this means. The Nicassar. Fabius answered. Guilliman nodded. Yes. Soon we march on Terra. The Nicassar are powerful allies, but they have evolved beyond any means of assured control. When they learn the truth, we cannot guarantee their continued support. If it is not possible to sway them, they must be dealt with. We cannot gamble our success on them. I understand. Fabius answered. I will begin to research the problem immediately, my Primarch. +++ The swirling gate yawned open, bright against the blackness of deep space. The sphere of lightless shadow slid from the gate, and as the energies retreated around it, there was only a circular absence of stars to confirm its presence. Qah took in the firmament all around him, allowing his mind to spread and open like the petals of a flower. Stellar debris choked the void as far as he could see. Dust and rock fragments pattered softly against his psychic shell. Almost as prolific were the millions upon millions of non-natural objects surrounding him, each one identical, each one deadly. He could sense the purpose of these explosive constructs, and so slaved a tiny portion of his vast mind to nudge every device that drifted near in the opposite direction. He cast his minds eye out across the huge stellar wasteland and knew, without doubt, that the world had once existed here. Now it was gone, obliterated by the servants of the Dragon. His soul shuddered as he contemplated what he had to do next. Such were the terrors of old that they had not faded a trace. Still, it had to be done. He had to know. He opened the true depths of his mind then and allowed his consciousness to roll and spread across the devastation, a tsunami of questing thought. Slowly, and with great caution, he probed every inch of the vast debris field, sliding his mind around ancient Mechanicus systems designed to sense and attack psychic presence. He was far beyond foolish enough to trigger such crude devices. Slowly, and with mounting alarm, Qah scrutinised the entire area. Sure that he was not mistaken, he withdrew his mind. You are not here. He whispered to himself. How can that be? Where are you?

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty One: Approach

The spirit came and took him. Czevak slammed the flat of his fist against the wraithbone wall and spat a curse beneath his breath. The spirits of the ship were telling him nothing of any value with regards to the Chaplains disappearance, over a day ago. I dont understand. Who came? Who is the sprit, and what does it want with Codian?

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Fear not for the safety of your comrade, mon-keigh. He will return. Whatever it is that he has been taken to see, it is essential to his role in this war. His lot is to learn, and to remember those lessons. Another vague and enigmatic answer. Czevaks patience had thus far been tested to its limits with such answers. One thing is clear. He announced, shaking his head. The ghosts of this ship know more about his disappearance than they are willing to reveal. Whatever it is that they are hiding, they intend to keep from us. The Khans rage was far from hidden. He pushed his way through the milling Kroot, as if his locating on the bridge would make any difference to his communicating with the bodiless entities that resided there. You assured me that you were an authority on these aliens, dead or otherwise. All I hear are riddles and diversions, Inquisitor. Has any of what they have said meant anything? No. Czevak answered truthfully, frustration evident in his voice. If they wont give us the truth, we have no means of taking it from them. Then what are we to do? Wait. Czevak replied. What else is there to do, but wait? He will return. All eyes turned to the Shaper. The Kroot bowed his head as he stepped forward, and spread his hands slowly. The spirits can be trusted. They seek the same as all of us. Victory, over the Tau. The Khan shifted his anger towards the Shaper, and thrust an accusing finger out at the alien. Keep your blind faith, xenos. What would you have us do while we await his return? This Unity advances upon Terra, and we are needed there. We cannot wait for Codian to return indefinitely. You do not have to. The Shaper replied. It does not matter where we are amongst the stars. He will return when it is time, no matter our position. At that, Jaghatai swept his furred cloak aside and parted the bodies around him, heading for the door. We leave for Terra, with or without him. We have a war to win. Czevak and the others watched as the Khan departed, each face grim and set in stone. Where are you, Chaplain? The Inquisitor whispered. Grungi let out a curt snort and adjusted the position of the large axe slung across his shoulder. He will return, when it is time. The Demiurg uttered, reinforcing his conviction with a nod of his head. Death fears that man, and would not dare to try and claim him until he is ready. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++

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+++TERRA +++ Saturn has fallen. Thor is dead. The words reverberated around the vast amphitheatre, caught and amplified further by the rows upon rows of clarion-servitors built into the ancient walls. A murmur of unease rose up from the assembled High Lords and their armies of retainers. Captured and broadcast for the benefit of the audience, the glowing holo-image of the Sigilites face shivered as it hung in the central space of the chamber. This is indeed a dark hour for the Imperium. The Inquisitorial defences at Saturn were the last true line of defence against the Unitys advance. They have fallen far swifter than any of us had anticipated. The room buzzed with a low trepidation, for there was no doubt on any Imperial mind what the loss of Saturn meant. The Unity had nothing more to face. Lunar, and then Terra. The moons defences were formidable, of that there was no doubt, but they would barely slow the fleets down. The Tau were coming, and there was nothing or no one left to stop them. Regaas still had the floor, a fact highlighted by the presence of his hovering holo-fascade. He took in the surrounding faces, as if gazing at each of the assembled dignitaries personally. My lords and ladies, I must pray silence. He implored, the tone of his amplified voice soon instigating just such a state. As the murmur died away he continued to take in the amphitheatre about him. As his gaze fell upon a vast, armoured figure, it slowed. Regaas gave a humourless smile and tilted his head. Honoured Lord Calgar. It pleases me to see that a warrior of such integrity has humility enough to step in and take the place of our wayward Custodes brother, especially now, in this darkest of times. Calgar shifted his bulk in the direction of the hologram in response. There were many new faces present in the chamber. Aside from the Warmaster, Astartes lined the central dais, invited at the behest of the new temporary High Lord. As well as Calgars closest allies, many of the Astartes charged with the defence of the palace were present, including the commanders of the various Imperial Fist companies. It does me honour to take this seat. Calgar replied sincerely. Although I cannot answer the question as to where the Captain-General is, I will be sure to fill his place until such time he returns to this gathering. If indeed he does return. Screeched Krieusius Magmador, the shrivelled, wizened Master of the Astronomicon. The other High Lords mirrored Magmadors controversial view. Regaass image panned out to show his outstretched hands as signalled for calm and quiet. Please, please. None of us can say why Imperatorius chose to shun this meeting, as critical as it is. Perhaps he and his warriors prepare for the approach of the Unity in ways we cannot guess, for the Guardians of the Throne are only truly known by He Who They Protect. No, we will have to weather his absence, and plot and plan on his behalf, until such time as he reveals himself to us again. +Perhaps he is gone, Sigilite. Perhaps he has taken permanent leave of the Emperors side. How would any of us truly know?+ The image of Grand Magos Achosyx flickered into view, albeit transiently. His augmented face took over the projection, only to be swallowed seconds later by the visage of Regaas. You will adhere to the protocol of this meeting, Achosyx, or you will be barred from this theatre! These are hard enough times and we have much to deal with, without your slanderous observances. If you have anything constructive to add, please do so with the correct decorum.

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+Very well.+ Achosyx took the stage once more, this time adhering to the stringent policies of the congress. He allowed the system to accept his motion to chair and thus his image took precedence, this time without the enforcement of his own Mechanicus systems. +My point is a valid one, Sigilite. Please forgive me if I seemed brusque, but the Captain-Generals absence could mean one of any number of things. How can we be sure that he guards the Emperor still? Does anyone beside the Custodes have access to the Throne Room?+ Your point is valid indeed, Grand Magos. It is true, none of us here could truly know the ways of the Custodes. Indeed, it is their code of secrecy and isolation that defines them, allows them to perform their duty to the utmost. Treachery could have seen the Custodes wiped from existence, and who present here would know, or even suspect, their loss? Unseen by the distant eyes of the assembly, Achosyxs augmented face darkened. +What treachery, Sigilite? This is the Imperial Palace, the place of utmost purity in all the Imperium.+ The eyes of Regaas remained glued to the Grand Magos. There was a clear malice behind them for all to see, and the Sigilite made no attempt to hide it. The loss of Saturn and the wealth of the Inquisition was more than our misfortune or failure to counter the Unitys might. He began, immediately drawing the collective attention of the assembly. Events transpired in the wake of the Unitys arrival at the final bastion of the Imperium, events that sealed the fate of the Inquisition. Thor and his forces were robbed of the chance to give their all in that battle. Treachery sealed their fate. Treachery of the foulest kind. We were betrayed, lords and ladies, from within. Raised voices filled the amphitheatre, creating a rising storm of outrage and disbelief. Regaas remained defiant in the face of it all, his eyes still fixed upon the supreme commander of the Mechanicus. +I am warning you, Regaas.+ Achosyx growled. +Do not test me.+ Regaas smiled, clearly unperturbed by the threat. Indeed, I have clear evidence to suggest that we were betrayed from within. The ships and defences of the Inquisition were sabotaged, impaired and disabled by traitors and turncoats of such standing that even the Inquisition were completely unsuspecting. Yes, this is indeed a dark day for our Imperium, our Alliance, for it seems that, even now, dwindling and assailed as we are, we are still party to betrayal of the most horrendous kind. The Sigilites image flickered and warped again, as Achosyx asserted his powerful influence in order to commandeer the chair. +Enough, Regaas. You would be a fool to continue this. Isolate me and you will undo all you have worked so long and so hard to achieve, I warn you. All you will do is accelerate what is to be, and that could do more harm than good.+ None of the other High Lords seemed to respond to the strange exchange. Calgar took in the conversation and began to grow uneasy, despite himself. It was as if he was awakening from some strange trance, some half-conscious state he could not explain. Marneus Calgar was an intelligent man, and he recognised that there was some exchange taking place, an exchange that suggested there was an enmity between Regaas and Achosyx. More puzzling still, it was as if the other High Lords did not recognise it. Either that, or they chose to consciously ignore it.

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Please, we must approach this situation united He began. His words were ignored. Regaas dominated the amphitheatre once more. A wicked smile spread slowly across his face as he considered the Grand Magoss threat. More lies, Achosyx? Idle threats, brought to the fore by desperation, by fear. Those who betray are cowards. More often than not, it is fear that motivates their duplicity. My lords and ladies, Warmaster Calgar, I put it to you +You would not dare, Sigilite.+ I put it to you, that the Cult Mechanicus is corrupt. Achosyx and his ilk are servants of the enemy. A roar of angered disbelief rose up from those present. Far below, the Astartes started as one, armour ringing against armour as each warrior responded with utter incredulity. Regaas had just accused an entire faction of the Imperium of being corrupt. High above the melee, Achosyx rose to his feet. +This is preposterous+ The Grand Magos is a traitor! Regaas called, thrusting an accusing finger out at the Mechanicus seat. In his arrogance, he did not think that I would dare to expose him. You were wrong, turncoat. I will not suffer betrayal in my midst, and you have betrayed us all. Voices rose to a deafening roar as the accusation sunk in. Above it all, defiant, the Sigilite continued. The Mechanicus were responsible for the victory of the Unity at Saturn. The ships and defences were assailed not by Tau guns, but by our own Mechanicus priests and adepts. This was a betrayal none of us could have foreseen, or even countered. I need all of you to understand what I am saying. The Mechanicus is corrupt, utterly and without redemption! The furore rose to a deafening pitch, enough to drown out all discernable noise. Regaass visage quivered and then dissipated totally, disrupted by the technological prowess of the Grand Magos. Achosyx dominated the chair then, if only for a brief moment. Though his representation did not form, his powerful voice thundered through the amphitheatre. +Fool! Impostor filth! You do not realise what you have done, lesser one! You do not realise what you have forced the agents of the Dragon to unleash here this day!+ And you truly have no idea what you are dealing with, puppet. Regaas replied, his answer unheard by the general assembly. The first sounds of gunfire echoed through the vast chamber moments later. Guns were turned upon every member of the Mechanicus present, who in turn moved to counter that threat. Shouts and screams reverberated through the hall, and falling bodies began to rain down on the gathered Astartes below. +It is time to reveal the dark truth to all you blinkered fools!+ Achosyx bellowed, throwing his arms up in the air. +It is time to reveal the vile deception of the ultimate coward! Before the light is snuffed out from the eyes of the unbelievers, I will grant you an audience with the being who has festered amongst you for so long! See him for what he is!+ High above the gathering, Regaas visibly started. Though he could not be seen, the merest flicker of

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anxiety passed over his face, only to fade a heartbeat later, to be replaced by an expression of steely determination. Brothers and sisters, rise up and counter this foul treachery! In the Emperors name, let us avenge the Saturn betrayal! Kill any and all who bear the mark of the Mechanicus! Calgars mind reeled as he took in the sudden turn of events. It had taken mere moments for utter chaos to envelop the assembly. All too suddenly, the Mechanicus were the enemy. The most disturbing facet of all of his was that, thus far, no one had thought to question the Sigilites accusation. True, Achosyx had hardly refuted the allegations, and yet Regaas had as yet failed to offer any proof to back up his claims. Almost hidden amongst the staccato strobe of weapons discharge, twin flashes of emerald light blinked. Seconds later, the stall of Matriarch Constanta Anvellonne, the Abbess Sanctorum of the Sororitas, came under assault by a deluge of pure hell. The ancient warrior woman screams pierced the air as her frail body plummeted to the ground far below. Scathing beams of green light punched through the balcony, scattering body parts in their wake. Over at the far side of the vast auditorium, Adeptus Supremus Consolatin and his retinue of Savant-Scribes were obliterated in seconds. Incredibly ancient conversion fields, each worth more than the annual pay of many planetary governors failed again and again, and then died, unable to withstand the onslaught. See! Regaas called, pointing out the carnage and destruction. Hear my charges or see with your own eyes! The evidence is absolute! Achosyx betrays us all! Kill the traitors and end this lunacy! Most of the Astartes below had seen and heard enough. As the initial shock began to pass, the sounds of booming voices and bolter fire began to fill the air. Barrels were swiftly elevated to fire upon the Grand Magoss position, as well as the two sources of violence and green light. In truth, none of the positions presented a realistic target, for they were simply too far away. Calgar had also reached the end of his tolerance. He rose swiftly and made for the exit arch, followed closely by his retainers. Within moments he was gone. Imperial Fist commanders bellowed orders as they fought to bring the separate companies into one cohesive fighting unit. Storms of fire sailed up into the higher reaches of the arena, all of it redundant. Another bright green flash enveloped one of the ruined balconies, and seconds later it appeared again, this time on ground level. Calgar thundered into the midst of the gathered Astartes, both Cassius and Tigurius in tow. There is great evil here. The air swims with it, is choked by it. The entombed Librarian uttered, his words filling the Warmasters mind. I feel it too. He answered darkly. My every living cell aches with an unnatural dullness. Take care Something bright and terrible carved its way through the gathered Fists, a burning beam of energy so potent that it cut power-armoured bodies in two without resistance. Entire squads quailed before it, unable to offer any real resistance. Calgar looked on as something vast and terrible smashed its way through the Marines, and knew immediately and with utter certainty that it was a creature of the utmost malevolence. It was huge, easily as large as him, and clad from head to toe in gleaming white armour plate and crumbling azure robes. He caught sight of glowing red eyes, as cold as the void despite their burning intensity. It wielded a massive double glaive, easily as long as a Marine, with blades that crackled with

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burning energies. Hold fast! He called, the heavy bolters mounted beneath his mighty fists whirring as they armed. And counter this abomination! Tigurius stomped past, his entire sarcophagus pulsing with an unearthly light. Bright energies swirled around his rune-covered fists, flickering and sparking as they grew in intensity. A wall of pure psychic force erupted from the Librarian and swept through the milling Marines into the murderous figure, sweeping it off its feet. Astartes fell back, shocked yet unharmed by the assault. Ahhh, it leeches the warp from around it! Tigurius uttered, his psychic voice heavy with pain and effort. Calgar understood what Tigurius meant. Though he was not a psyker he could feel the beings influence all around him. He had to fight just to keep his mind clear in its presence. A Fist tumbled past, his head gone. Calgar saw his chance and opened up with the bolters, sending hail of bolt shells out into the thing. Sparks coruscated across its gleaming chest as the shells exploded against it, the concussive force driving back yet unable to penetrate its armour. He accelerated into a bounding charge, his footfalls quaking the ground beneath him. His heavy bolters still firing, he thrust both fists forward and met the attacker. He drove a fist into his opponent, staggering it. The towering machine drove its heels into the floor and arrested its retreat, and with a speed that far belied its size it brought its glaive around. The blow would have cut even Calgars armoured bulk in two had it connected. Fortunately for the Warmaster, the flickering bubble of energy that formed around him countered the blow. It dissipated immediately, dispelled by the unknown powers of the being. Behind the Warmaster Tigurius cried out as if in pain. The force bubble had been his doing, and he paid the price for his protectiveness with physical pain. Calgar fell back, dodging another sweeping lunge. Cassius appeared by his side, strident and unafraid. He swung his crozius with murderous determination, renouncing the mysterious metal being with all his heart and soul. His first blow connected and the colossus was beaten back, energies cascading around the point of contact. Cassius did not land a second blow. The head of his crozius was stopped by the haft of his opponents weapon. He drew back in order to give himself space to strike again. The metal giant followed, faster than he could have anticipated. The long haft descended, catching him behind his legs. He was bowled off his feet and then flipped up into the air like a rag doll. The next strike sent him cartwheeling over the heads of the other Astartes. Emperor help us Calgar whispered. It was not the Emperor who answered his call.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Two: Heroes and Villains

Marneus Calgar reloaded his bolters and stepped back, stunned by the ferocity of the attacker. Three steps

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in the opposite direction and he came to a halt, feeling his retreat arrested by some unknown force. Stand aside, brother. He is mine. Calgar rotated at the waist to regard the familiar voice. Pugnus Imperatorius pushed past him with a slight nod of acknowledgement and raised his halberd, defiant and unafraid. Fall back, Ultramarine. Take as many of the Astartes as you can. The Emperor must be protected. Custodes flooded into the hall, a sea of golden armour and unwavering malice. A forest of force halberds levelled at the attacker, many of them already spitting deadly explosive bolt rounds. Abomination, hear me! Imperatorius roared, striding forward. If there is anything left of you in there, then I pray that you hear me! Fight it, with all your soul! Fight it, or count me as an enemy! I will kill you if I have to! The Captain-General lunged, his gleaming blade spearing for the centre of the beings chest. The machination countered his blow and sent his halberd twisting away to the left, almost torn from his grasp. +Life is weakness. Compassion is flawed.+ The thing uttered, its voice flat and mechanical. Imperatorius leapt back and snatched at Calgars shoulder. If this defence force is to survive then I need you to retreat, Warmaster. You cannot fight this. Stay, and you will die. He speaks the truth. Calgar turned and found a face he recognised. Ventris pushed through the press of bodies and acknowledged his Primarch, casting aside the simple sackcloth robes he wore as he did so. Ancient Go. Ventris answered, his tone absolute. I beg you, Warmaster. The Void Champion will kill you The Ancient twisted around the following blow and answered with a burst of bolter fire, the shells impacting against the being with as much effect as if it were less than nothing, as ineffectual as rainfall. Imperatorius nodded, his face grim and set in stone. Please, Lord Calgar, trust me. Achosyxs treachery is real, and his killers will destroy everyone in this gathering if challenged. You must retreat, and you will remain safe for a time. Do not ask me to explain Captain-General! The Sigilites voice thundered the amphitheatre, loud enough to shake the ancient walls. Hundreds of pairs of eyes ascended to look upon the image of the Sigilite, whose huge, staring eyes remained fixed upon the new arrival. So, you are still alive and with us, Imperatorius. I knew you would come. Indeed, I had counted on it. At that the Sigilite turned and signalled to his Assassinorum retainers, clearly intending to leave the danger area while he had the chance. Enjoy the reunion. He sneered, looking back over his shoulder one last time. The projection flickered and cut off then, affectively announcing his exit.

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The hulking Captain-General barged Ventris to one side and charged, nemesis weapon at the ready. Brother Custodes milled around him, unwilling to allow their commander to face the danger alone. Fort all their size and bulk, none of the warriors stood anywhere near as huge or imposing as the white-haired Imperatorius. The two titans met then, the first clash shaking the ground beneath them. Steel rang against steel and power fields flared. Blue smoked curled up from the blade of the golden giant. The weapon was ancient, unique, and so priceless that it could never be replicated or replaced. The metal hulks first blow had overloaded its power cells and ruined it. Imperatorius ducked low and swung his leg out, catching the Void Champion at the waist. Using the advantage he created he lunged and thrust the blade of his halberd into the creations chest, burying it up to the hilt. The Void Champion made no sound, nor did it show any sign of pain or distress. It brought the fearsome glaive up and around and hacked down, severing the haft of the Captain-Generals weapon and leaving the blade embedded in its torso. Custodes rushed the machine, surging round their commander in their eagerness to engage the enemy. The Void Champion met them, its arms working furiously as it chopped and thrust at its foes. Like the creation, none of the brave warriors made a sound as they fell, clutching bloodied stumps or opened bellies. Each and every Custode face was a mask of pain, absolute agony, for the very presence of the Void Champion was anathema to them. It tore at their minds and souls, draining their very life force. Still they bore on, fighting not only the enemy but also the suffocation of its presence. Calgar started as a piercing scream split the air above him. The decrepit body of Malchis Vambra-Rhaeticus turned end over end as it plummeted to the ground, followed closely by the rest of his Navigator brethren. The Paternoval Envoy of the Navigators smashed into the Fist lines, scattering the power-armoured throng. B-----d. Calgar cursed, directing his rage towards the distant Grand Magos. He is killing them all. The High Lords are doomed. My lord, Regaas has escaped. Ventris said, pointing up at the Sigilites vacant stall. And brave Imperatorius still resists. He fell silent then, his expression softening. Calgar caught this and found himself drawn, sensing that the Ancient had something more to say. Lord Calgar, there is something you must know. Ventris continued, casting his gaze out towards the Custodes commander. Imperatorius is not who you think he is. The Captain-General is far more than he appears. He is one of the first, Warmaster. Calgar was trying his best to take in what Ventris was saying, but it was hard to concentrate in the escalating melee. The relentless metal being stood firm in the face of the Custode onslaught, its vaunted armour turning aside those blows that its indomitable influence could not. Electric blue flashes of psychic energy flashed and dissipated over and over again as the Void Champion negated the powers of its attackers, draining the potency of every attack and dulling the burning force runes of each weapon. Many of the Custodes flailed and staggered back, energy leaking from their eyes and mouths. It was a sobering and utterly daunting sight. Warmaster, please. You must hear me

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Calgar rotated at the waist so swiftly he almost took the ancients head from his shoulders. Ventris ducked in time to avoid the massive paw as it swept overhead. The Warmaster had intended no deliberate attack, and yet the Ancient was lucky to escape with his head still on his shoulders. What is it, Ventris? He raged, fighting to keep his attention on the conflict. What the Ancient told him then caused everything else to melt away. The footfalls grew louder and louder as they neared, and within seconds they were loud enough to cut through the furore. Custodes suddenly withdrew, lowering weapons and twisting away in order to form a narrow corridor before the Void Champion. The things burning eyes looked out on the speeding shape, a second before the fist slammed into its chest with enough force to propel it back a good twenty metres. Imperatorius skidded to a halt, his crimson cloak wrapping itself around him as he arrested his charge. Organise these Astartes! He bellowed, directing the command at no one Custode in particular. Get them out of here! They cannot hope to stand before these abominations! The Void Champion smashed its way free of the twisted metal framework wrapped around it and emerged once more, rising without injury or trouble. The Captain-General and those Custodes closest to him rose slowly to their full height as they observed the abomination. +Life is weakness.+ It uttered, shrugging twisted detritus from its vast shoulders. We shall see, brother. The defiant commander whispered in reply. +++ High above the conflict, Achosyx watched the Custodes with hunger in his eyes. A quick glance up and to his left confirmed that another puppet High Lord had fallen. He magnified the scene, catching the death of the Grand Provost Marshal. His Arbite bodyguards fought like deamons against the hulking killer, so intent on countering the foe that none of them caught sight of their commanders final moments. Lodon Darvistor convulsed, his head gone. Amid the blood mist his entire body changed, losing mass and definition. A headless and slender female form clad in seamless synskin fell away from sight. Another master assassin dead. He glanced up at the vacant stall of the Sigilite, a fresh wave of hatred coursing through him. Mephetran. He cursed the name. His meddling had caused his lords careful and far-reaching plans to change. No matter how it looked, Mephetran had forced his hand, causing him to unleash the Void Champions earlier than intended. Achosyx was no fool. He knew exactly what had motivated the false Sigilite to do so. both he and his rival shared a common problem, an obstacle that needed to be removed. Whether sooner or later, this had to be done. +Magog.+ Across the expanse, the metal giant responded to his hail. It cast the broken bodies of the Arbites over the balcony and turned its burning gaze to the Grand Magos. Achosyx pointed down towards the Custodes. +Join your brother. Destroy them all.+ A flash of lurid green energy saw the giant disappear. With that, Achosyx turned to the towering figure by

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his side. +We need to end this now, my silent companion. We have to ensure a victory here today. Kill him.+ The Sentinel did not answer, nor did it need to. It lumbered forward and smashed its way through the thick balcony before plummeting out of sight. +++ My lord! Imperatorius cast around to see the Custode, his finger outstretched. A piercing beam of searing green light punched through the torso of the warrior a second later, stripping armour, flesh and bone into atoms instantly. Ventris ran to stand by the Captain-General, only to reel back as the warrior died in front of his eyes. The other comes He began. Imperatorius nodded. I know. So too the Sentinel. Even as he spoke the massive mechanical shape of the Grand Magoss mysterious servant crashed down into the gathered Astartes, crushing power-armoured bodies beneath its bulk. A host of whines and ratchet groans filled the air as munitions formed and reformed about its ever-changing body. A hail of fire scattered out from the machination, and at such close range those warriors flanking it stood little chance. Astartes and Custodes alike hesitated, unsure of where to focus their attention. The three leviathans advanced towards the Captain-General, intent on ending his life once and for all. He saw this and took a deep breath. He removed his helm and cast it aside, before taking a golden-hilted power sword from the hands of one of his men. It is I they want more than any other. He said, whispering so that only those closest could hear his words. Your service is first and foremost to the Emperor, and to the preservation of his physical body. The enemy cannot harm him now but they can still use him to deceive His subjects. They cannot be allowed to gain possession of his mortal remains. I give it as my last order, and it will be followed. Fall back. Those nearest him answered with a curt nod of the head, each face set in a distraught snarl. Not one of them would dare to defy the Captain-General, and yet any of them would gladly put themselves upon their own sword to save him. Slowly but surely, the Custodes began to fall back. He saw this and was satisfied, and thus turned his attention to the approach of the murderous trio. He knew he had but one chance to survive this. Just then a shadow fell over his side and he turned his head. The Warmaster stood shoulder to shoulder with him, his huge paws flexing and rotating in preparation to meet the foe. You cannot fight them, Calgar. You need to preserve yourself. The Alliance needs you. You are wrong. Calgar answered. I can fight them. I may not win, but I can fight. I will die, if that is my lot. I will die to save you, but I must know the truth.

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Imperatoriuss eyes narrowed. He knew the answer, but asked the question anyway. The truth of what? Of who you are. You say that the Alliance needs me, and I accept that. the task of defending Terra, however, does not fall upon my shoulders. That is the lot of the Imperial Fists. Would you ask me to deprive them of their gene-father, were it possible for me to do so? I haveI have abandoned my Primarch, my own gene-father. I will not abandon another. Then we will fight this fight together, Ultramarine. Rogal Dorn answered, a slight smile creasing his lips. Calgar shifted his weight, stunned into momentary silence by the ancient beings confirmation. What are they, Primarch? Gog and Magog Was all he had time to reply. With that, he drove his heels into the ground and charged out to meet his attackers, his sword above his head. Calgar let out a roar of determination and lumbered after him, his fists to the fore. Dorn met his opponent first, and traded a series of swift and terrible blows before allowing the conflict to sweep him from the path of the charging Dreadnought. Calgar advanced upon the machines twin, both heavy bolters booming and flashing , pouring explosive death into the things armoured bulk. He continued to fire until he was almost upon his foe. The Void Champion set its shoulders against the onslaught and pushed itself forward, step by tortuous step, its body shuddering beneath the weight of fire. The stubby fingers of the Warmasters power fists closed around its shoulders and he lifted the Champion of its feet. He threw his torso into a dizzying rotation, spinning faster and faster until he finally released his grip, sending the abomination through the air and into the nearest wall. No sooner had he achieved this than he cast around, aware of the advancing shape. He raised an arm to fire and then reeled back, the bright thrumming lance of blinding light striking him squarely on the shoulder. The Sentinel bounded past the Dreadnought as he crashed onto his back, unconcerned with the Warmaster. +The flesh is weak.+ It uttered, the segmented armour that covered its arms peeling back in layers to reveal the thick silver limbs beneath. Dorn rolled around the next blow and countered with a powerful strike, drawing his blade across the Champions midriff. Oily black liquid spurted from the wound across his golden armour, but the thing did not falter. It came at him, its glaive twisting and turning with unnatural speed. Dorn ducked and weaved around the blows, for he had seen the effects of the terrible weapon and knew that one strike would sever his blade in two, so he could not afford to parry with the sword. He leapt to one side and hammered an elbow into the neck of the Champion, staggering it. A quick turn at the waist and the back of his opposing fist smashed into its face, sending shards of metal out in its wake. This was all the distraction he needed. He thrust with the sword, lancing under the Champions own weapon, and skewered it through the midriff. It fell to its knees, clutching at the wound. A swift upwards kick knocked it onto its back. He dared not lose the advantage now, and so he lifted his arm and swung the sword down to take the head of his foe.

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The Champion quivered and then disappeared in a flicker of emerald light, leaving the glowing blade to carve through ancient stone. Dorn arched back, rising quickly to his full height. His gut churned and his head swam, as if he were suffering the effects of some debilitating illness. He knew only too well that it was a discomfort caused by the presence of the Void Champions, for they were anathema to life itself. It was a sensation he had experienced before. Primarch! Your back! Dorn heard Calgars call and reacted on impulse, fired into action by instincts ordinary men could only dream of. The powerful lance of light hammered against his blade and cut it in two, but not before the blast itself was refracted away from him. He cast the broken sword aside and thrust his arms up to cross his face. The second blast lanced into the intersected limbs and sent him reeling back, the golden armour running molten. He ignored the pain of the injury and strode forward once more, sparks spitting from his damaged bionic hand. Before him the Sentinel advanced, murder glowing in its augmetic eyes. +++ Marneus Calgar fought to push his cumbersome bulk up onto his feet, the rubble and wreckage groaning beneath him. Both Cassius and Ventris rushed to help him up, though in truth their was little either of them could effectively do to bring a Dreadnought upright. Cassius. Calgar uttered as he noticed the Chaplain. I had thought you dead. I will die when I am ready. The Master of Sanctity replied, his augmetic voice box distorted by damage to emit a tinny, distant echo. His armour was buckled, rent in a dozen places. Despite this, it was clear that he was far from done. Ahead of them the desperate fight continued. Dorn had met the relentless mechanical servant of the Grand Magos and the two were locked in battle. From behind them they could hear the sound of squealing metal, and Calgar knew what this meant. The Champion he had faced was rising again. Worse still, a sudden flash of bright energy snatched their attention and they looked on as the creations twin stepped out of the air, its sights set on the struggling Imperial Fist Primarch. None of them noticed the body of the dead Custode as it first shuddered, and then began to rise. +++ Dorn summoned all his strength and pushed. This was enough to send the Sentinel back a few paces, and enough to provide him with room to attack. He swung a fist with enough force to crack open the armour of a Land Raider. The blow rang against the Sentinels silver arms. The limbs warped and buckled and then swam back to their original shape, leaving behind not a trace of damage. Listen to me! Dorn said. They were doomed from birth, corrupted by a genetic foulness none of us could have countered. You were not. You can fight this, I know you can The Sentinel came at him, its fists bared. It proceeded to pummel Dorn again and again, with a ferocity and vigour even a Primarch struggled to counter. Dorn parried each blow as best he could, barely able to hold the machine back. Fight it! Fight it, brother! I know you exist still inside there! The time is upon us to return, Ferrus! This is the war The Sentinel did not answer. It stepped back and raised one hand up to its back. Armour peeled away from its vast shoulders and the surrounding area to reform in its hand. By the time it brought the limb back

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down, it held a vast cog-bladed axe, formed from the very living metal of its bulk. +The flesh is weak.+ But you are not, Ferrus Manus. Dorn replied. You were perhaps the strongest amongst us. Not even Fulgrim the traitor could kill you, even though he took your head. Come back, Primarch, and help me to fight this extinction. The colossus paused, its lifeless eyes regarding the importunate Primarch. +The flesh of Ferrus Manus has expired. Ferrus Manus is dead.+ With a measured slowness, Dorn curled his hand into a fist. I refuse to believe that. You are trapped, brother. This is the only way. With that Dorn surged forward and struck the Sentinels head from its shoulders. The featureless helm spun away to land amongst the heaped dead, out of sight. The Sentinels vast body went rigid and then toppled back, sparks cascading from its neck. +No!+ High above them all, Achosyx slammed his fists against the ruined balcony as he glared down upon the scene. His most prized possession was lost to him now. +I should have destroyed you while I had the chance.+ He spat. With that, he cast around and hurried from the amphitheatre. The tables had turned. Unknown to him, there was yet more intrigue in the arena far below. The ruined corpse of the Custode turned its dead eyes up to regard the Grand Magoss exit. You will not take this world. It whispered, with a voice that was ethereal and detached. I will not allow it.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Three: Reunion of Might

Dorn cast around in time to see the first Void Champion almost upon him. He threw himself to the side and rolled as the being descended, its glaive carving through the floor where the Primarch had been a heartbeat before. The Primarch came up onto his feet, his fists bared. He had no other weapons to hand with which to face the fiend. Rogal Dorn was a proud warrior, and he did not make an effort to hide the concern on his face. Warmaster! We have to take them down here and now, otherwise we cannot guarantee the integrity of our defences. Calgar heard this and understood. He had no idea what these machines were or where they had come from, but if such terrors were allowed to escape from here they could easily sow havoc amongst the defenders, and even destabilise their chance at holding Terra from the approaching invaders. I hear you, Primarch. He replied. We all do.

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Both Cassius and Ventris did not need to ask what the Warmaster intended. They understood clearly what had to be done. Their lives for the preservation of Terra and the Emperor. Ventris tipped his head at his brothers and then raised his bolter, ready to die for the cause he had dedicated his life to. Cassius held his Crozius aloft, its skull-topped head crackling as if to challenge the unnatural creations. To the death! He shouted. With that, the three Ultramarines charged the second Void Champion, unafraid and ready to die. Dorn fought back a wave of concern for his allies as his opponent came at him again, as relentless and determined as ever. He knew he could not allow the things blade to touch him, for it possessed the ability to bypass both armour and filed protection. He was no true Custode. For this he gave silent thanks, for he knew that if he had possessed any psychic ability then he would most likely already be dead due to the fallen Primarchs draining and negative presence. He tore the cloak from his back and flung it. The deadly weapon tore through the cloth, severing it in two. He had bought himself the second he needed. He reached down and plucked the fallen halberd from the floor amongst the Custode dead. He quickly emptied the clip of the incorporated storm bolter and then flung the weapon like a spear. His aim proved true. The blade embedded itself in the Champions chest, adding to the damage it had already sustained. The abomination plucked it free and cast it back with such wild force that Dorn was forced to block the twisting weapon with his arms. The haft shattered against his forearms and the broken pieces twisted away. By the time he lowered his arms, all he could see was gleaming white armour. There was nothing he could do. He braced himself, raised his fists, and awaited the killing blow. The crackling glaive arrested inches from his chest, close enough to blister the golden armour. The Void Champion remained suspended there for a moment, frozen, unable to advance any further. Then its entire body lurched back and rose, suddenly airborne. Dorn watched as the Champion grew smaller and smaller, its limbs flailing as it came crashing down several hundred metres away. The headless Sentinel stood before him, sparks flashing about its exposed neck. As he looked on, shards of silvered metal began to peel away from its body and run liquid, ascending to pool and quiver where the beings head had once been. The quicksilver orb grew and grew, and in moments began to form, taking on definition. Features sunk into the orb, forming a face. A perfect, silver human face set into a perfect, hairless silver head. The face spoke, and as it did so the living metal shifted to accommodate this, mimicking the elasticity of human flesh with perfect ease. +II remember. I remember, my brother.+ Even as he spoke his mass continued to constantly change, layer after layer peeling away in fragments to reassemble themselves into a different configuration. Only the massive silver arms and the head of the being retained their shape. +The Mechanicus.+ Manus began. + They took my body, corrupted it+ Dorn held up his hand to silence his brother.

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Now is not the time, Ferrus. The Lost Ones are abroad once again. Gog and Magog are unleashed. The Iron Hands Primarch cast around, his face slackening. The Void Champion loomed large before them, its terrible weapon held ready to end both their lives. Manus was first to react. Unleashing a shuddering roar of rage he sprinted forward and thrust an arm up to meet the descending warscythe. The crackling blade embedded itself in his forearm and stopped, unable to pass any further. The living metal of the Primarchs arm swam around the wound, roiling and shifting but standing firm. He swung his huge axe around and buried the blade in the Champions shoulder, sending sparks coruscating around the wound. He pulled the axe free and struck twice more, managing to drive his opponent to its knees. +For Medusa and for the Emperor! For vengeance!+ He cried, swinging another crushing blow at the fiend. His opponents weapon came up and blacked the strike, ruining the axe in the process. Manus stepped back and kicked the Champion onto its back, casting the broken axe away as he did so. +++ Calgar reeled back, his armoured bulk flexing as it absorbed the powerful blow. Cassius and Ventris attacked the Champion from behind, fighting desperately to keep it from harming their commander. Their attentions were as nothing to the Void Champion, their strikes largely disregarded. Cassius cried out and flew back as an indifferent backhanded punch sent him reeling through the air. Ventris cast his spent boltgun aside and drew his chainsword. The teeth of the weapon sent sparks fizzing into the air with each strike, and yet their bite could not penetrate the things armour. The Champion acknowledged his presence at last. It turned and swung for him, the blow swift and powerful enough that it would surely have ended his life. Instead, Ventris cried out as he felt himself melt into the ground, his body becoming mist, incorporeal. The Ancient quivered into being a heartbeat later, a hundred or so metres away from the murderous Champion. By Hera, what was that..? He breathed. Calgar was the next to be affected by the strange occurrence. His armoured shell flickered, charged with a sudden surge of incandescent power. A disembodied voice whispered words of forbidden might in his mind and he came apart, breaking up and flashing into steam. The swirling cloud rose up above the advancing Void Champion and twisted towards Ventris, who was still shocked by what had happened to him. The Warmaster came together seconds later, forming and solidifying once more at his comrades side. What is this? He uttered, flexing his mighty fists as if to test the tangibility of his own existence. Then they caught sight of the dead Custode. The corpse floated weightlessly towards them, its dead eyes blazing with unearthly power. Ethereal winds tore about it, and a strange crimson light seemed to exude from its exposed skin. The cadaver began to morph before their very eyes. The armour darkened, bleeding a rich crimson colour that suffocated the gleaming gold. The flesh darkened likewise, taking on a deep red tone. The dead Custodes body cracked and grated as it swelled, taking on mass and bulk at a phenomenal rate. Ivory horns split the carapace and slid free across its body and head. As all this happened, the emerging being cried out, roaring as if in terrible pain. Within seconds the body was utterly transformed, changed beyond recognition. The being that stood before

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them dwarfed even Dorn and Manus, and exuded a palpable aura of power that charged the air around it. The being regarded Calgar and his comrades with a single eye, its opposing orb lost amid a latticework of angry scar tissue. The foe is mine. He uttered, his voice heavy with seismic power. At that, he looked towards the rising behemoth and spoke. Magog. Face me, and you will meet your end. I vow it. The Void Champion brought its warscythe around at the challenge. +Life cannot triumph. The soul is flawed.+ It said, its words mocking despite its flat tone. +To live is to die. All will die.+ To live is to endure. The titan answered, holding out a hand. Blinding light leeched from the red fist, stretching and tasking shape. The illumination flickered and faded, leaving behind a massive chainbladed glaive, its every surface shimmering with warp energy. He spoke a word of terrible power then and the Champion flew back with bone-snapping force. It ploughed across the floor of the amphitheatre, pulling ancient stone tiles from the ground with the force of its passing. The giant staggered then, his aura flickering and twisting as if in agony as it leeched from his crimson skin. Magnus. The psychic leviathan lifted his gaze to look upon the being that had spoken his name, and he met the eyes of Dorn for the first time in millennia. The father of the Imperial Fists glared at the traitor Primarch, utter hatred blazing in his eyes. Manus and the Void Champion were still locked in furious combat, and it was only with great difficulty that Dorn was able to tear his eyes away from Magnus and look back towards the fight. Magnus. He heard his name uttered again, this time by the hulking Dreadnought. Magnus the Red. Traitor to the Imperium. Mutant and heretic. Calgar uttered, spitting each word like venom from his lips. Magnus gritted his teeth and spoke again, though not in answer. The word was unknown and abominable, heavy with dark knowledge. The aura about him flared and, somewhere far beyond, the Void Champion let out a long cry of rage and anger. I cannot hold him for long. Magnus said, turning his attentions to the Ultramarines. Soon he will exhaust the power of my wards and break free of my influence. He leeches the life from me with every effort I expend. You must act. And I will. Calgar answered. He raised his fists up towards Magnus, ready to fire. The Primarch waved his hand and Calgars vast arms lowered, the thick adamantium creaking as he fought against the fiends influence. I am not your enemy, Astarte, not any more. The air thickened all around them then, clouding and becoming obscure. The dark patch swam together,

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taking on definition and bulk, and something stepped free of the mass. The blue and gold armour-clad being regarded the Warmaster and his comrades with burning eyes. Every arcane rune set into its armour burned, pulsing with unknown power. More and more vast shapes stepped into existence around them, quickly filling the floor of the amphitheatre. Astartes, Terminators and even Dreadnoughts crammed the body-littered space, summoned at the behest of their infernal lord and master. Kill the soulless ones. Magnus commanded. +++ +++THE ISHYREA+++ A full seven days had passed when Codian finally returned to the Ishyrea. The shadows pooled and then folded away, leaving the Chaplain and his mysterious companion standing in the silent wraithbone corridor. As promised. Centurius said. You are returned. Codian did not speak. He merely nodded his head in answer as he took in the alien ship about him. His eyes were dark, and the skin of his face was lined and grey, as if he had aged a century or more. He had the look of a man who had seen all the horrors of existence, and still held the vivid memories behind those eyes. Remember, Chaplain. Remember what you have seen, and what is coming to Terra. When that time comes, we will need your espousal. This war is black and white, you have to understand that. There can be no grey. Codian nodded again and turned away as the wrath vanished, his task complete. Left alone, his mind reeled with all he had experienced and learned, of the wonders and horrors he had seen. The rest of the surviving Imperial forces had no idea that there was a secret war being fought for their very survival, fought by warriors and beings any faithful Imperial servant would revile and shun. Ghosts, traitors and mutants, every one. He understood the concept of heresy well, for he was a Chaplain, and yet he now understood much more. Centurius was right, no matter how much the admission of this railed against his beliefs. Black and white. Good and evil. Now there were only two factions at large in this galaxy; those who fought to see the Tau take Terra, and those who fought to prevent that. Motivation and intent did not matter, only the result. The enemy of your enemy is your friend. Kryptman had told him that, if memory served correctly. He understood now what the Inquisitor had meant. The enemies of the Tau were allies, for better or for worse. All other differences had to be cast aside, if only temporarily, in order to stop the extinction of the Imperium. There were those, both traitor and xenos alike, who would still rejoice in the destruction of the Imperium of man. But that would be another battle for another time. He knew in his heart that the galaxy would never see a permanent state of peace, for war was the only constant in existence. Centurius had shown him the truth. War had to endure, to exist, for life itself was built on a foundation of conflict. Sentience came with a heavy price, and that price was war. The Eldar, the Ork, even the human. They all existed but to fight, created to do so. Much like him. He had only questioned his own existence but once in his life, and it was said that every Astarte did so. Without war, what would he be? What would he do, what justification would he find to continue his existence without it? An Astarte was a weapon, built and designed to kill and to fight. There would always be war.

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Welcome back, Prophet. Your comrades have yearned for your return. The ghostly voice pulled him from his reverie, its icy presence sending a shiver through his mind. After the experience he had endured, the sound of the familiar presence was almost welcoming. My thanks, spirit. II understand now. I understand why you call me Prophet. You always have, Codian. It is a factor of your mental programming that you have denied your destiny thus far. Mon-keigh can be so restrictive with their own instincts. Accept what you are, for the good of all life. The living depend on you to do that. He understood what the spirit meant by that. With that he sheathed the Dawnblade and started forward, intent on locating his comrades. We are bound for Terra, I take it? We are. Soon the journey will become perilous, and we will be forced to enter the webway if we are to bypass the Taus blockade. I cannot lie, the passage will not be an easy one. Much of the original webway was destroyed in this region, and there can be no guarantee that the way is clear. We will endure. Another voice said, no doubt another member of the phantom crew. That we will. Codian answered. +++ Achosyx hurried into the chamber with a gesture, causing the vast adamantium blast doors to swung closed behind him. Techpriests bowed their heads at his arrival and he pushed past them, heading towards the huge communications array at the centre of the chamber. +Activate the psi-servitors.+ He commanded. +And arm yourselves with the warp plasma generators.+ The adepts glanced at one another uneasily. This could mean one thing and one thing only. He was coming. As they moved to carry out the Grand Magos commands Achosyx sat himself down before the console bank, activating it with a wave of the hand. The screen came to life, runes swimming into focus. They began to change and cycle furiously as the system came online. +Secure the link, maximum security. Initiating voice and gene confirmation.+ Seconds passed by. The light given off by the screens illuminated the Grand Magos face, glinting off the many augmetic implants sutured into his atrophied skin. Moments later, a quiet chime confirmed that the link was established. +My lord.+ Achosyx uttered his voice suppressed by palpable wonder. +Forgive the intrusion, but I have dire news to report. Mephetran+ He managed to say nothing more. The link died, severed by some outside influence. The screens faded before him, all power drained from the system. Achosyx arched back and rose, anger and disbelief prevalent in his mechanical voice.

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+What is this? I will have the head of whoever is responsible for this negligence.+ He turned to vent his anger upon the adepts and then froze. There before him was a scene he could not have predicted. His adepts lay dead to a man, broken and slaughtered. Only one remained, standing defiant and proud amongst the carnage. +You.+ Achosyx uttered, venom in his voice. +You would dare to invade my sanctum?+ The adept smiled, his eyes blazing with inner power. His robes whipped about him as if caught in some ethereal wind. Dare? Of course I would dare, you arrogant piece of filth. I am a god. I know not the meaning of fear. The man spread his arms wide and disappeared beneath the growing illumination emanating from him. Achosyx raised his arms in defence, mechadendrites snaking from his sleeves and unfurling into defensive munitions. The being saw this and chuckled. Please. You intend me harm? How futile you must realise your actions are. You cannot harm me. +You would not dare, Mephetran. Kill me and you risk His anger. You speak of fear as if you are immune to the concept. We both know you are not. You fear him+ A flickering arc of light sprang forth from the being then and slammed into Achosyx. The Grand Magos screamed in agony as his life essence was leeched from him, drawn forth as a glowing column of light that rotated as it was drawn into the Ctan, and savoured as if the sweetest of treats. Imbecile. The Deceiver whispered, consuming the last of the Grand Magos essence. If he wants a war, then a war he shall have. Your death was a long time coming, Achosyx. Terra is mine, and I will not allow her to be taken from me.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Four: To Revere

Your pulse quickens. I hear it. Berolinus looked at his Primarch as he heard this. Guilliman smiled back and nodded slowly, a perceptive gesture. Yes. Your anxiety grows, and you know not even why. He is in your blood, you see. AunVa is all. He is a truly phenomenal being. AunVa. Berolinus echoed, almost savouring the word. He is master of this Unity, I take it? He is. He is a king amongst kings, Berolinus. He is the guiding force behind this war. It was wise AunVa who first mastered death to ascend and become a god. It was He who showed the Ethereals the way of everlasting life. This is truly an honour, Berolinus, an honour as rare as any you could imagine. The Ultramarine heard this and knew that his Primarch told the truth. Though he knew only of this AunVa by what he had heard, it was as if he had always know this magnificent being, as if AunVa had been there since the dawn of his existence.

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He had never laid eyes on the Prime Ethereal, nor had he ever seen any representation of what the being looked like. Even so, it was as if he could see the divine Tau in his mind, as if he had laid eyes on his perfection every day since he could remember. Even as he thought this he felt his mind and soul darken, as if repulsed by such concepts. A moment of clarity passed over him then and he braced himself, awaiting the inevitable voice of his dark conscience. It did not come. He had not heard from the whispering voice for hours now, ever since they had begun their approach to the chambers of AunVa. He could not understand this, and yet he was grateful to have his thoughts his own once more. Still it was as ifas if the presence was in hiding. Afraid. The duo reached a large iris and Guilliman slowed. Berolinus followed suit, taking in the vast shape as he did so. Several hulking automatons shifted their massive bulk to look upon the arrivals. Scanning systems ran needle-thin beams of light over the power-armoured warriors. Berolinus eyed the machines with caution. He knew now from experience that the Tau employed huge numbers of such constructs in every aspect of their lives, but these were far different from anything else he had yet seen. As cold and emotionless as any other Tau machine, there was nonetheless something that set them apart from others of their kind. He could not place it, but the dark core of his soul squirmed as if in warning. He realised then that he had never quite felt so alone before, in all his recollection. Let us pass. Guilliman commanded, quietly but with adamant intent. The Master of the Undying Spirit awaits an audience with us. Machine or not, you would dare test his will? Berolinus was not left surprised when the machines did not outwardly respond. Whatever his Primarch had said did the trick though, it seemed. The two vast constructs hovered away from the iris, allowing them passage. The Astarte steeled himself as the metal circle slid open, to reveal a glowing portal within. Its surface rippled and shimmered like the surface of a calm sea. Whatever it was that was supposed to lie beyond, he had no idea. What is this? He asked. A barrier? Guilliman shook his head. No, Astarte. A gateway. The Tau have mastered many things, my companion, science foremost among them. Have no fear, the portal is perfectly stable. Come, follow me. He did not argue. He looked on as the Primarch slid through the barrier and out off sight, the slightest of breezes catching the exposed flesh of his face at his gene-fathers passing. He held his breath, cleared his mind, and followed. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ What treachery is this, Magnus? Dorn snarled, snatching up another fallen Custode weapon. At his side his brother Manus uttered a sound of bestial, predatory anger and brought his mighty fists to bear, the shifting metal of their surface reconfiguring again and again as if agitated by the Primarchs hatred.

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Magnus the Red looked to his estranged brothers, his single eye burning with untold power. At his very gaze those Marines of the accursed Thousand Sons before him flickered and became transparent at his will, so that his visage would not be obscured from the attentions of his kin. Hear me, my brethren. I am not here as your enemy. The evil of the Changer of Ways has been scoured from my eyes by the cleansing light of our father. I am free at last, after so long slaved to his will. The stain of sorcery is cleansed from me. The warp is mine to direct now, unfettered by the trappings of corruption. I have learned my lessons, and I would fight, die even, at your side. Corrupt one. Dorn answered, spitting each word from his mouth as if of the foulest taste. You have performed your last act of treachery. I will finish what Russ started No Dorn, look at me. Chaos no longer holds any influence over my form or my mind. I have dispelled it from me for all time. I came here once before with a warning, but he would not hear it. He could already see that I had started to fall. Now my eyes are open, brother. Kill me if you must. I am here to save this world. Bolter fire roared behind Dorn and manus and both giants turned in time to see the Void Champion engulfed in a storm of fire. The ghostly Thousand Sons attacked en masse, advancing upon the enemy slowly and methodically. They did not regard the two Primarchs even as they passed by, as if they were not aware of them. The Void Champion shouldered its way through the onslaught and cut the nearest of the warriors down, slicing it from head to groin. The Thousand Son fell, its armour leaking a blinding light. It never hit the floor, instead unravelling and fading away to nothing, disappearing into the air. This happened again and again, until the power fist of one of the Terminators smashed into the Champions chest, bowling it back. Another struck it from behind, arresting its stumbling gait, then another and another. Kill it! Magnus shouted. Put it down while you have the chance! +++ The flickering light of the many campfires twisted and froze, distorted by the swirling wall of shadow. The sounds of the raucous inhabitants of the camp filled his ears the moment he emerged from the abyss. Laughter. Anger. The bull hollering of agitated food-things. The nasal screech of the runtz. The cacophony stirred something within him, something nameless, something that had become dulled during the long darkness. His mind held no memories of how he had come to be here, or indeed anything he could recall as recent. It ached, groaning beneath the weight of the changes inside his head. He had no idea where this even was. He let out a low growl and stumbled forward, his huge hands flexing. There were so many here, their collective stench was thick in his nostrils. As he advanced he began to feel them in his mind, as if he could see them all individually, a sea of flickering light. A strange and unexplainable concept came to him then, unbidden and incomprehensible. He felt as if he would be able to reach out and touch that sea, to add to it, to agitate it and set it ablaze. This train of thought hurt his brain and he dismissed it, for he had always preferred action to consideration. Thought was a last resort; needed only when might and muscle had failed to crush the enemy. He became aware of raised voices and shouts in his direction. The others had noticed his arrival. He regarded them as they approached, at first ignoring the threats and vocal protests to his presence in order to look upon them. They were feral. They wore rags and furs, and their skins were painted and tattooed. They wielded choppas and spears, and a few of them brandished crude guns he knew had not fired in an age. They neither

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believed in nor understood the concept of such weapons. He would change that. Woss this? One of the Orks snapped, loping forward. It brandished the crude spear in its hand as though the makeshift weapon would pose any kind of threat to him. Straggler, thats wot. Gut im, bleed im dry! Let Grognax strip is skin from is bones! He straightened, his mighty fists tightening. The glow of the campfires glinted off the metal plate welded to his skull as he ran his eyes over the throng, searching for the biggest, meanest Ork he could see. It did not take long before he spied his objective. You! The hulking Warboss growled, thrusting a stubby finger at him. You dont belong! You iz wundered inta da wrong camp, lickspit! Dis iz Grognaxs turf! The Ork pulled a huge choppa free from the leather straps at his back and brandished it with menace, saliva running from his vast maw. You iz gonna feed da squigs, boy! You iz gunna The rant of the Warboss ceased abruptly as his fist smashed into the Orks jaw. The blow was so powerful it detached the Warboss head and sent it spinning back amongst the others. The body of Grognax fell first onto its knees and then, after a second of pause, crashed into the dusty earth. Sorted. He uttered, clapping his hands together. For several long moments, none of the other Orks said anything. He placed his fists upon his hips and took in the slack-jawed crowd, his augmetic eye glinting with a crimson light. The Orks shifted uneasily all around him, unsure of what to do next. They had just watched their Warboss fall to a single blow. Wots a matter? You never seen true Orkiness? Pah, dirt-grubbin ferals, is all you are! He spat, kicking at the headless corpse at his feet. Though it had never really occurred to him to question where he was, he gestured at the surrounding terrain, and as such the unknown world itself. How iz it dat Orks come ta be here, in dis crud-baked nowhere? Cowerin, hidin like dogs! Dis iz wrong! Youre an insult ta green, all of you! Oh? An who are you, darkhide? The crowd parted to allow another of the Orks through. He sniffed and looked the newcomers way. What he saw caused his mountainous brow to furrow. Confusion caused his ache in his brain to intensify. The Ork was unlike any of the others. In fact, it was unlike any other Ork he had ever seen. Despite this unfamiliarity, a part of him recognised what the strange figure was. The Ork wore a simple leather loincloth and was bedecked with all manner of bones and wooden totems. An elaborate headdress of colourful feathers crowned his head, and his pale skin was daubed in blue and white war paint. He carried a simple copper staff, and as he moved through the throng the rod lit up again and again, attracting the ghostly wisps of energy that seemed to leak from its brethren. Wyrdboy. He growled, shifting his bulk to face the Ork. His counterparts eyes glowed with an unearthly green light as he regarded the powerful figure before him.

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You have power, darkhide. Power enough to smash Grognax. You iz not from dis place. II iz Thraka. He replied, shaking his head. He could feel his mind changing still. Something was quickening inside him. Something was changing. Memories were fighting for dominance in his brain, both his own and others still that did not belong to him as an individual. Memories that stretched beyond the self. Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka. I iz da hand of Gork and Mork. He tapped his armour-plated skull. In here. We forgot, see? For so long, we forgot da real stuff. Da godz are closer than you think. Dey never left us, we forgot what iz real. The other Orks roared and chafed at Thrakas words. They slapped one another and shook their crude weapons in the air. Grots and squigs danced around their feet, agitated by the furore. Only the Wierdboy seemed fairly calm amongst the rumpus. Quiet! Thraka raged, sweeping a hand before him. The horde immediately fell silent, nervous eyes darting his way. As he took a step forward a thin aura of power shimmered about his head, as if something were building inside him. Stupid goons! Look at you all! He snatched at one of the Orks, plucking his spear from his hands and casting it aside. Dis iz not da way! Stickers an furs! War paint! Its armour you be needin, an shooters, an trukks an tanks! Its all up here, in your heads! The Wierdboy heard this and gestured to a number of the others. The Orks scurried off and returned a moment later with handfuls of rusting scrap, including a number of decrepit shooters. Thraka snatched one of the weapons from the pile and inspected it. Da totems of Gork an Mork. The Wierdboy said, bowing his head as he spoke the name of the gods. Dese offerins were left behind when da godz put da seed of da Ork into dis place. You talk like you know what dese shootas were left for. You can read da signs? Thraka snarled contemptuously beneath his breath and tested the weight of the old gun. Without mercy or warning he turned the shoota upon the nearest Ork and fired. The unfortunate creature reeled back and fell into the dust to a cacophony of uttered disbelief. How you do dat? The Wyrdboy gasped, swaying slightly as the collective emotions of the surrounding crowd intensified the light behind his eyes. Thraka cast around to face him and banged the shoota against his skull plate. It works cause I want it ta. All dis, its all crud. We iz Orks, you hear me? We got a stinkin war to fight! A tumultuous cheer rose up from the gathered aliens at this. The Wyrdboy held his staff aloft and shook it in the air. He iz from Gork an Mork! Da godz have blessed im! Thraka soaked up the adulation of the simple tribe members, though his mind was still elsewhere. Memories continued to cut through the murk, memories of what had happened to him and what he had seen. He knew he had much work to do.

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Right. Listen up an listen good. Da godz sent me here for a reason. Gork an Mork, see, dey have a brother. He was the one dat carried me from a place far away to here, to find da brothers. Gork an Mork, dey are in here. He tapped his skull again. An out dere, an everywhere. Dis one, he walks like us an talks like us. Hes a messenger, see? Dere is a great war to fight, an we iz gonna fight it. I am here to show you boyz da way. Da Orks, we were created for dis war. Were gonna fight in da biggest bloody war da stars have ever seen! Dis dark one, he showed me da truth. He showed me what an Ork is. Orks dont just love ta fight. We iz born ta fight! II cant tell all of it, but its all up here, in my ead. Everything we need ta win. We all have it, but we iz lost da memories of it. Im ere ta show ya all. You, wheres ya Mek? The Wyrdboy answered him with a puzzled expression. A quick glance at the faces around him told him that none of what he had said had even begun to sink in. These Orks were good and strong but they were simple, their minds too underdeveloped to grasp his words. The tribe had not even managed to work out what the ancient weapons were or how to use them. He shook his head and fought to control his frustration. Mek? Mad Dok? Da one dat makes fings. Da tinkerer. The Wyrdboy seemed to understand what eh was asking and barked an order. Moments later another Ork was escorted through the crowd to meet him. Thraka looked the creature up and down, a grim frown twisting his features. Dis is Ungrol, da Pigdok. The Wyrdboy announced, shaking his stikk at the individual. Hes da one dat tinkers. Thraka nodded and stepped forward, raising a hand. Deres a knowing in all of us. Im ere to bring it out. At that he pressed the flat of his hand against the Pigdoks forehead. The Ork blinked and stepped back, the merest flicker of transparent energy playing about his head. Believe. Thraka said. An it will be. We ave an army to raise, an ships to build. The Pigdok did not answer. He nodded and then turned, slowly as in a trance, to head back into the camp. Thraka paid him no more heed and he cast around and took one of the rusting weapons from the pile at his feet and threw it to the nearest boy. You. Fire dat shoota. The Ork peered back at him, bewildered. I dunno He began. Yes. Thraka answered. You do.

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Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Five: Brethren

+++THE ISHYREA+++ The Khans hand finally moved away from his chin as he prepared to speak. I would discount your story, Chaplain, had I not seen and experienced everything I have since my return. As it is, I am prepared to believe that anything is possible in this dark time. Still, this apparition Centurius. Codian said, his voice heavy with unapologetic certainty. Indeed. This Centurius, you say he is more than an Astarte? I confess that I am struggling to absorb this latest turn of events. The spirits of the ship believe his story. Czevak intervened, his wavering voice speaking volumes of his wariness to anger the Primarch. The Khan looked to the Inquisitor as he heard this. Ah yes, the xenos ghosts. Is there anyone or anything that actually stays dead these days? I am wary of your willingness to place such faith in the alien, Czevak, dead or otherwise. This is our ship, mon-keigh. A voice said from nowhere and everywhere at once. How can you still be so unaware of our shared intentions? Our destinies are written. The Khan did not answer the presence. Instead, he merely peered about him, a look of utter contempt writ large across his scarred face. Questioned by a ghost. You continue to speak as you know are masters of the knowledge of destiny. Do not presume that you know me, spirits. We know, Jaghatai Khan. We know far more than you could realise. We know that your journey is to take you on a different path to those you accompany. Yours is a destiny far more immediate. Consider this a warning, Jaghatai Khan. You will receive no other. The Khan sneered at this and turned his cheek, a symbolic Chogoris gesture of dismissal. Codian shifted then, as much to diffuse the tension as to take charge of the conversation. I understand that much of this is hard to absorb, Khan, but I speak the truth. What I have seen, I know to be the absolute truth He flinched, feeling the atmosphere of the chamber alter. The air became less dense and charged. He knew that the shift meant that the spirits had departed, no doubt insulted by the Khans terseness. The others seemed to sense this too, all apart from Gormat. He looked around him, mystified by the reaction of his comrades. Have I missed something? They have gone. The Cadian answered, gesturing with his thumb as if able to pinpoint the mysterious and uncountable souls of the ships eternal crew. Grungi watched Ligur for a moment as the Librarian shivered, experiencing the effects of the change more than any other. The squat being placed his hand upon his hip and regarded the Chaplain with a suspicious eye.

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So this ancestor spirited you away to a war that is being fought far from here. Why the bloody hell did he do that? If he did not want you to fight in this conflict then what other reason would he possibly have for abducting you? To see. Codian answered. To see the truth with my own eyes. No one from the Alliance even knows this war is taking place. They must know of the Cadia fleet, and no doubt Calgar is preparing for a two-pronged attack. The defenders of Terra are expecting to be assailed from both directions. This secret army is fighting to prevent this from happening. Whether the Alliance knows it or not, Centurius and his allies are fighting for the survival of Terra and the Imperium. I see. Then why is this war secret, Codian? The Khan asked, folding his massive arms. Because the forces that fight for usthey are spoiled. Tainted. Dont you all see? There are those who still love this Imperium, those who would fight and die to preserve it, despite being reviled by people like us. The lost and the wayward. Redemption is possible, I know it. I have seen as much with my own eyes. The Khan heard this and scoffed at the Chaplains words. He looked upon Codian with an expression of disdain and disappointment. You are a Chaplain, Codian. You are a Master of Sanctity, a champion of the Imperial Creed. How are you able to find any room in your heart for tolerance or forgiveness..? Because I have seen, Khan. Because I have seen the Emperor within all of them. Centurius took me and showed me the truth so that I might learn. I have seen things that would sober the souls of the best of you, such things that I cannot bring myself to speak of. I have fought alongside warriors I would have put to death without pause or mercy in earlier times. They sent me back here with a message. The Khan heard this and swept his furred cloak aside. He raised his head as he spoke, his every muscle tensing, as if he were expecting some trial. What message? That they are coming. Codian answered. To fight for us and to die, if need be. We will not win this war without their aid. I need you to remember that, honoured Primarch. The Khans eyes narrowed as he heard this. There was something in the tone of the Chaplains voice that raised a glimmer of suspicion within him. What do you know, Daelo Codian? He asked, taking a step forward. That we will fight side by side on holy Terra, Khan. I know that as destiny. The Khan did not respond to this answer. His eyes shifted from side to side, his superhuman senses detecting something only a Primarch could sense. What is happening? +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Magnus the Red cast around to regard his siblings. Dorn and Manus bounded towards him, not even the presence of the Void Champions enough to quell their millennial hatred of the traitorous Primarch.

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At last! Dorn cried, his bronze face a vision of absolute abhorrence. I will finish what Russ started on Prospero! You are mine, Magnus! The Thousand Sons Primarch braced himself, bringing his chain-bladed glaive around in defence. Manus! Dorn! This is not the way! We are enemies no longer! +We will be enemies past death, Magnus!+ Manus roared, flexing his massive hands. +You were weak, too weak to resist corruption! You will be purged!+ With a gesture the silent warriors of the Thousand Sons moved to their Primarchs aid. Power-armoured bodies converged in an attempt to halt the rampaging duo. None came close to succeeding. Listen to me! Magnus demanded. This is madness! We have a common enemy and we will not stop them unless we work together! We cannot allow the Void Champions to succeed! Neither Dorn nor Manus listened to his pleas. Magnus parried Dorns first blow and sent the mighty warrior sprawling with a sweep of his glaive. Manus attacked and through sheer ferocity and effort persevered, beating back every attempt by Magnus to dispel him. The Thousand Sons Primarch uttered a word of power and became incorporeal, his hazy form allowing each successive blow to pass through him without harm or resistance. I implore you, hear me! Magnus raged, his ghostly form blazing. I am returned to the fold of the Emperor, and I bear a gift! It falls to me to fulfil a legacy that has been mine to discharge since the days of the Heresy! I am the shepherd, and I come to return the flock! Stand down and let me realize my destiny! Your destiny is to die! Dorn raged, picking himself up. Magnus shook his head. No, brother. Above all else, my destiny is to reunite. With that Magnus raised his hands and a blinding light filled the chamber. Lost amongst the illumination, the Void Champions roared their frustrations out into the Ziggurat, frustrated by the interruption. Neither of them could have guessed what the repentant Primarch had planned. Ventris stumbled as the light stung his eyes and burned his lungs. He felt himself brush past the Warmasters armoured bulk and clutched at it for support. He could see or hear nothing. Magnus had quickly and violently become an inferno of such intensity that everything was scoured from existence. His inner ears shook beneath a noise so intense that it could not register. Betrayal! He cried, staggering away. We are betrayed! No. Salvation. He recognised the voice in his head as belonging to Magnus, and knew that the same voice echoed through the minds of everyone else present. All that was once cast asunder, be reformed. The End Time is come. Let the legacy be fulfilled. First shall come the brothers of faith, the incorruptible. They shall be the first. Let the Darkness tremble. A burning wind buffeted his face then, powerful enough to push him back. He raised his hands to fight against the unnatural phenomenon, its searing touch like acid against his skin. The wind was charged, like cinders and ozone, and stung his eyes like ash.

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It was the warp, he knew that. It was the raw stuff of the empyrean. Something happened to existence then. Something changed, shifted. He felt his mind dull and grow heavy, as if a great pressure had suddenly descended upon the chamber. The weight of a combined presence not experienced for thousands of years. The first thing he saw when his vision returned was the vast, dark shape hurtling towards him. He felt his soul twist and knew that his life was about to end. He could not hope to fight these Void Champions and live. The shimmering glaive drew an arc of sickening energy as it was hefted high, ready to end his life. There followed a flash of emerald energy and he tensed, waiting for death to follow. It took the Ancient several seconds to realise that he was still alive. The glaive was still suspended above him, inches from his head. That was when he laid eyes of the vast, talon-fingered fist wedged beneath the weapons haft, its presence arresting the descent of the glaive. The immense being that stared back at him did so with an expression of disorientation, and yet behind his dark eyes Ventris saw a determination he could not mistake. He laid eyes on the powerful individual but for a moment, and yet what he saw there would remain etched upon his memory for a lifetime. The warriors pale face stood out from the mass of midnight-black power armour covering his vast body. Black feathers decorated his armour and hung from his hair. Dark eyes stared through the long strands of raven locks streaked across his face. He looked for all the world like a being who had touched madness. Magog. He uttered, with a voice as cold as it was powerful. A rising whine shook the Ancients breastbone as fire erupted from behind the warrior. He twisted around the Void Champion and wrapped his mighty arms around the machines chest. Without a further word the pair were airborne, the dark figures jump pack screaming with the effort of lifting them both. The streaking shapes soared high into the misty arch of the distant ceiling and the separated. A hurtling body slammed into one of the balconies and shattered it, sending chunks of masonry tumbling towards the ground. Retreat. We cannot risk agitating them. It was the voice of Magnus again, rolling across his mind. Ventris looked on as the gold and blue shapes turned as one and sank into the air, their bodies dissipating into mist. Calgar cried out then and he cast around, his fists tightening in readiness to fight. Sparks filled his vision and he stepped back defensively. The other Void Champion stumbled past, assailed by another mighty figure. The dark skinned warrior swung his massive hammer with a deep roar and smashed the Champion off his feet. The blow sent the abomination hurtling clear across the amphitheatre, its arms and legs flailing. The green-armoured colossus twisted at the waist and bellowed. Beyond, Dorn and Manus prepared to meet the airborne Champion. Warmaster! Ventris started as a vast chunk of falling rockcrete smashed into the ground beside him. It was Tigurius who had called, and Tigurius that saved the lives of his comrades. Flickering power enveloped the former Ultramarines, a second before tonnes of crumbling masonry crashed

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against it. The ethereal field quivered and dulled, assailed by the ferocity of the falling stone. It held nonetheless. Warmaster, itit I know, old friend. Calgar answered, the huge chunks rumbling as they tumbled away, crushing the bodies of dead Custodes as they went. I see it with my own eyes. They are returned The Warmaster and his followers scattered as yet more shapes fell from above and crashed into the ground in a blur of violent movement. Tigurius was caught by the furious conflict and staggered back, quaking the ground as he did so. Cassius intervened then, driving himself between the Warmaster and Ventris, his crozius flaring as he moved to defend his comrades. The horrifying skull shot forth to meet him, so close that the two faces almost touched. Not a chance. The Void Champion was hauled away from him with speed and force enough to shatter the bones of any mortal man. Its attacker dragged the Champion up through the air and slammed it into the ground with enough force to shatter the ancient stone. The warrior was clad in segmented grey power armour fringed with burnished gold and covered with glowing runes. His hair and beard were a mass of knotted dark red braids and his eyes a rich yellow, canine and feral. He smashed his boot into the Champion again and again, driving it further into the ground. He wielded a massive fanged blade that growled as it tore into the Champions armour. Such was the ferocity of the attack that the Champion could do nothing to right itself or fight back. After a few moments of furious conflict, the Void Champion flickered and then blinked from existence in a flash of emerald energy. Coward! Leman Russ howled, thrusting his head back. Ventris rocked as another shape hurtled past, a giant mass of black armour and flowing bone-coloured robes. He rises! The Lion bellowed, thrusting the tip of his blade out at the shifting mass beyond. Vulkan nodded and fell into step at his side, the pair heading towards where Dorn and Manus already waited to continue the fight. There was a flicker of energy identical to the departure of Russs opponent and, in the blink of an eye, the second Void Champion disappeared. They are gone, but they will return. Ventris heard the familiar voice and shifted his attention in time to see Tigurius being hoisted up from his prone position and righted with unnatural ease. Jaghatai Khan greeted the Ancient with a bow and then turned his attention to the Warmaster. Calgar, we meet again. Uriel Ventris took in the incredible sight around him, buffeted by the screaming whine of jump pack engines as Corax of the Raven Guard came to rest beyond. He fought to catch his breath, such was the

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inconceivable sight. The Primarchs. The Primarchs were returned.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Six: Aun'Va

So close. So close he could smell her. Oils and incense, blood and ozone. Her flawless skin quivered, as if in revulsion to the blood and the filth that coated it. It is over. He whispered into her ear. Let your life slip away Not yet. He felt her hand against his face, her touch cold and yet searing against his flesh. You still fear me? She whispered, her voice breaking. I never did! He replied. He tore her hand away, feeling the bones in his grasp break. She writhed with pain, and yet the dignity never once left her. The Prophet. His eyes widened as he heard this. What? What did you say? I leave this legacy. Know. Know the truth. See the lie within. If only for the briefest of moments, doubt. He is coming, Primarch. See it as I have seen it. He is coming for you. He tore her hand away and drove his fist down, ending her life. Explosions thundered through his mind, a chain reaction caused by the unknown powers of the woman. Visions flashed across his eyes, intrusive and raw. The leering skull of death loomed large, its terrible eyes blazing retribution. His saw his own flesh, grey and false, slough from his artificial bones. He saw the chamber, and though he had never known of its existence, he knew the horrifying truth of it at once. False. Unnatural. A shadow. His brothers screaming as they were dragged through space and time, torn from wombs of safety and incarceration to stand at the Throne Cold. Death. Isolation. Within his tomb the being railed and fought, but he could not escape Primarch? The world poured back into his senses at the sound of Berolinus voice, and he shook himself, watching as the mighty gates hissed open. The memory of the Saint faded in his mind, her face disintegrating and turning to mist. He gathered his thoughts and stepped forward into the chamber, dismissing the vision. Berolinus followed his Primarch, squinting as his eyes adjusted to the gloom.

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You are blessed to be here. Guilliman said. Berolinus did not need to be told. At the centre of the chamber was a vast, circular machine. There were many Tau figures sat around the device, only visible thanks to the pale illumination that shone onto the gathered faces. He observed this as he passed, taking in the strange sight. Every Tau there seemed emaciated, almost half-dead. None of them appeared to be conscious, and each individual looked to be attached to the device by wires and tubes. At the centre of it all, the unknown machine pulsed and crackled, glowing green energies coruscating about it. The Ethereals. Guilliman whispered, seeing his interest. They can neither see nor hear us. Thanks to the wisdom of AunVa they have long since ascended to another plane of existence. You see, they no longer have need to leave this chamber, for the power of the Paradox allows them ultimate freedom. They can go wherever they choose, and still retain the ultimate influence over their people. Berolinus did not understand Guillimans explanation, but rather felt what his Primarch said to be fact. Some time ago he had come to realise that this was more than a product of faith, but something more. Something inside him, like a shared genetic knowledge. In turn, this knowledge was far more than a blood link with Guilliman. It was part of the gift that the Tau had given him. This way. Guilliman said. And bathe in His radiance. Berolinus slowed as he cast his gaze forward. Guilliman was already halfway to prostrating himself before the magnificent being seated at the end of the chamber. Kaiguela Ilporrui. It uttered, its voice heavy with palpable power. My lord AunVa. The Primarch replied, touching his forehead to the floor. I am here at your pleasure. Berolinus blinked. He found himself mirroring the Primarch, his head lowering unbidden to the deck. Once he had genuflected he rose, blinking again, as if his eyes were unable to accept the splendour of the being before them. He had not known what to expect, and now, kneeling before the absolute commander of the Unity, his every expectation was blown away. There was a majesty about AunVa that could not be described or emoted, no matter how one may try. He literally shone with a radiance, and unlike the other Ethereals he was neither emaciated nor bound. He was Tau, that could not be mistaken. His features, though only partially visible beneath the luminescent sheen that surrounded him, corresponded to those of the Tau. The flat features, the square mouth. The eyes though were not black. They shone with indescribable vigour, and his skin was like liquid steel. When he spoke the air in the chamber seemed to shift with every word, as if a cool breeze passed. You have given me Saturn, Guilliman, and yet I am without Thor. Why was my will denied? For my failure, honoured AunVa, there is no excuse. I allowed agents of the enemy to kill Thor before he could be secured. I underestimated his daring. You underestimated his foolishness, to be sure. You are fortunate indeed that you are my greatest asset, Guilliman, for I would have put any other to death for this failure. Nonetheless, Saturn has fallen and our advance is well underway. Soon Terra will be mine. Of course, my lord. For the Greater Good.

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AunVa turned his burning gaze to Berolinus then, and the warrior felt his soul shudder beneath the attention of those ageless eyes. What is this, Kaiguela? Is it the protg I have heard of? This is Berolinus, my Aun. He has entered our fold body and soul. It is he who slew the champion Lucius, and put to flight the agents of the enemy. Ah yes. AunVa answered. The one you called Ralei. I assume he has not returned since his disappearance? He has not, my lord. Good. I believe his role to be complete now. It is unfortunate that our allowance of his presence cost us Thor, but in the end that allowance will bear fruit. His master dies not suspect that we know, even now, and no doubt assumes that the loss of Thor will effect us greatly. It will not. Now, I have another task for you, Guilliman. The Nicassar, lord? Indeed. Recent and troubling events have led me to conclude that it is simply too risky to continue to allow the presence of psykers within the Unity. They have served their purpose. Now we must dispose of them before those who would seek to undermine us have the chance to corrupt them. Are you confident that this can be achieved swiftly and with one strike? As my lord commands it. Guilliman answered, rising to his feet once more. The Nicassar shall be scoured from our Unity. +++ +++THE ISHYREA.+++ Codian met the gaze of the others and could not answer. He had known all along that the Khans path would differ from their own, but still, this had come as a total shock to him, as much as it had to any of the others. It is as destiny decreed. One of the ghostly voices said. He is needed elsewhere. You shall be reunited with him in due course. I suppose you have seen it. The Cadian spat, raising his eyes as if to look accusingly out at the bodiless spirit. The ghost did not reply. Our mission remains unchanged. Codian continued. The Ishyreas crew have made preparations to allow the Kroot-controlled vessels access to the webway in our wake. We are bound for Terra, ahead of the Penitent Fleet. Codian referred to the ships that were taking part in the war with the ships of Leviathan. Only he knew the truth of that war, and now, looking at the faces surrounding him, he decided that it was time to share that truth, and to bring hope to those whose spirits had taken a pounding. II saw the truth. He began. And I saw hope in that truth. I saw that one of the core ideals of the Imperial Creed is flawed. Chaplain Czevak began, rising slowly. The others responded likewise, made uncomfortable by Codians near-heretical comment.

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The Chaplain held up a hand in a gesture of placation. Repentance. Forgiveness. For so long the Imperium has railed against the traitor and the heretic, and with good cause. Hours was a lesson that was driven into the heart of the Imperium like a knife, and we learned from his betrayal that the sins of the fallen could not be allowed to repeat themselves. The problem is that this lesson hardened us beyond the ability to assess the grey areas between what it is to be faithful and what makes a heretic. The ability to believe in the prevailing good of a person has been driven from us. Like Luther, there are those that seek genuine atonement, those who would give their all, who would die to see that realised. What are you trying to say, Chaplain? Ligur asked. Codian looked to the aging psyker. That there are two wars being fought for the preservation of our Imperium, Librarian. You above all should understand this. Despite the predations of the Unity and their push to destroy our Emperors kingdom, there was a division that drove you and your brothers from the Alliance. The Deathwatch became a force unto themselves, separate from Calgars forces and yet tasked with the same cause. This fleet mirrors your own Deathwatch in essence. It is comprised in the majority of Astartes that the Imperium at large had thought lost. I have seenbeingsthat even I cannot begin to explain or comprehend. Beasts that once walked as Marines, feral creatures that would have been put to death in the age of my origin. Mutant creatures, more monster than Marine. Other Chapters, thought lost or extinct, fight alongside these beings. Chapters such as the Black Templars. The Templars still exist? Ligur gasped. Yes, and in great numbers. It would seem that they have been recruiting since their departure of the Imperium. This mighty war is led by an individual known only as Centurius. The Legion of the Damned. It was Orechiels turn to speak. Her reaction surprised Codian, for he had not expected even the Astartes to know of the ghostly warriors, let alone anyone else. Orechiel saw this reaction in his eyes and allowed herself a wry smile. Please, chaplain, you arent the only one with knowledge on the secret lore of the Imperium. She is correct. Czevak said, rising slowly. The Legion of the Damned is well known throughout the Inquisition. Hundreds of Inquisitors have spent their lives dedicated to unravelling the truth behind those ghostly Astartes. They remain a mystery still. I have met Centurius, Inquisitors, and I can tell you that he is far more than legend. Like Luther before him, he is both blessed and cursed by a terrible knowledge, a knowledge imparted to him by the Emperor Himself. He carries an artefact so powerful that it has changed him and his Chapter into creatures far beyond anything we know of as mortal. I find it hard to believe that the Black Templars would follow any such individual into battle. Czevak said. They are amongst the most zealous of all the Chapters. Have you not heard a word of what I have said, Czevak? This is the final war. This is the dark age the Astartes were created for. The Emperor knew that this time was destined to come to pass. Why else do you

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think his aim was to unite mankind? He knew that we could only survive this trial if we were united as one race. This is the end time, you all need to understand that. This is where everything, where existence itself, has been leading us. Our Imperium has seen many great and powerful enemies since its birth, and yet none can hope to compare with the evil forces that have set their sights upon Terra. We fight to save a world. They could not care less whether that world survives or not. The rest of the gathering were clearly intrigued by Codians words. It was Gormat who asked the question on everybodys lips. Terra is most definitely the goal of the Unity, Chaplain, I can assure you of that. AunVa recognises the symbolism in her, and seeks only to take the world as a sign of power and a demonstration of what the Unity can achieve. When Terra falls, the last elements of rebellion in this galaxy shall crumble in the planets wake. Terra is the final bastion. Codian looked to the xenos as he heard this. Forgive me, Tau, but you do not understand. I do not speak of the Unity. The Tau, for all their power, are nothing but pawns themselves in all this. Of course you do not see that, the truth has been kept from you. I speak of the Ctan. Tell me. Orechiel whispered, her eyes widening. Tell me all you know, Chaplain. That they are to rise again, Inquisitor, but you knew that already. This is all about them. It is they who seek to use the war against the Unity and the Imperium to bring about a new and terrible age, an age where they rule supreme. Even now they gather their forces and their strength, these dreadful four, ready to finish what they started millions of years ago. Torvus rose in anger as he heard this, his face red with disbelief. This is absurd, all of it! How can you tell us that our greatest enemy is one that we have never fought, never even heard of? If these Ctan are so powerful then how come they are so unknown? Because that is part of their power. Orechiel answered, opening her hands. How can one prepare to fight against a foe he does not know even exists? We are speaking of an evil to timeless, so vast, that it has slain in slumber through the ages. The Imperium, mankind even, did not exist the last time it tried to consume the galaxy. This is unlike anything we have ever seen or faced before, Marine. These Ctan. Are they powerful enough to beat the Unity? Gormat answered. Even the Taus interest was peaked now. Codian heard this and turned his attention to the former ambassador. You cannot comprehend the power and influence of the Ctan, Gormat. They will use the Unity to conquer Terra and then they will destroy the Tau race for all time. They have been using you since the dawn of your race, Tau. How do you think it is that the Tau rose to power so quickly and so totally? I will not hear this. Gormat spat. He turned on his heel and marched from the chamber, leaving the rest of them to witness his retreat. Hnn. Looks like the truth hurts. Grungi sneered, folding his arms. Old greys still reeling from finding out his precious Ethereals have been using him all this time, and still he cant accept that his life has been a lie. Grungi, all our lives have been based on that same lie. Codian answered. Dont you see that? Have you never wondered why it is that all the sentient races of this galaxy share so many similarities? The Eldar were the first, Demiurg. Created to fight the first war against the Ctan. Our kind did not exist then, but they

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do so now. The Demiurgs smile slowly faded. Are you suggesting that we werecultured? Grown, like bloody Orks? Yes. New war, new warriors, Grungi. That is why we exist. The Demiurg spat on the floor and shook his head. I am beginning to see things from the Taus point of view. I have followed you into many battles, Codian, and fought alongside you, but I will not hear this insult. The Demiurg were forged upon the anvils of the Ancestors, not born as part of some experiment. He left then, hot on the heels of Gormat. I understand the aliens frustration, Codian. Ligur said. You cast aspersions on the origin of us all. Man was not created by any god, you know that, and mans destiny was forged by the Emperor, not some ancient xenos race. The truth is as I say. Codian answered quietly. However hard it may be to accept. We are nothing but living weapons, a legacy of a time when the stars themselves were young. Our existence is not a circumstance of chance. The birth of our race waspreparation. The Librarians face hardened upon hearing this. Torvus spat some venomous obscenity and rose, reaching for his hammer. Ligurs claw arrested his advance, and uttering no further word, the two Marines made their exit. Codian looked upon the faces of those left before him. Umbras, he could tell, was still present only through his allegiance to the Chaplain. The Cadian exhaled deeply and was the next to leave. The two Inquisitors remained, though their faces were masks of confusion. Leave me. Codian ordered them. We have much to prepare as we enter the webway. We must be ready. Codian Czevak began. Leave. He said again, his voice low. Czevak nodded slowly and led the others out of the chamber. The door closed behind them, and Codian was alone. It will take time for them to accept the truth, Prophet. Said a ghostly voice. Whether they accept it or not is immaterial. We are nought but pawns, everyone of us. Not even death changes that. Codian knew the dead Eldar was right.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Seven: Vital and Expendable

+++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Uriel Ventris looked about him, still stunned by the unexpected turn of events. It was as if he were caught in

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some waking dream, too incredible, too wondrous to comprehend. Primarchs. The word resounded through his head again and again, sending an electric pulse down his spine each time. Primarchs. One of the monolithic beings moved to meet with Calgar, the shifting of his bulk hauling Ventris from his reverie. They are gone for now, but they are far from beaten. It will take much more to bring Gog and Magog low. Jaghatai Khan. Calgar uttered in response, his augmetic voice heavy with disbelief. Father of the White Scars. Yes. The Khan answered, taking in his surroundings as if for the first time. So, this is the Emperors Palace. Yes, I remember it. It is as if it were only yesterday that I stood here last How? The Warmaster whispered, barely able to speak. How can this be? At that the Khan cast around to look upon the distant form of Magnus, a look of dawning realisation passing over his scarred face. It was always meant to be. I remember now. I remember, yes As do we all. Corax of the Raven Guard said, greeting his brother Primarch with a warriors handshake, wrist to wrist. The dark individual swept his black hair up over his head and looked about him, taking in the vastness and splendour of the Imperial Palace. They have retreated, but you are correct, brother, they are far from done. They were always the strongest of us, before the Great Disgrace. Horus warned us Enough, Corax. The Khan growled. The Raven Guard Primarch flicked his head around and fell silent, the expression on his face telling Ventris that he had already revealed far too much. The Khan turned his attention back to Calgar then. Tell me, who is in command here? The Sigilte Calgar began. No. Regaas is corrupt. Corax and Jaghatai heard the voice and twisted to meet the arrival of Dorn, his golden armour glinting beneath the distant lumen globes of the amphitheatre. Sigilite? The Khan uttered, suspicion in his voice. Far from it. He is the enemy, this Regaas. He is one of the abominations we were created to counter. It is far worse than even the Emperor had foreseen, brother. This deceiver has managed to penetrate the High Lords themselves. He replaced them in an attempt to take the power of the Imperium for himself. His plans were undone shortly before your arrival, when agents of the Dragon assassinated the puppets he installed. Gog and Magog? Corax asked. Dorn nodded. Yes. The enemy controls them now. it is as we had always feared. The Emperor Himself could not destroy

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them. They are loose now, slaved to a different, terrible master. They will head the armies of unlife that shall descend upon this world and attempt to take it as their own. The conversation died away then as everyone present became aware of a commotion beyond. All eyes turned to see the confrontation that was occurring at the far side of the amphitheatre. Bastard! Traitor! I will tear the skin from your bones! Russ charged at Magnus, his frostblade spinning about him. The howling sword carved through the Thousand Sons Primarchs incorporeal form, dragging his mist-like substance with it in its wake. Magnus gritted his teeth and stood his ground, his infernal magicks preserving him. Balance your humours, you feral oaf! This outburst serves no good whatsoever Magnus! Whoreson! Face me! Face me as a warrior! I will not rest until I get my retribution! Fenris damn you, you bloody crimson mutant Magnus seethed and then took a step forward. His armoured body flickered and then became tangible. Russ saw this and lunged at him, sweeping a fist across his face. The blow connected and threw the red-skinned Primarch back onto his arse. No sooner had he landed than he became intangible again and then drifted, like mist, onto his feet. I trust that you are satisfied, you rabid swine. Magnus uttered. Russ shook his head and stepped back, shaking his armoured fist as he did so. That will suffice. He answered, deactivating his blade and placing it back in its scabbard. I have waited thousands of years to do that. Magnus ran the back of his hand across his mouth, the action dismissing the blood and damage caused by the Wolfs blow. Then I trust that it is out of your system now, Russ. We have an Imperium to salvage. Russ did not answer the giant. He glanced about him, taking in the surrounding space and the beings that dwelled there. Several moments passed before the satisfied smile that split his lips slowly began to fade. Guilliman. Where is that posturing bastillen? I can see his smug face now Guilliman is not present. Dorn answered. Russ looked to the Imperial Fists Primarch, his yellow eyes widening. Roboute did not make it, Russ. We are all that is left. We are the only ones left to fulfil the prophecy. A look of sadness passed over Russ face. The Primarch let out a nasal sigh of discontent, the messy braids of hair falling over his face. Then we shall avenge his memory, those of us who made it through the trials No, brother. Dorn continued, placing a hand upon the Primarchs shoulder. You must understand the truth. It is far worse than that. He did not die. +++ +++THE ISHYREA.+++

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We have entered the webway. Grungi looked up as he heard this and nodded. Aye, Longshank. I felt it. Codian entered the small chamber, turning his bulk sideways through the oval opening as he did so. These access ways were hardly built to accommodate the passage of power armour. He said, squeezing through the space. Grungi snorted and continued with his duties. The axe that he had fashioned to replace his lost augmetic hand was loose and laid upon the wraithbone dais before him. After a few moments he eyed the silent Chaplain, suspicion creeping across his granite face. I take it you are here to sully my origins further, Codian. What is it now? Were my forbearers the product of the unholy union between Ork and daemon? Codian did not answer immediately. He moved to rake a seat beside the Demiurg, the translucent organic ledge he chose creaking softly beneath his weight. It was not my intention to offend you, Grungi, but it seems that in have been tasked with revealing the truth, no matter how unpalatable that truth may be. There is nothing I cannot reveal about the origins of your race that stain your past as much as my own. None of us are exempt from this, no matter what we are. So, you really believe that we were created by other beings? That everything we know is the legacy of some galactic plan? Yes, Grungi, I do, and I hate what I know to be the truth. I have chosen to confide in you because we have fought and survived so much. We are brothers in battle, if not in blood, and I never once suspected that I would count a member of another race as such. Dont you see? This knowledge is enough to change a man. All I know, all I have seen, it causes everything I knew before to pale. None of the old ways truly matter. Our hatreds, our petty rivalries, they are nothing more than folly. Sentient life cannot afford to stand separate and isolated. We were created to be a unity. Hnn. You would fit in well beside the Tau. This is serious. I need you of all of them to understand exactly what my message means. Everything, everything, is a consequence of the ancient war with these Ctan. Every single facet of our lives is controlled by fact that they exist. What do you know of Horus, Grungi? I know of his legend. Horus was the greatest schism ever to shake your Imperium. The Ancestors sing of those dark days. Your Horus brought chaos into this universe, Codian, and had he succeeded he would have ended all life. Horus was a tyrant and a traitor, yes, but what if I told you that there was more to his treachery than was ever recorded? What if I told you that Horus, along with fully half the military might of the Imperium, rebelled against the Emperor because they learned the truth? Grungis answer was not vocal, but it was an answer nonetheless. He placed the axe upon the surface before him and shifted so that he was facing the Chaplain. His interest was clearly piqued. The gods of the warp wished to see Terra destroyed because they saw what was to come to pass. Codian continued, looking away from the squat alien, as if wracked with shame.

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The Emperor knew, and that was why he created us, why he set about bringing the worlds of man beneath his control. My kind was to be the new militia, the grand legion. You see, the Eldar had once been the shining jewels in the crown of the Old Ones, but for all their grandeur and superiority, they proved to be flawed. Emotion. The power of the warp was their greatest ally, but in the end it proved to be their greatest weakness. The Eldar were too closely linked to the warp, and thus they were easily manipulated by the forces within that they unwittingly brought to sentience. Your words flow like water, Codian. Grungi said, shaking his head. Like the stream, too fast and too malleable to absorb. Then try to understand. The Eldar brought about a disaster that almost consumed the stars. The Ctan were beaten back, forced to retreat, but in their absence the Old Ones were consumed by the forces that the psychic races had unwittingly released. And so, what of the human race? Like the Demiurg, and like so many other races, we were created to proceed the second coming of the Ctan. Horus saw the truth in his, and that was what allowed the influence of the Dark Gods to consume him. Long before the Heresy, two of the Emperors sons were revealed to harbour a curse, one that could not be countered. The Primarchs were shown the truth, but by then it was too late for fully half of them. The machinations of the Ctan had already soured the legacy of the Old Ones. Horus saw the truth, and in turn managed to convey that truth to many of the Emperors sons. Some realised the intent behind the Emperors actions, whilst others only felt the sting of his deceit. That is how Horus managed to corrupt so many, Grungi. I see. The Demiurg turned back to the task in hand, retrieving the axe from its resting place. He continued to sharpen its edge, though it was clear from his expression that he was thinking over all the Chaplain had revealed. So, in essence you are telling me that everything your Imperium is based upon is a lie? Yes. Codian answered sincerely. Why? Because I need you to see. I need you to understand exactly what this war means. You fight, my brother, to avenge a race that is lost. I need you to understand that this is bigger than retribution. This is a fight for the survival of life, in all its forms. I mourn for the loss of your people, Grungi, but I cannot bring them back. We face a foe that would extinguish us all, that would feed on us as if we were nothing more than morsels. We fight for life, all of us. Race matters not. Grungi heard this and placed the weapon back onto the table. What exactly are you trying to tell me, Codian? That you are not alone. That you are far from the last. I have known what it is to feel isolated, to feel lie a relic, a remnant of a time that does not belong to me. Those thoughts were selfish, short-sighted. Demiurg, human, Eldar, it does not matter, Grungi. We are life. We are alive. None of us, not a single soul, will go quietly into the night.

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Hnn. At last, Stalk-leg, you begin to make sense. +++ Enter. Regaas did not acknowledge the new arrival. The doors hissed open and she entered, the light drifting like liquid across her sleek black form. The agents are dead to a man, my lord. The assassin said. The plan was flawless. The emergence of the Primarchs was an unfortunate impediment, but Accounted for. Regaas answered, clasping his hands together. I had anticipated the meddling of Magnus. As unfortunate as their return may be, this serves us, my pawn. The Void Champions are suppressed, for now at least. Our hold on Terra is far from compromised. The assassin bowed her head at the wisdom of her master. The Primarchs converge as we speak at the foot of the Ziggurat. Do you wish that we..? No. To move against them now would be ill-advised. We must allow them to think that their consolidation is utterly effective. They need to believe that I am vexed by their combined presence. Continue to monitor their movements, and keep me updated. As my lord wills. The assassin replied, bowing her head. With that she turned smartly on her heel and made towards the exit. It was only as she neared the door that she slowed. My lord, one more thing. Regaas glanced up as he heard this, his features hardening. A fleeting pulse of power passed over his face. Speak. It concerns the Void Champions. What of them? The assassin hesitated, as if afraid of incurring the Sigilites wrath. They are powerful, lord. Too powerful to dismiss. They have retreated, no doubt to recover from their confrontation with the Primarchs. Would you wish us to locate them and neutralise the threat while they are indisposed, or do we still manoeuvre to suffer the Grand Magos still? My assassins are ready to act at your command in order to achieve this. Regaas rose slowly at this, anger twisting his features. It is not your place to assume my will, assassin. Never do so again. Forgive me, Sigilite. I am but eager to fulfil my role in disposing of those who would oppose you. My agents are ready to dispose of whatever remains of Achosyx at your will. Regaas found a balance in his mood then. He sat back down and waved a dismissive hand. Achosyx has been dealt with by my own hand, Callidus. You will find the body of the Grand Magos where I left it to fall, in his private sanctum. There is no more need for subterfuge and guile now. Leave it there to

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rot. As for the Void Champions The assassin did not look to flinch, nor did she attempt to speak. None of these reactions were necessary to gain his attention. Is something amiss? Forgive me, lord, but I do not understand. You say Achosyx is dead? Of course he is. The fool thought himself safe beneath his masters shadow. I could allow him that illusion no longer. The assassin shifted slightly and raised her wrist up to her hidden face. She spoke quickly and softly into the communicator there. Whatever answer she received, she clearly did not appreciate. My patience tires, assassin. It is Achosyx, lord. Our spies confirm that he still alive and well, still within his chambers. Of course, they have to be mistaken. I will deal with their incompetence immediately Regaas did not answer. Instead, his eyes blazed.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Eight: Fallen Masters, Risen Legends
+++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ He should have been here. Russ cast his gaze out slowly across the amphitheatre, his frostblade deactivated and shouldered. This is unacceptable. He should be here. How can he be lost to us? Vulkan asked, looking to the crimson-skinned giant. I do not understand He cannot be reached. Magnus replied, regret evident in his voice. This wasunforeseen. We did not know that Guilliman would be taken by the Tau. He has been corrupted, like the Lost Brothers. I cannot purge that corruption, for all my abilities. If I bring him to us now he will break himself against us before reaffirm his allegiance. This is unacceptable. This time the voice belonged to Lion ElJonson, the father of the Dark Angels. He reached up and removed his hood to reveal a pale face fringed with thick auburn hair. You have made a mistake, Magnus. We all saw the return. He came to us and He showed us the truth There is no mistake, Lion. I cannot explain this turn of events, but Guilliman is lost to us. Like Gog and Magog, his corruption is not due to the influence of the warp or any personal choice. He has been altered by dark methods that even I cannot counter.

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The Tau have him. All eyes turned to the Khan, who stood beside the Warmaster and his men. The Tau. Jonson said, a darkness passing over his face. I know this enemy. I have fought these creatures. The Khan nodded and as he spoke next, he looked to each of his brothers in turn. Yes. It is the Tau who we were fated to return to fight. The Tau have corrupted him somehow. Whether Guilliman received the vision or not is immaterial. It is clear to us that these creatures compromised him somehow prior to his return. It would seem that we are fated to fight this war without him. Russ heard this and looked to Calgar and the others then, accusation blazing in his eyes. You. Sons of Guilliman, I smell the seed within you. What happened to him? He was bested by the traitor Fulgrim. Calgar answered. Mortally wounded. The Tau took his stasispreserved body from Macragge, and they did what we could not. They brought him back to health. He fights for them now. No! The Wolf raged, surging forward. Unacceptable! You bring him back, Magnus! Bring him to us! If he is to die rather than join us then so be it! The giant shook his head slowly. No, Russ. The Emperors wisdom must be trusted. This was His plan, His will. His knowledge transcends our own. None of us can explain this vexing turn of events. Somehow the enemy have managed to compromise him, but we cannot... Calgars bulk groaned as he shifted, his movement interrupting the exchange. Forgive me, he began, if I sound in any way foolish or unapprised, but I feel that I am missing something here. Something big. The Primarchs turned to him as one, but did not answer. Calgar raised a fist in the direction of Magnus. Is this not the same abomination that sired the Thousand Sons? Is this not the traitor Magnus, sworn enemy of the Imperium, fallen son of the Emperor? Calgar, there is much that you do not understand. Dorn finally answered. I understand heresy, Primarch. I understand what it is to betray everything you exist to protect. We do not have time for this. Dorn said. We have a war to prepare for. Corax I will have answers! Calgar roared, striding forward. Or I will take up the task of my own lost Primarch and banish this traitor from the Emperors presence myself! Tigurius took his place beside his Warmaster, followed a moment later by Ventris and Cassius. That would be unwise. Russ growled, drawing the frostblade slowly from his shoulder. Enough of this. Magnus swept a hand before him to dispel the burgeoning conflict.

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He is right. He deserves an explanation. Explanation? Heras walls, how can heresy be explained? How can everything we know of the Heresy, the greatest schism ever to affect our Imperium, be explained? Everything you have been told, Calgar, is a lie. +++ Lies. Codian whispered. Secrets. So much of our galaxys history is rooted in this war, Grungi. The events that are happening now have been anticipated since the birth of the stars, as incomprehensible as that may be to understand. The Demiurg glanced around him as the ship shivered, the soft illumination of the walls dimming for a moment. It would seem that the journey is starting to become perilous. He observed. Just as the Eldar ghosts warned us. Listen to me, Grungi. I am trying to tell to the truth of all of this. The truth does not matter to me, Longshank. I know my place in this war. I am the Last Avenger, the final bullet of vengeance for my dead race. There is nothing complex about my role in this. Codians face hardened as he heard this. We all have a role to play in this fight, Demiurg. Dont you see that? None of this is chance. With that he removed something from one of the pouches at his belt. A small piece of yellowed parchment, its condition clearly indicative of its great age. This is the key, it always has been. The destiny of a galaxy, scribbled by xenos hand. The Last Avenger, Grungi. See? This is a prophecy so old that it precedes the birth of your race. You are the Last Avenger. Millions of years ago, your role was already foretold. Grungi took the parchment from Codian and examined it, his mouth moving silently with each word. This is more than a prophecy. It is a warning. It was written for me. The Demiurg smiled at this, clearly amused by the claim. Now that would make absolutely no sense whatsoever. Codian moved to stand by him and stuck a finger into the parchment. There. The Prophet. That is me, Grungi. The Entombed Ancient. The Khan. There are others here, some we know, others we have yet to meet. See this section? Let the Lost Princes of the Young gather, shoulder to shoulder they alone may weather the Hate-Winters wrath. Grungi read, deciphering the Imperial text as best he could. The Primarchs. The sons of the Emperor. I have seen their return, Grungi. From the moment the Emperor created them, he knew. He knew of the Heresy, of everything that would come to pass. Ah yes, the great war for the Imperium. How could your Emperor have seen the truth of it and allowed it to occur, Codian? That makes no sense.

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Codian folded the parchment carefully and placed it back in its pouch. Because the true enemy are timeless, and their gaze omnipresent. None of us have the ability to comprehend the scale or complexity of this drama, Demiurg. Only the Emperor understood, and he allowed events to pass as they did because he knew he had to. Had the enemy known of his intentions then they would surely have wiped the Imperium from existence long before this day. The Primarchs were created to fight this final war, but they would surely have perished long before now had he not taken the steps necessary to preserve them from the attentions of the CTan. Again, Codian, you speak in riddles. If he knew all that would come to pass, could he not have simply created them much later? No, Grungi. Try to see. As powerful as He was, the Emperor could not have survived almost eleven millennia intact without succumbing to the insidious attentions of the slumbering CTan. The Emperor had to leave the realms of man, but he could not simply disappear. His presence needed to be maintained. Without him, the Imperium would have crumbled, disillusioned by his departure. Only martyrdom could have achieved this dual state. The Heresy provided the solution to this dilemma. Magnus the Red was the only Primarch he could trust to help him facilitate this, for he was touched by the warp enough to dispel the attentions of the CTan. Only he could organise the schism that would tear our Imperium in two. This way the Primarchs were provided with the means to leave the realms of man and thus ensure their continuation. Those who sided with Horus were spirited to the Eye, safe from the predations of the Enemy. The loyalist Primarchs in turn facilitated their own departures, one by one leaving the domains of the Imperium under the pretence of death or exodus. Each time, ensuring that legend ensued them. This way the omnipresent gaze of the enemy would be fooled, and suspicions not aroused. Grungi listened, though it was clear from his expression that he was still far from convinced. There is still far too much of this tale that makes no sense, Codian. Much of this tale is written in the histories of the Demiurg, enough to know that more than one of these Primarchs perished. Did Horus not fall to the Emperor? He did. Of all those Primarchs who fell beneath the insidious corruption of Chaos, only Magnus knew the truth. Only Magnus had the inner strength to hold a piece of his soul deep enough inside, where the influence and corruption of the Ruinous Powers could not touch it. The Heresy was real, Grungi. It had to be, otherwise the ruse would have failed. The betrayal had to be genuine. Magnus was the failsafe. The Emperor no longer resides upon the Golden Throne of Terra. He is unleashed now, and his release was the catalyst that scour clean the warp and release Magnus from his enslavement. Each one of the Primarchs were shown the truth only when they were ready to see it. The plan was not without its flaws. There were those who could not accept this truth, and had to be removed. Others saw that their role would not be a physical one. The pieces were put in place long ago, and now they move. Grungi exhaled sharply through his nose and looked away. It was clear that he was far from happy to accept the Chaplains fantastic claims. Despite this, there was something about his manner that suggested to Codian that he was not absolutely set against accommodating the idea. So, why me? Why choose me to reveal all this to? Am I the only one of us capable of understanding? No Grungi. You are the only one capable of listening. None of the others can know. +++

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Tell me, what did you think? He ismagnificent. Guilliman heard this and nodded, approval dominating his expression. That he is, Berolinus. One cannot preach the greatness of AunVa. It must be experienced first-hand. Once you have stood before Him, bathed in His undying radiance, only then can you understand. Berolinus did understand. Almost a day had passed since his meeting with the commander of the Unity, and still he walked around as if in a daze. The voice had not returned since the encounter, and he felt that this was far more than coincidence. Though he could not profess to be anything but happy at this, its absence still vexed him. They had been tasked with eradicating the Nicassar, and he had expected the insidious presence to thrill at the prospect of this. The pair slowed as they reached a large entrance. Guilliman waved his hand before the door and it opened. They passed into a circular chamber that spread out before them. Berolinus gasped quietly as he took in his surroundings. Hundreds of Astarte relics lined the walls everywhere he looked. From helms to standards, each piece bore one undeniable, unifying characteristic. They were Ultramarine. What is this, Primarch? A legacy, warrior. A legacy of all that I have lost since the b-----d Fulgrim struck the treacherous blow that saw me laid low. This is all that remains of my sons, Berolinus, of the Chapter I lost. I could not abandon my roots. All this, my lord. I recognise a great deal of this treasure. Taken from Macragge. Guilliman said, confirming the warriors suspicions. He moved over to where a shining power axe lay upon its wall mount, and touched the gleaming blade. I find it incredible to believe that the commander of the Ultramarines would leave such items behind, no matter the circumstances for the evacuation of his homeworld. Tell me, Berolinus. Tell me why this Calgar abandoned all his Chapter was? Had I been in command of the Ultramarines at the time, I would have split my own world asunder rather than allow an enemy to take her. Hearing this brought colour to the Ultramarines face. He lowered his gaze, despite the fact that he had not been present at the fall of Ultramar. I cannot imagine why Calgar did what he did, my Primarch. When I learned that you had been left behind, I lost all faith in the Imperium if this time. It was the catalyst that drove me to find you. Guilliman heard this and smiled. Spoken like a true son, Berolinus. I see in you all that I lost. I see a true Ultramarine. That is why I have brought you here, to my sanctum. We face hard times ahead, and I have a gift for you, one that will only serve to amplify the great potential I see in you. He gestured behind Berolinus to a small section lit by the illumination of several spotlamps. The area held several suits of armour and many weapons, all of which were mounted as if prized by the Primarch. Berolinus looked at the pieces there and recognised them immediately for what they were, and what they represented.

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He moved over to the section and reached out to touch the ancient mark three suit displayed there. Unlike his own suit, this one was comprised of layers of archaic blue plate, riveted together with golden studs. I know this. This is iron armour. This suit belonged to Lodaeus, the Master of the Arsenal. I would recognise it anywhere. Yes. I found it in the aftermath of the war for Macragge. All these pieces were found before the gates of the Fortress of Hera. The Tau tell of a mighty collective of Astartes that met them at the gates. These warriors slew hundreds before they fell. The Masters of the Chapter. Berolinus answered. The greatest warriors of the Ultramarines. Guilliman inclined his head. True Ultramarines. I have brought you here because I see in you the same qualities I see when I look upon these relics. I see all that my Chapter was, and all that it lost that day. You are ready, Lurom Berolinus, to stand by my side at the head of this Unity. Together we will lead our forces to Terra, and we will regain the honour that Calgar lost. Choose. Berolinus started as he heard this. He looked to Guilliman, his eyes wide. My lord? Choose, Astarte. Your armour and your weapons. It is your destiny. He looked back towards the four displays and smiled, wonder in his face. It is your destiny. A voice echoed in his mind.

Chapter One Hundred and Twenty Nine: The Approach

This will be your finest hour. Guilliman looked out upon the glowing figures surrounding him, the collective fires that flickered across their tall forms illuminating his armour. Berolinus stood by his side, resplendent in his newly acquired iron armour. In one hand he held the mighty thunder hammer that once belonged to the Master of the Fleet, whilst the storm shield of the Master of the Watch lay at rest by his side. The avian creature perched upon his shoulder was Aegis, the cyber-eagle, awakened from stasis. The two-headed construct had once served the Master of Recruits, and now Aegis belonged to him, a powerful extension of his own senses. The bird eyed the glowing creatures suspiciously. Honoured Nicassar, I stand before you today with a message from the great AunVa himself. Your kind has served the Unity for longer than most. AunVa himself counts the Nicassar amongst the most worthy and honourable of all the subsumed races. As such, he has decreed that the Nicassar are rightly deserved to receive the highest honour of the start of the war for Terra. Only Luna stands between this fleet and the seat of the Imperium. She is yours to

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conquer. Will you accept this gift? We will, Lord Guilliman. Came the answer. Berolinus flinched, not at the abruptness or occurrence of the mental voice, but rather at its omnipresence. It was as if every Nicassar present has spoken as one, in one voice. The answer had followed immediately, as if there was no instance of discussion or consideration. Guilliman heard this and bowed his head, satisfaction clear in his expression. Excellent. Now we must discuss the attack plan. Luna herself is far more than a simple colony. She is arguably one of the most powerful defence outposts in the galaxy. The Imperium will have by now learned of the methods we employed in taking Saturn, and have no doubt adapted their defences so as to ensure that this will not happen again. He nodded in confirmation at some unseen force or device and at his behest a three-dimensional representation of the barren satellite shivered into being before him. Several sites on the rotating orb were highlighted in crimson. The Lunar battery. One of the most powerful defensive systems in all the Imperium. The battery is ancient, and was constructed following the Heresy in order to counter attacks from the warp. Little is known about its abilities, other than the Emperor himself designed it, even as he lay dying. Our ships cannot hope to approach Luna without succumbing to the terrible effects of the battery. A conventional attack would see inevitable victory, but the cost in ships would doubtless be exponential. Only the Nicassar can hope to bypass these defences and strike at the heart of Lunar. Only the Nicassar have the ability to annihilate this last obstacle. We understand. Luna will fall. One by one the Nicassar faded from the chamber, their collective light flickering and dying away. Within moments only Berolinus and the Primarch remained. Guilliman looked to his ward and then spoke, his face emotionless. Deactivate projection and psi-seal the chamber. A deep, rumbling thrum of energy followed his command. Berolinus felt the hairs at the base of his neck stand on end, and a deep pressure press against the inside of his mind. It was clear that, whatever Guilliman had to say next, he did not intend to allow the Nicassar to eavesdrop the conversation. The Nicassar will die. Berolinus said. It was a statement, not a question. It is the will of AunVa. The Lunar battery was designed to keep the traitor legions from Terras gates. The battery works by sending a warp spike into any approaching craft that utilise warp engines or any other warp-based motive systems. It overloads those systems, causing catastrophic failure. It is theorised that the battery is powerful enough even to destabilise and implode a warp storm. So the Nicassar cannot hope to counter it? The Nicassar are warp-based creatures, Berolinus, ascended beyond the need for mortal form. The battery will tear them to atoms and send whatever remains screaming into the immaterium. The irony of this is that we are prepared to meet the battery head-on. Every ship in this fleet prepares even now to jettison its warp engines and have the subsumed Navigators disposed of. With nothing left to target, the battery will be forced to reply on more conventional defence systems.

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Berolinus frowned as he heard this. He still knew little of the Unitys capabilities, though he had met the Navigators and suspected the use of warp technology. But this Jettison the warp engines? My lord, this seems an extreme action indeed. Why? Guilliman answered, raising his hands. We no longer need them, Berolinus. Terra is our final objective. Besides which, we never needed the ability to cross the warp. Our ships can cross this galaxy in the blink of an eye, and they can do so without the need to access that foul dimension. Then why the captive Navigators? Why fit warp technology if it is not needed, Primarch? To ensure that this final trap is sprung. To realise our goals. Terra has never once succumbed to an attack or invasion force since the days of Horus. Even the Emperor could not envisage such an attack taking place without the influence of the warp playing a part in it. No matter our power, Berolinus, there will always be spies within our ranks, just as we have agents within the Imperium. They needed to see for themselves that we relied on the same technologies as any other force. They needed to see, or at least led to believe, that we were vulnerable. The Imperium must be fooled into thinking they have the upper hand. Only then can we drive this attack forth and take up dominance of the skies around Terra. I understand. Berolinus said, nodding slowly. The brilliance and complexity of the plan trickled into his understanding like water, and along with it came the bitter truth of what it meant for the loyal forces of the Imperium that would lose their lives as a result. Guilliman saw this in the warriors eyes and placed a hand gently upon his shoulder. Do not grieve for those that are fated to lose their lives, Berolinus. They were given a choice. They could have complied, could have saved millions of lives. It was never our intent to eradicate the servants of the Imperium, for there is a place for all within the Unity. If we cannot force them to see the truth, we must remove them from our path. Our journey to greatness will not be impeded. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Achosyx. Answer me. Nothing but static continued to dominate the screen, casting a pale light across the Sigilites avian features. Regaas curled his fist into a ball and hissed his anger at the empty monitor, his eyes glowing with ethereal anger. I know you are there. I know you can hear me. I have killed you once before. I will do so again. No matter the potency of the threat, if was further removed from the truth than it sounded. He had attempted to locate the Grand Magos since he had learned of his continued survival, and yet his every effort had thus far been confounded. He could not understand it. He had gathered enough information to confirm beyond doubt that Achosyx was still indeed at large, and yet he could not find him. His spies within the Mechanicus ranks had disappeared shortly after his discovery of the Grand Magoss continued existence. The screen flickered then, drawing his attention. Slowly but surely an image began to form upon it, a distinct outline cutting through the interference. A hooded shape could be made out, dark and featureless against the flickering grey surrounding it. Regaas saw this and the light behind his eyes intensified.

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Achosyx. So, at last you find the courage to answer me. The Grand Magos did not reply. The image remained motionless, and all that drifted over the vox link was a ghostly, hissing sigh. How? Regaas finally asked, his infuriation clear. I ate you, Achosyx. I consumed you. How can you still exist? Again, the image did not answer him. Regaas placed his hands upon the brass control bank and leaned forward, utter hatred radiating from him. Answer me! I know you are dead! What trickery is this? Again, Achosyx did not answer. It was as if his silence was intended to infuriate the Siglite. If that was indeed the case, then his efforts were successful. Regaas tipped his head back and unleashed a shuddering roar, the sound so intense that it caused everything around him to quake. A blinding sphere of light erupted from him, consuming everything it touched, reducing consoles and bulkheads to atoms at the merest touch. Now he was angered. +++ High Marshal Levsticus stood before the curved viewing screen in silence, watching as the innumerable ships of the enemy continued to grow before him. He betrayed no emotion as he continued to observe the relentless advance of the Unity, his patrician face unwavering, his strong hands clasped behind his back. The High Marshals steel-grey eyes pored over every vessel in sight, assessing and calculating every perceived threat. They are here. He said simply. Charge the battery. Activate auto-response sentinel mode. Arm and prep ballistics for manual use. Well let the battery seek them out and we will reap whatever is left. They will not find us wanting. Levsticus did not need to observe his orders being carried out. The sounds of bustle behind him told him that this was the case. The Adeptus Arbites had taken control of the Luna defence network following the Cadian Schism, with the High Marshal himself commanding them for the past forty years. In the crisis of faith that had followed that dark time, it had been decreed by the High Lords that the Arbites would take direct responsibility for the outer defences of Terra. That had been an unprecedented decision, but one that had proved highly effective. Of all the Emperors servants, the Arbites came second only to the Custodes themselves in their devotion to the protection of the Emperor. Contact the Sigilite. Inform him that hostilities are imminent. Satisfied that events were taking place as they should be, he once more turned his attention to the viewscreen before him. Magnify again by one point eight. We need to make an assessment of their ballistic capabilities. I want all forward arrays to begin simultaneous intel sweeps. Whatever we find, we log. They will not catch us unawares. Initiate the counter-cogitators. I want the battery learning as of now.

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Thousands of Arbites responded to his commands within seconds, his orders relayed to every corner of the satellite instantaneously. The fearsome Lunar Battery came online, drawing its power from the vast capacitors far beneath the moons dusty surface. Levsticus felt the floor beneath his feet shudder as the network came online, and allowed himself an imperceptible nod of satisfaction. All hands ready. Slave gunnery servitors to tertiary grid now. All Arbite gunnery crews, arm and prep. Full teams, independent target assessment. I trust every Arbitrator under my command. Do not let me down. They were ready to meet the Unity now. The High Marshal took his place before the screen once again, unable to tear himself away from the approach of what could realistically be the doom of Terra. The Unity had passed by the Martian minefield totally unscathed, a grim and sobering fact. The original intent of the Alliance had been to utilise the field, to divert millions of the mines into the Unitys path. This would have bought them precious time and exacted a heavy toll on the advancing fleet. The treachery of the Mechanicus had changed all that. The Cult of the Machine had withdrawn its operatives and all but disappeared from beneath the noses of the Alliance. No one seemed to know what had happened to the Mechanicus. Worse still, no one even dared to ask. There were still dwindling elements of the Mechanicus amongst them, and thankfully so, for it would not be possible to operate without their presence. Each and every priest was under constant guard by at least three Arbite officers, agents who were ready to put their charge to death at the slightest hint of seditious activity. Thankfully, and to their credit, none of these adepts seemed offended by this. On a more sinister note, none of them were willing to divulge whatever they knew on the betrayal of their former comrades. ++High Marshall. We have warp reports singing directly ahead. Alpha priorityEmperor! Active signatures convergingImminent attack! High Marshall! Imminent attack!++ Levsticus started from his reverie and cast around, striding towards the vast collection of control banks that lined the chamber. His face took on a healthy scarlet hue as the magnitude of the situation assailed him. The enemys attack had begun, and far sooner than he had anticipated. This is it, people! Come alive! Secondary grid take note! Cycle all maximum range ballistics and engage! Engage! Primary, track the attackers and ensure that they are nullified! Get this defence underway! He felt a pressure at the centre of his brain as the battery came online. He fancied he could taste blood in his mouth, and feel the deep bass thrum of the charging capacitors far beneath the desiccated rock. The thrill of coming battle coursed through him, an electric surge of anticipation that could not be matched. To make war with the enemies of the Imperium was a pleasure and a satisfaction unlike any other. Prepare to meet them! All hands ready! Let us scour this starscape The floor shifted beneath him then, so violently and without warning that it cut his diatribe short. A distant and mournful whine could be heard just below the following cacophony of alarm klaxons and warning buzzers. It was a vast and palpable sound, as much a sensation as noise. The battery was already active. Shouted reports confirmed what eh already knew to be fact a heartbeat later. Servitors and Arbite operators alike vied to make their report heard over the rising tumult.

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Something had activated the battery. He could not understand it. He fought to steady himself and staggered forward, the collective glow of hundreds of status screens illuminating him. From what he could see, none of the enemy craft were near enough to cause the activation of his defences. For a fleeting moment he suspected the interference of the Mechanicus, but he soon put this thought from his mind. All the augurs were screaming of a genuine enemy attack. What the hell is happening? I need status reports now! He raged, scouring the screens before him in an attempt to identify anything he could discern as a threat. ++High Marshal, we have multipleEmperor! They are everywhere! The battery is engaging sub-warp targets! I repeat, sub-warp targets! The enemy are trying to translate into the complex++ Levsticus could not believe what eh was hearing. Such an attack was impossible, it had to be. Warp-capable ships simply could not translate so close to a stellar body, such an attempt was suicidal in the extreme. Still the battery surged again and again, destroying these mysterious targets in droves, if the readings were to be believed. None of this made any sense. Find out what the hell is going on! I want answers! He raged. Around him the lights flickered and dimmed, as if the activity of the battery was causing the power grid of the complex to fluctuate. Logister! What is going on? The savant seated beside his command post ran her eyes across the multiple screens before her, her thin lips moving soundlessly as she absorbed the information there faster than any machine. Trans-spacial contactsPhase resonance detected. No, that cannot be. Adustingthis makes no sense. Battery sentience level operating at maximum capexceeding maximum capacity! Contact area effect increasing What is happening? Levsticus raged, slamming his fist against the console before her. The Logister started, the snaking brass conduits foxed to her temples rattling beneath the force of his blow. Her rheumy eyes flickered his way, and he saw fear writ large across her face. The enemy! The enemy are translating inside the safety borders! That is impossible The High Marshals eyes narrowed as another explosion quaked the complex, shaking dust from the low ceiling and causing every system around him to fluctuate. No warp-capable craft or device could achieve that. The Logister was right. It was an impossible notion. And yet, all around him, he could see the evidence to suggest otherwise. The enemy were already dying to his ancient guns, and he had yet to see a thing.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty: The Onset of Extinction

Roboute Guilliman looked on from the bridge of his ship as the grey orb before him shimmered, the airless void around it glowing with an unearthly light. Blinding streaks of warp energy snapped forth like solar flares to envelop areas of space seemingly empty.

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The Primarch knew that this was far from the case. Coruscating spikes of multi-hued, super-dense warp energy cracked across the void, seemingly as if from nowhere, lashing across the starscape and burning themselves out. Reality looked to shimmer and thin wherever these spikes struck, as if the barriers between the dimensions were pierced, if only for a split second. What is happening? Guilliman did not turn to look upon his ward. His eyes remained glued to the scene, as if what he was witnessing was so irresistible that he could not tear his gaze away. Fate, Berolinus. The Lunar battery purges the Nicassar from existence as we speak. Our plans run unhindered, as they should. But I do not see them. Of course not. One of the Nicassars most potent assets is their ability to transport themselves through the Immaterium at will. They couldnt have known that the Lunar defences were designed to counter such a manoeuvre. The battery is multi-phasic. It was built with the primary intent to stop warp-based incursions. They dont stand a chance. Berolinus continued to observe the invisible extinction of the xenos race as he listened to Guilliman. Much as he tried, he could not bring himself to rejoice in the wholesale slaughter of beings that had been counted amongst the allies of his Primarch. It seemsextreme. Wasteful even. The Nicassar were powerful allies. Too powerful, Berolinus. They are highly dangerous creatures, too dangerous to be allowed to continue coexisting with us now that we are so close to our goal. The Tau always intended this end for them. AunVa himself saw the potential and the danger in them. Their race was one of the first to be subsumed into the Unity, did you know that? This was no accident. Berolinus shook his head. He truthfully knew little if nothing about the history of the empire he now served, nor did he harbour any desire to learn. Without the presence of the Primarch, he would not even be here. A powerful enemy must be handled carefully. Outright eradication is not always the most productive course of action, one of the prime teachings of the Ethereals. If an enemys power can be harnessed and used for the advancement of your own cause, then it is right and just that you do so. Look what the Nicassar have given us, Berolinus. Look where they have brought us. Guilliman raised a hand and presented the scene to him. Though minutes old, the war for Luna was well underway now. What is our next course of action? We let the Nicassar dash themselves against the defences of Luna, and then we move in for the kill. Guilliman replied, striding towards the vast display. The Primarch placed an armoured hand against the glowing screen, his fingers spread so as to envelop the dry orb. This is Guilliman. Charge all weapons systems and prepare to advance on my word. Korvesa ships will lead the initial attack. Maximum range ordinance will cover their advance. We will approach slowly and with great care, ensuring we advance into the range of the enemys guns only when absolutely necessary. Across the fleet, millions of individuals responded to the Primarchs commands. Like a perfect, well-oiled machine, the forces of the Unity worked in prefect coordination in order to ensure that the careful plans came into fruition.

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Bulky Korvesa Factory Ships moved to the head of the fleet, even as the first railcannon batteries opened fire. Millions of Remora Drone fighters disgorged from the ships, so thick that their numbers obscured the starscape. Tubular trails of blue energy streaked across the void as the railguns targeted the defences of Luna, the shots spearing ahead of the advancing fleet. The outer defences of Terra had entered the war. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ The attack has begun. Regaas looked up from the screens before him to see his nameless assassin waiting in the entrance to his chamber. The woman was little more than a slender outline, wreathed in the light emanating from the corridor beyond. I know. He sneered, turning back towards the screens before him. Much of the technology surrounding him still bore the dark scars of his earlier ourburst, the new components shining and flawless next to the tortured frames of the many consoles that housed them. I have eyes, assassin. I am not overly concerned by the encroachment of the enemy. What does concern me is the apparent survival of Achosyx, despite all our best attempts to nullify him. I am not in the habit of having my wishes frustrated so. I want him dead, and I want that death utterly confirmed. Why have you thus far failed to give me that? My lord, I can offer no excuse. The assassin answered earnestly, hesitant to advance any further into his sanctum than was necessary. The Grand Magos has thus far evaded any attempt top locate and annul him. There are those amongst us who suspect subterfuge. Perhaps Achosyx is dead, as you intended. Someone or something works to confound us. Impossible. I am not in the habit of being confounded. Regaas answered arrogantly, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. I know deception when I see it, better than any. If the sightings had been fabricated then I would know, I promise you that. No, Achosyx has to be abroad still. There is no other explanation that would suffice. Then we will redouble our efforts. The assassin said, bowing her head respectfully. Find him. Find him soon or I will take the head of everyone involved in this hunt. Regaas announced coldly, his disdain for the lives of his operatives clear. I want him dead. I want him finished beyond doubt. Bring me his head. Yes, my lord. As you command. With that the assassin flowed from his sight like mist, leaving the open doorway empty. Regaas regarded her departure with the slightest of glances and then turned his attention back to the information before him. Moments later, he froze. A cold light shimmered in his eyes and he sat bolt upright, sighing softly as he did so.

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I hear you. He whispered, glancing about him. His wide eyes blazed as he placed a hand upon the consoles before him. The air thickened almost immediately, becoming cold and heavy. A ghostly whispering drifted through the machines all around him, deep and ageless. I hear you calling to them, whispering your lies to them. Your lapdog was foolish enough to release them too soon, and he has paid the price for that imprudence. I do not know how you brought him back, but it matters not. Your hold on this world has been weakened. The whispering intensified then, growing to a deep and suffocating gale of sound. Regaas withdrew his hand and the noise ceased immediately, leaving the chamber once again saturated by silence. I will find them. He said, flexing his fingers slowly, as if to work out an aching pain. I will find them and I will unleash the fury of their brethren upon them. You will not take this world from me without a fight. +++ Sigilite? Yes. Calgar answered, his mechanical voice nonetheless cold and filled with disdain. A self-imposed title, one that serves only to highlight the arrogance of this individual. Dorn moved to join in the conversation, his expression telling of the fact that there was far more on his mind than he had yet revealed upon the subject of Fraudator Regaas. Brothers, the situation here is dire indeed. I have been fighting the insidious influence of Regaas for as long as the Imperium has been at war with the Tau, longer, in fact. He is of the enemy, and what the others will seek to achieve through the show of force, he intends to achieve through deception and subterfuge. Wait. Russ interjected, holding up a hand. The Wolf let out a long, balancing breath and rotated his neck, as if to prepare himself for the complex answers that were to come. Let me try and understand this. We have lost the Mechanicus? Dorn nodded, much to the Wolfs chagrin. Yes. All of you listen, and take in what I am about to tell you. Every one of us saw the truth of this time when the Emperor gave us the vision. What we saw changed us forever, caused us to shape our destinies in accordance with His will, so that we would be here for this final war. Much has changed in our absence, brothers. Terra is assailed. The enemy that was shown to us is abroad, and moves even now to secure the jewel of our Imperium. The Mechanicus is under the thrall of one of these dark gods, corrupted so totally that we cannot hope to bring the organisation back into the light. Those few of the Mechanicus that still side with us can be trusted, for they have fought this corruptive evil for millennia, but they are a dying breed. Likewise, Regaas himself is another of these insidious creatures. Such is his power and influence now that we cannot hope to purge him from this organisation until the onset of the war. The rule of the Imperium is his. The High Lords were assassinated and replaced by his operatives. But the High Lords are dead. Vulkan interjected. It matters not. They were puppets, nothing more. You see, there is war amongst the enemy, and that could prove to be our greatest asset in this fight. Gog and Magog are thralls of the same enemy that has corrupted the Mechanicus, and they are tasked to work against the false Sigilite. That is why they came here today, to destroy the pawns of Regaas in an attempt to destabilise the Imperial command system.

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Pah! Russ spat, displaying his disgust for the insidious nature of the enemy. Enough of this cowardly scheming! Let us announce our arrival to this enemy in a manner that befits a Primarch. We will make war with them! No. Russ froze, his lips sliding back over his fangs. He looked to Magnus and closed his fist around the hilt of his blade, a clear sign of challenge. We cannot face them, Russ. The Thousand Sons Primarch said, ignoring his brothers anger. They are more powerful than us. It would be a confrontation we could not hope to win. A number of the others clearly shared the Wolfs view, and they made no apology at revealing that fact. Corax spoke next, moving to stand beside the Wolf ion a show of support. More powerful? We are the sons of the Emperor reunited. All the gods of chaos could not lay us low. We fought the greatest, most bloody war this galaxy has ever seen, and we won. Magnus shook his head slowly at this. Immaterial, Corax. The Ctan are unlike any foe we have ever faced before. Theirs is the power to consume stars as we would food. The Ctan hold sway over the forces of reality, just as the chaos gods dominate the warp. Do you not remember the vision sent to us? At that, he looked to Russ. I saw the truth as you all did. Russ, my epiphany came on Prospero. Even as you broke my back upon your knee, I saw the truth. The Emperors wisdom filled my mind and I knew then, at that very moment, all that would come to pass, and all that had to be done. I saw the terrible power of the sleeping Ctan, and understood that only the realms of the warp could keep them from destroying us. I know you saw that too. That is why you came to me, all those millennia ago. He shifted his gaze to look upon Corax, the father of the Raven Guard. My brother, I know that you too saw the truth in this. Jaghatai, you also fled beyond the realms of the Materium. This was no coincidence. Lion, the sentient guilt of a brother saw you taken beyond, hidden away until this time, a last repentant act. Manus, your vision saw the death of your physical body, a death of the flesh you accepted gladly, for you knew that such action was necessary. You chose to hide away until it was time for your return. With that he looked to Dorn and Vulkan, the two remaining Primarchs. Hiding in the shadow of the Emperors light? Fading into history, a departure left open to intrigue and mystery? Both of you knew that to stay amongst your own people would be suicide. All of you knew the truth of the matter. All of you chose to flee. This was no coincidence. We all saw the power of the Ctan, even if most of us did not know the name of the source of this terrible power. We few are the bearers of His legacy. The survival of the Imperium rests upon our shoulders. For a while, none of the other Primarchs replied to this. Finally, it was Dorn who responded first. The Primarch inclined his head. That it does. Our Emperor is far beyond the attentions of the enemy now, though his physical remains linger still. The enemy cannot know that our father is beyond harm. They will seek to penetrate the Throne Room and compromise him. We must assume that this is where the substance of the Ctans attentions will lie. The Emperor remains the prize of the enemy. We have to respond accordingly to that.

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The Custodes will continue to protect him throughout the coming war. Dorn said. They no longer need my presence amongst them. It is time for us to move out amongst the people once again. We need to let them know that we have returned. The Fists need me now more than ever, for it is tasked to them to manage the coming siege. And what of our warriors, Dorn? The Lion asked, voicing the question on the lips of the others. What of our Chapters? Do they survive still, or did we abandon them to extinction? My return brought with it a terrible discovery. It revealed a sickness amongst my Angels, a sickness I myself had to purge. I need to know if any of the faithful exist still. Yes. There are sons of lost Caliban amongst the Alliance. All eyes turned to Calgar, and a silence descended upon the gathered legends. There are elements of all your Chapters amongst the defenders of this world. Some, like the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels, number in their mere hundreds, but they exist still. Khan, all that remains of the White Scars now is but a single company of warriors, but they are nonetheless roused by your return. The Khan nodded his head silently, for he had already learned of the fate of his warriors upon their earlier meeting. What has come to pass cannot be undone. There will be time to mourn the lost when this war is over. I propose that there be no more division amongst the Astartes. Let us follow Calgars example, for we all fight for the same cause. Together we will guide those forces under our command to victory. Brother Dorn, you rejoin your Fists in the preparation of the defences. As for your Alliance, Calgar, I believe that it would be pertinent for you to remain in overall command. I see no need for any of us to upset the balance of power by separating what remains of our Chapters from the bulk of the Alliance. What say you all? Though it was clear that a few of the Primarchs seemed unsure of this, none raised their voice in protest. After a few moments of silence, the Khan was satisfied. Then it is decided. We will lead by example, not as commanders but as champions. No faithful son or daughter of the Emperor would hesitate to follow a Primarch into battle. They need us. Then it must be decided where our roles lie. The Lion said. There is one more thing. Magnus interrupted. Something that all of you need to know. A champion comes, an individual chosen by the Emperor Himself to gather all the forces of life to answer this threat. No matter our power, we alone cannot hope to stand against the Ctan and their endless forces, for we will be hard pressed enough to weather the hammer of the Unity. His name is Codian, and he is the Prophet. Codian. Ventris whispered, his eyes widening. You know of Codian? The Khan asked. Yes. It was Codian who freed you, Khan. It was Codian who facilitated your return, Lion. Brother Dorn, it was Codian and his allies secured the Caesus, and in doing so brought about this reunion. All of you need to know that his role is far from over, and you need to understand this, because what I am about to tell you will not sit easily. Then speak. Russ said, his eyes narrowing. Very well. Khan, you already know this, but even now, a mighty army gathers still, an army more powerful

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than these stars have ever seen. There is no animosity or division amongst this army. There is no division of race or creed We know of the Unity already. Calgar said. Magnus shook his head at this. No, Warmaster. I speak not of the Unity. I speak of the army of life.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty One: The Breach

Hnn. The frail man fell to his knees, a thin dribble of watery blood trickling down his top lip. His teeth were bared and his pale face quivered. He was in great pain. Guilliman looked down upon the distraught Astropath at his feet without concern. This is taking too long. Arent they dead yet? Ahhth-they resistso much pain Damn them for their efficiency. Guilliman cursed, frustrated by the Nicassars resilience. Berolinus observed his Primarchs dissatisfaction in silence. It was made clear to him by the psykers pain that the aliens were dying at an alarming rate, and yet Guilliman was far from content at the progress of the betrayal. Look at him, Berolinus. Do you see it in his eyes? Your Primarch is afraid. As ever, in Guillimans presence Berolinus did not dare answer. This did nothing to silence the wicked voice. He fears the return of the Nicassar. He fears that they will realise this treachery and seek revenge against him. If they return, not even the vaunted Guilliman will be able to stand against their wrath. They will kill him and then they will tear the Unity apart from within. Have you considered this? The question was moot, of course. The presence was a parasite in his mind. It knew his every thought, his every darkest desire. It knew he had already considered such things. This is the being you serve, Berolinus. An individual who does not have the courage to face his problems head-on, as one of honour should. I know you feel this too. As ingenious as this betrayal is, it is the cowards way. Then again, this is not the Guilliman you thought you knew. Thiscreatureis nought but a pale reflection Berolinus gathered every ounce of his will and pushed the voice from his mind. He thought of honour and pride, of the legacy and greatness of the Ultramarines. He thought of all that he stood for and all that his lost Chapter had been, and such thoughts were powerful enough to dismiss the evil, for a time. Enough. Guilliman said, the Primarchs voice drawing him back into the situation around him. Abandon them. Raise null shields and prepare to advance. We cannot risk the return of any survivors. Open me a secure trans-channel and send this message to the Lord Solar. It is time.

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Like the workings of a perfect machine, hundreds of Tau worked to fulfil the Primarchs commands. Berolinus looked on as something unfolded at the head of the chamber, flowing like liquid from the ceiling and stretching out to create a vast and rigid concave screen. Luna sat before them, assailed by the energies of its own defences and the far-reaching spears of punishment that were the railcannon shots of the fleet. Vast swathes of return fire poured from the satellite, though he knew from experience that these lances and torpedoes would barely trouble the fleet at this extreme range. Only the advancing Korvesa fleets would feel the bite of these guns, and the soulless legions of the Unity would easily weather such attentions. Deploy shield drones en masse. I want a wall of protection ready to absorb her defensive fire. Berolinus knew what was destined to come. He already knew of the Unitys plans to take Terra, and he knew that Luna would not survive what was to come next. Deploy Remoras first. I want an expendable attack wave. Follow with the Manta and Barracuda squadrons. The Remoras will lead the attack. Come around the satellite and take on any ships that attempt to engage Kraken. They will respond, I guarantee it. ++Lord Guilliman, I have an incoming transmission from Luna++ Sever it. We have nothing to discuss. Their fate is sealed. ++Several massive matrix spikes have been detected, Kaiguela. E.T.A is as expected. Transmitting the relevant precautionary data fleet-wide now++ Excellent. Fleet, prepare to advance at engagement speed upon my command. Berolinus eyed the many readout screens set out before him warily. Though there was still a great deal about the technology of the Tau that he did not know, he had absorbed enough to understand what he could see before him. The Imperial fleet is vast, Primarch. I understand that Luna needs to be suppressed swiftly, but would it not be pertinent to await the arrival of Leviathan before we proceed? Ideally, yes. Realistically though, we do not have an accurate idea of when to expect the fleet. All we know is that they move towards Terra. We have been unable to raise them for weeks now. That sounds ominous. Berolinus replied. Guilliman, however, displayed none of the warriors concern. We had expected such difficulties. Much has changed within the Eye, more than any of us can guess. No one knows why, only that something is happening. Such a monumental change has affected the entire region, rendering all communications impossible. We have no idea when Leviathan will show. That is why we have to act now. +++ +++ THE ETERNITY WALL SPACEPORT +++ +++TERRA +++ The Warmaster crossed the sprawling Eternity Avenue on foot, flanked by his trusted companions Ventris, Cassius and Tigurius. The incomprehensible Eternity Wall stretched from horizon to horizon behind him, a daunting barrier that separated the distant outer walls if the Imperial Palace from the metropolis around it. Here on the ground at the foot of the palace, it was a constant twilight. Such was the sheer size and spread

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of the towering buildings here that sunlight never managed to penetrate the street level to any significant degree. Millions of lumen globes lit the perpetual dusk like a saturated starscape, casting everything in a rich amber glow. The Fists have excelled themselves. Cassius said, casting his gaze over his surroundings. 'Everywhere my eye falls is a turret or an emplacement. Over the last few hundred metres we have passed between no less than three void shield grid sections. It would seem that many lessons have been learned since the days of Horus. No, Cassius, only one. Calgar answered, maintaining his pace. Do not leave anything to chance. The Unity will not find the defences of this world wanting. The small group continued on towards the sprawling spaceport, taking in the bustle of activity around them as a world prepared for invasion. Ponderous transports rumbled past, laden with every kind of military equipment conceivable. Mindless servitors unfurled the components that would construct sabre platforms and sentry turrets, working under the supervision of lone, ashen-faced Mechanicus adepts. Vast troop transporters blocked out what little sunlight shimmered high above, filled to capacity with soldiers of the Imperial army. I have heard that the entire starport is rigged to be destroyed in the event that the enemy captures it. Ventris said, taking in the immensity of the massive terminal before them. Do you really think the Primarch will attempt to take it? For what it is worth, Ancient, no. If there is anything of our true father left in that corrupted golem then he will see the starports for what they are; prime ambush locations. To attempt to repeat the history and tactics of the Heresy would be foolish in the extreme. We would be waiting for this, and he has to know that. Then what? Cassius asked. The city around here is just too thick and compacted to force any kind of mass landing. It would be like trying to set down a Thunderhawk in the midst of a primeval forest. All we can do is wait and see what happens, and be ready to meet him. Calgar answered coldly. Even as he spoke, the shadows of their destination stretched over them. The Warmaster slowed then, in order to take in the magnificence of the creation before them. The Crown of Konor. He whispered, his mechanical voice heavy with reverence. Every time I lay eyes on her, the sight takes my breath away. The Leviathan was as vast as it was ancient. One of the largest and rarest tracked vehicles in existence, the Crown of Konor had served the Ultramarines since the days of their founding. Her main cannon was a formidable weapon, capable levelling miles of dense city with a single blast, or tearing an Emperor Titan in two. Work crews had strived for seven days just to clear the space needed to facilitate the command vehicles disembarkation into the Eternity Wall district. Now a guardian of the Eternity Wall Gate, it was here that the Crown of Konor would make her stand against the invaders, and here that Calgar would lead his Alliance against the forces of the enemy. High above even the tallest spires of the gothic skyscrapers, Luna could be seen, hanging large in the growing dusk. Noiseless flashes of bright light popped and twinkled around the grey orb, a visual indication of the growing conflict above the planet. Of the group, only Uriel Ventris retained the facial flesh he had been born with. The look on that face was strained and anxious. Try as he might, he could not tear his gaze away from the heavens. They are here. They are at our gates, Warmaster. We have nowhere left to run now, no line of retreat. I do

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not understand this. The fleet stand ready to meet them. How can we stand by and watch Luna fall? How can you expect the commanders of the fleet to do that? There is no other way, Ancient. If we allow the fleet to engage the Unity then we will lose every remaining ship we have. Trust me, however dark this course of action may seem. I am prolonging our survival. But Luna will fall Luna will fall, yes. There is little we can do to prevent that. Luna buys us time even now, Ventris. It is a sacrifice that must be made. Do you not see? The Primarch will be expecting just such a tactic. He wants the fleet to engage, that much is made obvious by the manner of his attack. He is trying to draw us, to provoke us into committing our full naval strength. If he is able to crush the Alliance fleet before the invasion, the fate of this world will be sealed. I will not allow that. But how can you be sure? The Ancient asked, his insistence driven by sheer desperation. Because that is what I would try to do. We are Ultramarines, Ventris, all of us. The blood of the Primarch flows in our veins. Everything we have been taught, everything we know, was given to us by the wisdom of Guilliman. We were formed in his image, as extensions of his own flesh. That is how we will beat him. That is how we will win this war. Guilliman and the Unity are not our only enemies here. All eyes turned to Tigurius, the ancient psyker. If we are to heed the words of Magnus then we must accept that our Primarch is the least of our problems. We know nothing of these mysterious Ctan, aside from the fact that they supposedly exist. True, we know nothing of them. I care for them even less. It does not matter who or what these creatures are, Tigurius. We will stand against them. Neither man nor god shall wrest this world from us while ever I live. The fleet will hold until I give the word. Something dark is happening above. Tigurius said. I feel a terrible pain and an aching loss, empathic emotions given off by the death of those in orbit. I hear them, screaming in rage and agony. It is the Nicassar, and they are dying. Ventris found himself intrigued and unsettled by the Librarians claim. He too had felt something, some distant presence, like a voice carried on the wind. He fancied he could feel what Tigurius was talking about, even without a sensitivity to the warp. Then we are having some success. The Warmaster answered. The Lunar battery is taking its toll. Just then Cassius stumbled back, as if struck by some unseen hand. His eyes were turned skyward, the burning pinpricks that served as he augmetic pupils flaring in shock. Armour of devotion, look at that Everyone followed the Chaplains gaze and froze. Something ominous and horrifying was happening around Luna. She sat large in the sky here, enough so that the man-made structures that pockmarked her surface could be seen. So too could the pinpricks of light that were even now popping into existence around her. Despite the early dusk it was as if the firmament was multiplying, growing at an exponential rate all around the satellite. Tiny lights flared into being one after another, as if some unknown, unseen behemoth had begun to sprinkle diamond dust around her.

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Ships. Thousands upon thousands of ships, a number that increased still with the passing of each second. Kraken. Calgar uttered, his vast fists flexing in rage. The perfidious b-----d son and his fleet have joined this war. The murderers of Ultramar are here. Impossible. It has to be. Ventris answered. There is no way Kraken could have made the voyage so fast Open your eyes and see the truth, Ancient! They are here! Ventris was unrepentant. But Warmaster, what you are proposing is inconceivable. No vessel can exit the warp so close to a stellar body +++ Guilliman smiled as he witnessed the breathtaking sight. Ship after ship slid into the void around Luna, borne of spears of emerald light to form and coalesce around the moon, guns blazing even as they translated. Everywhere he looked, another vessel arrived. He head dreamed of this moment for a long time. ++Kaiguela, we have an incoming transmission++ Receive. Immediately the screen before him swam and focused, a pale face cutting through the rapidly dwindling interference. Macharius, what kept you? Only impeccable timing, my Primarch. Macharius answered with a smile of his own. I know you would never have forgive yourself had you not taken steps to secure the safety of my fleet The transmission failed then, if only for a moment. The image shook and then disappeared, returning several seconds later. Macharius turned back towards the screen, and though his expression had not altered, there was a visible caution in his eyes. The battery. It takes its toll on my ships already This is war, Macharius. What else did you expect? Turn your guns to the surface of that orb and annihilate it. We have a world to win. For AunVa and for the Unity. Macharius answered, scorn adding an edge to his voice. I will make him proud of the guns of Kraken. The link severed abruptly then, and Guilliman smiled once more. With that he looked to Berolinus. He will double his efforts now to ensure that the gaze of AunVa falls upon his fleet. Hold tight Berolinus. We will see the surface of Terra soon. Coward. The voice in his head said once again. +++ All across the Imperial city, sirens blared. The fresh activity around Luna brought the defenders of Terra alive, like an electric charge. The sense of panic was a palpable thing, a current of rolling fear that affected

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everything it passed over. I knew it. Damn them, but I knew it. Calgar snarled, watching as the death of Luna unfolded in the distant heavens. He wanted the fleet to engage. He wanted to suffocate them, to trap them between Prometheus and Kraken. If Macharius is here, then how long before Kais and Leviathan arrive? Cassius asked. Two fleets have power enough to devastate our defences and force a landing on Terra. If Leviathan joins this war now We cannot afford to consider such an event right now. Calgar answered. Our primary concern must be the defence of this world. Through attrition and unbreakable determination we will endeavour to turn this invasion aside. The Warmaster led his men swiftly towards the Crown of Konor at an increasing pace, the urgency of the situation all too suddenly magnified. Within seconds the situation had changed, worsening beyond all expectation. Calgar was almost at the yawning open access ramp when he slowed, the air before him thickening and growing black. Tigurius was the first to respond. The Librarian advanced, cold blue flame bursting into being around his outsized fists. The runes set into his armour blazed as if white hot, pulsing in empathy with the burgeoning phenomenon. Tigurius never had the chance to speak. Something black and intangible speared from the emerging mass into his chassis, throwing the Dreadnought back as if he were less than paper. Similar extremities unfurled from the boiling darkness to smash the weapons from the hands of the others. Calgar brought his bolters to bear, only for them to be turned aside by the irresistible presence. The Warmaster found his every effort turned aside with contemptuous ease. The shadows hardened and condensed, taking on a spherical form. Within seconds the shape elongated and became humanoid, the sheer blackness softening as it reformed. Stand down. A figure stepped from the orb, flowing like oil as it took shape. An arm and a hand formed from the fluid substance, glowing with ethereal power. Try as they might, none of the defenders could raise a hand in resistance. I am not your enemy. A voice said.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Two: Amongst Them

The reaction of the small group had never been in doubt. Calgar pressed home his attack while Ventris and Cassius readied their fists, undaunted by their sudden lack of arms. I am not your enemy. The being repeated, raising a dark hand. A wall of liquid energy rippled into being before Calgar and the Warmaster found he could not pass, despite his every effort. His massive fists slammed into the barrier again and again, causing bursts of light to ripple across its surface but causing no

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further damage. Enough of this. Stand down and hear me. The creature lowered its hand and took a step forward. A warm breeze rose up around it as if from nowhere, tugging at the hazy edges of its shapeless black robes. Try as they might, none of the others could advance. Their feet remained rooted to the ground, their quaking legs unable to rise. I am Qah, and I am here to save this world. At that he lifted his gaze and looked to the desperate drama playing high above. Your enemy is my enemy. Hear me and listen to your instincts. I know that they confirm all I claim. The spark of life within all of you recognises me for who I am and what I represent. Ventris shook his head, fighting to dispel the creatures influence. Even as he did so he could feel his fists unfurling and his pulse slowing, as if his own body fought against the rage inside. We do not have long. Qah said. The ships of the Unity are fated to win the war above, and soon the invasion will commence. We must all fight to keep them at bay for as long as we can. The Army of Life comes to answer the call to war, and we must ensure that we are alive to see that happen. This is our world, abomination. Calgar spat. Do not presume to lecture us on its defence. Terra is the seat of our Imperium, and we will defend her unto death, every one of us. That you will. Qah answered with a slight inclination of his head. As will I. None of you can know the scale of what is to come, but I do. I know of all that has afflicted your world, of the insidious evil that infects its heart. Even now my kind and I fight to counter it, but it is ultimately a war we cannot win alone. You, Marneus Augustus Calgar, must know the truth of things. You must learn all that is and you must accept all your learn. This may be your world, Warmaster, but this war transcends far beyond your race. Life and death, this is the only divide that matters to any of us now. The spark at our core is a universal thing, for it resides within all of us. The Ctan want that spark. We will deny them. Qah lifted his hands and tilted his head back, an intense light glimmering in his large eyes. See. Something burst from the being and spread like ripples across a pond. A warm wind buffeted the Warmaster and his companions, a wind that seemed to shiver the air itself. The phenomenon expanded at an exponential rate, spreading out across the square and into the heaving metropolis. The Imperials looked around them in stunned silence, none of them able to speak. The warp-fuelled shockwave peeled away every shadow to reveal dark shapes standing in groves, where once they had stood unseen. Hundreds of them. They are the Hrud, and they have always been. You cannot know how many of them there are, for they live unseen and unknown. They are the Guardians of Life, the Watchers. The Ctan hate them because they have evolved beyond the enemys ability to consume them. The very spark within them is poison to the enemy. How did you do that? Calgar asked. How did you bring them here? I did not. The Hrud have always been here, Warmaster. They are the Guardians of Life, and it is their time

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to emerge from the shadows and face the coming enemy. Qah nodded and the indistinct host faded away like smoke on the breeze, swallowed by the returning shadows. The commanders of your vessels in orbit grow frustrated by their inaction. They cannot understand why they have not been given the order to engage the Unity, even now. You were wise to keep them at bay, Warmaster. If they enter this war now, they will be annihilated. I need no counsel in my command strategies, Qah The Hrud aboard those ships will ensure that the most zealous of your commanders will continue to adhere to your orders. Qah continued, ignoring Calgars outburst. Nothing we can do at this stage will prevent the Unity from securing orbit. It is when the landings begin that we will need your ships the most. That is when the Unity will be at its most vulnerable. Calgar had clearly heard enough. He stomped forth, his circular fists spinning. The ceratures hold upon him seemed to have been broken, and despite his deepest instincts, he desired retribution. Qah did not respond to his advance. The dark being lifted his head as if listening to something, his black eyes glistening with a precognitive knowledge. Then he was simply gone. None of the Imperials had time to utter but a single question. Something bright flashed into existence before them, a tiny burst of glowing green energy quickly followed by a larger, far brighter flare of ignition. The light formed and coalesced before him until it took the shape of a towering, arrogant figure, swathed in burning, incorporeal robes. Warmaster Calgar. At last we meet. The vision looked down on him and uttered. Everyone present recognised the thing for what it was. With Qah gone, Cassius and Ventris moved swiftly to retrieve their fallen weapons, despite the fact that they both knew the arms would do them little good. State your business, alien filth. Say what you have to say and be done. Calgar spat defiantly, undaunted by the towering Ethereal. I am AunO Ndras ShiKovash Ores Olnan, and I have come seeking an audience with your Emperor. It would be wise for him to attend me. You will speak with me, xenos, for I am the voice of the Emperor here. The Warmaster answered. The towering image fell silent for a moment, its glowing eyes shining with a barely-suppressed rage. After what seemed to be an age, it tipped its head and continued. Very well. It would seem that even now your Emperor seeks to try my patience, guela. You are fortunate that the Kirqath Tauva strive only to see the races of this galaxy united under one banner. We desire peace, guela, nothing more. Why do you fail to see that? The human race will never bow its head to an alien master, Tau. I would rather see mankind burn than march under the banner of a filthy xenos. Before him, the image shimmered, the eyes of the towering Ethereal blazing.

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Foolish guela. Your empire is already ours. Do you not see the ships above you? Do you not see the vast armies of Guevesa that now strive to see the Tauva realised? Your Emperor no longer has a realm to rule. We do not wish to destroy you. Surrender this planet and you shall be spared. Resist us, and we will have no choice but to forcibly remove your Emperor from his seat of power. I implore you to see sense. Calgar stood before the image in silence, his ancient heart burning with rage. That it had come to this, that holy Terra was destined to be laid so low by the despicable forces of xenos and traitor alike. I will say only this, alien. I have seen your plague run unchecked through this galaxy. I have seen the Hive Fleets of the Great Devourer turned back across its borders by your collective might. I have seen the tomb worlds of the ancient Necrontyr razed to dust, their legions decimated. I have seen the traitorous hordes sent fleeing into the Eye of Terror before your fury, and I am not afraid. The Eldar sought to join you for peace, wishing only to retreat into isolation and obscurity for all time. The Orks, swayed by the promise of glorious battle in the name of your Greater Good, all the while ignorant to the subtle genetic alterations performed upon them so as to ensure their compliance. I have seen the billions of Imperial Guard swayed to join your vile cause, and the legions of Astartes butchered for refusing to bow to your rule. I am not afraid. Come for us if you will, Tau. We will be waiting. You are a fool, Calgar. The Ethereal uttered, its blazing form intensifying. And you have consigned billions to their deaths for your refusal to listen to reason. Reason? You have come here to slaughter us, whether we yield or not. Do your worst, filth. We will not go quietly. The Ethereal unleashed a shuddering roar of anger and raised an arm, a long, burning staff erupting into being in its grasp. Darkness came then and tore the heart of the towering being out. A twisting spear of liquid night punched clean through the Aun and then withdrew, reforming into a small sphere. Qah flowed like smoke into existence once more, forming around the sphere until the shape became a part of him. There you are, little false one. Take away the light, there is only darkness. The blazing body of the Ethereal faded into nothing, as if absorbed by the very air. Qah did not even give the death of the Ethereal the slightest glance. His eyes remained fixed on the black orb. After a few moments the sphere unfurled and something small and metallic fell to the floor, smouldering and broken. One down. Now the Unity knows that their commanders are far from immortal. This should serve to send the appropriate message. How did you do that? Calgar gasped, shocked to the core by what he had just seen. Youyou killed it. No one can kill an Ethereal. Yet it is dead, I can assure you. Qah answered. The enemy call the power of the Ethereals the Paradox of Duality. It is exactly what the name implies. An illusion, nothing more. A falsehood. These creatures claim ascension and yet they are caged, slaved to a darkness from which there is no escape. That He gestured to the ruined object at their feet, is your enemy. Science can often seem like sorcery to those who are unable to understand it. Then we can kill them. Calgar said. We can actually hurt them. Some of us, yes, but very not many. There are few weapons available to you that can effectively penetrate and disable such powerful technologies, and if an Ethereal has even the slightest inclination that he is in

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danger he will retreat. Who are you? What are you? Qah fell silent as he looked to Tigurius. You know who and what I am, encased one. Now you have seen what I can do. We can waste no more time. Soon the ships of the Unity will begin the approach to the atmosphere of this world and the final war will start. We must be ready. +++ Impossible! Guilliman thundered through the opening and into the chamber, Berolinus ever in his presence. The Primarch barged his way through the press of Earth Caste engineers and slowed, his eyes widening in disbelief. None of the attendant Tau dared utter a word as they fell back, leaving the Primarch with a clear view of the central piece of the chamber. There before him, his remains limp and smouldering, AunO Olnan lay back in his chair. He was clearly dead. Lord Guilliman. One of the engineers began, finally finding the courage to speak. We cannot understand it. Thethe feedback killed him. OOlnan is deceased. Impossible! An Ethereal cannot die! Guilliman spat, advancing slowly. He reached out a hand to touch the corpse and then withdrew it, unable to bring himself to make contact with the divine being. Slowly but surely, the disbelief in his expression faded, to be replaced by anger. Find out what happened here. Find out and report directly to me. Get me answers or I will have your heads. Berolinus stepped out from behind the Primarch to regard the dead Ethereal. His eyes were narrowed, heavy with suspicion. They said that the feedback killed him. What do they mean by that? Nothing. Guilliman answered, a little too quickly. They clutch at straws and attempt to invent impossible explanations. Heed my words, all of you. He raised a finger and ran it past each of the engineers in turn, the menace behind the gesture unmistakeable. You will not fail me. Find out how they did this to him, or I swear, by the time the descent is upon us, I will ensure that all of you are in the first Orca to head to the surface, unarmed and unaccompanied. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ The adepts eyes bulged as the life was choked from him. Whatever he was attempting to say came out as

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a strangled, metallic gurgle, wet with blood. Fear blazed in the mans grey eyes, a fear more potent and agonising than any natural emotion should be. Where is he? The beings metallic golden skin crackled with primal force, as if unable to contain the immeasurable energies within. Its feet hovered just above the ground, and the clawed hand that pinned him to the wall burned with power enough to blister his skin. Where is he? The adept began to convulse, his features shuddering and growing hazy. Mephetran drew close to him, his eyes blazing. Tendrils of ethereal mist snaked from the adepts mouth towards him, shimmering and translucent. Show me. Whatever it was he wanted to know, to see, he continued to be denied. Finally, enraged beyond the point of control, he unleashed a heart-freezing roar and the adept was consumed by a white conflagration, turning to dust and smoke within seconds. Mephetran lowered his hand and cast around in the air to regard the ruined chamber. Nothing here betrayed anything of Achosyxs location, despite his best efforts to locate evidence. You cannot hide forever, filth. I will tear this palace apart to find you if I have to. I will not be denied. And yet I deny you. The voice came from every direction at once. Mephetran glanced around him, searching for the location of his prey. Do not waste your time. I am not here. I am everywhere. You are not intelligent enough to understand. One of the surviving screens at the far end of the chamber came to life then, casting its pale glow into the gloom. A hooded shape formed on the screen, dark and indistinct. I am the ghost in the machine. You tried to end my life and you failed. The Deceiver has been deceived. This cannot be The glowing being uttered. Yet it is. What manner of creature are you, that you cannot even destroy a servant of the Void Dragon? What hope have you of success against His might? You are nothing, Mephetran, and he will consume you when He comes to this world. Do you sense Him? He is close now. Mephetran did not answer.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Three: To Resist

Lunas gone. It was a quiet comment, a simple observation. Trooper Daryn Goulde found that no conceivable manner of

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conveying this remark was sufficient to portray the gravity of its consequences. High above him, Luna was in the last stages to succumbing to the Unitys relentless attack. She was dying. Flashes of bright light popped across her grey surface, flares of energy that spoke of terrible forces being unleashed . The void around her was saturated, heavy with thousands of ships. He didnt need to be a member of the Alliance command to know that. His own senses told him what was happening far above them. The Unity was winning. Dont speak out of turn. Goulde placed his lasgun on the ground and looked to Rentar. The soldier made the sign of the Aquila before his chest, his face fixed in an expression of stony determination. He could see the fear behind those eyes. The young Guardsman could not hide it. Everywhere he looked he could see the same fear. Goulde sighed and pulled a battered packet of lho-sticks from his pocket. He plucked one free with his teeth and offered the packet to Rentar. The young man shook his head. Take one. Look around you, son. Breathe in the peace. Soon that piece will be shattered, and war will come to this world for the first time since the Age of Apostasy. You will no doubt meet your end amongst these ancient structures, as will I. Take a bloody smoke. Rentar swallowed hard and snatched at the pack with shaking fingers. Gouldes expression softened then, partly through guilt. Listen to me, Ren. He said, lighting the stick. He took a lungful of the blue smoke and exhaled, savouring it. Luna has fallen. Face up to that fact, we always knew it would come to this. Nothing we could have done would have stopped the Tau from coming to this world. So what then? The young soldier spat, smoke billowing from his mouth. Is this it? We just roll over and die? Gouldes eyes widened as he heard this. He rose swiftly and flicked the stick away, snatching up his rifle as he did so. Emperor son, we do not! Look around you, trooper. Look how many of us await the coming of the Unity. We are here to oppose the coming of an invasion force. This isnt about our survival. It is about the survival of our race, of our Imperium. Our lives dont matter here. All that does matter is that we give our all and we do not falter, not once, until death claims us. Both soldiers were members of the Throne Guard 31st. The Throne Guard was Terras own army, raised exclusively from the natives of this world. Both men were Terran born and bred. The older Guardsman hauled himself up onto the thick rockcrete bulwark and stood there, looking out over the city and the maze of barricades and fortifications that choked the streets. The 31st was but one regiment of the vast Throne Guard out here before the Saturnine Gate. More than forty regiments were set to defend this part of the city alone, along with elements of the Arbites and Calgars Astartes. Though he had not yet caught sight of them, he knew that three of the Emperors mighty god-machines stood ready to meet the enemy somewhere beyond the towering structures. He nodded silently to himself and leapt back down behind the defence wall to stand with the others of his

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squad. He noticed the younger mans worried expression then and was about to speak when a sonorous voice gave him pause. A brace of Commissars were walking across the wall, shouting and brandishing their power swords at the dying satellite above. Gouldes heart missed a beat as he spied the plate-armoured giant behind them. The figures golden cloak whipped in the breeze, the exquisite material glittering as it caught the fading light. Heads up, lad Rentar did not need to be told. His back straightened as the small entourage approached, the butt of his rifle clacking against the smooth rockcrete at his feet. Lord Commander Lude Vasquez said nothing as he inspected the warriors of the 31st, his slate-grey eyes harsh and unblinking. The sentiment behind his manner was clear. He did not need to speak, to orate and inspire. The soldiers around him needed no such encouragement. Terra was on the brink of invasion. The seat of the Emperor Himself was besieged. These were the darkest days in the Imperiums history, bar none. Unlike the Heresy, this time there was no hope of reinforcements arriving from the corners of the Imperium. The Unity had ensured that. This time the Emperor did not walk amongst his people. Never before had the Imperium of Man teetered so close to the brink of annihilation. +++ +++THE ISHYREA+++ We are close. The others watched in silence as Codian paced the glowing chamber, his hands placed behind his back. Whether through fate or design, we are fortunate. The spirits of the Ishyrea tell me that the webway is unbroken and clear from here to Terra, and that the journey should take us no more than a day or two. I am confident that we should arrive as the invasion commences. A quiet murmur passed through the gathered figures at hearing this. Codian allowed the exchange to continue for a few moments before he held up his hands for attention. I wanted to speak with you all in order to discuss the coming war, and our roles in that war. Even now we are headed towards the greatest conflict this galaxy has ever seen, and yet none of us have considered exactly what we are to do. Our efforts have thus far seen the Caesus delivered into the hands of the Alliance, and no less than two of the Emperors own sons returned to an Imperium desperate for them. It would seem to many that, should one believe in such things as fate or destiny, ours has been collectively realised. This is not the case. We are far from done with the Unity. I am pleased to hear that. Torvus answered, rising slowly from his seat on the curved crystalline bench. I have been meaning to hold counsel with you, Chaplain, but now you have broached the subject, here and now will be as good a place and time as any to put my point across. Codian nodded gently as he heard this. You are right, brother. That is exactly why I gathered us here, to discuss our next course of action. It is our next course of action that concerns me, Chaplain. Look around you. Ten. There are ten of us in this group. Ten outcasts, carried aboard a ship of ghosts, leading an armada of feral carnivores towards the

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greatest battle ever known. What good is that? We are hardly a mere force of ten, Torvus. Do not forget, this ship is but the lead vessel of a mighty fleet, so large we cannot hope to know how many vessels even follow us in Then we are sure to be victorious, with such allies on our side. Torvus Ligur growled. Codian held up a hand at this and inclined his head. No, allow him to speak plainly, my brother. We owe him that much. I asked you a question. What are we supposed to do, Chaplain? What are we supposed to achieve? Look at us. Outcasts, renegades and xenos. We severed all ties with the Alliance once and for all when we answered your call Cyphers call, Torvus. I was not the one who summoned you. It does not matter! We followed you, Codian. Ligur and I, we left behind the only brothers we had left to follow you. We left Kryptman and the Deathwatch behind, abandoned them to the mercy of Calgar and his damned Alliance, and for what? For what, Codian? This. He gestured at the ship around them, a burning scorn twisting his features. We are renegades and aliens. This is a xenos ship. What chance do we have of even breaking Terras atmosphere? Even if we did, we could never realistically hope to join the Alliance. There are things that you do not understand Enough! Enough of the ambiguity, Codian! I am sick of hearing such answers from you Pull yourself together, stalkleg. Grungi interjected. It does not matter what you wish or do not wish to hear. Existence is a heartless bitch, and that will never change no matter how long and hard you rail against it. Torvus looked to Grungi then, his eyes blazing with fury. Here comes the xenophobia. The Demiurg sneered, folding his arms before his chest. Take your best shot, large one. I will not be insulted by a xenos dwarf. Torvus snapped, reaching over his shoulder to grip the hilt of his hammer. Grungi smiled, justified by the Marines response. Better that you heed your anger now, while is am singular-handed. Only a fool insults an armed Demiurg Enough! Codian shouted, striding between the two quarrelling warriors. If either of you are so eager to fight, then wait until we reach Terra. Believe me, there are millions waiting to tear you to pieces. Emperors light, what is wrong with you? How many enemies does a warrior need? Torvus hissed from between his teeth and sat back down, the weight of his descent causing the organic glass bench to groan. Lady Inquisitor Orechiel eyes twinkled with mischief as she observed the exchange. She waved a hand

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before her face, as if warding away mist or smoke. The testosterone is so thick in here I could cut it with a knife. You go for it, boys. Im sure the enemy would appreciate you doing their job for them. In the meantime, Im struggling to see exactly how all this is going to help us decide where we go from here. That is hardly our choice, Inquisitor. The Cadian said. We are bound for Terra. Once we reach her, we land any way we can and then we fight, any way we can. We arent exactly fraught with options. None of this is helping. Said Codian, shaking his head. We need to be preparing for the fight ahead. That is why I have asked Gormat to instruct us on exactly what we are to expect. The Tau raised his head and glanced around the group as he heard this, as if activated by the Chaplains voice. He placed his hands together in a gesture of compliance and then stood, his long robes falling in folds about him. The Unity. He began, blinking softly. The Unity is an enemy we dare not underestimate. I served this Unity for many years, and I rose through the ranks to take the title of Ambassador, second only to the Ethereal in charge of my colony world. In that time I learned a great many secrets about the empire I served, secrets that are kept from all but the most high-ranking of my kind. I learned how the war machine of the Unity works on every level. Most important of all, I learned of the Unitys plans for Terra. Plans. They seek to conquer the planet. Torvus piped up, anger still clear in his voice. I think this is pretty self-explanatory. Quite. What all of you need to understand, however, is that Terra was always at the forefront of AunVas plans. He has desired to take the seat of the guela empire as his own for many years. He is a powerful and unforgiving individual, who will stop at nothing to achieve dominance over all the races of this galaxy. The Unitys growth was an incredibly complex thing. You cannot realise this, but every stage of the expansion was planned to perfection, designed to strip away the power and the influence of the Imperium one system at a time. You see, AunVa is utterly dedicated to removing the Emperor of the guela from his throne, and so he made to ensure that once his fleets reached the Terran system, there would be no hope of reinforcements coming to the aid of the defenders of this world. He has achieved this goal. He has not. Codian said. I have seen this much with my own eyes Ah yes, your vaunted rebel army. Codian threw Torvus a warning glance, his restraint beginning to crumble. Had you been there, Marine, you would not mock me. I saw for myself the power and size of this fleet. The Tau of Leviathan stood little chance against such a foe. The Unity cannot know of the existence of this force, I am sure. I believe that you are correct, Chaplain. If they had, then I am sure that AunVa would have pursued it to extinction. The Ethereals assimilated vast quantities of data on the Imperium, in order to ensure that every possible foe would be accounted for. If this fleet is indeed as large as you say then I can assure you, they would have been pursued and dealt with. The fact that they were not almost certainly indicates that they were, and still are, an unknown entity. Good. Then the Unity do not know they are coming. Gormat held up a hand at this, a gesture enough to surprise even Codian. Forgive me, Chaplain, but there is something I feel you must know. The three main Unity fleets were

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scheduled to converge upon the advance to Terra, in order to ensure the maximum chance of victory. We already know that elements of Kraken had begun to integrate with Prometheus, and we must assume that this convergence is now complete. Of course, if this mysterious fleet is currently engaged in fighting the ships of Leviathan, then the Unitys plans are seriously compromised. The invasions success relies heavily on the participation of all three fleets. Given the time frame, I am sure that by this point, AunVa is beginning to grow concerned. Codian nodded, gratified by hearing this. Then we do have an advantage over the enemy. Do they know of the Kroot? I am sure that they do not. If they had, they would have surely sought to wipe them from existence. AunVa. All eyes turned to Czevak. The Inquisitor had sat in silence until now, his fingers steepled. Watched by the others, he slowly sat up, leaning forward in his seat. AunVa. Master of the Undying Spirit. The Inquisition have known of this individual since the early days of what your kind call the Third Expansion. Gormat, I must confess that I am intrigued. Though I know little of the Tau, I know enough. You are known to be a short-lived species, Gormat, and yet, if this indeed the same individual, then he has to be at least six hundred and fifty years old. How can this be? AunVa was the first of the Ethereals to ascend. The history of the Ethereals is a mystery even to me, Inquisitor, for the lesser castes are not permitted access to such information. All that I do know is that it was AunVa who brought true power to the Tau, who formed the Unity at the end of the Third Sphere. There is a legend amongst my kind of the rise of AunVa. It is said that he personally led an expedition into the forbidden regions of the Damocles Gulf in pursuit of the renegade Farsight. Upon his return, he refused to say whether or not he had been successful in tracking down OShovah, but instead claimed that he had true and ultimate inspiration, an inspiration that would see the Tau come to ultimate power. He was no longer the aged and wizened being the Tau knew. He had been transformed, invigorated by some unknown experience. Ascended, he called it. He would not speak of his experiences on the world of Arthas Moloch, only to say that he had found the answers to life there, that he had unlocked all the secrets of the universe. I fail to see what all this has to do with learning of the Unitys strengths. Umbras said, stirring in his seat. This was the first time that the Ultramarine apothecary had spoken since the commencement of the gathering. I mean you no disrespect, Gormat, but the history of your race is irrelevant. We need to know how to fight them. I disagree, master Umbras. You see, I am trying to explain to you the true power that lies behind the Unity. AunVa was but the first to change. The other Ethereals soon received this gift of ascension, and it brought them immortality and wisdom. Under the direction of AunVa, it was as if all the secrets of life were revealed to the Ethereals. The Tau learned to adapt to any situation. They learned how to seek out a foes weaknesses and exploit them. They learned how to win. Our technology improved in leaps and bounds, so much so that the Earth caste were able to build weapons and machines to overcome any obstacle, to beat any foe. What are we to expect, Tau, and how are we to beat them. Torvus snarled, barely able to contain his anger. Gormat gave a defeated sigh and shook his head slowly. It was as if he had more to say on the Ethereals,

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AunVa in particular, and yet he could not physically bring himself to reveal his thoughts. It will be hard, but victory is possible. Of all the foes we are set to face, the Ethereals are the most powerful and deadly, but they can be beaten. You have to know that one of the greatest threats lies within the heart of the Prometheus fleet. I cannot tell you what you are destined to face, because I truthfully do not know. All I do know is that there is a vast army awaiting release, an army created by the greatest guela geneticist the Unity has ever known. It is an army of alien design, a race brought back from the brink of extinction to serve the Unity. Millions of artificial warriors slumber there, awaiting their awakening. If they are unleashed they will lay waste to Terra. We must prevent this, any way we can. What do you know of them? Codian asked. This secret army of the Unity. I have heard of this force more than once, and yet I know precious little of what we should expect to face. I have seen darkness and death, I have felt an insatiable hunger for life. What are these creatures? All I know is that the Tau call them the Shais Montda. They are the dark ones, the stalkers of night. The blood that runs through their veins is as cold as ice. It is said that Fabius, the master of genes, grew them from a single specimen, the last of his race, and that but a limb or an extremity can be cultured to grow an entire warrior. At hearing this Czevak rose from his seat, his eyes widening. He uttered but a single word, a word filled with absolute conviction and inarguable certitude. Viskeon.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Four: A Line in the Sand

+++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ +++THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++ +++TERRA+++ +++TWO DAYS AFTER THE FALL OF LUNA+++ Ancient Ventris gazed at the foreboding skies, his face set into a mask of stone. The Grand Banner of the Alliance fluttered in the warm breeze at his side, as it had done for almost half a day. The Unity was coming. There was nothing left to stop them now. The defences of Luna had fallen silent nearly forty-eight hours ago, just as everyone had known they would. This would be the day of the invasion proper. The final war. That he had come so far to witness this day, endured so much, cheated death even to stand at his Warmasters side was little short of a miracle. Miracle perhaps, or curse. Terrible images flashed unbidden into his mind, images of a dark world of iron, and horrific daemon-things. Doubts and self-revulsion came unbidden, welling up from deep within to assail him. Daemonculaba A word from his past echoed through his thoughts, turning his guts to quivering jelly. He saw the face of his oldest comrade, Pasanius, the pallor of death wasting his features. He pushed the image from his mind and cleared his thoughts. His past no longer mattered, nor did his own personal fears and doubts.

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I will make you proud. He whispered quietly, to the memory of his lost brother. I will justify my continuing existence. If the great dark abomination is set to return, I will finish what we started on Pavonis. Somehow. Calgar shifted on his axis at his side to regard him, no doubt picking up the Ancients private vow. A prayer. Ventris lied, clutching the banner pole to his chest. The Warmaster did not reply. Instead he turned his attention back to the roiling skies, pregnant with the coming ships of the Unity. A noble sentiment, Uriel Ventris. Noble, but ultimately hollow. You cannot hope to defeat death. The Ancient started as the voice flooded through his mind, setting his nerves alight with its presence. His eyes and his ears ached at its presence, for it was irresistible and invasive. Images of the terrible denizen of Pavonis rolled across his thoughts like black smoke, choking everything else. Those yellow eyes burned right through his core, enough to freeze his soul to ice. He knows you, I see that within you. His memory is long, and his manner utterly unforgiving. Ventris looked beyond the gathered warriors to see the midnight-skinned xenos staring back, its eyes wide and glistening with inhuman power. A sea of heads were turned skywards, but Qahs gaze was on him, and it felt for all the world as if the mysterious creature right into his soul. What do you know of my past? He asked quietly. I see the stain within you. Of all those present here, only you know the dark truth. Only you have seen first-hand the horror of the Ctan. Your Warmaster cannot accept this truth, for it must be experienced to be believed. That time will come, Uriel Ventris. The Master of Death is coming to this world. Uriels face darkened then and he moved towards the alien, negotiating the packed bodies as discreetly as he could. What I saw awaken beneath Pavonis was a nightmare. He hissed, fighting to keep the exchange as inconspicuous as he could. It looked into me and I saw nothing but oblivion. Whatever that abomination was, it was something we cannot hope to fight. You do not believe that. Qah said, speaking aloud this time. I heard your private vow. The Ctan are as gods to mortals, but they are not invincible. Once they were legion, and now they are but four. If it exists, so can it be destroyed. Then how do we kill them, xenos? How do we kill death itself? Qah did not answer immediately. How do we kill them, Qah? Answer me. We fight fire with fire. Ancient? The voice of Calgar caused him to start and he looked to the Warmaster, the expression of hunger and desperation on his face fading away. Without any further exchange he shifted his position to take his place at his Warmasters side. Soon, Ancient. Soon we will know the truth of things. Calgar uttered, and Ventris felt his pulse quicken at

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this. It was a physical reaction he could not avert, and he knew that the other Ultramarines amongst the gathering were feeling the same at this moment, especially Calgar. They had received the message only a short while ago, and now they waited. They waited to see, to have their worst fears confirmed. Rogal Dorn stood to the left of the Warmaster. The Primarch no longer wore the armour of the Custodes, but instead sported the plate and colours of an Imperial Fist. His beard was gone and his greying hair had been cropped short, and his golden-yellow armour shone with flawless perfection. The small honour guard of Fist commanders surrounding him exuded an air of utter pride, unable to hide the wonder that dominated their faces. Dorn had returned to the Fists only a few days ago, and in that time the Chapter had been utterly transformed, invigorated by the miraculous return of their Primarch. Ventris could not help but feel a stirring envy within him at witnessing this sight. That a Primarch could return to the Imperium in its darkest hour was a wonder indeed, second only to the return of the Emperor Himself. Still, Dorns presence before him was a double-edged sword. It served to remind him of all that his own Chapter had lost, and he knew that he would never feel his chest swell with the same pride. The Fists had been blessed, as had those Astartes of the First Founding Chapters who fought for the Alliance. Warriors as those such of the Dark Angels and the White Scars were painfully rare now, and yet even they could take heart in knowing that their gene-father once more walked amongst them. He could not claim this same fact. His own Primarch was lost, worse even; corrupted by the very enemy he had vowed to dedicate his body and soul to fight. Roboute Guilliman was a part of the Unity now. It was a betrayal of such magnitude that he knew it could never be put right. The others had joined the gathering a short time ago. Each of the Primarchs stood as Dorn did, at the centre of a small and elite cadre of his own warriors. Of all the First Chapters, only the sons of Sanguinius were absent, like their Primarch. This sight did go some way to stirring the passion within him, for no matter how keenly he felt the absence of the resurrected Guilliman; he could not help but be moved by the sight of the gathered Primarchs. Only Magnus the Red stood alone. Unlike his brothers, who were all fixated by the approaching fleets, the crimson-haired giants attention was firmly upon the mysterious alien creature. He had yet to speak or attempt any act of communication with Qah, and yet it was as if he was fascinated by the dark figure. It was Qah who finally broke the uneasy silence, though as he spoke, it was as if only Magnus heard his words. The alien stepped back and drew his formless robes tighter around him. It is time. He comes. He comes. Magnus echoed, his words stirring the other Primarchs. Russ gave a low growl and placed the tip of his frostblade upon the floor, his hands resting upon the pommel. The talons of Corax slid free of their sheaths and ignited with the thrum of building power. The air before them shivered and thickened, bulging as if warped by some unseen shape beneath. Roboute Guilliman appeared before them, a shimmering wave of light that formed the shape the of lost Primarch as it descended, from head to toe. It took less than a second for the Primarch of the Ultramarines to come into existence. He stood before the Warmaster and his gathered Primarch brethren, his obsidian eyes wide and unblinking. A tiny pulse of rippling light descended down his form with a regular rhythm, the only visible indication that the vision was not one of flesh and blood.

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Guilliman did not even get the chance to speak before the first response. Russ unleashed a rising roar and charged, his body becoming a blur. He swept his jagged blade through the images neck, only for the damage to flow and reform, leaving behind no trace of injury. Russ. Guilliman uttered. His black eyes widened slightly as he watched the Great Wolf step back, anger and hatred causing his breath to come in great, ragged gasps. Coward! The lord of the Space Wolves snarled. Guilliman ignored the insult and cast his gaze out over the assembled warriors, finding each of them in turn. He did not speak as he did this, and though there was little change in his expression, the furrow in his brow spoke of his surprise at coming face to face with so many of his lost brothers. Primarch. Calgar took a step towards the projection, a tentative and apprehensive advance. The wonder in his voice was stained with incredulity, for his worst fears had been finally and utterly confirmed. It is true then. You serve the enemy. Guilliman finally tore his gaze away from the Primarchs and regarded the Warmaster, a sneer of disdain crossing his face. You must be Calgar, the former Chapter Master of my Ultramarines. The same Calgar that abandoned his own world rather than fight for her. A world that the filth you serve took from us. Calgar spat in answer, the wonder of beholding his Primarch restored soon fading away. Silence. I will suffer the presence of such weakness no longer. I came here before you to try and save lives, to try and show that mercy is still within me, within all those who serve the Unity. All I have seen since my return to these stars is weakness and corruption. The Imperium is nothing; it is a dying and sickly thing, whose cancers must be excised if the human race is to be saved Enough of this folly, traitor. You have come here to conquer this world. The Lion said, removing his hood so that Guilliman could see his face. Unleash your xenos hounds upon us then, let us get this war underway. You intend no mercy, and we will accept none. We fight for the Emperor still, as we always have and we always will. And I see the Red Sorcerer standing amongst you. Has the Imperium fallen so far that the foulest of traitors is welcomed back into its fold? You waste your breath, Roboute, and you know it. Magnus replied. We all received the Vision of Truth and you cannot deny this. You know what you saw to be the truth. I know the lie of it all; for I see nothing but corruption everywhere I look. I see my father, surrounded by this corruption, suffocated by it and yet unable to change it. The Emperor is trapped in an eternal living hell, and I will release him from that. You are far too late for that Dorn said. Ventris frowned as he caught the Primarchs voice. His last word seemed to linger, repeating itself over and over again, as if lodged in time. Tell your master that Qah is here.

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The dark being walked towards the hologram, a wave of hazy power spreading out all around him. Ventris watched this and noticed that of all the Primarchs, only Magnus looked to be witnessing this. Every one of his brothers seemed frozen. Indeed, of all those present, only Magnus, himself and his Ultramarine brethren were unaffected by this. What is Qah waved a hand and Guilliman fell silent. A look of burning anger passed over his face but Qah remained impassive. Tell him. Tell him that every one of his Ethereals he sends against these defences will be executed. I will hunt them down and incinerate their minds, one by one. He has grievously underestimated the strength that awaits him, that awaits you all. Come, and you will find only annihilation. This is no idle threat. Guilliman snarled soundlessly at hearing this, his patrician features quivering with rage. He made to answer but his lips moved soundlessly. Qah shook his head. Your reply is immaterial. You have nothing to say that we wish to hear, unless the word surrender is to pass your lips. Go now, and prepare for your own fruitless destruction. Qah made to raise a hand then, only to pause as he did so. One more thing. Tell him this. Better that he does not wait for the arrival of his third fleet. It no longer exists. The ships of A thoughtful and brief pause followed, and Qah tipped his head as if he was considering something. Leviathan. The ships of Leviathan are gone, lost to the forces of the Army of Life. All the denizens of this galaxy are coming to fight in this war, and he should be aware of that. Now speak no more of mercy or compromise, for we shall show neither. Begone. Qah waved his hand and the hologram tore itself apart, dissipating into a cloud of hazy light. The ancient being cast around to regard Calgar and the others, his ageless gaze lingering upon Magnus for a moment. It is time to prepare for this war. Magnus, you will need to direct your brothers, spread them about the gates of this stronghold. I can feel the shifting of the Unitys forces above us even now. The skeins of fate are clouded, but reveal enough to tell me that the spaceports are not the Unitys target. The gates themselves will see the fiercest fighting at the commencement of this war. Magnus nodded and then turned to face his brothers, the others still frozen in time. What else do you see, Qah? Calgar asked. What of the beings known as the Void Champions? We have faced them once already, and I am wary of their return. If they attack us in the midst of the invasion, I do not think that we will be able to stand against them again, especially if the Primarchs are dispersed. They are of no concern at this point in time, Warmaster, I can promise you that. When it is time for them to return, you will know. Now, if you are ready, this war is about to begin. Calgar answered this with the activation of his bolters, the heavy weapons cycling as they armed themselves. Qah nodded and waved a hand, releasing his surroundings from the stasis field. The normal passage of time flooded into the location once more, activity followed a second later by the return of sound. Qah dissipated into a fading mist as the other Primarchs were reanimated. Where is he? Vulkan asked, drawing his hammer from his shoulder. Magnus met his brother with the

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answer. Gone. It is clear that Guilliman was not expecting our return for the commencement of this war. Now, my brothers, it is time for us to put ourselves out into the defenders of this world, so that we are ready to meet this invasion. Ventris looked on as the Primarchs began to formulate their battle plan, and shook the dread from within him. And so it begins. Calgar whispered, pointing to the skies. The first of the mighty Terran defence lasers opened up, sending vast columns of light up into the atmosphere to meet the massive ships that had begun to descend. They are here. More and more of the blinding beams speared up from the distance to stab through the atmosphere and into the ships of the Unity. Mere seconds passed before the powerful craft began to respond. The atmosphere blazed as ion lances and drone torpedoes descended to meet the powerful defence outposts. The Unity descend. Calgar said, pivoting to face his comrades. This exchange will see us through the coming night and into the new dawn. Signal the fleet to move and intercept the Unity ships. It is time for them to sell themselves dearly. What do we do now, Warmaster? Ventris asked, clutching the banner closer to his chest. We wait, Uriel. Our defences will defy the Unity for as long as they can. Guilliman will concentrate all his efforts on silencing the defence silos and turning aside our ships. I estimate that we have around seven hours before the first elements of the enemy forces land upon the soil of Terra. Let us use those hours wisely. +++ +++THE ISHYREA+++ The Viskeon? Czevak nodded and rose, watched by the others. Yes, the description is unmistakeable. In my time as a member of the Ordo Xenos, I researched hundreds of sentient alien races, and I remember the Viskeon. They are a race thought to be extinct by the scholars of the Ordo Xenos. We first encountered the Viskeon when investigating the activities of one Inquisitor Lichtenstein, a maverick within the Ordos. Lichtenstein was known to have employed many undesirable individuals, including a member of the Viskeon race. So, these Viskeon are far from extinct. Codian answered. It would seem so. Their homeworld was destroyed by the fleeing splinter fleets of Kraken in the wake of the battle of Ichar IV. They were effectively wiped out. And yet you suspect that the Unity employs a vast army of them, Gormat. Orechiel asked, turning her attention back to the Tau. Gormat nodded.

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Yes, as I said, they were cultured from a specimen thought to be the last of his kind. It is whispered that Bile has modified the cloned specimens to such an extent that an almost spontaneous reproduction would occur from any surviving body parts following the death of the host. So, let me get this straight. You are saying that these Viskeons grow from surviving body parts? Yes. For instance, if a Viskeon loses an arm, a separate specimen would grow from that limb, should it survive the separation. Such reproduction is said to occur from any surviving extremity. Codians eyes narrowed as he heard this. He took a deep breath before he asked his next question. Okay. And, for arguments sake, what would happen if a Viskeon took a bolter round to the chest, strong enough to blow his torso apart? Gormat shrugged. I theory, if the scattered limbs survived intact enough, the resultant regeneration would produce up to five separate specimens, depending on the extent of the limb separation. God-Emperor Codian breathed.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Five: The Unity Descends

There was a blinding flash and a thunderous boom high above, and then the skies began to fall. The ship was vast, easily over a kilometre in length, and its entire undersize erupted with such fury it was as if a miniature sun was born in the skies above them. Ventris raised a hand to shield his eyes from the fiery blast as it assailed him, faster even than his occulobe could counter. The vast alien ship had been critically damaged by a powerful defence laser blast. Explosions wracked its bulky form, and sections the size of Emperor Titans tumbled towards the ground as the ship began to break apart. It is coming down on us! Ventris cried, standing at the foot of the Leviathans ramp. We have to try and move the defence forces clear of this area Steel yourself, Ancient. We are not in danger. The Warmaster joined him, his stride calm and confident. He raised a fist and gestured to the skies. The crafts descent path will carry it away from us. We will pray for the many deaths that will follow its descent, but we will be spared for now. A look of shame passed over the Ancients face and he hung his head, angry at his own lack of fortitude. He could see now that Calgar was right, that the craft was indeed moving away from them, even in death. There are Hrud onboard that ship. He glanced over his shoulder to see Qah staring back at him. The alien finally lifted his gaze to witness the death of the craft.

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There are Hrud to be found onboard every craft within the Unity fleet. They are few in number but there are enough of them to influence a craft of even that size in its death throes. It is possible that they have just saved the lives of everyone in this region. Ventris opened his mouth to answer, but Qah blinked and shook his head. No, they could not have prevented the coming of the Unity. The Tau know of the Hruds presence amongst them, and they are hunted so vigorously that their numbers could never be sufficient enough to attempt such a thing. Besides, the Hrud are a patient breed, and they will act when the time is right. Another flash lit the skies, breaking the conversation. Another of the Unitys ships listed badly, spewing fire and plasma as it burned from the inside out. Whether dead or alive, Ventris knew that the invaders would exact a heavy toll upon the defenders of Terra. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ He stood on the balcony overlooking the endless defences of the palace, his gaze turned to the skies. He watched the ships of the enemy burn, and smiled. Such glorious death. See how my world defends me? See how they defy this invasion? I see the coming of this Unity and I savour it. So much life to be consumed. These Tau, they are so gullible. I will weave my greatest illusion upon them and I will feast as never I have before. Regaas lowered his gaze then and cast around slowly to face the silent silver construct behind him. The unliving machine that had once masqueraded as a renegade agent of the Inquisition stared back, its emerald eyes a cold yet smouldering light. Soon it will be time to awaken our forces, my nameless minion. The Unity will hit the defences of this world hard, and this will provide us with the perfect opportunity to begin our true work. Yes, my lord. The tombs stir even now. Regaas nodded, his terrible smile growing. With that he looked back to the descending fleets and rested his hands upon the parapet. Good. I feel him stirring out there, even now. He is angered by my actions, and seeks to exact retribution when he comes to take this world. I am not afraid, my servant, for the Ctan do not know fear. The timing of this endeavour must be impeccable if it to achieve maximum success, and I will ensure exactly that. Regaas turned his back on the war above and waved a dismissive hand. And so it begins, at last. I have summoned you here to inform you that it is no longer necessary to hunt for Achosyx or his half-breed Champions. They are no longer of concern to me. He seeks to confound and frustrate me, no doubt in order to waylay my plans. This Achosyx mocks you, my lord. I would destroy this human subordinate utterly for such an affront, if only I could locate him Did you not hear me? Regaas snarled, a burning light playing in his eyes. Achosyx is nothing to me! Let

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these sacks of flesh fight for this pathetic world. He is my only concern. He will wait until millions have fallen, until both the Unity and the Alliance are weak and dying, and then he will come and he will reveal himself to us. I am ready for him. You see, he expects that I am fearful of his power, that he will consume me and claim this world as his own. He expects little resistance. I have already taken steps to ensure that, when the time comes, he will find that there are others unwilling to allow him victory over this world. Already they stir, and hunger begins to fill them. The other Star Gods? Yes. I will set them against one another and then I will reap whatever remains of them. Ultimate victory shall be mine. It is time now to shed this vile skin, and once again exist amongst these stars as a god. The Necron Lord disappeared for a moment as the Sigilite erupted, blinding light scouring everything around him from existence. The golden being drifted from the centre of the radiance and raised a clawed hand out towards the machine. Go. Summon your legions. Tell them we make war upon life once again. The Necron Lord bowed his head and dissipated in a shimmering flash of light, leaving the transcendent being alone. Even as the last vestiges of the energy exchange faded, the Deceiver tilted his head, as if listening to some unseen voice. Flickering shadows passed by the entrance to the lofty balcony, half-spied and intangible, and the snake-like ribbons of golden liquid metal furled about him reached out as if imbued with a life of their own, questing to inspect this enigmatic phenomenon. Enough illusory theatrics. Did you think that you could confound me forever, Cegorach? Dance around in the shadows all you like, Old One, I will catch you soon enough, and when I do I will swallow you whole. The whispering continued, echoing through the spaces all around him. He followed the sounds with his glowing eyes, his radiant grin never once faltering. You amuse me. I sense him, you know. Your brother, the dark one. As soon as I felt him tread upon the soil of this world, I knew. I knew it was you, and I saw the truth behind your deceit. Play your games all you like, you will not confound my plans a moment longer. We shall see. An echoing laughter rose up all around him then, enveloping the glowing being with a storm of resonating noise. +++ Qah glanced up towards the towering ziggurat at the heart of the distant palace, his eyes narrowing. What is it? The alien being looked to Calgar and blinked away the concern dominating his expression. Nothing of importance. Tell me, have the ships of the fleet fully engaged the Unity? Yes. The entire fleet is now committed to the task of countering the invasion. Why do you ask? Qah shifted his position once again, drawing his robes tighter around him as he took in the mounting war.

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I need to be sure that the arrival of the Prophet goes unhindered. I cannot risk one of your ships attacking the Eldar vessel as it exits the webway. Eldar vessel? I dont Trust me. Qah said, his voice seeming to grow beyond the boundaries of any normal speech. There was something palpable in his voice that Calgar could not help but respond to. It was not a directly influential influence, but rather one of absolute conviction, a conviction that the Warmaster knew in his heart to be genuine. Calgar said nothing more. Despite his every instinct telling him otherwise, he found himself compelled to trust the strange being. He could not explain this, for it went against very nature as an Astarte, and yet he could not help himself. Very well. Tell me that you serve the Emperor, Qah, no matter your motives, and you will find an ally in me. Tell me this now. An expression he took to be amusement passed over the aliens face. I exist but to serve the same cause as your Emperor, Calgar, I assure you of that. You know in your heart that this is the truth. I cannot profess to be comfortable in the presence of a xenos, but I believe you. Whatever your motives, I will consider you a part of this Alliance. As such, I expect you to comply with my commands. Is this acceptable to you? Qah bowed his head at this, much to the surprise of the Warmaster. I accept these terms, Calgar. Do with me as you will. Upon hearing this Calgar raised a fist and gestured out at the descending ships. Fight, Qah. I have seen for myself what you are capable of. Do whatever you can to keep the Unity from the gates of the Imperial Palace. At this, Qah looked to the coming invasion force once again. You could not know this, Warmaster, but I am here to do exactly that. Such a task is my destiny. +++ Calgars guess had been one of almost uncanny accuracy. Seven hours, he had claimed. Seven hours before the first vessel of the Unity touched the soil of Terra unscathed. Through the night the battle had raged, although given the sheer amount of power being exchanged, the hours of darkness had passed as a permanent dusk. As it had before, the planet shivered in pain beneath the awesome power of the enemys assault. Entire cities shifted and shook beneath the relentless ion lances and torpedo storms, suffering greatly simply through residing close to the massed defence silos of the defence network. The air was hot, filled with ash and blood. Continents were razed, scoured of life. Huge fissures appeared in the dry wastelands of the ocean deserts, spewing molten lava and ash high into the air. In some areas the atmosphere itself burned, the skies red and blazing. One by one, the great bastions of Terra fell silent.

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Calgar stood at the head of the Crown of Konorsvast command centre, watching the slow death of the world creeping ever nearer. As the war ground on, it became more and more apparent to him that Guilliman desired only the Palace to survive. He wants the Emperor. Nothing else matters to him but this. I feel this too. Tigurius answered. The level of destruction he visits upon this world tells only of a desire to utterly destroy the populace. I fear, for all the power of our defences, that the only reason we are still alive is because he would not see the Palace destroyed. He comes for the Emperor, Warmaster, as you say. Cassius shifted away from the screens as he heard this, his silver skull glinting beneath the ambient glow. Even so, the combined fleets are suffering beneath the defences. We have destroyed a great many ships, thanks to the Unitys desire to eradicate the bastions and the defence silos. Our fleet gives a good account of itself. They are nonetheless fighting a losing battle, Cassius. Look. The Warmaster gestured towards the largest of the screens before him. The red icons that dominated the display were almost merged with the glowing blue line that indicated the surface of the world. As they looked on, the first of the icons made contact. They are here. +++ The Korvesa Factory Ship landed amid a storm of fire and dust, its massive retro thrusters tearing the ground beneath its to shreds. Vast squat landing feet pummelled the tortured ground as they alighted, driving deep into the ancient roadways. The construct was a vast and angular thing, easily the size of Calgars mobile fortress. Massive augmetic eyes cycled to the fore across its mass, emitting beams of crimson light that scoured its surroundings, acquiring targets for the railcannons and missile batteries unfurling across its surface. Several access irises spun open to reveal the cavernous hangars within. Within seconds the first Korvesa squadrons were loosed. Heavy gun drones filled the air about the massive ship. Remora fighters screamed free to spread out amongst the fortified structures of the Imperial City, sending a wave of bright death before them. The Factory Ships presence on Terra lasted no more than a minute and a half. Its guns blazed a trail of destruction across the nearest buildings, cutting down Arbites and Guardsmen by the score. No more than a fifth of its complement of drones had been released when a blinding column of light speared from between the dark skyscrapers and cut the ship in two, the awesome blast bypassing every field and armoured bulkhead it touched. The ground shook as the Reaver Titan Goth Victorum emerged from the rockcrete canyons, its volcano cannon smouldering with white-hot discharge. The towering construct turned its vulcan mega bolters upon the punished ship and obliterated what remained of it with a short-range but utterly deadly salvo, smashing apart the surviving sections and obliterating the drones trapped within. Carapace multilasers whined as they stabbed lances of light out into the air around the Goth Victorums head, cutting through wave after wave of drone squadrons as if swatting flies. +++

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First blood to us. Calgar said, with no small amount of satisfaction. The Crown of Konor shook beneath the Titans onslaught, such was the power unleashed by the god-machine. Cassius, signal the Princeps of the Goth Victorum and extend my congratulations on the kill. Ventris, I give you charge of coordinating the ground forces to move in and deal with the landing ships. The Unity ships are now starting to descend beneath the reach of the surviving defence lasers, and as such we cannot risk bringing them down on top of us. Allow them to land, and then utterly annihilate them. The mighty Leviathan shook then, much more violently. Sonic buffers enveloped the command centre with a bubble of thick but temporary silence, negating the deadly concussive blast of the doomsday cannon. Inertial dampeners fought to keep the mighty craft steady in the wake of the cannons fearsome recoil. Balance was brought back to the bridge in time for the screens to show the utter annihilation of the Konors target. Another Factory Ship disappeared, atomised by the blast. Nothing survived. Good. Reload the cannon immediately and maintain a constant vigil. Calgar ordered the vehicles master gunners. We will show Guilliman that we are not to be underestimated. +++ +++THE ISHYREA+++ The Unity has arrived, Prophet. The war has begun. Codians eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. He was fully armoured, despite the fact that he was laid on what had sufficed as his cot since boarding the Ishyrea. He had not even been aware that he had been fully asleep. The last vestiges of unconsciousness faded away as his enhanced system flooded his body with adrenaline, a genetic trait designed to bring a resting Astarte to full consciousness with immediate effect. You are sure? He asked, sliding his feet onto the floor. Yes. The signs are unmistakeable. The war for Terra has begun. Get me there. Codian snapped, hauling himself to his feet. Get me there now, I dont care how you do it Patience, Prophet. Fate unwinds exactly as it should. We approach as fast as we are able Do not insult me, spirit. I am no oblivious imbecile. I tire of destiny and I tire of living a life preordained. I know what this ship is capable of. Get me to Terra now, so that I may stand beside my brethren and meet the invasion of the Unity. Do not deny me this. The nameless spirit did not answer. This ignorance served only to incite the Chaplain further. Codian drew the Dawnblade from its holster and raised the weapon out before him, circling slowly as if to threaten the ship itself. You still think of me as some foolish human, some pawn to be guided and steered along a course predetermined by your kind. This is far from the truth, and you know that. I do not care for fate. Take me to Terra now, or this association will be ended. Look into my soul and know this to be the truth. Very well, Daelo Codian. As you wish.

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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Six: The Dragon's Teeth

The question of the timing of the commencement of hostilities is one upon which you must meditate most deeply. Once your decision is arrived at, it must be pursued with the utmost energy. Commander Puretide The Thirty Seventh Meditation on the Way of the Warrior. Roboute Guilliman stood before the huge three-dimensional sphere, watching the representation of the progress of his forces play out. How goes my war, Kaiguela? Guilliman cast around and bowed deeply to the towering Ethereal. Ever at his side, Berolinus did the same. The vice is already closing around Terra, Aun. The ships of the Unity are harried by the Imperial fleet still, but I am confident that this attention should not delay our descent. Macharius and Kraken are dedicated to meeting the threat, leaving our assault elements relatively free to begin the invasion. The assault on the gates is already underway. AunVa did not answer. The shimmering being glided closer to the holosphere and reached out to touch the glowing light. Tendrils of blocky energy spread out from his fingertips across the sphere, each one progressing as if with a life and purpose of its own. OOlnan is dead. AunVa said after a brief silence. Yes, Aun. His killer sent a message of defiance. The creature calls itself Qah. Again, this was met with only silence. Guilliman looked to AunVa then in an attempt to gauge his reaction. Though the Ethereals sliver features remained impassive, there was a burning anger in his eyes, the sight of which brought a mounting trepidation to Guillimans soul. This Qah would challenge us? The unthinkable has happened, Kaiguela. An Ethereal has fallen, and the enemy has witnessed this. The invincibility of the Ethereals is one of our most powerful weapons, and yet OOlnans weakness has compromised this. There is more, my lord. This Qah claims that the Leviathan fleet is destroyed, lost to a foe it called the Army of Life. This cannot be true, I am sure Then where is my fleet, Guilliman? The death of the Eye has affected our ability to communicate with Leviathan. We cannot know for sure if this is the truth. Guilliman lowered his gaze, clearly disturbed by the displeasure of his commander. I will endeavour to determine the fate of Leviathan with utmost haste. In the meantime, my Aun, what would you desire to be our next course of action? All siege configurations are primed and ready to mobilise. We now have sufficient Korvesa ground strength to begin landing the war machines and troops. Then make it so. I will leave this stage of the invasion in your capable hands, Kaiguela. You will not disappoint me.

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Such failure would be unthinkable. Guilliman answered, bowing again. I will bring you victory at any price. See that you do. AunVa cast around and made to leave, his silver robes fluttering about him, as if bearing him aloft. Get me ground superiority within two days, Guilliman. I want the siege forces firmly entrenched and ready to assail the Palace as soon as possible. Whatever the cost, put my army on Terra, and squeeze the life out of the Emperors minions. What ever the cost. The Primarch echoed, his expression hardening. +++ +++THE ULTIMATE GATE+++ +++THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++ +++TERRA+++ Brothers. Sons. Astartes. I am proud to stand amongst you once again. Corax spread his arms wide as if to embrace the gathered warriors of the Raven Guard, his claws unsheathed and alive with power. The dark armoured warriors before him thrust their arms in the air and gave a cheer, elated to be in the presence of their lost Primarch once again. Accompanying the surviving elements of the Raven Guard were the warriors of several other Chapters, including the Revilers, the Black Guard and the Raptors. Every warrior present was a son of Corax, and it fulfilled him to see such numbers gathered before him. Corax bathed in this adulation for a lingering moment before raising his palms to the assembled Marines, imploring their silence. I see my sons standing here before me, and I find my chest swelled with a fierce pride. Long has it been since I stood before those I called my own. Too long. For all that I am, and all that I represent, I implore you, see the truth behind all that your Primarch is. I could ask none of you to receive me back into the fold, and to venerate me as your father, should you not know the truth of things. Long ago, my actions placed a stain upon the Raven Guard. What is done cannot be undone, but I intend to do all I can to right that wrong. I made a mistake. I fought to see my Legion rebuilt, but the cost was terrible. That cost is my cross to bear, and this day I will make a promise to each and every one of you. Nevermore. Nevermore shall an enemy force such drastic measures upon us. Nevermore shall treachery and deceit see our numbers decimated. Nevermore will I be forced to abandon my own warriors, to hide in the darkness like some cowering, lowly dog. With that, Corax turned and swept a hand past the vast and mighty gateway behind him, as if to present its magnificence to the gathered Astartes. The Ultimate Gate. It is said that Sanguinius of the Blood Angels fought day and night in defence of this gateway. The Primarch of the Blood Angels slew traitor and daemon alike, never once faltering or allowing the enemy any quarter. We shall honour the memory of the lost Primarch, who gave his life to save the Emperor of man. His sacrifice shall serve as an example to us all. Man or Astarte, none shall falter in the defence of this gate. No traitor or xenos shall be allowed to pass through. Victory or death! Victory or death! The assembled warriors roared, the sound rising to a deafening bellow. The cry spread

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quickly out before the gate, consuming all it passed over with a surge of elated determination. Astartes of other Chapters joined the cry, thrusting weapons up into the air. Guardsmen were caught up in the cheer, fuelling the rising roar until it shook the buildings around them. Corax allowed himself a smile, taking in the collective determination of the defenders with a fierce pride. The cheer still resonated through the streets when the Primarch turned his gaze back towards the skies, and the smile slowly faded. He raised a hand to the skies and shouted, only for his call to be lost amid the tumult. He did so again, this time his voice taking on a volume and tone impossible for a mortal man to achieve. The enemy comes! Astartes staggered beneath the ferocity of the bellow, buffeted by the sheer sonic force. Caution and shock swept through the assembled forces. Weapons were hastily raised and pointed up into the air. Gun emplacements whined and rattled as they were brought online. Gleaming white shapes were visible, catching the light of the sun as they descended on fiery contrails. Hundreds of large humanoid shapes were heading towards them, imposing angular things bristling with weaponry. The Crisis Dominators descended upon the defenders of the Ultimate Gate like vengeful angels, a rain of ominous death. Thousands of guns were turned skywards as the enemy swiftly fell into range, the sheer weight of their numbers presenting the defenders with a vast swathe of easy targets. The first shots speared upwards, lancing into the coming battlesuits. Those shots were quickly answered. Corax observed the enemy with utter hatred, enraged by their sheer arrogance. That a xenos species would even consider invading the Emperors world was enough to consume him with a burning and unquenchable rage. He looked on as the defenders guns fought to cut the humanoid shapes from the skies. Multilaser lances ricocheted from suit to suit, glancing off the angular armour, unable to find weakness or purchase. Solid munitions were finding some success, but most of the energy weapons were fighting in vain to damage their targets. Into them! He cried, thrusting one claw up towards the coming enemy. Fire erupted from the thrusters of his jump pack, a conflagration mirrored by the spreading firestorm around him. As one, the Primarch of the Raven Guard and his warriors rose to meet the Tau attack, with neither fear in their hearts nor mercy on their minds. Corax thrust his arms down by his sides and lifted his head back, the wind buffeting his pale features. Behind him, the assault Marines of the Raven Guard followed, howling in bloodlust at the prospect of the battle to come, driven to a state of near ecstasy to be following their Primarch to war. There was a legend amongst the Astartes told by Raven Guard and Blood Angel alike. It was said that Corax had held an unquenchable envy of his brothers mighty wings, and after seeing Sanguinius soaring above the battlefield had vowed that he would not rest until the dominance of the skies was his alone. Corax had welcomed the creation of the jump pack, and had strived to master its use. Such was his drive and determination that the Primarch did indeed make good his vow, for it was said amongst the Raven Guard that Coraxs skill in the air could not be surpassed, and that he was so skilled with the jump pack that he could match any airborne feat performed by the father of the Blood Angels. Corax was into the enemy first. He soared through the descending fire and thrust his arms up, bringing the

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blades of his lightning claws together. The blades sank into the flexible armoured ring that served as the battlesuits waist. He parted his arms and tore the suit in two, sending the bisected pieces falling away. Sparks and lubricants pattered across his black armour and he twisted in the air like a swimmer, shifting the direction of his thrusters. The assault Marines met the Dominators, massed bolter fire hammering into the larger suits at close range. Within seconds the first power weapon was brought to bear, its activation revealed by a flicker of light and a scream of power. Corax swept his fist out again and took the head from one of the Dominators, his return stroke cutting deep into the thick torso armour. A blot of searing plasma roared past him and exploded against the refractive armour of another suit, scoring a deep groove across the thick plate. He turned in time to see the Marine responsible break apart beneath a storm of bright pulse fire. Another burning Dominator tumbled past him, almost catching him as it fell. A burst of flame erupted from one of the tumbling warriors weapon mounts, passing so close by that it scorched the flesh of his face. Energy rounds hammered into his chestplate, forcing the breath from his lungs, and before he had time to react an armoured foot smashed into him, and he was falling, turning end over end, out of control. Corax fought to control his descent, fighting every twist and roll. The advanced systems built into his jump pack activated automatically, cycling through pre-programmed stabilisation patterns designed to assist the Primarchs efforts. His feet twisted up over his head and then down, bringing him upright just in time to feel the empty air beneath him become all too solid. His armoured boots slammed into thick rockcrete with enough force to crack the tough substance. Gravity compressed his body, weighing him down. His bones creaked beneath his own increased weight and his armour groaned, tested to its limits of endurance. Corax did not stumble. He snarled through bared teeth as he hauled his body upright, fighting the effects of his violent arrest. He had landed on one of the roofs of the towering buildings, a surface which even now shifted and ground against itself, ready to give way beneath him. Something large touched down behind him and he twisted around in time to see the battlesuit slide away from sight, swallowed by the gaping hole, a hole that continued to grow. Massive, long-barrelled guns sank from view, ringing against the sides of the growing chasm as they were dragged after the unfortunate warrior. He wasted no time in ascending. He leapt up into the air, spreading his arms wide as he threw himself over the edge and into a momentary freefall. Then the thrusters behind him kicked in and his fall accelerated, the passing air tearing his raven hair away from his face and eyes. Corax was on the hunt once again. +++ The Raven has engaged. Vulkan raised the head of his mighty hammer up to where the Tau descent smashed into the assault Marines, a fierce hunger for war burning in his eyes. Salamanders, the enemy is all but down! Ready your weapons and meet them! No enemy of the Emperor will be allowed to pass through the Ultimate Gate! Your Primarch commands this! The towering warrior lowered his hammer and set off in a bounding run, his vast weight shaking the floor beneath him. The Astartes of the Salamanders surged after their commander, a sea of green-armoured

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warriors cutting through the hastily parting Imperial forces like a storm surge. Vulkan was a terrifying figure to behold, a true behemoth in stature. A magnificent cloak of weathered reptile hide hung from his shoulders, the weighty material sweeping from side to side as he ran towards the enemy. Towering armoured suits slammed into the hallowed ground of Terra before him, throwing clouds of rockcrete dust up around them as they touched down. Lasfire scythed across the enemy warriors, so thick it obscured the sight of them. Whining las-rounds bounced and ricocheted through the landing squads, drawing zigzag lines of burning energy between them, the shots unable to find purchase. Heavier weapons began to take effect. A screaming lascannon blast speared expertly between the massed Salamanders and cut a swathe through the battlesuits, far too powerful for the advanced armour to deflect. Missiles streaked overhead to slam into the enemy lines, sending plumes of bright fire out in the wake of each explosion. The sons of Nocturne were known for their gravity-forged bulk, and it was a side effect of growing up on that ravaged world that the Salamanders were not the most agile of Astartes. Vulkan however was the exception to that rule. He thundered towards the Tau with a speed that far belied his bulk and size, his newly acquired inferno pistol to hand and ready to unleash irresistible destruction. Vulkan was no inconspicuous figure, and it was inevitable that his charge would attract hostile attention. A horizontal deluge of pulse fire screamed his way, so thick it was impossible to dodge. The determined Primarch never once broke his stride. His loping strides carried him into the storm of fire, and at the very last moment he twisted at the waist, presenting his back to the enemy. Azure energy rounds slammed into his mantle, pattering against the ancient reptile skin like rain. The shots collided with the near-invulnerable hide, leaving behind glowing rings that faded swiftly to reveal no damage. Vulkans swift manoeuvre carried him through the air, his feet leaving the ground several metres below. He brought his mighty frame around and landed expertly before the first of his opponents, his potent hammer following close behind. The weapon slammed into the legs of the Dominator and shattered them without effort, toppling the machine with violent force. He twisted on his heel and rode the momentum of the attack, bringing the hammer down again on the thick torso carapace. The blow was such that it drove the broken Dominators chassis into the ground, sending armour shards and dark oily fluids blossoming out to patter against his armour. For Terra! For Nocturne! For the Imperium! Into the fires of battle! Unto the anvil of war! His warriors cried, pouring into the enemy ranks in a vast green tide of hate. +++ Warmaster! The war for the Ultimate Gate has begun! The Astarte looked to Calgar and lowered his finger from his ear, an expression of disquiet dominating his face. Calgar turned his attention from the melee before him long enough to regard the warrior. We cannot concern ourselves with the plight of the Ultimate Gate at this time. The enemy come for us. He looked back to the vast screen before him, the entirety of the sprawling Eternity Wall Plaza stretching out as far as he could see. Battlesuits were landing with the passing of each moment, regardless of the

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desperate attempts of the defenders. Emplacements exploded across the entire battlezone, the fearsome guns of the enemy as accurate as they were deadly. Calgar moved to the expansive control panel before him and waved a fist over the runes situated there. Leviticus, move forward and engage. We have a breach forming. Decius, cover the advance. Lascannons and missile launchers. Regeum, muster those Arbite emplacements and cover the Audacia overpass. Several enemy units have made it down. I want assault squads mobilised and ready to counter them. Warmaster Electum, I want those Guard organised and ready to meet the push. Do not allow them to break. Lestia, begin a full assessment of the enemy forces. Stream the findings directly to the Wall defences. Dorn needs to know what to expect. Warmaster Ventris followed the voice, barely able to tear himself away from the unfolding drama. He found Qah, standing in the shadows at the far end of the commend centre, his large eyes wide and filled with concern. Though the alien spoke only softly, the Ancient could feel the unease in his voice as if it were a sensation both upon the skin and in the mind. Qah was clearly trouble by something. Although Ventris knew precious little about the enigmatic alien, he knew enough to feel disquieted by the creatures manner. What is it? He asked, moving towards the black-skinned xenos. What is troubling you Qah? Warmaster. Qah said a third time, ignoring the Astarte. This time the whisper was far more potent than his previous attempts at attracting Calgars attention. The word resounded through the command centre, causing adepts and Marines alike to stagger, hands clutching at ears. This certainly caught Calgars attention. The hulking Dreadnought turned to face him. Something is wrong. What do you mean, Qah? He is in danger. I must go. At that the dark being swept his robes before him and unravelled, becoming mist. Then the mist faded away, and Qah was gone.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Seven: Evil Revealed

+++THE THRONE ROOM+++ +++THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++ +++TERRA+++ With a final, grinding boom, the mighty Eternity Gate arrested. Light streamed into the gloomy chamber beyond through the large gap, illuminating the ancient flags. Hundreds of faces looked up to witness the opening of the Gate, and the sparse light that invaded the Emperors Throne Room glittered as it was

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reflected off the sea of golden armour awaiting it. A brace of towering Gatekeepers lumbered aside to allow the lone figure to enter, their vast bulk cast in shadow by the pale light beyond. Massive weapons of potent destruction were raised and deactivated, a sign of silent acceptance. Between them, illuminated by a halo of radiance, the Warmaster marched into the Throne Room. Calgar was alone, as was dictated by the strict code of the Custodes. That he had even been granted entry into the chamber of the Emperor was, in short, a miracle. Calgar stood in silence before the Custode host, watching as the crowds parted and a single warrior moved through the throng to greet him. Warmaster Calgar. The dark-skinned warrior began, setting the hilt of his guardian spear down on the polished flagstones. I am Centurion Goerthanas. Your presence does us honour. The honour is mine, Centurion. To even be allowed to stand within the inner sanctum of our Emperor take my breath away. Flitting golden servo-skulls buzzed around his sarcophagus, chittering like dusk insects as they meticulously assessed the ancient warrior. The Centurion did not let his gaze falter for even a second, and though he gave an impression of ignorance at the presence of the constructs, it was as if he was waiting for some silent confirmation. After a few moments the servo-skulls drifted away, disappearing into the gloom. Goerthanas bowed his head and stepped up to the Warmaster, sweeping aside his flowing crimson cloak as he did so. Forgive us, Warmaster. There can be no I understand, Centurion. There is no need to explain. The welfare of our Emperor is paramount. Goerthanas bowed again and lowered his halberd, the imposing blade drifting over to where a soft luminescence shimmered at the far end of the vast chamber. I understand that the war has begun. Honoured Imperatorius has at last revealed himself to be the Primarch of the Imperial Fists and has rejoined his warriors. With the Primarch in command, the Palace defences are sure to be all but impregnable. He paused them his gaze still fixed upon the hulking Dreadnought. I assume that you are here to personally inspect the final bastion. I speak for all of us when I say that you will not find us wanting, Warmaster. We are but three hundred warriors of the flesh, and a mere handful of Gatekeepers. This matters not. We are ready to meet any challenge, to counter any foe. Neither man nor god shall pass this Custodian Guard, I will vow that. And what of the enemy that lurks amongst us, that infects the very heart of our Imperium? Calgar asked, the question inciting a palpable unease amongst the assembled Custodes. It was clear from his manner that Goerthanas had undoubtedly expected the question. Even so, he shifted uneasily, his expression darkening. Regaas. We know of the false Sigilite, Warmaster. We have always known. Yes. He seeks to murder our Emperor, Centurion, you must know that. I am here to bring a warning. The

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creature that masquerades as Regaas intends to destroy our Emperors physical form, and take up the mantle for himself. He is a thing of deceit, a force of utter evil, and he will not stop, he will not falter, until he has realised this goal. I need to know that you are ready for him. We are ready I need to see that with my own eyes. This mounting war will provide the perfect distraction for him and he will utilise it. he will come, I am sure of that, and he is powerful. As formidable as the Custodes are, how can you be sure that you will hold the power to stop him? We are ready. Goerthanas said again. We have safeguarded the Emperors remains for this long, and we will continue to do so. Let him come, if he dares. Do you not sense it, Warmaster? The Emperor is no longer anchored to this Throne. All but the merest of threads binds his essence to this plane still. The Caesus saw to that. Calgar shifted at hearing this, his angular body turning so as to allow him a better view of the magnificent sight beyond. Yes. It is our duty to protect him above all else. It matters not what the Caesus has achieved. What does matter is that the Emperor continues to survive. To lose him now would be a blow that our Imperium could never recover from. It matters not who fights for us, Centurion. Only the Emperor can save this world. The Centurions brow furrowed at hearing this. He glanced back towards the throne and then turned his attention to Calgar once more. Warmaster, what do you mean? Calgar refrained from answering straight away. Instead, his attention remained on the distant Throne for several seconds. Finally his hidden gaze shifted, the vast bulk of the Dreadnoughts sarcophagus twisting to face the Custode. I have come for him, Goerthanas. Do you not see that? The enemy is at the gates. The Tau not to destroy Him. They wish to conquer Him. Utterly destroyed, the Emperor would be a martyr. The Ethereals would not allow that. They seek to capture him, to take Him as their own. A trophy No. The Centurion answered, sweeping away Calgars claim with a gesture. This cannot be. You cannot suggest that the Tau would seek to preserve the Emperors remains, Warmaster. The one thing we can be sure of is that the enemy wish nothing more than to destroy Him utterly. Besides, it matters not. He is unleashed. I know. Calgar said. But they do not. They do not know that their cause is already lost, that even now He spreads through the Immaterium, cleansing the filth from within that despicable place. They think that they can take Him, because they do not realise the truth of the situation. This does not change anything. Of all the Unity, only Guilliman seeks His destruction. They will betray him, Centurion. They will use him to fight his way to this chamber and then they will take their prize. As powerful as he is, Guilliman will not be able to stand against the terrible force that drives the Unity. I cannot allow that to happen. I still do not understand, Warmaster. Are you saying that the goals of Guilliman and the Ethereals are different? And what do you mean when you say that you have come for him? This is the final resting place of the Emperor. His body cannot be removed from this chamber, for it would surely die. And rise again. Calgar said. Was that not the purpose of the Caesus, Centurion, to reanimate Him? This Imperium needs a miracle. Let the Caesus complete its work. Let it restore Him once again, reinvigorate His body and see Him risen from His Throne. It is time for our Emperor to join his people in this war. The Centurion backed away, glancing at those Custodes around him. The golden sea shifted, a ripple of

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animation passing through the gathered warriors. The unease felt by Goerthanas passed through the entire chamber. Over by the Gate, the hulking Gatekeepers appeared in the vertical chasm, blocking the light that spilled into the chamber. Warmaster, it would seem that you do not understand the true purpose of the Caesus. The Emperors awakening is a spiritual thing. His physical shell is shattered beyond repair, and He is lost to the realm of man for all time. He is too powerful now to return to this plane of existence. I am sorry. The miracle you wished for can never be. It was Calgars turn to back away this time. Then all may be lost, Custode. I came here today to see an ancient prophecy realised, and now you tell me that it was never to be. This is a dark day for us all. With that, the mighty Dreadnought pivoted on his heel and made to stride towards the Gate, leaving the gathered Custodes to witness his departure in silence. Before him, the waiting Gatekeepers separated, allowing him the space to make his exit. Have faith, Warmaster. Goerthanas called after him. The day is far from lost. The enemy cannot know just how powerful He has become. They know only too well. Calgar answered. Seconds later he slowed, his vast form bathed in the light. When the Centurion did not respond, Calgar once again turned to face the gathered Custodes. He raised an arm and the Gate ground closed behind him, sealing the chamber. The golden throng shifted uneasily at this. When I said that I had come for him, I meant exactly that. The Emperor will rise again. He will be restored once more, and He will walk amongst His people. He will lead this Imperium to victory. I am your Emperor now. With that Calgars adamantium body shivered, the thick armour warping and flowing. A bright golden luminescence poured from every gap and orifice to illuminate everything around him, and a ghostly breeze rose up from nowhere to buffet the Custode army. Warriors braced themselves against the wind, the crimson plumes of their helmets whipping about their heads. At the head of the throng, Centurion Goerthanas thrust his guardian spear towards the changing abomination. Brothers! We are betrayed! To arms! The being that had masqueraded as Calgar exploded in a blinding conflagration of searing light, turning the entire chamber white and featureless. When the flare faded away, the being that hovered there was a terrible and horrific thing, its metallic golden skin naked except for the writhing ribbons of hazy light that twisted around its body. A cold light shone from its eyes, and when it spoke, a wicked smile twisted its inhuman lips. Dorn could not guard Him forever. I have awaited this day with utmost vigour. Now the rule of the Imperium will finally and totally be mine. The being spread his arms wide and threw back his head, the etheric tempest intensifying. Custodes staggered before the storm, arms shielding heads. Guardian spears were torn from the hands of those who wielded them and flung across the chamber. The abomination surged through the air and into the Custodes before any of them had time to react. Te

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guardians of the Emperor were powerful warriors, amongst the most powerful in all the Imperium. Against a Ctan, they stood little chance. The creature known as Mephetran swept his arms through the milling warriors, breaking and parting bodies without effort. Guardian spears stabbed into his shimmering metal flesh, each thrust or slice leaving behind wounds filled with the brightest light, wounds that closed almost as immediately as they were inflicted. Goerthanas rallied himself and charged to meet the creature, his force halberd flashing from side to side. He struck three fearsome blows in quick succession, causing his foe to spasm and thrash. The Deceiver erupted in a brilliant burst of light and noise, his golden form becoming nothing but glittering dust. That was when the Custode standing behind Goerthanas struck, the flashing blade of his halberd taking the Centurions head from his shoulders with one languorous sweep. The callous assassin waved his arm and the Deceiver was revealed, his disguise banished. Those warriors closest to him attacked, filled with incandescent rage. Once again the glowing being was torn to shreds by the blades of his opponents, only to reveal himself mere feet away as another impostor, his retributive attack felling another three Custodes. This happened again and again, causing the area to soon become choked with the bodies of the dead. After a few moments Mephetran rose far above the heads of his enemy, his arms spread wide, carried aloft on a shining platform of hazy light. Your efforts are pleasingly futile! He announced, a malevolent delight prevalent in his voice. None can resist me! Let that concept crush the spirit from within you! I would kill you all before taking my prize, but I will not. I want you to see the final death of your Emperor before I leech the life from every one of you! With that he descended towards the Golden Throne, his very presence scattering armoured bodies with violent force. He swept his arms before him as he advanced, his actions causing Custodes to fly from his path as if snatched up and flung away. Armoured bodies shattered against the walls of the chamber, coming apart beneath the immeasurable force that compelled them. Mephetran slowed as he came before the Golden Throne, a look of wonder spreading across his daemonic face. Custodes assailed him, sending psycannon bolts and consecrated flame into his alien form. The star god ignored them all, even when the blades of the Custode host found his shimmering skin. This meeting had been long in coming, my ancient adversary. This was always inevitable. A glowing hand reached out towards the withered sack of desiccated flesh and bones, pulsing with unearthly power. As it neared, guttering wisps of energy leaked from the ruined body, twisting towards the talons. Mephetran opened his mouth and let out a deep sigh of elation. I will become you. All that was yours, at long last, will become mine. That will be my greatest ever illusion. I will feed on your essence and become all that you are. Your darkest thoughts shall be mine. Only then will I give you the final release that has eluded you for so long. The smiling face that regarded the corpse disappeared, its features bursting outwards in a shower of escaping energy. The glowing blade speared through the back of the Deceivers head, burning away everything around it. Mephetran let out a soul-shredding scream of rage and pain, his necrodermis shell becoming liquid and intangible. The being flowed around, twisting in the air, a whirlpool of light and noise, to face his attacker. Centurion Goerthanas withdrew his blade and stepped back, allowing his brother Custodes to open fire on the reeling abomination. Glowing bolter shells crashed into and through the Deceiver, punching holes

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through the living metal of his skin. Searing energies boiled from the wounds, only to once again draw back inside the Deceiver and re-knit the damage in its wake. I killed you! He screeched, sweeping a hand before him. The Centurions image distorted and broke up, dissipating into a riot of light and colour. The phenomenon twisted and coiled away, only to reform once again in another location. Mephetran bellowed in rage as he took apart those Custodes nearest to him, dismembering bodies in the same manner as a spoiled child would smash apart its toys. As every Custode fell, it was as if there were two more to take his place You will not take him, fiend! The Centurion cried, leaping at the monstrosity. You will never become him, this I vow! Mephetran smashed the warrior aside with such force that he broke apart in the air, blood and armour swiftly unravelling into multi-hued mist. Still the other Custodes continued to assail him, unafraid and heedless to the certain death they faced. Every time he slaughtered one of them, the victims remains burst into clouds of glittering light, to fade away and reform once again. A ghostly cackling filled the chamber, and he knew then whom he faced. Cegorach! You would dare to try and confound me? I will tear you apart, atom by atom! A rolling darkness flooded the Throne Room, melting away every light source. Snapping maws and thorn-laden tendrils enveloped everything still in sight, twisting around the fading Custodes in their eagerness to engage the Deceiver. A roaring ball of utter blackness burst forth from the shadows and slammed into him, so powerful that it tore a hole through his golden skin. Mephetran arched back, the darkness spreading across him like a cancer. Glittering light spilled from the wound, hot and dense with potent power. Qah! He cried, fighting to mend the damage done to him with his incredible will. The gaping wound closed, shutting off the internal nuclear glow. You will not find victory here, Mephetran. A powerful voice announced, pealing across the darkness like thunder. Black extremities unfurled from the void to strike at him, thrusting and stabbing at the star god. The Deceiver swept them aside again and again, burning the living weapons to a greasy ash with his touch. Still the phenomenon continued, increasing with the passing of each second. At the centre of the terrifying storm Qahs outline could be seen, a humanoid luminescence, pulsing with cold light. Flickering images of some half-glimpsed figure flashed and capered about him, assailing him from every direction at once. Fools! You cannot destroy me! No, but we can hurt you. We will breach your shining skin and send your essence back to the tomb, Mephetran. You will not consume him, and this war will play out without you. We do not need to kill you, evil one. All we have to do is remove you. Never. The Deceiver spat, realising then the intentions of his most ancient and hated enemy. He had been deceived. Rage consumed him then, flooding him totally, washing away his reason. He unleashed a scream of absolute vehemence and surged towards the Golden Throne, his very presence banishing the shadows

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there to reveal the vast mechanism and its ever-silent charge. The light surrounding him intensified as he hovered there, turning aside the attentions of the dark one. Streamers of vibrant rainbow energy thrashed and cracked across the expanding bubble, causing it to quiver and gutter. Mephetran ignored the efforts of the Old Ones as he looked into the corpses dead eyes, a lingering regret prevalent upon his face. You would have been my greatest feast. No matter. If I cannot consume you, I will destroy you for all time. Do what you would to the Other Realm, your plans for that damned dominion no longer matter. You will never return here. With that, the Deceiver unleashed a blinding surge of energy that tore the corpse and the Throne apart, obliterating everything in its path. Atom by atom, the Golden Throne came apart, shredded first to rubble, then to dust, and finally scoured from existence by the fearsome power of the Deceiver. I will not be denied! Mephetran cried out, twisting in the air as he ascended on a pillar of searing flame. Ancient marble flags spun around him, torn free by the maelstrom. Within seconds, all that had remained of the immortal master of mankind was gone, swept away by the incalculable might of the unforgiving star god. Fool. You know not what you have unleashed. Qahs low, mocking words rumbled through the tumult, causing the Deceiver to slow. His cast his shining gaze out across the all-pervasive darkness, the pleasure upon his face fading away. The disdainful amusement of the Laughing God reverberated around him, ghostly and bodiless. What is this? What trickery transpires here? You should have consumed him, Mephetran, as you had intended. Have you learned nothing since last we made war. You should have ended his existence. Instead, you have set him free. No! You cannot deceive the Master of Lies! Mephetran spat, thrusting an accusing finger out at the retreating darkness. I have achieved what no other could Yes, you have. At last, his legacy is complete. Let the Army of Life come. Light returned to the Throne Room then, revealing a chilling scene. Gone were the Custodes, both living and dead. They had never been here, he knew the truth of that now. He had been fooled, deceived by the only being capable of doing so. Mephetran looked back to the sparse and blackened ruin, all that remained of the Golden Throne and the being that had been interred there. Despite himself, he could not shake the feeling that something had irrevocably changed. Changed, by his hand.

Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Eight: Rebirth

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+++THE LIONS GATE+++ +++THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++ +++TERRA+++ Incoming! He sensed rather than saw the deadly fusillade. A shimmering power played about the head of Magnus as he pushed forward through the ranks and raised his rune-etched weapon. A searing burst of energy sprang from the massive curved blade and spread along the defence line. Seconds later the screaming shells slammed into the barrier and detonated, sending ripples of concussive force across the wall of shimmering power. Railcannon shells were potent indeed, enough so to test the defensive spell greatly. Hazy blue contrails of magnetic energy speared from the distant Tau lines towards them and, for all his ancient power, the Red Cyclops knew he could not protect everyone. One of the shells screamed down into the Alliance ranks, fired from an elevated position from the rooftops far above. Men and Astartes alike were torn to pieces by the sheer power of the shots massive velocity. The sorcerer looked on helplessly as those in the path of the projectile were obliterated instantly, flesh and armour unravelling into a wet mist. Soldiers and Marines were dragged into the projectiles vortex to be shattered by the awesome force, bones snapped like twigs. The Primarch turned his gaze to the distant rooftops and concentrated, his single eye flaring with power. There was no distance too great for the gaze of the Primarch of the Thousand Sons. He saw them, still in the process of finding their vantage points. Hulking armoured suits, each sporting four of the deadly cannons, one per arm and a brace mounted to the shoulders. He spoke a word of ancient power and the skies answered. Brilliant flares of magenta lightning surged from the clouds to writhe amongst the enemy squad, bursting armour apart without hesitation or difficulty. We need air support! He called, a hazy light playing about his head. Magnus required no communications equipment to convey his orders. With that he looked towards the massing ground forces of the enemy and held his warp blade aloft. Thousand Sons! Into them! Far ahead of the defence line, the air shivered. Blue and gold bodies ghosted from beyond to step out into the enemy lines, bolters spitting incandescent death into the surprised Tau. Guns were quickly brought to bear to counter this new threat, but these were machines of war designed specifically for long-range combat. The ghostly warriors of Magnus Legion quickly began to reap a heavy toll. Concentrated walls of firepower blasted through the Broadsides, felling one after another with violent swiftness. Smart missiles were loosed by the Broadsides in droves, quickly filling the air. There was no sense of panic or hesitation amongst the Thousand Sons, even when the intelligent missiles started to destroy them. Some were blasted apart, torsos fragmenting into nothing. Others were caught on the arms or legs, the resultant detonations throwing them off their feet. Such damage, as potent as it was, was not enough to fell the unliving warriors of Magnus. Warriors hauled themselves to their feet, some missing limbs and huge sections of armour. The injured spilled lurid energies from the gaping wounds instead of blood and viscera. Magnus witnessed the scene with satisfaction, a fierce pride passing over his face. His warriors had been

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lost to him many thousands of years ago, the flesh and blood scoured from them by the power of the Rubric, a spell so potent even he did not fully understand it. It had taken everything except the soul. Nothing could take the souls of his Legion. Something caught his attention. He sensed it rather than seeing it, a change that set alight his many senses. He cast around, looking back towards the Palace. Father He whispered, watching as the distant phenomenon ascended. A shimmering spark of light reached for the skies, a star of white purity that he recognised immediately and without hesitation. So, it is done. The abomination has released you. The light surged up into the heavens, cutting through the blanket of thick smoke that covered the world. There, almost out of sight, there was a flash, silent and brief. Something changed as the light spread as far as the eye could see, encompassing the skies. Something deep and ancient shifted, reality itself altering, almost evolving. Not even he could fully understand what had happened, but he understood what it meant. Now the war for life had, at last, truly begun. Something caused him to start then and he lowered his gaze, once more turning to face the distant battle. His single eye blazed with power and the air shimmered before him, swimming and coalescing to form a pair of translucent visages. The faces of Russ and Jonson appeared before him, summoned by his potent will. Is it Him? The Lion asked. Magnus nodded. Yes. The last remaining mortal anchor has been destroyed. Our father is free. A look of relief flooded ElJonsons face, but the expression of Russ darkened. What happens now, Magnus? What should we expect? All that you were shown, Russ. The deed is finally done. Our Emperor has shed what remained of his mortal shell and is now truly free. Then the enemies of the Imperium shall tremble. Russ growled in answer, a burning hunger shining in his eyes. After so long, the true might of our Imperium will at last be restored. Yes, and more. The Red Cyclops added. Remember the prophecy, Russ. The line between ally and enemy has just redefined itself. The distinction is now far simpler. Before him, the Lion remained silent. Russ, predictably, seemed far from swayed. Magnus saw this and looked to his brother, his expression hardening. Have faith, Russ. Trust your instincts. Lord of Fenris, you stood fast in the face of the Warmasters treachery when those you had called brother fell to the lies of the Ruinous Powers. You did not falter, even when you believed that I had turned my back on our father. You broke me on Prospero for that perceived betrayal.

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The betrayal was real, Magnus Much of reality has been rewritten since that time, Russ, and you know that. Horus and the other traitors were too weak to accept the truth of the Emperor. They will have to accept that truth now. The outlines of both Primarchs shivered then, quickly dissipating into nothing. Several multi-hued shapes formed in the wake of the Primarchs, and Magnus saw that his dispelled brothers had been replaced instead by sons. Sorcerers of the Thousand Sons came before him, stepping from the air to prostrate themselves before their Primarch. My lord, one of the warriors began, driving the hilt of his staff into the rubble before him. A great change is afoot. The Empyrean It is the Father. Magnus replied. A heavy silence descended upon the sorcerers then, for each and every one of them understood what that meant. +++ +++THE ISHYREA+++ What is happening? Codian rose, feeling the ancient ship quake around him. The wraithbone walls pulsed, changing in hue from light to dark, and cycling through a myriad of colours both recognisable and never before seen. That which you wished for has come to pass, Prophet. Your plea has been heard. Codian heard this and lifted his gaze, glancing all around him. His expression was troubled, heavy with confusion. What do you mean, spirit? You make no sense There has been a quickening, Codian. All that lies above and beneath has been forever changed. All that has been undone by the passage of time is healing itself once again. Your Emperor has given Himself to ensure that. A look of abject horror fell over his face at hearing this. He staggered, reaching out for the nearest wall in order to support himself. No, you cannot mean that. You cannot You know the truth of it, Prophet. Destiny is realised now. Despite the knowledge within you, you still struggle to comprehend the scale of your fate. You must accept it. You are the key, and you will come to see that more clearly as this war progresses. Codian could feel the change within him. Though he possessed no psychic ability whatsoever he could not help but feel it with every fibre of his being. It was a sensation that he knew, without a doubt, that every living sentient creature would be feeling the same at this moment. A violent shaking wracked the ship, causing everything around him to blur and break up. The whisper of a hundred souls surged through his mind, a psychic miasma of panic and excitement. Images flooded through him, as if he were some unwilling conduit.

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Remain calm. The Webway rewrites itself He hauled himself up and staggered over to high high-backed, organic curve of the command chair. He snatched at the chairs back, watching as the wraithbone discoloured and darkened at his touch. Somewhere to his left he could hear Ligurs pain. The Librarian was crying out, clearly in great distress, feeling the final death of the Emperor more than most. He felt the Dawnblade at his side as it shook and writhed in empathy with the phenomenon, and let go of his handhold to wrap his fingers around its hilt. Almost immediately the situation changed. The panic and furore died away, like water draining from a pond. He felt the deck steady beneath his feet, and the violent tremors that wracked the ship become calm. He looked around him to see that the others were still somehow caught up in the melee, and realised then that whatever was happening had not ended, but instead he had somehow been drawn out of the situation, and placed in a personal oasis of calm. This was far from over. Focus your mind and the truth will come. You have the answers you seek inside you, Codian. All you have to do is look. I am not ready for this, spirit. I am not designed for this. I am an Astarte, a warrior. I do not know how tohow to be this Prophet you claim me to be. There is nothing to learn. Just accept it. Accept all you are. We were all blinded to the past, Codian, we see that now. The enemy left within us a universal flaw, a legacy of hate. Now, at long last, the sacrifice of your Emperor has shone the final light of truth on that lie and exposed it for all time. You will be the one to champion that truth. Without warning the cacophony ensued once again and he lurched forward, almost losing his balance. The air around him shivered, colours running fluid. He felt the shift in the pit of his stomach, and knew immediately what had just occurred. This change was unlike the sensation he had felt upon the Emperors death. This was different, far more immediate and localised. They had just crossed the boundaries between realms. The Ishyrea slid free of the yawning circle of light and out into the cold chasm of space. Glittering solar sails unfurled across her back, catching the light of the stars as they rose to a proud point. We are here. Codian steadied himself and looked to the others. Ligur rose at the same time, lowering his hands away from his head, the pain in his face subsiding. Terra. At last We are here. Codian confirmed, ushering the others to their feet. Spirits, can you show us our destination? Yes, but you must be prepared for what you see. Then show us. We are ready.

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The featureless curve above the ships vast runic console array faded away swiftly, as if to expose the bridge to the void of space. Those present gasped in awe as they took in the sight before them. Terras arc dominated the lower half of the scene, vast and grey, its distant surface twinkling with a billion billion lights. Amongst those lights were vast patches of guttering red flame that were the burning cities of the world. Here and there, where the constant bombardments of the enemy had pounded the very bedrock of the planet into splinters, crisscrossed lines of molten magma could be seen, glowing bright against the steel and rockcrete dullness. Governing the scene, the vast ships of the Unity hung over the planets atmosphere, disgorging their weapons and machines of war out into the hazy ionosphere. Others burned and bled rivers of plasma out into the void, torn open by the immense columns of solid light that continued to stab upwards from the world. Sprawling fields of molten debris choked the surrounding space, and much to the horror of those observing, most of it was recognisable as Imperial. God-Emperor. Look at that. Czevak breathed, fighting to keep his balance as he advanced. He placed his hands gently on the alien console and leaned forward, his pale features slack with horror and disbelief. Luna. The Imperial Fleet. None of them stood a chance againstagainst that. A shadow fell over the Inquisitor then, and he flinched as he felt hands wrap themselves slowly around his arm. They never did. Jena Orechiel whispered in his ear, her voice heavy with sadness. We always knew that. Were the Inquisition, Czev. The Unity never made any secrets of their strength, and we tried time and time again to formulate a way of beating them. Even with the support of the Grey Knights, we could never have stopped them from reaching here. Czevak looked to the woman at his side. He opened his mouth to reply, but instead he simply let out a sigh and turned his attention back towards the raging conflict beyond. Then what are we to do, Jena? How do we stop them? We kick their grey arses into the void. Grungi hauled himself up onto the console array, indifferent to the delicate bejewelled controls beneath him. He folded his arms as he took in the sight before him, his craggy brow furrowing. There are Tau down there who await the revenge I bring. It would be unforgivable to deny them. Codian nodded as he heard this. We need to get down onto the surface as fast as we can. The Kroot are close on our heels, and the Fleet of the Lost are mere days away from reaching this point. soon the orbit around this planet will be a maelstrom of death the likes of which none of us have ever witnessed. If we tarry, we will be destroyed. On the contrary, Prophet. Events progress with a speed not even you realise. A ghostly voice answered, causing him to cast around and lift his gaze. The Kroot fleet has already exited the Webway. They will engage the Unity fleet within moments. Events progress faster than you could realise now. His release has seen that realised. Codian started as he heard this, thrown by the spirit Eldars claims.

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That cannot be It is. Heed my warning, and know that He stirs. Look beyond the immediate danger and you will see. At first, Codian did not take this advice literally. Then he caught the first flickering change in hue beyond the Tau fleet. Something was happening to the void. The distant stars grew hazy, their light bleeding into the growing phenomenon. Lurid colours that defied description vied for dominance, flooding the firmament as far as the naked eye could see. The warp seethes. Ligur uttered, joining the observers at the console. A burgeoning light played behind his eyes, shimmering in empathy with the energies building beyond. A warp storm builds No, mon-keigh. It is your Emperor. Now He is free, they will come. Who, spirit? All the forces of life and death. This is the Rhana Dandra. The Ishyrea shook then, causing several of the runes before them to flicker and pulse. A long keening moan resounded throughout the vessel, the sound penetrating right into the centre of the brain. We are under attack. Brothers and sisters, we go to war. Ghostly voices echoed throughout the bridge, filling the space with the sounds of the restless dead. The viewing bay once more faded into a featureless wraithbone wall, dispelling the ominous scene just as the immense vessels of the Unity moved to attack. We need to get down there! Spirit, what do we do? Tell us! Codian shouted, fighting to keep himself steady as the ship lurched to one side. After a few tense moments there was still no answer. The Chaplain glanced about him, concern etched across his face, before taking his helmet from his belt and placing it over his head. The locking clamps engaged and the helms vision slits illuminated, pulsing a rich crimson. Damn it! We cant fail now! We have to An ominous darkness seeped into the bridge then, causing the walls to quickly glisten with ice crystals. It was a presence that filled all the senses, causing the skin to become clammy and the air to fill with the earthy scent of the grave. Centurius Codian uttered, casting his gaze into the gloom. The dark figure stepped from the shadows to greet the Chaplain and the others, his dead eyes finding each of them in turn before they fell upon Codian. It is time, Prophet. He uttered, the sound of his rumbling voice causing a chill wind to sweep through the bridge. Your destiny awaits.

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Chapter One Hundred and Thirty Nine: Gathering

Rogal Dorn strode the length of the bulwark, resplendent in his restored armour. He wore the Imperial Eagle at his shoulders; a proud carving that framed his regal features. He carried his mighty chainsword at his shoulder; a fearsome blade longer than a Marine was tall. He walked behind the fearsome defence guns, illuminated by the discharge as they unleashed immense energy blasts out into the skies. Defenders of Terra, hold fast! Punish our enemies utterly, and let them feel our wrath! The main Unity attacks were focused upon the mighty gates of the Imperial Palace, but these three locations were far from the only locations under attack. The entire world was at war with the defenders, and the battle for Terra stretched from pole to pole. The Imperial City shook beneath the relentless bombardment from orbit, and the very walls of the Imperial Palace quaked beneath the power of the Tau. Tau aircraft screamed past again and again, peppering the mighty walls with gunfire. Squadrons of Remora drones hundreds strong assailed the defences, probing for weak spots in the defences. Vast Moray gunships unleashed their railcannons and ion cannons upon the defence turrets, smashing weapons and warriors from the walls. Dorn watched all this impassively, unmoved by the strength of the enemy. The only emotion visible on his face was pride, and it was a pride born of standing alongside the warriors of his own Chapter. Repel them! He called, seeing the next wave of attack flying in low between the buildings of the inner city. The Remoras screamed across the walls, pulse fire raking the fortified bulwark. Void generators hummed as they came to life, repelling most of the incoming fire. Seeker missiles filled the air, blowing warriors from the battlements. Dorn raised his bolter one-handed and unleashed the full clip on auto, his every shot smashing one of the automated fighters from the skies. Explosions buffeted him but he stood firm, as implacable as a mountain. One of the damaged Remoras twisted his way, trailing fire and thick black smoke. He smashed the machine away from him with a backhand swing and sent it twisting away into the courtyard behind him. We will not falter! Ave Imperator! The reply that followed shook the walls of the Palace with its ferocity. +++ This is your destiny now. Embrace it. The greatest of us have fallen to pride and ruin, Codian. You must not. Make Him proud, and right the wrongs of the ages for all time, so that we all can find eternal absolution. Borne forth on a surge of ice-cold, airless void of absolute oblivion, Daelo Codian was disgorged out onto the surface of Terra. The mysterious voice still echoed through his mind still, a heavy residue of regret weighing down his thoughts. He glanced to the side to see Centurius gaze upon him. The skull in his hands almost seemed to be

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regarding him also, the empty eye sockets terrible and depthless. He understood. This was the first time that Codian had ever set foot on the homeworld of his race, the most hallowed planet of all the Imperium. His first glance of the world lasted no more than a number of seconds. He caught sight of the towering and ancient edifices of the Imperial City, buildings tens of thousands of years old. Then he felt a hand upon his arm and turned to see the mysterious Astarte spectre once again. I must leave now, but I will return. Hold fast until I do so, Codian. The Chaplain never saw his departure. Grungis powerful voice cut through the tumult and he cast around to see what had alarmed the Demiurg. He caught sight of some manner of tubular construction only a short distance away, topped with a large domed crown. A brace of glowing guns cycled towards him Codians body lurched into action, his every muscle tensing at once. He slammed his heels into the ground and threw himself to one side, bowling the Demiurg along with him. Glowing plasma fire lanced after the two warriors, punching holes in the ground. This was the start that the others of the group needed to mobilise themselves. Codian picked himself up in time to see the two Inquisitors throw themselves behind what appeared to be the ruin of some Tau aircraft. The automated turret had turned its murderous attentions upon them, sending hails of searing plasma into the blackened shell. Ligur roared as he unleashed a blast of psychic power, the energies coalescing into a defensive wall. Stuttering pulse fire slammed into the barrier seconds later as another of the turrets found them. The Cadian fell to his knees and tore a grenade free from his belt, arming it as he did so. He risked a leap to the side and hurled the grenade at the turret, his aim proving true. A fireball enveloped the construct, powerful enough to tear the dome and the guns away and send them spinning across the rubble-strewn square. We need to find cover, and fast! Codian commanded, signalling to Ligur. The Librarian nodded and closed his eyes. The barrier flared brightly and then surged forward to envelop the second turret. The psychic energy washed over it and tore it to pieces, melting what it did not obliterate. Codian hauled Grungi to his feet and set of running to rejoin the others, shells erupting all around him. One fell dangerously close, tearing up huge fragments of the ground and sending a shower of rubble over him and the Demiurg. We need to get out of here! Find cover and then well try and establish our position! He called, reaching the Ligur and the others. Orechiel and Czevak ran to join them and together they made their way towards the nearest buildings, spying what appeared to be an alleyway. He was the last to enter the safe gloom, enemy fire blasting chunks out of the walls as he threw himself into the gap. Torvus and the Cadian took up defensive positions as the rest of them paused to rest, tested by their exertions. Is there any way we can determine our position? Has any of you visited this world before? I have. All eyes turned to Czevak, whose breath was still coming in ragged gasps, his knees supporting his hands.

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Once, long ago. I caught sight of the walls of the Imperial Palace shortly before we ran into here. We are close to the Palace, that is as much as I can tell you. Codian nodded. Details. We need to take stock of our situation. Did any of you see anything that can help us decide our next course of action? We have to establish how close we are to the Imperial lines, or if indeed there are any defences near here. The Cadian lowered his weapon as he heard this. He checked the power cell and then moved forward, rotating his neck and shoulders as he did so. Ill see what I can see. The others were robbed of any opportunity to protest by the rumble of some unseen explosion at the far end of the black alleyway. We have to move and soon. Codian said, watching as speeding shapes screamed by between the buildings far overhead. If we stay here then were dead. The Cadian returned moments later, a look of gravity on his scarred face. Its hard to tell what kind of zone weve been landed in. I can see no clear battle lines on either side. There are indications of sporadic warfare everywhere, and plenty of carnage. I dont think were close to any friendly lines. It looks as if this part of the city is caught in some running conflict. At that he gestured out at the square beyond. There are Tau turrets everywhere. It looks as if this part of the city was saturated with them. Id take a guess and say that were far from any zone of major conflict. That makes sense. The Tau ambassador said. It is a standard tactic for the Air caste to scatter defence turrets far and wide across secondary conflict zones. I would say that the road beyond is one of the major arteries leading to the Unity landing zones. The turrets are intended as cover, to ensure that the enemy are denied the opportunity to perform a flanking manoeuvre. Then it looks as if were going to have to run the gauntlet. Codian replied. We have to liase with the Alliance forces and let them know that the Kroot are on our side, otherwise theyll be massacred. We should head for the walls of the Palace. Torvus said. Thats where well find our own lines. Agreed. Codian answered. +++ Captain Lorvos of the Doom Eagles thrust his power sword out at the roiling city skies, his polished silver armour gleaming in the light of a thousand explosions. The next wave comes! Prepare to counter them! Here atop the walls of the Palace, the defenders had a commanding view of the city. Several of the massive Vespid Hive ships dominated that view, entire buildings crushed beneath their bulk where they had landed. The low buzzing intensified, soon audible even over the pounding of the defence guns. The jump packs of a hundred Astartes flared as one at his command, the assault Marines stretched across the wall almost as

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far as the eye could see. This would be the third such attack, and his warriors were battered and bloodied from the first two attempts at bypassing the Palace walls. The Vespid were as relentless as they were alien. Doom Eagles, engage! The warriors took to the air as one, moving to counter the coming swarms. The insectoid Vespid were capable of flight, carried aloft on vibrating wings. Lorvos had seen many of his warriors fall to the terrible guns of the Vespid, their power armour no match for the searing rays. He knew that the coming fight would see yet more of his Marines fall, and yet there was no other course of action available except to fight and to die for his Imperium. Lorvos fired up his jump pack, its crimson bulk shuddering beneath the power of the unleashed thrusters. He raised his sword and his plasma pistol and lowered himself into a crouch, ready to propel himself out into the air. Something bright and terrible charged its way into existence behind him, tearing boorishly through the fabric of reality amid an explosion of light and noise. Lorvos turned in time to look into glowing eyes as ancient as they were filled with malice. He brought his crackling sword around to counter the new foe, his instincts motivating his body even as his mind processed what was happening. The golden-skinned being snatched the blade of his sword and Lorvos screamed, a terrible and ragged sound, his entire body shattering into hazy, charged fragments. White-hot energies spattered the surrounding Astartes, the radioactive residue of their captains demise burning through ceramite and flesh. Mephetran tore through the Doom Eagles without mercy or counter, white light streaming from his eyes and open mouth. Crackling forks of unnatural energy burst from his clawed fingers and drove through the warriors, tearing their life energies from their bodies with violent force. Lifeless husks fell away over the bulwark or twisted out into the skies, carried aloft by the active jump packs. At the centre of the carnage, the Deceiver threw back his head and screamed in rage. What have you done! He roared, thrusting an accusing finger out at the lurid energies far above. What have you unleashed, crippled one? Answer me! He knew that the being in question could not answer him even as he made the demand. The attacking Vespid had reached the top of the walls by now, and in the wake of the demise of the Doom Eagles had begun to open fire on the surviving warriors and defences. The living ribbons of white metal that surrounded the star god whipped out to meet the coming foe. They whipped and flicked about him, cutting chitinous bodies in two. Glowing rays of neutron energy slammed into him and yet he did not even take notice, his necrodermis proof against such trivial attacks. Unnatural gales rose up around him then, of such intensity that the aliens were flung away from him. Even the nearest of the defence guns creaked on their mounts and then spun away into the abyss, torn free by the growing storm. I will not be fooled again! There is no scheme or design that could see my plans confounded, I promise you that! Bring all the fury of the warp to face me, if that is your intent! You will soon come to realise that your pathetic alliance of life is nothing compared to the destruction I am about to visit upon this world! He lowered his gaze then, his eyes narrowing. He continued to ignore the attentions of the Vespid around him as he peered into the far distance.

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He did not speak, nor did he need to. After a few moments, a glowering smile passed over his lips. The challenge had been made. They would answer. +++ Damn them. Berolinus shifted uneasily before his lords anger. Guilliman stood before the command screen, his fists bunched tight enough to cause the armoured gauntlets to groan. Who are they? Scan the entire fleet, get me any identifying signatures you can. The Earth caste engineers and Air caste crew about him bowed as they made to follow his orders without delay. Guilliman spun on his heel and began to pace the chamber, his hands behind his back, pushed to the tolerances of his patience by the delay. Finally one of the menials spoke, though when he did so, the answer was far from accommodating. Kaiguela, we are unable to ascertain their identity. We are picking up conflicting signatures across the fleet, ranging from Imperial toto Kroot. The Primarch spun sharply on his heel and marched over to the console once again, his sudden presence causing the Tau who had spoken to cower in fright. Kroot? Impossible! Run the scans again, and this time get me viable information Lord Guilliman, we h-have run the scans several times. There are definitely Kroot Warspheres out the The Engineer disappeared then, smashed across the room by the back of the Primarchs powerful fist. The other crewmembers blinked away cyan blood, their faces slackening in terror. Find out who they are. Guilliman growled, each word low and deliberate. It was only as a shadow fell over his shoulder that the murderous glint faded from his eyes and he glanced behind him to see the face of his ward, Berolinus. Lord Guilliman, look here. You, magnify this area. The engineer did as he was commanded, and the screen magnified at the point before the tip of the Ultramarines finger. There. Do you see that? We fought the Kroot around Moracre. I would recognise one of their ships anywhere. My lord, that is a Warsphere. For a moment, it looked as if Guilliman would burst with rage at this. He took several deep breaths then gestured towards the screen. Maintain magnification and alter the view. I would see with my own eyes what we are dealing with. After only a few seconds, the Primarchs eyes widened. Craft of every imaginable configuration passed by, guns blazing. Many ancient and battered Imperial vessels rolled across the screen, but there was much more to the fleet than anyone could have imagined. There. Is that an Ork vessel?

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Yes, my lord. The readouts are also showing a small number of Eldar ships, as well asas well as craft that do not register with any of our stored schematics. The question remains. Guilliman growled, his expression hardening once again. Who are we dealing with? Just then he froze, his back straightening. Berolinus had by now grown used to his Primarchs uncanny instincts, and so he took a step back, recognising what was about to occur. Guilliman turned slowly and lowered himself down onto one knee, sweeping aside his cloak as he did so. Berolinus and the Tau crew followed suit, and by the time the shimmering wall of light had coalesced before them, everyone present within the chamber had prostrated themselves. Guilliman. Events have taken a serious turn. AunVa uttered, standing tall and imposing before them all. Yes, my lord. The emergence of this new fleet Is of secondary importance. Guilliman raised his head as he heard this, clearly taken aback by what he heard. Forgive me, but I do not understand. Our efforts to break the defences of the Palace must be doubled. You must know that the Emperor of the guela has been destroyed. Guillimans mighty limbed quaked as he heard this, such that he almost fell onto his face. His face coloured and shook with disbelief. H-how? How can The Alliance have destroyed him, Guilliman. It is my belief that they seek to use his death to conjure up a storm within the warp, one strong enough to break through into realspace and destroy the fleet. We cannot allow that to happen. That we cannot. Guilliman uttered, rage and disbelief warring behind his eyes. So, the Imperium has fallen further than even I had dared to imagine. That is why we must break them, Kaiguela, and break them as soon as we can. Make it so.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty: Under Fire

Clear. The Cadian looked back and waved the others on, satisfied that the junction was free of danger. Another turret lay smouldering in the centre of the road before them, shattered by the last of the Guardsmans grenades. Torvus was the first to emerge, his storm shield raised up to his exposed face in readiness. The others followed closely behind, the rest of the Astartes first, with the unmodified humans and the two aliens taking

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up the rear. Codian had been swift in taking stock of their situation. It wasnt until Centurius had brought them here that he came to a grim realisation. They were scarcely equipped for war, at least in terms of ranged combat. The only rifle amongst them belonged to the Cadian, and it was hardly equipped to deal with dedicated armour. Most of the others carried a selection of pistols, seriously limiting the range of their attack, and a number of them were armed only with combat weaponry. We should have armed ourselves better. He mused, jogging out into the street along the desolate buildings. Umbras heard this and gave a quiet, humourless laugh. Its not as if we had any warning, Chaplain. whatever we have to hand will have to suffice. That it will, old friend. Codian replied, slowing with the others as they neared another intersection. The group came to rest before a small plaza lined with statues of Imperial heroes whose names had long faded into the distant past, the sculptures blackened and chipped by the conflict that had raged here a short time ago. He watched as the Apothecary fell in beside him, taking the opportunity to check his pistol once again. Umbras. Up until this point he had never fully considered the ever-silent Astarte at his side, and yet now, more than ever, he came to the realisation that Dero Umbras was the last remaining link to the past he had lost for all time. Of those precious few that had first survived the destruction of the Guillimans Wrath, and then the trials of this dark future time, only Umbras remained. The ivory-armoured Marine glanced up at him, as if sensing his attention. Did you ever imagine that this would be how your first visit to Terra would transpire? Hunted by the Tau, no less, amongst the streets of the Imperial City. No, old friend, not in my most vivid dreams. He replied, unable to keep himself from smiling beneath his helmet. I had always intended to join the Pilgrimage of Service one day, but I could never have imagined this. He gestured around him at the devastation that littered the streets. I never thought that I would see war here. Umbras quickly removed the clip from his pistol, checked it and then slammed it back into place. Well, I look at it like this. The Ultramarines never had the chance to defend this world during the Heresy. We have been given this chance, you and I. We should be sure not to waste it. Umbras, you are right. He replied, taking a measure of comfort from the Apothecarys words. That choice may be taken from us, Longshank. Look around you. Both Astartes heard the Demiurgs ominous words and looked to see what he meant. He was standing beyond the intersection, his attention on the boulevard ahead. The sight that met them sent a spike of ice through their hearts.

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The wide street had seen terrible conflict between the Tau and the citizens of the city. At the far end of the wide road, a makeshift barricade consisting of burned-out civilian vehicles and Arbite prowlers had been smashed aside. Bodies littered the thoroughfare, and though there were many Tau amongst them, most of them were clad in the grey, featureless coveralls of Imperial menials. Doorways were choked with the dead. Broken bodies lay everywhere, cold fingers clasped around laspistols and autoguns. Small heaps of Arbite armour were scattered throughout the scene, squads fallen back to back where they had fought until their last. The small group jogged out into the street, covering every doorway, window or alley they could see. I sense no hostile presence. Ligur said after a few moments. Only death. They soon came to rest at the broken barricade, slowing so as to step carefully amongst the dead. The Cadian passed through the opening, his gun raised in readiness, leaving the others to take in the scene. Umbras searched quietly amongst the dead, his Apothecarys instincts driving him to aid the injured and dying. To Codian it seemed an empty gesture, for he knew that Umbras, like all the rest of them, suspected that there was no living amongst the corpses. It looks as if we are heading towards the rear of one of the major spearheads. Czevak observed. Codian nodded in agreement and looked to Gormat. What kind of forces are we likely to be facing here, Gormat? The Tau observed his surroundings with a practiced eye, taking in every clue and piece of information he could see. Well, the main assault was always going to be directed at the gates of the Palace, I know this much. Three gates, three main spearheads. Now I know little of this city, but it is my guess that the Unity will have executed the Dresdanya here, a standard siege tactic. When facing an armoured stronghold, the initial assault is always directed straight at the most powerful defences. To ensure that the defending army cannot initiate an enfilade, secondary forces are bled into the surrounding city to cover all other points of access and sweep away any pockets of resistance. It is my guess that we are heading towards the rear of one of these forces The Tau reached down and picked something up from the floor at his feet. It was a small ceremonial knife, the gleaming blade blunt, indicating that it was not a weapon used for combat. Fire Warrior Cadres. Standard line soldiers, from what I can tell. They will be accompanied by armour and a number of korvesa squads. Good. We can deal with that. Codian answered. He looked to Gormat before he spoke again, as if to indicate that he meant no offence. The Tau themselves are easily punished. As disciplined as they are, they are no match for us physically. When we encounter the enemy we must be brutal, and we must not falter in the face of their guns. Gormat, can you give us an indication of what type of armour we should expect? We are ill-equipped to deal with gunships and the like. I would suspect the presence of Devilfish transports, Chaplain, rather than any dedicated support platforms. There may be Hammerheads present, but I have yet to see any clues that would indicate this. Certainly our surroundings bear no indication of heavy weapons discharge.

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Codian was about to answer when a thunderous boom shook the skies overhead. All eyes looked to the skies in time to see the atmosphere flicker and burn, agitated by the presence of something huge as it hurtled towards the city below. The Kroot. It has to be. Codian guessed. They are coming. We must reach the Imperial lines. The way ahead is clear! The Cadian called. Codian pointed the tip of the dawnblade out towards the waiting street beyond. We move. The group set off, hugging the walls of the nearest building. Far above them the skies burned, hundreds of glowing lights falling through the atmosphere. Codian could not help but increase his pace in the face of the coming counter-invasion, his pulses quickening at the prospect of allowing the allied Kroot to meet the defences of the Palace without the Alliance realising their mutual bond. Within seconds he had passed by the Cadian, who had up until this point led the advance of the small group. The Guardsmans expression widened as he watched the Chaplain pass him by without effort, his armoured boots shaking the ground. Ligur, cover our advance if you can. He called. Behind him, the Librarian tilted his head. I can. A hazy light coruscated around his head, illuminating his eyes with a rich blue-white glow. Codian felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the Librarians vast psychic intellect extended beyond him to probe the surrounding buildings. If there were enemy warriors here, Ligur would know. His answer, however, came faster than the Chaplain had expected. Up ahead Codians swift pace soon carried him towards the end of the boulevard, past scores of broken bodies and smouldering vehicles. He vaulted a fallen statue and skidded to a halt, finding himself at the mouth of a wide square. Even as his eyes took in the sight before him, his ears picked up the first ominous sounds of war. By the Falls of Hera He breathed. Their path had brought them to the rear of the rampaging enemy force. Tau Fire Warriors filled the wide square from end to end, squads standing in perfect lines as they poured fire into the distant defence lines. Codian spread his arms wide as he took in the situation, his trained Astarte senses absorbing every scrap of visual tactical information faster than any cogitator. The central core of the force consisted of line infantry. The warriors were supported by a number of visible units, most notably the same Devilfish transports he and a small number of the others had commandeered on Vanphilos. There were several other small, independent units scattered amongst the line warriors. Drone sniper units hurriedly shifted position, guided by their Tau controllers. Small but fast two-man skimmers swooped across

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the barricades, unleashing salvos of bright death into the struggling defenders. Within seconds he had identified the commander of the cadre. An armoured figure stood at the centre of the enemy force, directing the efforts of the Tau with commanding sweeps of his arms. He had seen enough for now. Mobilise! He commanded, Throwing himself towards the enemy. Head towards the enemy transports and find cover there! Cadian, with me! Ligur, give us whatever cover you can! The others did as ordered, sprinting towards the idling Devilfish transports spread across the rear of the enemy lines. He knew that every second counted, that every passing moment was critical. Against such a force they stood little chance unless they utilized every available opportunity. There were plenty of targets for him to choose from now, his readout informing him that he had reached the maximum range for his bolt pistol. Even at this distance he held no doubts that his weapon would cause an immediate kill, but its ammunition supply was far from infinite and her knew that he had to make each shot count. Cadian, take the nearest sniper unit! Commandeer it if you can! The rest of you follow me! He neared the closest of the idling Devilfish transports and raised his weapon, knowing from experience how fragile the vehicles were, if one knew where to direct his fire. He fired a shot, aiming straight at the grilled duct of the left thruster engine. The bolt punched its way through the delicate metal to embed itself in the depths of the engine, where it exploded a heartbeat later. The hovering skimmer lurched to the right with a squealing groan, bright fire blossoming from the punished engine. The warrior standing within the turret ring cartwheeled free, bones cracking with the force of the violent movement. The skimmer bowled into the nearest squad, sweeping scores of warriors off their feet and crushing those unfortunate enough to fall beneath the listing hull. Flechette launchers fired automatically, sending razor-sharp shards of curled metal out behind the stricken transport, an ultimately redundant effort. Hundreds of ringing scrapes resounded across his armour as he charged through the deadly storm, sweeping his blade left to right before him. The glittering energies drawn by the ancient weapon acted as a shield, melting and disintegrating. He felt his body judder as the assault hit him, washing over him like a wave. He did not pause to worry. His armour was proof against such assaults. Codian pressed on, driving towards the punished vehicle. He fired again, felling a Tau warrior that had escaped the melee. The power of the shot drove it through the chest plate of the victim and into a second alien body where it exploded, the blast sending whickering armour fragments into the rest of the squad. Pulse fire poured his way then, zipping through the angles of the twisting Devilfish after him. He pressed as near to the vehicle as he dared and followed its turn, snatching every fleeting moment of cover he could. A quick glance told him that the Cadians daring advance was working. The soldier put a las-round through the neck of the surprised Tau operator and ran to steady the swaying targeting array as his victim fell away. He threw his rifle to the ground and gave a quick thumbs-up to the Chaplain before turning his attention to the controls before him. Codian waved the others on, watching as the fire from the enemys guns quickly increased. Every step taken by Ligur was an effort now, his patrician features twisted in effort as he shouldered the powerful fusillade. The wall of energy before him flared again and again, turning aside every shot.

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Torvus! We have to act fast! Take this thing down! Codian shouted. He ducked low and swept his living crozius through the rear left support leg, causing the back end of the struggling transport to crash into the ground. The frontal left fin sheared away, crushing the drone located there, but still the Devilfish continued to turn, its underbelly ploughing a furrow through the road surface as it did so. Torvus nodded to the Librarian and the protective barrier fell, allowing him to sprint past. He thundered towards the Devilfish and leapt as he reached the armoured hull, bringing his mighty warhammer down on the small viewing port. Metal and armoured glass caved in at the hammers destructive touch. He landed on the remnants of the fin and let fly with a flurry of blows, utterly destroying the small pilot compartment. With a final, shuddering groan, the vehicles turn arrested. Codian turned his attention to the circular hatch built into the skimmers side. He signalled to Ligur and the Librarian advanced, understanding what had to be done. He charged at the hatch and punched both his fists into the thick metal, the charged claws making light work of the armour. The runes set into his gauntlets glowed with a blinding light as he uttered a prayer of fortification, light streaming from his mouth and eyes. The entire Devilfish quaked, a violent and short-lived shudder, and then a blinding geyser of psychic energy blew out through the open turret ring and the ruined pilot compartment. Such was the power of Ligurs psychic attack that the rear hatch buckled outwards, the entire hatch itself straining against the locking mechanisms. The Librarian stepped back, hazy blue smoke curling from his lightning claws. Look out! Gormat pushed past Codian, firing his alien pistol with both hands. One of the speeding two-man skimmers screamed by, the ambassadors efforts sending a salvo of pulse fire raking across the hull. Codian watched as a brace of drones launched free of the Piranha and twisted in the direction of the small group, whilst the skimmer itself banked into a long turn, intent on coming around again. The initial surprise of the attack was starting to wear off fast, Codian knew that. Soon the Tau would get the measure of their numbers and when they did so, the result would be inevitable. Cadian! Cover us! It was an order the veteran did not need to hear. Railgun fire scythed through the Tau ranks, cutting swathes of warriors down with each shot. The drones under the Cadians command shifted their position again and again, following the stabbing markerlights to complete the assassination of each target chosen by the guardsman. Umbras, cover the others! Stay behind cover and kill as many of them as you can! Ligur, Torvus, we have to take out the armour! Torvus had already mobilised even as the order was given. Heedless to the danger he set of after the Piranha, using every scrap of available cover he could find as he advanced. Ligurs eyes fell upon the second Devilfish and he let out a long sigh of preparation, gathering every ounce of his mental strength ready for the task ahead. His lips moved in silent whisper as he extended a hand towards the Devilfish, the skimmer currently

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engaged in assailing the defenders position. A miniature cyclone of building power flickered into being before his outstretched hand, blinking motes of light drifting towards its centre as it built in power. Something dark and powerful formed within the very hull of the Devilfish, its sudden appearance causing the skimmer to bob and sway beneath its presence. A long, mournful moan rose from the craft as its superstructure began to collapse beneath the immeasurable forces exerted upon it. Fire Warriors screamed as they were hauled into oblivion. Access hatches fell open, only to slam shut once again a heartbeat later, pulled shut by the vacuum. Within moments, the craft folded in on itself as it was pulled into the warp by the yawning maelstrom, ethereal lightning enveloping its compressing hull. Codian felt the pull of the warp breach even from here and drove his boots into the ground. Another Piranha found itself caught in the pull of the anomaly, its thrusters flaring as its pilot to free himself. Save some of the enemy for me, brain-spark! Grungi hollered, leaping up onto the other ruined Devilfish. The Demiurg rolled nimbly over the curved hull and dropped onto the floor below, out of sight of the others. The Chaplain saw this and started forward. Grungi! Wait! Torvus was the only one who had paid the psychic powerful attack no heed. His blood was up and his mind was on the enemy bearing down upon him. Marine! Beware of the crafts guns He heard the Cadians warning but dismissed it. By now the Piranha was hurtling towards him head-on, and the under-slung weapons at its nose ignited with a deep hiss. He leapt to the side as a line of distorted, super-heated air raked across the ground, turning stone to steam instantly. Secondary fire spat from the vehicles released drones but he ignored it, the pulse fire splashing off his armour and fizzing storm shield. The Piranha speared past him, its prow missing him by mere feet. Torvus was quick and agile despite his size, and he twisted sharply as the enemy passed by, and brought his hammer up and around to smash it into the rear of the craft. The blow thrust the tail end of the skimmer into the ground, sparks and debris peeling away from it. The impact caused the craft to spring back up and the pilot fought to regain control, even as a rail round punched clean through the rear side armour, killing the gunner instantly. The skimmer arced around, scraping the floor as it did so. Torvus was ready for it, once again advancing upon his foe. Pulse fire poured from the bulk of the Tau force towards him, catching him in several places across his armour. He ignored it, fighting to maintain his balance and pace, intent on seeing his target destroyed. The pilot seemed to realise this and, robbed of his gunner, gunned the Piranhas engines, attempting to hurtle past him. Again, Torvus was too quick. He swung the hammer in a fierce upwards arc, catching the passing craft beneath its left fin. The Piranha flipped, shedding clouds of fire and debris, before slamming upside down into the ground. The slaved drones wobbled and then fell from the skies, denied the essential control systems provided by the downed craft.

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In the shelter of the ruined transport, the others were busy releasing salvos of fire into the Tau squads. The Tau had been thrown into disarray by the sudden arrival of the small force. Now they were trapped between the Imperial defenders and the surprise assault, and were still in the process of redeploying to counter the threat. Orechiel threw herself upon the curved hull and sent another hail of flashing shuriken fire into the shifting Tau. The hissing shots flashed through flesh and armour, severing limbs and slashing arteries. Within moments the alien ammunition clip was spent, the last shard of wraithbone gone. He quickly withdrew and snatched another of the tubular artefacts from beneath her overcoat, sliding it smoothly into the bottom of the pistol grip. Enemy fire lanced her way without warning, and she noticed it too late. A flash of bone-white armour enveloped her and she heard the ringing impacts at the same instant she felt them. Then strong hands hauled her to safety. Always withdraw to reload. A deep voice growled. Unless you happen to have skin thicker than ceramite. Orechiel nodded in thanks, her face colouring. Ill be sure to remember that. Codian pushed past the small gathering and threw himself across the downed skimmer, sliding on his behind across the smooth surface to land at the far side. He snapped his arm up and fired three quick bursts, each bolt felling a target. Grungi! The Demiurg was amongst the enemy, twisting and slashing, his fearsome weapon-limb cloving Tau with each swing. The outer edges of the gathered force were falling back with as much discipline as they could muster, directed by the white-armoured commander. The scrum was working in the Demiurgs favour up to this point. Those closest to him were unable to bring their weapons to bear, and the tightly packed crowds were preventing any of the outer warriors from firing off a shot. Codian knew that this advantage could not last. He raised the dawnblade in readiness, steeling himself for the coming fight. His senses totally enveloped by the enemy, he did not notice the skull of the living weapon quiver slightly, its surface glowing. A moment later a tall, lithe shape bled from the air to stand behind him, as if its appearance was the result of a simple step forward. The alien figures eyes found him and it drew itself up to its full height. A heartbeat later and it was gone once again. Codian started, a shiver running down the length of his spine. He cast around to glance behind him, to see only empty air. He quickly dismissed the sensation in the heat of the moment and turned his attention back to the fight, his limbs firing with powerful movement. Death to His enemies! He cried, thundering into the Tau lines.

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Chapter One Hundred and Forty One: A Diversity of the Species

He emptied the clip of his pistol as he charged and then slid the weapon into its holster, seconds before he reached the enemy. He felt the dawnblade writhe in his grasp, the living weapon eager to taste the flesh of the Tau. Codian flung himself through the air and brought the crozius crashing down to carve through everything it touched. Bodies burst and came apart, unable to counter the power of the alien weapon. He landed and threw himself into a twist, swinging his arm wide. He returned with another powerful sweep, clearing more of the alien warriors from his presence. His other limbs became weapons also, for victims were easy to find and engage in this tight scrum. His fist shattered helmed skulls and his boots turned bones to dust with every blow. Death to our enemies! Crush them without mercy! He roared, the amplifiers in his helmet augmenting his strident voice. The words were textbook and autonomous, but it did not matter what he cried. Such acoustic assaults were intended to send the enemy reeling, and increase his menace. So far, it was working. He felt a strength coursing through him, power igniting his every nerve. A thirst for vengeance far greater than he had ever experienced sharpened his body and mind. It was as if he was somehow able to assess every move, to consider every action with an absolute clarity before he executed it. He pushed forward and struck out again, feeling the mystical weapon grow heavy in his grasp. He twisted sharply and an entire circle of Tau fell, blood mingling with the glittering arc his crozius drew through the air. The butt of a rifle slammed into his back and he thrust an elbow behind him, feeling a chest cave in. blue energy burst in his eyes but he ignored it, not even feeling the expected kickback of the impact. Something caught his eye then, in the air above the surging tide of helmed heads. It was a Fire warrior, his body broken and limp, twisting through the air. Another rose up sharply and spun away over the heads of the enemy force. It took him several seconds to realise that he was responsible. The dawnblade seemed suddenly huge in his grasp, its size and mass greatly increased. He seized the studded haft in both hands and began to use it as a warhammer, smashing bodies to a pulp with every swing. Another massive thrust saw yet more Tau fall before him, and to his surprise he saw a an opening before him. He had carved a path through the Tau lines, and aside from a few scattering warriors, all that lay beyond him was the body-strewn open space of no-mans land, and beyond that, the Imperial defence line. That, and his prize. The armoured commander met his gaze, the aliens face hidden beneath a thick helm. He slowed, taking a second to assess the threat of the individual. The Tau wore armour of a type he had not seen before. Its dimensions and appearance were similar to the stealth-generating armour he had encountered on the Rock, but much more advanced. Different weapons

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systems were mounted to each arm, and a brace of unarmed drones accompanied the warrior. Codian threw himself through the gap and charged towards his foe, hefting the dawnblade up in readiness to strike. At that moment the commander saw him and raised his arm. Searing plasma erupted from the weapon and speared towards him, fast and deadly. He used the crozius-hammer to swat the blast aside, causing white-hot plasma to splash against his armour. He was almost upon his foe when the commanders entire outline flickered, then faded, and finally disappeared. Codian reached the spot and swung again and again, anticipating the sensation of impact but experiencing none. Denied, he raised his arms and cast his gaze across the empty space surrounding him. Show yourself, coward! Face me with honour! It was then that he noticed the attention of the entire Tau lines upon him, and he realised he had allowed himself to be drawn into a trap. Pulse fire slammed into him, disciplined volley after disciplined volley smashing into his armour. His rosarius field flared again and again, pushed to the limits of its tolerance within moments. The defenders of the Imperial lines must have been stunned by the emergence of the Chaplain, for it was only now that the barricades lit up once again. Lasfire lanced into the Tau, felling almost the entire first wave. Codian knew he had to act fast. His rosarius and the ethereal influence of the dawnblade were thus far successful in preserving him, but even he had no idea how long his fortune would last. He started forward, covered by the blazing fire of the entire defence lines. He caught the strident voice of an individual he assumed to be a Commissar or some other type of officer, screaming orders to the beleaguered defenders. He had already found allies here. He was around twenty feet away when the first anomaly punched its way free from behind the veil of reality. A blinding tear opened up in the midst of the Tau, spewing ethereal light out into the scene. A lithe, almost skeletal figure hopped down onto the ground and the breach closed, the energies drawing back in on themselves until there was no trace left of its existence. The new arrival unleashed a terrible screech of malice and swept the long, bladed weapon in its hands out, punching the curved blade through the throat of the nearest Fire warrior. Cries of alarm boiled through the Cadre as confusion threatened to consume them, and Codian heard a word he recognised even as he identified the mysterious warrior. Kroot! Kroot! More and more of the alien creatures blinked into the fray, their weapons flashing as they carved into the Tau. Within moments the scene was one of panic and bedlam. Everywhere he looked, Codian could see the unmistakeable quills of the Kroot amongst the shifting Fire warriors. Ugly, angular craft roared by overhead, spewing choking black contrails of thick smoke behind them as they descended. Winged shapes poured from the ships, descending like paratroopers towards the battle. The Chaplain could not believe his eyes. He reached the Tau lines and cut a number of the enemy warriors down with almost languid strikes, unable to keep his attention off the amazing scene. The Tau were equally

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as stunned by the appearance of their former allies. The fight lasted no more than minutes after the arrival of the Kroot. The bloodlust of the murderous aliens was utterly unmatchable, and the Tau, for all their discipline and determination could not counter them. The crude landers put down hard on the streets beyond, disgorging wave after wave of Kroot squads out into the fray. Those Tau seeking to flank the initial Kroot wave were caught by this advance and slaughtered, the keen marksmanship of the carnivorous aliens cutting them down without pause or mercy. Slavering Kroot Hounds bounded into the Fire Warriors, tearing flesh and opening veins with beak and claw. Hunting rifles picked off those of a stronger mental discipline even as they moved to take up counterdefensive positions. Charged rounds burst bodies apart, killing instantly. Codian dismissed the last lingering remains of his shock and forced his mind to focus. The Kroot were a force of sheer vengeance and determination, their powerful advance cutting through the Tau with the power and relentlessness of a lascannon strike. The commander was nowhere to be seen. He sneered as he considered this, his mind conjuring up images of the beings cowardly retreat. He had no doubts that the Unity forces at large would know of the Kroots presence and location within minutes. He turned towards the concluding battle and saw a number of individuals sprinting his way. He recognised Ghroakar immediately amongst them and was surprised to find himself heartened by this, despite their brief association. It pleases me to see you again, Chaplain. The alien said as he reached him. It would seem that our arrival could not have been more fortuitous. Codian bowed his head in greeting, even now still struggling to come to terms with the flawless high gothic of his speech. Your arrival could not have been timed better, Shaper. How The tall alien did not wait for the rest of the Chaplains sentence. He raised his head and let out a grating bark. Seconds later an implosion of air rocked Codian as another of the Kroot appeared by his side, lurid energies curling about him. The creature was unlike the others in appearance. Its skin was hard and scaled, like that of a reptile, and its body held much more mass. You have my scouts to thank for that. Nkalgh here absorbs the scent pheromones of a target and uses the currents of the warp to track them wherever they may be. Your scent is amongst my people now, Codian. You will never be lost to us. How is that possible? As with all paths of evolution, the flesh is the key. We Ghroakar did not finish. He and his warriors burst into action, breaking around Codian as they sprinted away. He heard shouts of alarm rise up across the Imperial lines, followed by the familiar whine of lasfire. No Without conscious thought he was off and running towards the defence lines, watching as massed lines of bright fire speared by overhead.

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Cease fire! Cease fire now! He roared, magnifying his voice the best he could. The Kroot are our allies! The fusillade did not falter, nor had he expected it to. He was almost at the barricade now and he caught sight of several Kroot along the makeshift defences, engaged in furious combat with the soldiers and Arbites there. The Kroot were not attacking through malice or hatred, but were fighting for their lives against a foe that did not realise their intent. He was the only one who stood a chance at saving the Imperials from themselves. He soon reached the defences, his trained eye searching for the best point of access to the Imperials. He spied the burnt-out wreck of what appeared to be a PDF Leman Russ, and he quickly altered his direction. A single bound saw him standing on the hull of the tank but he did not slow, using the dawnblade to smash his way through the scaffolding and flakboard before him. In moments he had created a gap large enough to accommodate his bulk and he hauled himself through and up onto his feet. Several PDF troopers cast around as the Chaplain rose beside them, their faces sagging with shock and fright. Stand down! Codian commanded, thrusting the head of his weapon out at them. Lower your weapons or you will all die here today. The troopers cast their lasguns aside and flung themselves down onto the streets below, terrified by the towering Marines presence. In their absence he saw the strident and unafraid Commissar he had heard earlier. The man strode towards him, his power sword and bolt pistol raised in challenge. Traitors! Xenos collaborators! Repel them from these defences or suffer dishonourable death at the hands of enemy! Stand fast, damn you all! We are not the enemy, Commissar! We fight against the Unity A bolt round hammered into his chest with enough force to drive him back, the protective energies of his rosarius flaring before him. Lies! This traitor would see hallowed Terra fall beneath the yoke of the alien! Fight to the death! Fight for the honour of your Emperor! Several more impacts rang upon the armour at his back and he cast around to see a number of Arbites advancing upon him, their shotguns blazing. Three mighty strides carried him before the armoured men and he swept the extended haft of the dawnblade low before him to sweep the soldiers off their feet. He shoved two of them off the barricade with a sweep of his boot and hauled the third one aloft by his neck, ignoring the mans protests. I am not your enemy. He said, with a deliberate slowness. But do not test me, Arbite. With that he cast the man aside and turned to face the Commissar once more, letting the dawnblade fall at his feet. The officer was upon him now, only feet away. Another bolt round hammered into his armour but he ignored it, his determination to see this conflict ended too great. Damned conspirator! The Commissar raged, lunging for him with his glowing blade. Codian easily avoided the blow and snatched at the mans sword arm, enveloping the limb with his vice-like fingers. The Commissar let out a cry of pain and dropped the sword. Codian grabbed his other arm and flicked it into the

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barricade, causing him to release the bolt pistol. With that he dropped the officer back onto his feet and pressed his arms down by his sides, his grip such that the Commissar was fast, unable to move even an inch. Listen to me, and heed every single word. I have come to save you. These aliens fight for us. They hate the Unity as we do, and they will die to see the Tau repelled from this world. Fight them and all you will achieve is death. Theyarexenos The Commissar gasped, his face red with exertion and anger. Yes, and soon you will come to realise just how pointless such distinctions are. Your faith is great and does you credit, but do not allow it to blind you and consume your capacity for reason. It is not your place to question the wisdom of the Emperors plans, but to strive to see them realised. Use that faith to see past the surface of events and recognise his hand in them. We need every loyal servant to fight this war, Commissar. You were born for this, as was I. Codian released the officer then and stepped back, allowing him to make the choice. A mixture of emotions passed over the Commissars face as he retrieved his weapons and then looked out across the barricade where his men and women fought against the Kroot still. Cease fire! Stand down, all of you! Stand down! The scattered conflict slowly abated, much to the Chaplains relief. Human and Kroot lowered their weapons and separated, glad of the conclusion of hostilities but still wary of each others presence. Good. Codian said, confirming his contentment with a slow nod. That you have reason as well as faith does you credit. What is your name? Santarius. I am Codian, Commissar Santarius, and I have come to do the Emperors work. Santarius tipped his head in greeting and then shifted to look out upon the fatigued soldiers under his command. These are my troops, Chaplain, and they are good men and women, despite their dwindling numbers. If you had not arrived when you did then this line would have fallen within the hour, perhaps sooner. Every approach to the Palace is the same, defended by forces comprising of Guard, PDF, Arbites and civilian militia. He sighed then, his features tightening. There are thousands of us scattered throughout the city, but we cannot hope to stem the enemy tide. It is our duty to weaken the advance upon the city, and it is a duty of sacrifice. Every blockade will fall in time, this much is inevitable. You have extended our existence, but our fate is sealed. Nonetheless, I thank you for giving us this opportunity to face the enemy a while longer. Codian looked out beyond the barricades into the depths of the city. From here, towering over the tallest of the structures, the walls of the Palace could just be seen. I have been tasked with an important mission, Santarius, one that could see victory for the Imperium in this war. I have a message that I need to deliver to the commanders of the Alliance, and I fear that if I am too late that a great mistake will be made, one that will see the Unity victorious. The Commissars expression took on a new intensity as he heard this.

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What would you have us do, Astarte? As I have said, we are few Lead us to the Palace. The Kroot will carve a bloody path through the enemy to get us there, but we need to get as close as we can whilst at the same time keeping ourselves to the shadows, for we cannot risk another incident like this. Then we have an alliance. The Commissar replied. +++ Berolinus frowned as he watched the Primarch pace by him. Thunder was written across Guillimans granite face, and it took all his courage to ask the question in his mind. My Primarch, something troubles you? Moments ago, Guilliman had received word from AunVa. Whatever the message had been had clearly soured the Primarchs mood even further. The Kroot have returned. He snarled in answer, pacing by the Ultramarine once again. AunVa is greatly displeased by this. We will destroy them, my Primarch, I am sure of it. These Kroot are but another obstacle for the Unity to sweep from their path. They cannot surely pose a threat to us? Guilliman paused as he heard this. He cast around slowly to face the Astarte, his dark eyes radiating contempt. Your mindless answer seeks to test my resolve in appointing you my ward. The threat that the Kroot represent is not a physical one. We annihilated them, Berolinus. We wiped them from existence. Now we see their ships orbiting this world and we receive reports of Kroot warriors engaging the ground forces. The Primarchs black eyes shone with anger as he shook his fists at the warrior, barely able to maintain his emotions. The Tau believed the Kroot to be dead, and now they fight them on Terra. The Ethereals announced the extinction of the Kroot to the masses. The Ethereals themselves, Berolinus! The damned Kroot have made liars of them, and I will not stand for it! At that he drew Agiselus with a ring and thrust the sword up into the air. We go to make war with them. I will personally see the Kroot extinguished from this existence for all time. Berolinus fell to one knee immediately as he heard this. I am with you always, my Primarch. Then rise, Berolinus, and ready your weapons of war. We go to slaughter the Kroot, and this traitorous Astarte that allies with them. Berolinus rose slowly as he heard this, his eyes narrowing. Astarte? Yes. The word came direct from one of our ShasO field commanders only a few moments ago. He describes a warrior clad in the armour of death, black as the void, deadly and inviolable.

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Inviolable? Faced with the might of a Primarch, we shall see, my lord. The Ultramarine answered. Guilliman inclined his head at this. That we shall.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Two: Destiny's Path

The Eternity Wall Gate. Santarius said, jabbing his finger onto the crumpled field map. This is the closest of the gates to our current position, and the one that the Warmaster defends. Excellent. Codian replied, standing back so as to allow the Commissar to roll the chart back up and place it in the field pack of his PDF adjutant. It is Calgar that we need to find. He said to the others. Ventris may be our only chance of persuading the Warmaster to hear us. If we cannot convince him to listen, all may yet be lost. Orechiel sighed and peered down the length of the half-lit alleyway, its furthest point far from visible. We have kilometres of hostile territory to cross before we reach the gate. I dont understand it. Why didnt She lowered her voice then, as if only just considering the ominous of what she was about to say next. Why didnt Centurius carry us closer to the Palace, or even better, place us within its walls? Perhaps he could not. Czevak answered, the tone of his voice indicating that he was far from sure of the answer himself. We are speaking of the Emperors Palace. Not even the Grand Masters of the Inquisition know much of the ancient and vaunted defences at work in that place. The Imperial Palace is undoubtedly the most secure fastness in all the known galaxy. It is said that all the power of the chaos gods combined is not enough to penetrate its walls. Its stands to reason that, for all his mystery, Centurius could not exert his influence any closer to its walls than he did. Murmurs of agreement passed through the others, for in truth, none of them had the slightest idea what manner of ancient and archaic technology guarded the Emperors remains. Santarius had heard only part of what the discussion entailed, and cleared his throat once he was sure it was over. We have to press on. The Tau have spies everywhere. They utilise technology that we have thus far been unable to counter. They wear suits that are able to turn them invisible to the naked eye, and emit signals powerful enough to confound the most sophisticated auspex. Yes, we have encountered them. Codian replied. Before he was able to say any more the Shaper pushed his way through, regarding both the Chaplain and the Commissar as he did so. By best trackers have the surrounding city covered. I assure you, if there are enemy units stalking us, we will find them, hidden or not. Not even the Tau are able to mask their scent from us.

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Nonetheless, we are far from out of danger. The Commissar replied. You should know Chaplain that the concentration of the enemy vastly increases as we near the Eternity Wall Gate. It is quite possible that we will not be able to bypass the Unity forces there in order to reach the Warmaster. We will worry about that when the occasion arrives. For now, we must be sure of the plan. At this he turned to face the group as a whole. Ghroakar has agreed to provide us with a diversion. His forces will assault the rear of the Unity lines while we seek a way to reach the Warmaster. To engage the Tau will be an honour. The Kroot said, bunching his skeletal hand into a fist. My warriors thirst for their blood. It is up to us to make the Warmaster see that the Kroot are not the enemy. Codian continued. How we are to put ourselves in that situation is something we are going to have to play by ear. Santarius nodded. Then we had better make haste to the gate, and hope that our approach goes unnoticed. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Light first flickered and then burst through the dark chamber, illuminating the cavernous interior. It glinted and ran like quicksilver over the angles of the golden being hovering in wait there. A pair of intense eyes witnessed the growing phenomenon, the emotion behind them unreadable. I have been waiting for you. The tall figure that formed before him was easily far larger, albeit of a more slender stature. It exuded a searing white light which all but enveloped its form, but what little could be seen of the figure beneath shone and ran, as if made of the most dazzling fluid silver. My congratulations on your deceit. It would seem that we are not as far separated from one another as I had considered, Aun. Your deception is over. The silver being uttered, its very voice causing the air in the chamber to rise into a chill wind. That it is. The loss of my role as the ruler of this world is of little true consequence to my plans. In time you will come to see that. The need for secrecy is over. A moment of silence passed between the two ageless beings. After a while, Mephetran spoke once more, a wide smile stretching across his face. Things have changed. I feel your hunger, your desire. It does not matter how obvious you convey this, I do not fear you. Yes, you are more powerful than I could ever hope to be, but physical power is irrelevant now. They stir, you know that as well as I. They will come to feast here. The shining being did not respond.

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Not even you have the power to face them both, and you know that. They will raze this existence, and in their voraciousness they will undo all we have both sought to achieve. These stars will be nought but a wasteland, bland and tasteless. It is not our intent to exterminate all life, but to culture it, to dominate it. They would see us denied that. And yet you summoned them. Yes. Only together can we stand against them. We cannot share these stars with them. They must be destroyed for all time, and only together can we achieve this. Dominance will be mine alone. His counterpart replied. At that the luminosity around him intensified, filling the chamber with light. Do not be a fool. Yes, I summoned them, for I would see this war fall into anarchy and oblivion rather than leave myself open to your mercy. The slaughter would have attracted them to the harvest with or without my intervention. We want the same things, you and I. Destroy me and you have no chance at ultimate victory. We have to labour together to see our campaigns realised. I have ensured that much. Dominance will be mine alone. The being repeated Seconds later he was gone. Alone in the darkness Mephetran smiled. We shall see. +++ Guilliman strode through the billowing steam and out onto the surface of Terra. He swept his cloak aside as he surveyed the scene. Fire Warriors filled his gaze as far as he could see, choking the vast mezzanine. Devilfish, Skyrays and Hammerheads glided free of the vast landers to form elongated convoys of armour. Everywhere he looked, the magnificence of the Unity dominated the scene. Status report. He commanded, directing the order to the short, stocky Tau at his side. The intelligence officers cybernetic hand worked the controls of the tactical unit hard-hired into his opposing arm. The command drone hovering by his side emitted a series of whining bleeps as it processed the swathes of information at its disposal. The area is clear of any enemy presence, Kaiguela. Our scouts are deployed and in the field. We have their trail. Good. What of the dispersal of our forces here? I would know how they are faring. Of course. All three major Shanals are currently engaged in assaulting the gates. OMogdrak and his forces are still deploying around the Ultimate Gate. OKirlas Shas Kayon have engaged the Marines defending the Lions Gate. ShasO Tashvar Korstla Larshivre leads her forces against the Ultimate Gate. And what of the pacification of the inner city? Ongoing, Kaiguela. So far our forces have encountered fierce resistance but we are pushing through steadily. There has been little to stall our advance. I see. Do we have an estimate on casualties?

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II am afraid not, my commander. It is against the teachings of the Auns to collate such data. Of course it is. Guilliman replied, cursing himself. Ensure that you maintain a strong link with the network. Liase with the Stealth and Pathfinder teams, have them begin to plot our advance through these streets. The location of the Kroot is our top priority. Yes, Kaiguela. He turned to the warrior at his side then, his face tight and serious beneath the weight of the task to come. I am still concerned by the apparent disappearance of the Alpha Legion, Berolinus. By this stage they should already have been deep within the city, rousing the Cult sleeper cells. You were the only one to survive when the Legion command was slaughtered. Is there anything you can tell me? Where are they? Berolinus did not answer. Guilliman caught sight of the rapt wonder upon the Marines face as he took in his surroundings. The expression was innocent, almost child-like, and yet hidden deep beneath it he could see a lingering darkness, an almost ageless hunger. Such an observation troubled him greatly. Berolinus. The Marine shook himself, as if dismissing some potent enchantment. The look on his face faded as he locked eyes with the Primarch and he cleared his throat. Forgive me, lord. It is justI never imagined this. I never envisaged myself here on hallowed Terra. Terra is hallowed no longer, Berolinus. Guilliman replied with a sneer. The weakness of the Imperium has afflicted her, weakened her. A cancer of treachery and sedition ravages this world. All that the Emperor wrought is undone. No, you stand on a world far fallen from grace. We are here to restore that grace. Berolinus bowed his head at his masters wisdom. The Alpha Legion. Guilliman said again, as much a demand as a question. Images if his last encounter with the warriors of the Alpha Legion flashed through his mind and he shook himself, banishing the ominous memories. The warriors of that Legion are an enigma to me. Perhaps the demise of command structure caused them concern enough to flee in the face of the Tau. Or perhaps there is more to this than meets the eye. Guilliman answered, suspicion dominating his expression. I will deal with this mystery when this war is over. For now, our immediate goal is clear. We hunt the Kroot. Shame. Said the voice in Berolinuss head. He burns with shame at the survival of the Kroot. This is the being you worship, Berolinus. This is your flawless Primarch. He is weak and he is afraid of the wrath of his xenos master. Would you willingly serve such weakness? Berolinus rotated his neck slowly and fell in by the Primarchs side. For all his apparent indifference, he could not hide the glimmer of doubt in his eyes. +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL BASILICA +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL CITY +++ +++TERRA +++

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The light of the electro-candle guttered in the priests hands, his own palsied grasp adding to the motion of the light. The vastness of the Catacombs of Heroes stretched out around him as far as the scarce light would allow him to see. His every step caused clouds of eons-old dust to billow up around him, but Father Lestorchio paid the choking atmosphere little heed. He had lost all contact with the roving Arco-Flagellant tomb sentries more than three days ago, and this troubled him greatly. To lose contact with one, or maybe two, would not have given him cause for due concern, but here in the lowest reaches of the Holy Basilica, the area was unimaginably vast, and the silent and twisted guardians many. He froze as a sound in the darkness echoed through the endless arched expanse. Eyes that had been augmented to peer through the perpetual gloom flitted from shadow to shadow, searching for the source of the noise. Who goes there? He cried, his voice breaking. Show yourself! Who disturbs the sanctity of the Catacombs? This is a hallowed place! There was no reply. Lestorchio shivered and drew his simple robes about him, as if the numbing cold had suddenly increased further. He was alone down here, to all intents and purposes. His sentry-skulls flitted through the void around him, the illumination radiated by their crimson eyes barely visible. Another servo-skull hovered by his side, the miniaturised multilaser mounted beneath it cycling in readiness. Far above his head the war for Terra continued to rage. As guardian of the catacombs, he was the only one left here to defend the ancient site, for it was a serious crime to leave the Catacombs unguarded, even if the role was primarily a ceremonial one. Nothing had disturbed the serenity of the vast tomb complex for an age, and now A distant whine snatched his attention and he scoured the gloom, searching for the telltale light signature of the sentry-skulls. He could see nothing, not even the faintest glow. Return to me! He called, feeling the fear building inside him. The unit by his side became agitated, responding empathically to its masters state of mind. It began to cycle around him, probing the gloom with its searchlight eyes. There was no response to the priests call, and this only caused Lestorchio to grow even more concerned. Something was definitely amiss down here and he knew it. He began to whisper beneath his breath, praying to the Emperor to deliver him to safety. It was as if the air round him had grown far colder in a matter of seconds, and he dismissed any suspicions of his own imagination when he saw his own breath streaming from his mouth, white and clouded in the air. He could take no more. Petrified almost beyond the edge of reason, he cast around on his heel and made to run, a sensation of utter panic enveloping him. There was a whine and a flash and his silent guardian disappeared amid a shower of sparks, wheeling away into the gloom Argh! No! Please Something vast filled his vision, a wall of smooth ivory, pitted with age and smeared with a dark crimson crust. He raised his eyes to meet the terrible twin voids of the things burning gaze. Emperor, save me He whispered.

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The Emperor did not answer. +++ Deep within the vast walls of the Imperial Palace, Mephetran stirred. He looked out into the darkness and smiled. Ah, there they are. At last. Of course, he could not see them, not physically, but such a being had no need to obey the lesser laws of reality. He could sense the shift, he could feel them, master as he was of the stuff of creation. Every single thing in the universe affected its surroundings, and Mephetran was one of the few who knew how to read the signs of change. The ancient machines around him whispered, cogitator banks and logic stacks stirring at his words as if imbued with a life of their own. Yes, I sense them. Unleash them, I will not intervene. We have a common enemy, you and I. Make war with the Ancient Enemy, let them see that we will not tolerate their interference. The whispering of the machines intensified, and his expression told of the fact that he relished the clear agitation of his counterpart. I know you mean to send them after the Masters of Life. Do not seek to try and unnerve me. I would destroy them on sight. No, they hunt another target, I know that. You were wise to heed my warning. Kill the Old Ones, and the forces of life will fall apart.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Three: The Eternity Wall Run
Qah shivered, a visible and unexpected occurrence. Ventris felt the sudden emotional change within the being beside him as a physical sensation and glanced towards his mysterious xenos counterpart. He did not need to ask the question. The dark being sensed his attention and looked his way, his vast eyes blinking once. They are abroad once again. The Void Champions. He has sent them to hunt for me. The Ancients eye narrowed as he heard this and he gestured around him at the vast sea of Alliance forces. Then let them come. We are legion. All they will find here is death. Events progress at an ominous pace, warrior. Qah replied, his voice low and heavy with palpable caution. It was clear by his manner that he took little solace in the Ultramarines reassurances. Would that you were able to comprehend all that is destined to pass. Your Emperor has passed into the final phase of his existence. He is free now, and his wrath will be terrible, but his ultimate destiny will take time to be realised. Look above you. Qah gestured up at the skies, and Ventris followed the Old Ones gaze.

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The firmament was in a state of constant flux. It was no longer recognisable as the sky. Vast clouds of multi-hued, glittering energy swam and churned above them, as if a storm was building. This was far from any natural phenomenon; Ventris knew that with utter certainty. What is it? His legacy, Uriel Ventris. He is free now, at last. You could not know it but your Emperor has desired this for so long. He has sat upon his throne for an age, awaiting this final death. He is free now, and his wrath will know no bounds. What is happening? Ventris asked, unable to tear his gaze away from the building, ever-changing phenomenon. I can feel it. Something builds. He calls them. Qah answered, his voice barely more than a whisper. He is the shepherd, and he calls his flock to war. You cannot comprehend the scale of the conflict that is to come, but you must be ready for it. Heed my words, Uriel Ventris. Be prepared. Ventris did not know how to answer the enigmatic xenos. Although he understood little of what Qah said, something in his voice confirmed his every claim, as if the truth of the Old Ones words was a palpable and doubtless thing. It was as if his every cell was designed to recognise the beings benevolence and sincerity. Like the Emperor and the Primarchs, he found he could not doubt anything the alien claimed. It was a feeling of ancient and utter trust. The Prophet comes. Qah said then, extending a hand out towards the towering structures beyond the gate. The one you know of as Codian. He comes, and he leads an army. He will be the making of this war. Codian Ventris echoed, following the aliens gaze out beyond the armies of the Unity. He hadnt actually expected to be able to see his old comrade, and nor could he. There are many who will come seeking his death, for he has been blessed by your Emperor to be his avatar. He is but mortal, but his role is a symbolic one. He represents, courage, determination and denial, and these are anathema to the enemy. He is to be the conduit, the link. He will forge an army the likes of which even the Unity cannot stand against. Ventriss eyes remained fixed on the distant city, and his hearts soared at hearing this, despite the incredulity in his soul. He had recognised this quality in Codian since the first moments of their reunion, and had found that he could not deny it. It was this that had urged him to aid the Chaplains flight, even in the face of the Warmasters wrath, and now Qahs words served only to affirm that decision. What can we do? He asked quietly, suddenly feeling the weight of this knowledge bearing down upon him. We have to Have faith. We must have faith in him. His destiny is guided by a higher power, and we must trust that. All this, as terrible and apocalyptic as it may seem, is but a precursor. I know that you have witnessed the horror and power of a star god with your own eyes, Uriel Ventris, and such an experience changes the heart and soul. That is why I tell you and you alone of the nightmare that is to come, for there is only you that can even begin to appreciate it.

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Ventris fell silent then, his hearts quickened at the mention of that horrific encounter on Pavonis centuries ago. The dark thing. The spectre of death. You know it? Qah inclined his head slowly on confirmation. The ancient enemy of life, yes. The Eldar gave him the name Kaelis Ra, for he is the master of death, and the horror that is his existence is carved into the souls of all living things. You keep that fear deep within your soul, hidden and guarded, but I can sense it still. Once, Kaelis Ran and his kind were many, but now only four of the star gods remain. They will gather once more, and soon, to reap the lives of every living thing here. We must prevent this. How? How can we stop this from happening? When Codian comes, heed his word. Trust in him, for there are those who will allow rage to blind them to the truth. Alone, he may be unable to convince them of his intentions. He will need you, Uriel Ventris. Do not fail him. +++ Codian stepped to one side as another of the massive, lumbering beasts stomped by him. The Master Shaper had called these huge bipedal beasts Knarlocs, and explained to him that they were in fact a sub-species of the Kroot race. Ghroakar had assured him that the beasts would not aggressively towards him or his companions, but Codian found it hard to fully accept this, and with good reason. The Knarlocs were fearsome creatures, massive and predatory. They bore many physical similarities to the Kroot, but where the Kroot were intelligent and articulate, the Knarlocs were bestial and imposing. He could smell the oily stench of the creatures despite the filters in his helm, and could only imagine how discomfiting the collective odour must be for the others accompanying him. The Master Shaper had ordered the lumbering beasts forward in readiness to meet the Tau forces at the gate. Many of them carried huge but crude bolt throwers at their backs, armed with explosive bolts. Along with the sharp shooting squads, these would provide the covering fire needed to allow him and the others to reach the friendly lines. The Cadian had just returned from a forward scouting mission with several of the pathfinder Kroot. He nodded to each of the aliens in turn and they dispersed, sinking back into the main Kroot army. We are close to the rear of the Unity lines, Chaplain. The going ahead will be tough. The enemy is spread wide across the gate. Its going to be one hell of a fight to push through. We will carve a path through them. Ghroakar answered. He tore the bone and feather totem hanging at his neck free and stooped low to place it on the ground, emitting a series of quiet, whooping clicks as he did so. Taking the curved blade at his rifles haft, he scooped the totem up and flung it out into the deserted street before him. Whatever this meant, Codian had no idea, but the symbolism of it was not lost upon the Kroot. Warbles and squawks drifted through the alien army, noises of confirmation at the Shapers apparent order or request.

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We will pierce the heart of the Unity. Ghroakar said, looking to the Chaplain. And the lifeblood will drain from the enemys assault. Many spirits will find their way to the ancestors this day As he spoke, Codian saw a cold and hazy light grow behind the Shapers eyes. Ghroakars beak fell open, and his quills stood on end. What is it? Codian whispered. The Master Shaper spun on his heel and rose to his full height. He glanced down the street the way they had come. The enemy. They come. Codian felt his entire body tense as he heard this. He brought his weapons up and started out after the Shaper, who had begun to wave his way through the Kroot, his attention ever fixed to the way they had come. What is it, Kroot? What do you sense? The enemy, Codian. They are behind us. The news took several seconds to sink in. The Chaplain watched as Kroot began to blink from existence in response to their commanders revelation. Torvus shouldered past him, a low growl issuing from between his lips. It would seem that we are to see action sooner than we expected. Let them come. No. Ghroakar answered, twisting at the waist to hold a hand out at the Marines advance. You must continue. Fate has set you on this path, and you must not falter. Codian heard this and felt a shiver pass through his soul. He could feel the dawnblade in his grasp, pulling in the direction of the gate. He knew the path he had to take, and that knowledge lodged itself within his heart like a shard of ice. He threw a curt nod at the Master Shaper and pivoted around to face the direction of the gates. Press on! To the Ultimate Gate, as fast as you can! He set off on a loping stride that quickly accelerated into a sprint, passing the others by in seconds. This initially bewildered Czevak and the others, who watched aghast as the Chaplain thundered past. What are you waiting for? Orechiel snapped, snatching at his robes. Move your Horus-damned arse! Czevak whispered a swift prayer at his counterparts curse and stumbled after her, soon finding his feet. Codian ignored the pounding of the blood in his veins as he negotiated his way through the divergent Kroot mass, weaving past the lumbering Krootox and Knarlocs. Massive feet crashed to the ground beside him, causing him to compensate for each thunderous impact as he bore on. Before him, flocks of winged Kroot took to the air, carried aloft on small and membranous wings. Many of the aliens came about to run in the opposite direction, intent on engaging the enemy forces bearing down upon them. He threw himself out onto the street, the walls of the alleyway folding away to reveal a wide boulevard fringed with tall Administratum buildings. Paper choked the streets, drifting in clouds across the wide expanse. Data slates were strewn far and wide, most broken and ruined. Piles of blackened brass cogitator

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banks formed makeshift barricades across the road, but most of these roadblocks had been breached, blasted aside by whatever enemy force had passed this way previously. He heard the former Tau ambassador holler something behind him and he cast around in time to see Gormats face, his expression a mask of fear. The Tau was pointing out into the street, his voice high-pitched and screaming. A single phrase stood out amongst the aliens rant, and although he neither recognised nor understood it, the sinister weight of its implications was enough to grab his attention. Area denial node He felt his entire body rock as something powerful and violent exploded mere metres away from him. Pain coursed through him as tens of small but deadly detonations assailed his armour, burning through the thick ceramite and into his flesh. His rosarius flared and the dawnblade thrashed within his grasp, its otherworldly influence denying the damage done to his body. Scores of Kroot fell around him, and despite his pain he looked on as Gormat arced back, the aliens grey flesh lacerated in a dozen places. The next few seconds passed in a blur. He watched as Umbras sprinted forward and plucked the stricken Tau from the ground. Gormat was hurt but alive, his many injuries not enough to threaten his life. He saw the threat then as he spun on his heel, feeling the anger at the attack building within him. Scattered across the square were several unrecognisable constructs, clearly Tau in origin. Large, circular constructs several metres across, each one was identical. Each sported a bowl-shaped base and a brace of weapons Codian had come to know of as railcannons, and was similar in design to the automated turrets they had encountered. Find cover! He shouted, watching as the nearest of the devices unleashed another whining double blast. The blasts spread as they screamed towards the Kroot, and the Chaplain looked on in horror as the submunitions exploded. Kroot literally disintegrated beneath the powerful attack. Unprotected bodies were ripped to shreds, nothing able to protect them. Codian had found a short stone wall and as crouched behind it, only his head and shoulders above the protective cover. A quick glance around him confirmed that the others of his collective were unharmed, except for Gormat, whose injuries were ominous but not threatening to his life. There was no sign of Ghroakar. At that moment, he did nit know if the Master Shaper was somewhere amongst the Kroot, or if he had doubled back to face the coming enemy. For all he knew, Ghroakar could even be dead. Just then he felt a tingling, hazy warmth in his mind, and a moment later long fingers curled around his shoulder guard. The Master Shapers eyes pulsed with light as he gave the Chaplain a nod of reassurance and then rose, ignoring the danger. He lifted his head and let out a series of gruff, avian screeches, the harsh sounds carrying far over the tumult of the melee. Kroot responded to this indecipherable command, surging forth despite the threat. Hulking Knarlocs bounded towards the defence nodes, the Kroot at their backs unleashing streams of explosive bolts at the

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machines. Codian rose to his feet and gestured for the others to follow him. Another double blast speared from one of the constructs, this time a brace of the solid projectiles he had come to know and rightly fear. He threw a hand up to his face instinctively as one of the mighty beasts came apart in an explosion of gore, torn to shreds by the power and velocity of the twin shot. We need to get out of here! Follow me! The towering walls of the Palace were visible now, high above even the tallest of the surrounding buildings. Scorched papers gusted past his face and he swept them away, fighting to identify the best route to the gate while they still had a chance of success. There. To his left he spied another long boulevard twisting away from sight. The road was lined with tall golden statues supported by plinths of the purest white marble. Many of the statues had been toppled by the Unity bombardment, and now lay in ruins upon the street, forlorn and blackened. This way. He said, setting off across the dangerous expanse of no mans land. Ligur, Torvus and Umbras shifted to the outer edges of the group, forming a protective ring around the others. They were halfway across the expanse when the first signs of the pursuing enemy showed themselves. Codian noticed a shadow pass over him, small but noticeable, and he raised his eyes to peer up into the skies above, seeking the source of the outline. Remora! Remora! It was Gormat. Once again the Taus keen eye had detected the threat, despite his condition. Codian watched as the small drone aircraft began a lazy turn, almost sure that he could sense its attention upon him. Moments later, it drifted out of sight. Moments after that, the first attack run came. A squadron of Barracudas screamed in towards them from the depths of the city, guns blazing. Bright shimmering ion blasts carved through the Kroot, killing without pause or mercy. Almost at the same instant he became aware of the scream of more familiar engines, and a glance in the opposite direction confirmed his suspicions. He heard the Cadian let out a whoop of joy as he too recognised the Imperial aircraft. There were several of them, much smaller than their Tau counterparts, and faster. The fighter craft took only seconds to sweep over the troubled Kroot forces, and it took Codian only a second to realise he had made a grave error of judgement. Lascannon blasts lanced through the Kroot, cutting entire kindreds in two. Autocannon fire burst bodies apart like rip fruit, sending clouds of gore drifting across the wide junction. Emperors oath, they betray us Codian breathed, watching as the two squadrons passed each other by without incident or exchange. It was only then that he noticed the enemy markings on the flanks of the Lightning fighters and realised how foolish he had been to assume them friendly in the first place. Treacherous b-----ds. He heard Torvus growl. The first explosions began to filter through the tumult, and he knew then that the Kroot rearguard had engaged this new enemy force. He found himself barely able to comprehend how this enemy force had managed to gain on them so quickly, but he knew it was pointless to dwell on such questions. All that mattered now was that they reach the Alliance in time.

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He had no idea what was coming for him.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Four: Nemesis

Everything was chaos. Many of the automated defences still survived, and were reaping a heavy toll upon the Kroot forces. Now that the Master Shaper seemed to have decided his fate lied with facing the enemy rearguard, the distinction between the two forces was once again becoming apparent. A quick glance behind him and he saw that only humans followed him now. Kroot continued to peel away from the mass as kindred after kindred left to face the coming enemy. There were many thousands of Kroot here on Terra, but there were nowhere near that many here. Ghroakar had brought with him perhaps five to six hundred warriors, and Codian had no idea where the rest of the Kroot forces were. Many were still no doubt in orbit, fighting the ships of the Unity. Many more had also already perished here, for the Kroot had suffered more than most in this war. Thousands of others were dispersed throughout the city, fighting running battles just like this one. This saddened Codian, for he knew in his heart that it would be this scattered separation that would sign the death-knell of the race. United, they may have stood a chance. He could see little hope for them now. The familiar face of Commissar Santarius faded in and out of the shifting mass behind him. Most of the Imperial defenders they had found had all but disappeared in the hours following their encounter, entire squads enveloped by the sheer number of Kroot. Now that the Master Shaper had called his warriors to war, the beleaguered defenders were once more distinct and visible. Codian slowed a little as he noticed the Commissar struggling to catch up with him. A look of appreciation passed over the aging officers face as he caught up at last, his features red with exertion. We have about a kilometre and a half to go. Santarius guessed, pointing the tip of his sabre out into the distance. Codian followed the gesture and found himself staring at the magnificence of the Eternity Wall Gate for the first time. They had passed into the wide, statue-lined boulevard a short time ago, and now they were on a path that headed straight for the gate itself. Codian took in the sight and his analytical mind quickly confirmed the Commissars estimation. Codians eyesight, however, was far keener than that of his counterpart, and there was one important fact that the Commissar had left out of his assessment. We have around a kilometre before we reach the rear of the enemy forces. Codian observed. We had better hope that we are able to find a way around or through the Unity forces, for there is no way we can hope to fight them. We are with you, Chaplain, whatever fate may bring. Santarius replied. Life or death, as long as we do our duty, it matters not what happens to us. Codian dearly wished he could respond to this, but he could not. For the first time in his life he found he could not reply, for he knew that, whatever he said, it would sound hollow and emotionless. It was highly likely that the Commissar would find his end here, and soon. The inevitability of death hung heavy over them all, and Codian knew they all would be hard-pressed to escape its grasp.

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We must fight to ensure that it does not come to that, Commissar. Codian said, finally finding his voice. The soldiers of the Emperor are no longer expendable, the Tau have seen to that. Every breath we take brings with it an opportunity to oppose the Unity, and we must continue to do that for as long as we can. This is our duty. Then the enemy will find themselves hard-pressed to put an end to my life. Santarius answered, his resolve fuelled by the Chaplains words. The scream of aircraft engines drowned out all other noises for a moment and Codian looked skyward to see the weak sunlight fade to darkness. Scores of Unity aircraft passed overhead, and for a second he expected to see his end descending from above. The bombardment did come, but not in the way he had expected. He looked on as the skies began to fall, hundreds of large cylindrical objects twisting lazily towards the ground. None of the others needed to tell him what they were, he knew only too well. Automated turrets, yet more of them. He watched as the objects continued to tumble and found himself at last beginning to understand how the Tau had been able to rise to power so quickly. Their use of and reliance on machines was near-total. The Tau themselves were as stars in the heavens, and yet their numbers paled in comparison to the drones and semi-sentient war machines they employed. Such a complete reliance on technology was a dangerous thing, Codian knew this without a doubt. Much of the Imperiums ancient history was soured by such ages, and the lessons were there to be learned. No good would come of the Unitys reliance on artificial intelligence, he knew that. He started to slow, realising that to continue to charge headlong towards the waiting gates would be to invite death. The first of the turrets were already slowing as they neared the ground, retros and guidance thrusters bringing them to a controlled stop. By the time they reached the area it would be saturated by the constructs, and they would be hard-pressed to survive the journey, let alone bypass the forces awaiting them. The numbing realisation that they were very much caught in an ever-worsening situation weighed heavily on Codian, and it was a feeling that could only increase. Circumstances were becoming more and more desperate with the passing of each moment, and, try as he might, he could not envisage a way through this nightmare. He glanced before him and then behind him again and again, searching for any answer he could find. I am not done yet. He whispered, unwilling to give up the task that now so totally consumed his existence. Santarius scoured the surroundings junctions and intersections, frustration etched upon his face. Damn it. None of us are familiar with this area, Chaplain. We could risk taking any one of these side-streets, but I cant guarantee if any of them lead to the Palace Codian shook his head slowly. Tell your troops to find cover and dig in. He answered quietly. It looks as if this is as far as we go. Slowly but surely the deflated Imperials did as they were ordered. Arbites began to take charge, directing the soldiers of the Terran PDF, the Guard and the scattered units of Skitarii how best to use the familiar

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buildings of the Imperial City in the coming conflict. Codian made sure the Imperials and Kroot that were still with them were well on their way to securing themselves against the inevitable fight when a sudden occurrence caused him to start. He wheeled around, almost firing his reloaded bolt pistol, as something flashed into existence. Ghroakar appeared, born by a brace of the warp-jumping Kroot. All three were battered and bloodied but devoid of any serious injury. Codian The Master Shaper stumbled forward, fighting his way free of his companions. Though utterly alien, Codian recognised the expression on Ghroakars face as one he knew only too well. Fear. Beware. He comes, Codian. The armoured giant. We cannot stop him Hoots and cries of panic rose up from the approaching Kroot forces hot on the Master Shapers heels. Lithe bodies surged through the streets in their hundreds, so thick that entire kindreds rubbed shoulders in their flight. The Unity came after them without mercy, skimmers and tanks darting from the depths of the city to lay down withering salvos of fire. At first he could be forgiven for assuming that the Kroot were fleeing before the power and violence of the attack. It was only as Ghroakar grabbed his arm and thrust his beaked face closer. Take flight, Codian! My warriors fight to keep the enemy at bay but the giants fury knows no bounds! Stay, and he will kill you. He will kill you all! Codian flung the Master Shaper away from him and threw himself into a roll as one of the powerful hovering tanks swooped by overhead. The powerful dual cannons mounted to its turret spun a hail of azure death, and none who were caught in its path could stand against its fury. Burst cannon rounds raked the ground, chewing up Kroot as if they were nothing. The Chaplain rolled up onto his feet and slid into cover, twisting around the crumbling section of wall and coming about in time to send a trio of shots out at the burning thrusters of the departing craft. He could not see Ghroakar, but guessed that the Master Shaper was safe, for he had thrown him clear of the deadly cannons path. Yet more of the skimming war machines tore down the wide boulevard over the heads of the scattering Kroot, punching holes through the defenceless warriors. Head for the gate! Find the safest route you can and get to safety! He called to his comrades and the Imperial collective. His idea to stay and face the coming force had been short-lived, for now, in the face of such ominous news, they had little choice but to try and realise the original plan. His thoughts swam then, as if the inside of his head became thick and pressurised. The dawnblade in his hands looked to grow, not just simply in volume as it had done before but in power and presence, as if to tower over him, envelop him. He knew the phenomenon was all in his head, and yet he could not help but feel as if the powerful sentience within the ancient weapon had him in its grasp. He comes, Prophet. He seeks your destruction. Try to beat him and he will destroy you. Who? He asked, his own voice distant and muffled to him. Even as the question left his lips, his mind reeled, as if the answer had always dwelt inside him.

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You know who. The voice said, confirming his deepest suspicions. A part of you has awaited this day since first you opened your eyes here, Daelo Codian. There is no more time to delay. Now you must run. The presence was such an fundamental part of him now that it was as if it dare not utter the name that burned in his mind. It retreated then, and the warped perspective dissipated, disgorging him back into reality. He took a deep, heaving breath, as if he had been deprived of air, and cast around. Something huge and incredibly fast barged its way through the Kroot, scattering broken bodies as a raging storm would saplings in its wake. The speeding shape ground to a halt with such force that it tore the ground up as it slowed, sending chunks of rockcrete curling before it like surf. Such was the vast figures speed that its azure outline blurred with each movement. Steel flashed and ran fluid before it, carving Kroot into bloodied strips of flesh and bone. None could counter its terrible attacks, and in that clear and horrific split-second, Codian knew the moment he had so feared for so long had come to pass. Without a word he pivoted on his heel and sprinted away, his legs driving into the ground. Had he waited but a second later, he would have caught sight of another, shorter, armour-clad figure arriving on the scene. The Marine swept his hammer before him as he scanned his surroundings, and caught sight of the retreating warrior in the dark armour of a Chaplain. Perched on his shoulder, the avian cyber-construct unleashed a dual high-pitched cry of confirmation. The birds senses were now entwined with his own, an extension of his own, and this confirmed it. My lord! There! Roboute Guillimans head snapped around at his wards call, and his dark eyes widened. The Chaplain who allies himself with this cannibal traitor filth. He is mine! Codian ran. He ran as fast as he could, not through fear or cowardice but through necessity. As much as the fact infuriated him, he knew in his heart that this was a necessary course of action. Still another part of him could not bear to look back, almost afraid of what he would see, and what that sight could confirm. His Primarch was long dead. His body was held in stasis still, or worse, unthinkable even, abused and violated by the Tau. Roboute Guilliman, son of the Emperor was dead, and would remain so until his own eyes confirmed any different. Ligur and the others were some way ahead of him at this point, and that gave him a measure of relief. Had any of them any idea what was happening behind them then they would doubtless fold, for how could any man not? He had to keep pushing. He had to get to Calgar and the commanders of the Alliance. Tremors rocked the ground beneath his feet and he felt his dual pulses quicken. He doubted the fact that he had ever ran as fast in all his life and yet, given the rapid increase of the thunderous vibrations, he knew then it was not enough. His instincts took over and he leapt, twisting in the air as he began to descend. At that instant he saw it. He saw him. He saw an opponent he could not hope to outrun, or to best in combat. He saw an opponent that could not be felled by bolt round or chainblade, and whose speed and power were more than a match for even the unforgiving bite of the dawnblade.

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He saw death denied, and life, of a fashion, restored. He saw his greatest, most euphoric dreams and his worst nightmares, as large as life. He saw the hate, and that cut him to the bone. Silver flashed by him and he raised the dawnblade up to parry it, his own reflexes greatly augmented by the energies of the living weapon. Blinding energies coruscated before his eyes and he felt the ground slam into his back, the impact causing exhaust gases to vent from his punished power plant. The ground shook as he rolled to the side, hearing the ring of steel on rockcrete, no, through rockcrete, and he pushed himself up onto his feet in time to parry another mighty blow. The impact was immense. His every bone rattled as he parried the blow, the servo-bundles that powered his suits motive systems screaming in protest. He survived another blow, and then another. The last strike drive him back into the wall of a building with such force that it cracked the grey ferroplaster but there was no time to rest and gather his thoughts. He threw his head to one side a heartbeat before the wide blade punched into the wall up to the hilt, and he found himself staring at a fist large enough to turn his helm to bloodied scrap with a single blow. The Primarch of the Ultramarines glared at him, those terrible black eyes shining with utter contempt for his very existence. I see the colours of a son of Ultramar upon your shoulder, Chaplain, and such a sight breaks my heart. I am laid low with grief to see how far my magnificent sons have fallen, but that grief will serve to fuel me as I wipe away the stinking film of heresy that suffocates the dying heart of my lost Imperium. Guillimans words were cold and measured, yet Codian could feel the conviction behind them. No foe had ever hated him as much as the towering behemoth before him did, and that fact was enough to encase his heart in ice. Face to face, in that lingering and eternal moment, Codian knew he could never see those black, alien eyes so close again. I know, my Primarch. He whispered. I know how lost and utterly alone you are, the true Roboute Guilliman. I will save you, my lord. I vow this. Guilliman unleashed a shuddering roar of rage and tore Codians helm from him with all the effort it would take a man to pull the pin from a grenade. Codian let out a cry of pain as the helm was wrenched free, sealing rings bursting and spinning away. I would look upon the face of one truly lost. The Primarch uttered. For my eyes bear the true and full judgement of the Creed. I find you wanting. Guillimans head lurched forward then, its entire outline blurring for a second. Codian slid down the wall and rolled out of harms way as the Primarch crashed into the wall, his vast weight causing him to stagger through the thick partition. He felt a strong hand drag him to his feet and looked into the eyes of Torvus, the head of the mighty hammer in his other hand smouldering with the discharge of the energies it had just unleashed. Torvus said nothing as he hauled the Chaplain after him. His face wore an expression of anguish and disbelief, as if he could not believe his own actions. Behind them, a terrible and inhuman roar of unfettered rage shook the air.

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Make it to safety, Chaplain. The hulking Marine whispered, guiding him in the direction of the others. Avenge me. Codian felt the warriors grip loosen and sank away from sight. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see the Deathwatch Marine turn to face the emerging behemoth, his vaunted hammer ready for combat. Beyond the Primarch, the rest of the Unity forces surged after them. Torvus! Marine, no! Torvus met Guilliman as the Primarch advanced, steadfast and unafraid. The Primarch raised his mighty sword and prepared to strike the defiant warrior down. This will end only one way, traitor! Guilliman shouted, looming over the smaller warrior. In death, yes! Torvus answered. And I am not afraid, for I will die with defiance in my heart, and all the fury and power of a Primarch will not change that! With that he thrust the head of his hammer out at the coming leviathan and awaited his end. Guilliman was upon him in seconds. His first strike smashed against the storm shield of his opponent with enough force to utterly annihilate the devices field generator. Arcing flares of bright energy coruscated around the cruciform shield, and then the thick refractive plate gave way, splitting down the middle. Torvus staggered back, sparks spitting from the plate of his shield arm. He swung the hammer and caught the Primarch with a blow to the wrist, enough to divert his next effort, and then prepared to push home his attack. Guilliman recovered far faster than any mortal man and used the force of his opponents blow to twist him around, the blade flashing out to meet his opponent. Torvus ducked and low and brought the hammer up, only to have it turned aside by the Primarchs free hand. Guilliman hefted the Marine high into the air, his fist still wrapped around the crackling head of the hammer, and then flung him, weapon and all, away into the nearest wall. Berolinus arrived by his side, his scarred face alight with the excitement of combat. He saw the punished heap that was Torvus and then looked to his Primarch, the light of blood-hunger in his eyes. At his shoulder, the psyber-eagle Aegis flapped its vast wings, as if eager to rend the flesh of the prone Astarte. My lord, what is your wish for this one? He asked, standing over the fallen Astarte. He stirs still. Shall his end be swift or punishing. Just kill it. Guilliman answered, his keen eyesight picking out the distant form of the fleeing Chaplain. Berolinus nodded and looked to the warrior at his feet. He raised the hammer above his head, ready to strike the warriors skull from his shoulders, and then paused. A glimmer of recognition passed over his features as he looked upon the face of the warrior he was about to kill. He knew the dark skin and harsh, angular features, and this was enough to stay his hand. You He uttered, his eyes widening. I know you. Torvus. Torvus looked up into the face of his would-be killer and spat, a gesture of the absolute contempt in his heart. I do not know you, xenos-serving filth. Kill me and be done with it.

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You do know me, Astarte. Ber I do not know you. Torvus hissed again, reaching for his own fallen weapon. Whoever you are, disgust and revulsion has scoured you from my mind. Berolinuss expression hardened. The hammer in his hand descended and Torvus was no more.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Five: Feral

Codian closed his eyes and offered up a prayer to his lost comrade. Torvus was dead, he knew that without a doubt. As brave and as skilled a warrior as he was, no mortal being could hope to survive an encounter with a Primarch. He soon reached the others, his dark mass passing between Gormat, Orechiel and Czevak. Chaplain! We had thought Czevak began. Torvus is gone. Unless we push ourselves, we are next. The Primarch has our scent and he will not stop until we are all dead. Up ahead the advance squads of the withdrawal unexpectedly parted down the centre, flowing like twin rivers both left and right. He saw Ligur turn and shout something to him before the Librarian followed the flow of the left-hand section, soon disappearing around the corner and out of sight. Within moments he came to the end of the wide alleyway and found himself staring into a wide abyss. The ground fell away sharply, and beyond the curved waist-high rockcrete wall a vast amphitheatre stretched out into the distance, enveloping much of the environment before them. Whatever purpose this massive arena served was not apparently clear, but many symbols and icons of the Imperial Church littered the vast bowl. Devotional pamphlets fluttered past him and, as he bore on he found his legs becoming entangled in brass and copper censer stands. Look! He heard Grungi call, and followed the squat aliens outstretched finger. We are closing in the keep of your Emperor. Grungi was right. Beyond the vast amphitheatre, towering over the buildings at the far side, the walls of the palace could be seen, much clearer now. They were close enough now to see the tiny pinprick flashes of light that were the guns of the defenders on the bulwarks, sending fiery death down onto the heads of the attacking Unity. A newfound surge of hope coursed through him at the sight of this, and he found fresh reserves of energy within. The area covered by the arena was truly vast, but beyond it lay his destination. He soon realised that he was descending a long flight of stairs that continued to grow steeper with each step, and he found himself fighting to keep from sending bodies crashing down the steps before him. There were literally hundreds of identical staircases surrounding the arena, and the speed of their flight had forced entire squads apart. Men and women found themselves divided from friends and comrades as they were forced down ever-dividing intersections and accessways by the rush. Within moments, a torrent of fleeing bodies spilled down the curving sides of the amphitheatre, desperate to escape the coming Unity.

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Codian and the others were perhaps halfway down the winding maze of steps when the first elements of the pursuing force caught up with them. Several speeding shapes roared over the lip of the highest point and dipped sharply towards the deserted centre of the arena, the pilots of the small two-man skimmers obviously surprised by the sheerness of the sudden drop. Explosions rocked the wall seconds later as other, larger shapes soared into view, borne forth on plumes of bright fire. The bodies of Imperials tumbled into the precipice, or were thrown into it by the detonations. Codian looked on as the Devilfish transports controlled their descent, slowly but surely drifting towards the greatest concentration of stairwells either side of the arenas entrance arch. He knew that, in moments there would be enemy soldiers spilling out into the areas surrounding the exits, intent on setting up firebases. They were fleeing straight into a trap, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do about it. The walls of the vast edifice shook as more and more transports came. Pulse fire raked the maze of stairs, sending clouds of dust and blood up into the air. Missiles lanced into entire squads and blew huge sections of wall away. Down on the ground, Codian heard the first of he enemys guns open up. He could see no other course of action open to him and so, startling those around him, he threw himself to the side and vaulted over the handrail. Ligur! Grungi! With me! He hit the concaved rockcrete sides of the arena wall feet-first and accelerated quickly into a stomachchurning descent, sparks raining from the soles of his boots. The walls were steep but inclined gradually enough for him to stay on his feet. Despite this, on his way down he saw many bodies tumbling to a painful and deadly fate, caught up in bone-shattering rolling descents. After several moments he hit the floor of the arena and fell into a roll, momentum dragging him from his feet. After several bone-wrenching turns he came up onto his feet and staggered off the last effects of his momentum in order to take stock of his situation. He had made it. Grungi and Ligur soon appeared by his side, tested and shaken but alive. Grungi had fared worst of all, his bared skin red with abrasions and scrapes gained in the descent. Friends of yours, stalk-leg? The Demiurg asked, throwing a nod out at the mobilising enemy squads. Codian followed his gaze and saw with a leaden heart that they werent facing Fire warriors but Guevesa squads, humans formerly of the Imperial Guard who had given over their lives to the so-called Greater Good. Kill them. The Chaplain answered. Kill them all, but spare the transports. Ligur nodded, understanding Codians orders immediately. At that, the three warriors set off in the direction of the Guevesa squads, intent on nothing but death. Ligur, announce our intent. Codian said, pushing himself to the limits of his physical ability. A moment later and a blinding wave of psychic power surged out ahead of them. Human faces turned to meet the oncoming rush of shimmering energy, and a heartbeat later those faces were scoured of flesh, the remaining bone clattering as it fell to the ground. The deadly tide washed over the Devilfish that had carried the soldiers to their doom, but did little apart from rock it on its support legs. Within the space of a few seconds the first of the traitorous enemy squads was dead. Codian watched as the Demiurg was first into combat. He threw himself into a airborne roll and set down

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amongst them, scattering bodies with his arrival. He unfolded like a bladed steel flower as he landed, his axe flashing through armour and flesh. Bodies fell apart at his touch, no match for the monomolecular edge of Demiurg steel. Codian and Ligur soon joined the fray, each Astarte choosing his own Guevesa squad. There were three such remaining squads at this side of the entrance, and with Grungi already carving bloody ruin through one of them, the entire ambush force on this side of the arena found itself under attack. The Chaplain caught a fleeting glimpse of the Librarian cutting through the soldiers before him and then he was into his own target squad. He unleashed a storm of bolt rounds into the panicked men and then brought the dawnblade to bear, feeling the power of the weapon flood through his body. He caught a pulse round in the shoulder, the force of the blast throwing his sword arm back. His own momentum carried him into the treacherous soldiers and he felt bones break beneath his weight. He weathered an ineffectual blow to the chest with the butt of a pulse rifle and then smashed the head from the shoulders of his attacker. Another of the Guevesa fired a round almost point-blank at the back of Codians head. He lurched forward, the shot leaving a glowing white-hot ring an inch from his skull that soon dissipated. Whether or not the astonished woman had any idea of the forces that worked to keep the Chaplain alive he had no idea, but it was more than apparent that she had not expected her opponent to shrug off such a blow so easily. She turned to run, and Codian put a bolt round through her head and sent her sprawling on the ground. At that he turned swiftly and fired again, the shot near cutting the soldier retreating back up the open ramp of the Devilfish in half. Lasfire speared through the survivors of the Guevesa squad around him as the first of the Imperial soldiers pushed their way out onto the floor of the arena. You. Finish the pilot and then find me someone, anyone, who may be able to work these transports. He commanded, singling out the nearest friendly face. The Arbite nodded and thundered up the ramp, arming his shotgun as he disappeared into the interior of the Devilfish. He checked quickly that Ligur and Grungi were faring well before turning his attention to the skies. Another Piranha screamed by overhead and he put a brace of bolt rounds into its left fin as it passed by, the shots punching their way into the engine before detonating. The craft spun away, its left flank ablaze, and he paid it no more heed. He turned his attention to the opposing side of the entrance just as a missile loosed from one of the Imperial teams twisted its way across the expanse and into the nearest Devilfish, the shot striking the circular side hatch. The entire hatch caved in and the innards of the craft blew out, incinerating most of the Guevesa sheltering there. No more time, Prophet. He comes. The force of the bodiless voice caused his head to quake, and it was enough to cause him to sway on his feet. Even the presence seemed desperate, an emotion that coursed through him as if his own, and he shook himself, feeling anxiety well up within him. Grungi! Ligur! Finish this! We need to get as many as we can onto these transports He began. Something urged him to glance up at the distant reaches of the stadium, the highest point of all. He looked on as a tiny shape smashed its way through the ruins of the wall and fell, rolling like a stone down the steep incline. The Primarch was coming.

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Mobilise! He cried, the call rising to a near scream of desperation. This was through no fear or panic for his own safety, but rather a product of his concern for the others under his wing. He was not about to board one of the transports and leave the others to their fate, no matter how important it was to survive this. The voice came again, urged into being by his own considerations. You will not make it, Prophet. He is here. Call for aid. Call now, and it will come. It will do no good! Codian cried, allowing his rage to boil to the surface at last. To anyone witnessing the exchange it would seem for all the world that the Chaplain raged at the wind itself, but he did not care. There is no one that can help us, spirit! I have no way of calling for that help, even if there was! Trust your instincts. See the truth within There is no truth! He shouted, frustration taking hold. This is done! I am done! Codian. He glanced around to see Ligur sprinting towards him. The look on the Librarians face told him that Ligur had caught at least a part of his rant, and despite the fact that he could hardly claim to be able to make sense of it, it was clear that he had sensed the essence of what was transpiring. We have to leave now, brother. I hear your thoughts and I know that we cannot contact the Alliance. I am far from powerful enough to breach the psychic defences of the Palace and call for aid. The alien transports are our only hope. There is one who will hear, Codian. One who will hear the power of the voice when even the mind is unable to penetrate. Call to him. Call to him, and speak these words. They hold no mystery for you, for you already know them. Visualise what you have seen with your own eyes and add that conviction to your call. He will come. Codian saw then in his mind what the presence meant, and slowly but surely, realisation dawned upon him. He understood now. More than ever, he understood. At that he raised his head and took a deep breath, for he knew that he would need every ounce of power behind his voice if it was to carry far enough for this the being to hear his call. At this distance, when even the power of the psychic mind could not carry a message across the vast distance between him and his goal, he knew that there was only one being on the planet that possessed the ability to pick up his request for aid. At that, he threw back his head, and cried louder than he had ever done in his life. Leman Russ! Hear me! Guilliman is here! +++ +++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ Leman Russ charged into the enemy with absolute abandon, exhilarated beyond the point of ecstasy by the thrill of righteous combat. The Wolves behind him were few, less than a hundred in number, and yet they were the fortunate few, for they were present to fight at their Primarchs side. Sons of Fenris howled as they charged forward again and again, repelling attack after attack. Most of these

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warriors were old and grey of beard. In the Space Wolves, age brought with it almost legendary stubbornness and a fierce desire to follow tradition. Were it not for these few, these Long Fangs, there would have been no Wolves present to receive the second coming of their Primarch. Gone were the fearsome heavy weapons the ancients of the Chapter had brought with them. They fought with Russ now, and the presence of their Primarch was an invigorating and potent thing. Gone now were the greys and lines of age, banished by Russs return. Each and every Wolf on the battlefield was alive with vigour, forever changed and rejuvenated. Russ swung his mighty arms and felled swathes of Unity warriors with steel and fist, smashing aside that which did part beneath his blade. He was a force of nature, violent and unstoppable. Enemy warriors turned and ran from his fury, for to face him was to face the most implacable storm. Hostile fire broke against his armour, enveloping him, and yet he did not falter. Here, the fighting for the Eternity Wall Gate was thickest, and here was his place. Strike the heart and soul from them, for your Primarch and for the Imperium! Russ shouted, charging forth once again. Dominators were landing all around them, but the defence line did not falter. Russ himself swayed as one of the huge battlesuits landed before him, throwing up debris and rubble dust as it did so. He hurled himself at the construct, faster than the powerful weapons systems of the suit could track him. He swung his frostfang low and struck the foot from the Dominator before darting beneath the toppling machine. It crashed forward to the floor, and as it fell he came around and thrust his screaming blade deep into the bulk of the crew compartment. He withdrew the blade and turned to his comrades, the fire in his blood shining behind his eyes. The Primarch thrust the frostfang up into the air and opened his mouth to speak Every single hair on the back of his neck stood on end, causing the words to lodge in his throat. His pupils narrowed and his breathing slowed, as his superhuman body worked to block the many distractions assailing his other senses. He heard the voice, quiet and distant, carried on the blood-rich wind. He did not recognise it, but his interest was not attracted by the identity behind the call, but the words that were spoken. Guilliman He whispered, drawing a great chest full of air through his flared nostrils. As he did so, the pupils of his eyes dilated. Guilliman. None who were present could have claimed witness to the Great Wolfs departure. He slammed his heels into the ground, cracking the surface of the road beneath his weight and then, was simply, gone. +++ Get them in! Codian shouted, gesturing towards the captured transports. Load them to capacity and move out, as fast as you can! Several of the others were herding the Imperials into the idling skimmers under his direction. The craft swayed and shifted beneath the weight of those already inside. He waved frantically, urging the surrogate pilots to move off. Only once the Devilfish transports finally began to rise did he dare to shift his gaze. The sight lodged itself in his brain, a snapshot frozen in the lingering eternity of a single moment by the sheer and terrible magnificence of it.

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Roboute Guilliman thundered across the expanse towards him, his limbs pumping in furious motion. His sword flashed from left to right, slaughtering Kroot with every dismissive blow. The Primarch was unstoppable. Packs of the feral Kroothounds leapt at him, only to shatter against his armour. Knarlocs and their riders scattered before him rather than fall in his wake. His wrath was an almost visible force, like a fire that burned about him. Codian quickly disarmed and holstered his pistol, realising then just how useless it would be. He twisted around and set off for the nearest transport. Grungi hung from the near ramp, waving him on with the blood-slick head of his axe. The other captured skimmers were well underway now, thrusters flaring as they darted deeper into the city. The last one hovered a few feet off the ground, swaying beneath the backwash of its thrusters He was too late. He drove his heels into the ground and spun to face his attacker, bringing the living crozius up. Guilliman was upon him, large and looming in his presence. The Primarch did not meet him with steel, for if he had, Codians life was doubtless have come to an end there and then. Instead a fist surged out before him and struck the Chaplain in the centre of his breastplate. Powerful energies exploded across his armoured form. Despite the vaunted protection afforded him, Codian felt the impact of the blow as an eruption of pain, not just localised to the area of contact but an all-encompassing agony. For a lingering second he felt weightless, disembodied, and then a violent impact at his back caused the sensation of his own mass to return, and with vicious effect. Alien steel buckled beneath his weight, driving the breath from his lungs. Time seemed to disjoint itself from reality as he struggled to his feet, too dazed and in pain to marvel at the fact that he was still alive. He could feel the protective influence of the dawnblades power coursing through him, re-knitting bones and organs in the wake of the assault. He coughed up a mouthful of blood and felt it harden in his beard and around his mouth, the Larraman cells reacting with the air. He glanced up to see Grungi emerge from the interior of the craft, burning murder writ large across his face. Hands grabbed at him, trying desperately to pull him back inside, to no avail. He snarled and spat, roaring curses to those trying to stop him, and then leapt clear if the Devilfish, his sights set firmly upon the advancing Primarch. Guilliman loomed into view; his sword raised his above his head, ready to deal the killing blow. Grungi flung himself in the path of the Primarch, tumbling through the air, a tight, bladed ball of retribution. He unfurled and struck at Guilliman, his blow easily turned aside despite the Demiurgs inhuman speed. Still airborne and riding the force of the Primarchs counter, Grungi struck again three times in quick succession, turning end over end with a speed and skill no human could match. Guilliman turned every blow aside as he passed, his reactions almost instinctive. He paid the Demiurg no heed at all as he made for Codian, his target implacably acquired. Leave! Codian shouted, hammering his elbow into the side of the Devilfish before meeting Guilliman. The skimmers thrusters threw up dust around him as its engines rotated to ninety degrees, ready to propel the craft away from danger. Fallen b-----d son of Ultramar! Your days are ended! The Primarch snarled, thrusting his blade out before

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him in an attempt to run the Chaplain through. Codians reactions exceeded the giants every expectation. His arm flicked out and he deflected the strike, just enough to cause the glowing tip to slide past his armoured midriff. The dawnblade was still in its new extended state and so he took the haft of the weapon in both hands, in time to turn aside another sweeping strike. Guilliman was massive, and impossible to keep at any safe distance. Codian backed away again and again, swinging and twisting his weapon in defence. Despite his anger the Primarchs efforts were visibly nonchalant, as if his expectation to win the fight was so total that he refused to trouble himself with exertion. Grungi attacked from behind, leaping high so as to take the Primarchs head with his blade. Guilliman thrust his elbow back and sent the Demiurg tumbling away. Finish it then. Codian uttered, defiance heavy in his voice. Kill me. This war will grind on regardless. You and your xenos masters will never enslave this world. You may destroy us, but we will never bend our knee to your cause. The blood that flows my veins is Imperial, my Primarch. It is pure. No amount of murder or betrayal will ever purify the corruption that flows within you. Blind fool. Guilliman answered. You have no idea of what you speak. You cannot know the truth I know, lord Guilliman. I know far more than you realise. The Chaplain said, lowering his weapon slowly. Now kill me, while you still have the chance. He is coming for you. Guillimans patrician features tightened as he heard this. A mixture of distrust and suspicion dominated his expression as he rose slowly, the blade of his massive sword glinting in the light. He said nothing, for he had no time to speak. Something large and inhumanly fast slammed into his midriff, feet first, and sent him hurtling through the air. Traitor! A deep and thunderous voice roared, so loud Codian felt his skull vibrate and his eyes blur. Though the speeding giants arrival had been so fast and sudden, so much so that any discernable features were still blurred and made hazy by the sheer speed at which he engaged Guilliman, Codian knew the identity of his saviour well. Russ had come to save him.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Six: Russ

Guilliman landed hard, his body thrown into a violent spin. He bounced twice, his armour ringing against the hard ground and then came up onto his feet, velocity continuing to drag his mass along. Russ stayed on him all the way, his roaring sword hammering against Guillmans weapon again and again, questing to find an opening. Despite the surprise of the attack Guilliman put up an effective defence, parrying each attack with blinding speed. Russ was the shorter of the two superhuman warriors but his physique and mass were vast, and his strength showed. The segmented plates of his ancient armour rattled beneath the impact of each blow, and the long braids of hair that hung about his head danced like writhing serpents.

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The Primarchs fought on, and as the momentum of Russs initial strike against Guilliman dissipated the two combatants began to twist around one another in an almost graceful ballet, each Primarch probing for weak points in the others defence. Russ fought on with animalistic fury, while Guillimans every effort exuded grace and precision. Roboute Guilliman, icon of the Ultramarines, brought so low in the eyes of the Emperor! Russ shouted, his face alive with the thrill of combat. Hah! Righteous Guilliman, a servant of xenos masters! How far you have fallen, brother! I pity you! Save your pity and your derision, Russ. Guilliman answered, pivoting and countering as he turned on the spot. You are just another obstacle, another blind fool to educate. I will have your head before this day is done! Guilliman thrust his hands up and turned the blade of the sword towards the ground, blocking another strike. He lashed out with a foot and sent Russ tumbling backwards. The Wolf fell onto his back and rolled back up onto his feet, far from stunned. The rest of the Tau forces were flooding into the arena now, and the battle with the surviving Kroot was well and truly joined. Piranhas circled the warring forces, adding their deadly firepower to the melee. Hammerhead tanks negotiated the narrow and winding access ways, and in some cases simply dropped into the vast bowl, thrusters upended so as to arrest their descent. +++ Codian shook away the last vestiges of astonishment and cast around to see Grungi rising from his dazed position, bruised and bloodied with his confrontation with the Primarch. It looks as if weve found ourselves on the s--t end of a strategic withdrawal. The Demiurg muttered, shaking out the aches and pains from his body as he jogged towards the Chaplain. On the plus side, we seem to have acquired a good wealth of enemies to part from their lives. He reached the Astarte and slowed, taking a moment to savour the glorious battle around him before looking to Codian. Hnn. You seem to have a destiny, Codian. Go. I will keep them at bay as long as I can. I will not leave you behind, Demiurg. Codian answered. Grungi gave a curt, nasal snort at hearing this. You do not have much of a choice. Your man is a fine warrior, but I doubt he can hold an entire army back on his own for any good length of time. There is no time for a lengthy debate. You must leave, while you still can. And I could not survive this with my honour intact if I did so. I could not spend the days of my life as the coward who ran from this fight. Grungi heard this and allowed a slow smile to creep across his face. Hear bloody hear. +++ The clash of metal upon metal resounded through the arena as the two superhuman warriors battled. A

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storm of powerful blows raged between the two, the exchange sending sparks erupting from the furious melee. Russ wielded his frostfang with both hands and he used the weapon almost like a club, smashing it into Guillimans defences again and again. Guilliman kept the Primarch of the Space Wolves at arms length, if only just, meeting every blow with unmatchable precision. This is a pointless conflict, Russ! Do you not see that? The Emperor is dead, murdered and betrayed by those you fight to defend! Can you not see the corruption all around you? The Imperium is sick! Russ shouldered past Guillimans guard and barged him back, throwing him off balance long enough to bring his biting blade up to score a deep gouge across his brothers chest plate. Sparks flew as he swung his blade around and down, carving into Guillimans shoulder guard. The Ultramarine Primarch cried out in pain and thrust the tip of Agiselus up, driving it into the thick armour of his breastplate. The two behemoths pushed each other back, separating their weapons from the anchor of their opponents flesh. Russs face darkened as he ran the rotating teeth of his blade past his keen nose and then spat on the ground, disgust writ large across his face. You are not my brother. Your scent is wrong. It is corrupt, as corrupt as your heart, Guilliman. The blood that flows through your veins is p--s, weak and alien. What have they done to you? Made me strong, Russ, stronger than you can imagine. Guilliman answered. Despite the conviction he put into his words, his answer carried an accent of regret and sorrow. You are a puppet, nothing more. To kill you will be a mercy. The Wolf snarled. Guilliman heard this and frowned. Therein lies your weakness then, my brother. When I put an end to your life, there will be no mercy from me. Codian looked on as the two Leviathans entered into combat once again, and knew then that he could not flee. He had called on Russ to come to their aid when he knew that no other would be able to answer his call. Russ was a mighty warrior; near invincible in combat, but that was no guarantee that he would survive this. The spirit within the blade had known Russ would not be able to resist the opportunity to face his fallen brother, and yet a part of him doubted that the presence cared little if anything for the Wolfs fate. He could not allow Russ to fall because of him, no matter his own fate. They will make it. He said, his voice causing the Demiurg to turn towards him. The others. They will make it. They will send warning of the coming armies. I trust them. Then what are we waiting for? Grungi answered, setting off in a bounding sprint towards the fight. What manner of warrior would wish to die of old age? Codian gave a long sigh, clutched the dawnblade tightly in his hands, and advanced. Russ smashed his weapon into Guillimans sword again and again, using sheer brute strength to punish his brother. Guilliman gritted his teeth and bore the brunt of the fearsome attack. His entire body shook beneath each blow, and the blade of agiselus glowed red beneath the relentless attack.

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Russ roared like an animal, rage and bloodlust consuming him. Such was his strength and ferocity that Guilliman could do nothing save for counter his attacks, his own efforts at survival leaving him with no opportunity to counter attack. The Tau and the Kroot warred around them, the running battle swirling about the central combat like water raging around a rock. A bright and thunderous explosion erupted close to them and though the blast rocked both Primarchs, neither paid it any heed. A shadow fell over the two warriors, growing larger by the second, and Guilliman propelled himself back away from his brothers blade before sweeping his own up and out. A huge and bestial alien head bounced across the ground between them like a rock, and the mighty Great Knarlocs body crashed to the ground a heartbeat later, its intended attack put to an end. Russ leapt upon the beasts huge body and then jumped again, drawing his sword back, the tip of the blade aimed at Guilliman. He thrust his arm forward as he landed, so fast and powerful that he managed to score a deep, ragged gouge in the Primarchs arm. In the same instant Guilliman hammered his elbow into Russs chest and sent the Primarch flying back, tearing the frostfang free of his arm in the process. Guilliman was quick to take the opportunity and followed his opponent, bring his sword to bear. Russ slammed into the body of the Great Knarloc and rolled. Guilliman buried his sword up to the hilt in the dead beasts flesh again and again as he hunted for his quarry, his efforts too late each time. Russ rolled clear of the mass of flesh and bone and rose, a glowering smile spreading across his face. As he spoke, he passed his blade from hand to hand, keeping Guilliman guessing on his next move. Almost, brother, almost. You have the skill and the strength, Guilliman, but not the edge. You do not have what it takes to beat me. No one does. We shall see. Guilliman replied, extending his sword towards his foe. Remember your boast as the light fades from your eyes, Russ. Codians heart rate increased as he watched the two superhuman warriors clash once again, the prospect of entering that terrible confrontation a chilling thing. Part of him knew that the course of action he had undertaken would change things, and whatever would come of his decision to stay and fight, things would be forever changed. This will see you destroyed. The voice spoke to him then, as if reading his thoughts. So be it. I have played my part. I am satisfied. Now I must do my duty to honour, as is my way. He whispered, picking up the pace. Your part is far from done, Prophet. You will come to see that. Then you had better keep me from harm. He replied. You do not understand. There is another, one who hides the darkness within him behind a faade of familiarity. Beware the serpent in your midst, Codian. Even as he heard this he became aware of a speeding shape hurtling through the air towards him. His first reaction was to assume the thing to be some form of projectile intent on his destruction, and as such he raised his weapon and swatted at the dark shape. A piercing scream split the air as the dark bird narrowly avoided the blow, twisting in the air as it passed by the crackling weapon. Codian followed the eagles progress as it rose up into the air, shaken but unharmed,

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before turning his attention to the fight beyond. He caught a glimpse of Grungi barging his way through the warring mass before something else caught his eye, or rather stole his attention in a most spectacular fashion. The warrior skidded to a halt as he laid eyes on Codian, his features slackening in disbelief. Despite the adornments of the figure, Codian recognised his face immediately, that recognition coming to him like a slap in the face from the Emperor himself. Berolinus. Chaplain The Astarte uttered, his voice near stolen by disbelief. The shimmering hammer in his hand descended and the bloodlust drained from his face, a face that Codian could not recall bearing quite so many ritual scars. Codian. Is that you? Is that really you? Codian felt his body relax as he looked upon Berolinus, quite unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. He had thought the young Astarte dead long ago, his imagination depicting a swift and fruitless death at the hands of the Tau fleet. To see him here in the flesh, standing before him as large as life, stole the Chaplains breath away. The sights and sounds of the battle faded away as Codian looked upon his brother once again, the sight of Berolinus alive and well something he had never thought he would see again. Berolinus. I dont understand The warrior advanced upon him and snatched his arm, embracing it in a warriors handshake. Codian found himself responding, the fingers of his own free hand wrapping themselves around the Ultramarines vambrace. When the younger Astarte spoke he did so with a genuine delight in his voice. Chaplain, I cannot believe my eyes! I had thoughtI dont know, I had thought you lost to us. You left, disappeared without a trace. Now I find you here, on Terra no less. This is a glorious day! Codian released his grip and stepped back, fighting to make sense of the unexpected reunion. Berolinus gave a laugh of bewildered glee and mirrored his reaction, pointing the head of his hammer out at the warring Primarchs. My Chaplain, can you believe what you see? See the miracle before you! Our Primarch is restored! He walks amongst us once more, a god in flesh returned to us! This is the day we could only dream of, brother Codian, and it has come to pass! Guilliman has returned! Codian felt the first pangs of caution as he heard this, unwanted realisation burgeoning its way into his mind. His astonishment at seeing the warrior again fading as the cold, hard realisation of the darkness behind the reunion forced its way through. He shook his head slowly, a reaction that caused Berolinuss glee to fade. The Ultramarines expression first turned to surprise, then bemusement, and finally darkened, though the hurt behind his eyes remained. Berolinus, do you not see? We are at war with the Unity. We are at war with our Primarch. GuillimanGuilliman is the enemy. The warrior visibly sagged as he heard this, his heart broken by Codians answer. He stepped back, swaying on his feet as if struggling to stay upright. This is our Primarch, Chaplain. Roboute Guilliman, the father of us all. Howhow can you deny that?

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He is sided with the enemy, and we cannot change that. Codian answered, taking a step towards him. Berolinus, listen to me. This is madness. He would see the Imperium conquered, enslaved beneath the yoke of the xenos. They have corrupted him The warriors face darkened, a sneer of burning contempt twisting his features. The Chaplain looked on in horror as the scars on young Marines face seemed to darken and take on definition. A darkness flooded into his eyes, as if his pupils widened and spread. You are just like the others. He said, his voice taking on weight, becoming sibilant and dark. He raised the hammer and thrust it out in accusation at the Chaplain. You are a Chaplain of the Ultramarines! A master of sanctity! How can you preach the Imperial Creed and yet denounce your own Primarch? I thought that you would have understood. The truth is exactly as Guilliman says. The Imperium is corrupt, and that corruption has taken you. Codian saw then that the warrior was lost, not only to him but to the cause he had originally served, to the very meaning of his existence. In that single, lingering moment he saw how it was that the traitor legions had come to renounce their Emperor all those thousands of years ago, turned to darkness by their Primarchs. Not through evil, or a darkness of the soul, but love. Blind and unconditional love for their Primarch. He understood the powerful emotions that could change an Astartes life, and steal away his reason. Berolinus was still youthful and impressionable and, in the presence of the greatest individual ever to influence his life, he was lost to those emotions. We are enemies then, you and I. Berolinus spat, taking up a warriors stance. Codian nodded slowly, a sadness passing over his face. Yes we are. The Chaplain cried out then as he felt talons of steel rake the back of his head, tearing gouges through his flesh. Berolinus bounded towards him as the bird swooped low over Codians head and then ascended, passing over its master. Codian felt the dawnblade writhe in his grasp as he closed on his former ally. The spirit within the alien weapon was agitated, disturbed by the presence of the warrior. Since coming into the possession of the ancient weapon Codian had established an empathic connection with it. His own emotions had become closely linked with those of the mysterious presence within, and as a consequence he could feel the hatred and loathing emanating from the dawnblade. He met Berolinus with a thunderous clash of steel on steel, both mighty weapons sending flares of energy arcing out about them as they met. They stepped back from one another and Berolinus raised his shield as Codian struck again, the potent device absorbing the power of the blow. He brought his hammer up and around and Codian rolled past the strike to swing the dawnblade out. Berolinus was quick, far swifter than Codian remembered. He twisted around and met the attack with his shield, his lower body following a second later. As the dawnblade crashed into the storm shield Berolinus brought the hammer down and struck Codians shoulder guard, crushing the protective plate into his shoulder. The Chaplain staggered back, pain coursing through him. His rosarius had absorbed most of the power behind the blow but the guard was buckled, a deep dent pushed into the thick ceramite. Faster than you remember, Chaplain? The warrior sneered, his dark eyes twinkling with exhilaration. Codian looked on in revulsion as the Astartes tongue extended to lick his lips; as if to savour the pain he

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had caused his former comrade. You are nothing like I remember, Berolinus. Whatever happened to you, the warrior I knew is gone. All I see is a traitor and an abomination. And I am the last thing you will see. Berolinus snarled, driving forward. He swung the hammer and Codian pivoted as he countered the blow, using the spin to deliver a strike of his own, aimed low at the warriors legs. Berolinus thrust his shield down to counter the effort and jabbed the head of his hammer forward. Codian blocked this with his forearm and felt the impact throw him back, protective energies bursting around him. He jabbed the dawnblade up, seeking to pass beneath the shield. Berolinus brought the cruciform device down and stopped the attack, thrusting his shoulder out at the Chaplain. The ringing impact shoved Codian back and he fought to maintain his balance as Berolinus swept the hammer low, taking the Chaplains legs from under him. Codian fell onto his back and rolled, an instinctive and desperate move, and it was enough to save his life. The hammer crashed into the ground again and again, hunting for him, and as he rolled up and onto his feet he had to tile his upper body back to avoid the deadly return. The swing had been a mighty effort, the momentum of the hammers wide arc pulling Berolinus forward after it. Codian drove the haft of the dawnblade forth and hammered it into his opponents midriff with enough force to buckle the flexible material at the waist of his ancient armour. The Chaplain wasted no time in taking advantage of the opportunity and swung his fist up, landing a bone-shattering blow upon the Astartes jaw. Berolinus arced back, his limbs flailing, and landed hard on the ground. Codian advanced then, his bloodlust up, intending to finish the fight. The dawnblade writhed, eager to see the traitor destroyed. We are done here. Codian hissed, raising the weapon two-handed above his head. I will mourn you, Lurom Berolinus, as I have done since the day you left Berolinus smiled, spreading his arms wide as if to offer himself to the Chaplain. Kill me then, Codian. Kill me, and unleash all that I am. Your flesh will be my armour, and your soul, my plaything. Codian hesitated as he heard this. The conviction in the Astartes words was unmistakeable and powerful, and though he could not understand what Berolinus meant, he could not ignore the warriors threat. Kill me! Berolinus screamed, frustration causing his voice to break. The mirth drained from his expression to be replaced with a glowering hatred, and yet, for all the malicious emotion radiating from him, Codian could see a pleading desperation behind the warriors eyes. His life must not be ended. Not by you. The voice said, confirming his suspicions. Not while the evil lies so close to the surface. Codian surged forward and stamped down on the warriors face, driving his head into the ground. He lowered the head of his living crozius and jabbed it into Berolinuss face. Bright energies flashed and the Astarte fell limp, unconscious but alive. With that the Chaplain looked back towards the battle raging about him, and knew in his heart that the next time they met, one of them would die.

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Chapter One Hundred and Forty Seven: Storm Front

Lord Solar Macharius held on to the handrail as his mighty ship shook around him. Human and Tau crewmembers flitted past his vision and yet he ignored them, for they were as nothing to him. All that mattered was the image before him. A three-dimensional representation of the entire orbital battle stretched out before him. Ship icons on both sides blinked from green or blue to red, indicating that the ship in question had been destroyed. Hundreds of red icons dominated the image, and he felt the pressure of their presence building within him. OSarochar, the losses on your flank are unacceptable! Why are the enemy ships achieving broadside after broadside? If you do not have the capability to counter this then get the damn drone fighters mobilised and a screen of Tiger Sharks launched to harry them! See this done or I will see to it that your own auto-destruct sequences are initiated and blow you into the void myself! He continued to scan the broad image with unremitting persistence, searching for any signs of weakness or laxity in the Unity ships under his command. By his side, the tall and slender form of KorO Phoryinn, the Air caste commander of his fleets lowered his stance so as to speak discreetly into his ear. My lord, we must be wary of these Kroot vessels. Many of them are of a configuration that simply does not exist within our fleet datalogs. The Warspheres and many of the Imperial vessels we can deal with efficiently, but without any knowledge regarding the weapons systems and capabilities of these unknown ships, we are greatly put at risk. They are ships, Phoryinn. Macharius spat, slamming his fist into the rail. Ships are susceptible to hostile fire, no matter their configuration. Yes lord, but so are we. Phoryinn whispered. To place our fleets within range, we open ourselves up to danger. See here. He extended one spindly, elongated finger out at one of the blue icons, pointing in particular to the Tau text beneath. An Eldar vessel, if our readings are to be believed. This ship alone has accounted for no less than eight of our vessels. We are unable to gauge its speed and manoeuvring capabilities, for it seems to be of a class we have thus far never encountered, and by we, I mean the Tau race as a whole. We have thrown ships against her time and again and yet she bests every one. By rate of attrition alone, we cannot stand such tactics I will tell you what we can and cannot stand. Macharius answered, the tone of his voice enough to cause the Tau to rise to his full height and step back. Every loss we sustain is a lesson. We test her with each attack, and as such we given an opportunity to gauge her. We have more than enough ships, Phoryinn. This He thrust a finger out at the hazy ellipse before him, the curve of Terra herself dominating the bottom segment of the projection. This is our prize. Our goal. We must and we will conquer Terra. I do not care how many ships we lose to do so, for there will always be more. Would you be willing to defy glorious AunVa with overblown concern and protracted caution? Never, my lord

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And neither would I. His will is supreme and overriding, KorO. This world is all that stands in the way of the Unitys total domination of this galaxy. Do you think Aunva cares for the loss of a few vessels? Have you forgotten the principal teachings of the Tauva? I have not. I stand corrected, my lord. Forgive my lack of diligence. Machariuss expression softened as he heard this. He placed a hand upon the commanders arm. To show concern for loss of life is not a weakness, KorO. What you must concentrate on is the achievements that come from such loss. There will be time to mourn those lost to us once we have Terra brought to heel. There will be a lasting peace when the Unitys domination of this galaxy is complete, and it will be a peace never before known to these stars. We are creatures born of war, you and I. We have never known such a thing as peace, but that will change. This will be our legacy to those who follow in our footsteps, human and Tau alike. Phoryinn bowed curtly and made to leave, the impact of Machariuss words clear in his expression. The Lord Solar swept his cloak aside and turned his attention back to the raging battle, a renewed determination dominating his manner. Every light on the bridge flickered then, and it was more than enough to attract his attention. His eyes widened as he recognised the phenomenon immediately for what it was and he stiffened, thrusting his arms down by his sides. The towering being stepped from the air and turned its burning eyes upon him. Macharius bowed his head, a gesture mirrored by every being present on the bridge with him. My Aun, this in an honour. He whispered, dismissing the projection at his back with a wave of his hand. AunVa regarded him with cold, emotionless eyes, allowing his presence to overwhelm all those around him before he spoke. You waste your time, Macharius. The ships of the enemy fleets are of no concern to us. The Lord Solar kept his head lowered, for fear of revealing the bemusement upon his face at hearing this. It took every ounce of effort and will he could muster to reply. Great Aun, forgive my ignorance, but I do not understand. I had thought the vessels of the Kroot to be of primary concern to your glorious fleets. Each loss we suffer is an affront to your ideals and your goal The Kroot are as nothing. They do not matter. They seek only to divert us from our goal. Reactivate the display. Macharius frowned but did as the Aun commanded, nodding at the nearest member of his bridge crew. The projection came online once again and AunVa turned his gaze upon it, his mere attention causing the display to shimmer and flicker. Select an enemy ship. AunVa said. Choose, and learn how insignificant these Kroot are. Macharius hid his bewilderment well as he followed the order. He put no thought into the choice, and merely gestured to the Tau crewmember behind him. The projection altered, enhancing greatly so as to show an area of space clear enough to define the ships engaged in battle there. One ship in particular dominated the screen, a Retribution-class battleship identified by the datalogs as the Might of Mjolnir.

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The vast warships guns blazed as she speared her way through the Unity host, her prow lances sending searing blasts of energy out before her. Fighters and bombers erupted from her launch bays, sending clouds of glittering contrails rolling across her angular flank. Macharius looked to AunVa in time to see his entire form quiver and grow hazy. An inner light built within him, soon bright enough to obscure every line and detail of his blazing shape. A flash of light from behind him attracted his attention then and he cast around back towards the projection. A thousand tiny explosions wracked the Imperial vessel, erupting from launch bays and weapons turrets. Unity vessels scattered as the ship began to break apart, and as the engines at her rear began to glow, reaching critical mass with unbelievable speed, the projection shimmered and broke up, casting the bridge in an ominous gloom. My Aun, your power is humbling. Macharius gasped, falling to one knee before his master. Now you see just how insignificant the enemy is. AunVa answered. I am able to crush the mightiest warship with but a thought, Macharius. I command the very stars themselves, so to command a vessel to tear itself apart is as nothing to me. I bow to your power and wisdom, Aun. My own efforts in pursuing the enemy to destruction pale to nothing before your majesty. You will go to aid Guilliman in his efforts to take the Imperial Palace. AunVa said. Domination of this worlds orbit is not of primary concern to me. Look beyond this bridge and see the truth of things. AunVa swept a hand before him and the projection came back online once more. The orbital battle grew smaller and smaller as the display broadened in scope to reveal the surrounding void. Liquid colour swam before them, churning and writhing as if the firmament itself boiled. Macharius saw this and his face slackened. The enemy call upon the foul energies of the warp to aid them in their fight. They seek to summon a storm to destroy us, for they cannot do so by honourable might alone. I am ordering every available fighting force down into the surface of the planet, to ensure that our martial strength remains total. You will lead these forces, Macharius. The Lord Solar bowed his head at the honour bestowed upon him. Your wish is my command, Aun. I will leave immediately. Macharius, know that I have ordered the release of the Shais Montda. The world below is soon to turn into its night cycle, and it is time for them to wreak a bloody vengeance upon the defiant guardians of Terra. Genitor Primus Fabius will lead them in their assault of the Palace. Ensure that he and his armies are escorted safely to their location, and then join Guilliman in the destruction of our enemy. It shall be done, my Aun. +++ +++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ Nothing. Damn it, there is no sign of him. Manus turned to Calgar, concern writ large across his silvered features. The aging Wolves by his side scanned the distant battle again and again, sniffing the air as they did so as if seeking to hunt down the location of their Primarch by scent alone.

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Did they see him leave? Calgar asked, his own augmetic voice heavy with concern. Russs lust for battle is legendary, but surely even he would not carve a path deep into the enemy forces on his own. He would not leave his Wolves behind. Not unless he had a good reason. Manus answered. One of the Longfangs joined the Primarch and the Warmaster. He swept his long pelt aside and pointed the head of his axe out at the raging battle. He has a scent, that is all we know. We tried to follow but we were beaten back by the press. I warned Russ to keep his head. Manus snarled, his massive fists tightening. We cannot afford to lose him to folly. Russ was called. Said a dark and powerful voice from behind the gathering. All eyes turned to see Qah standing there, his gaze set firmly on the distant melee. As he spoke, the tone of his voice was such that it seemed even he only realised the truth behind what he said even as he was saying it. I see the truth now. The one called Guilliman is abroad here. Russ has answered the challenge of his presence. Guilliman. Manus uttered, his own choler rising at the mention of his fallen brother. Guilliman is here. How far away, xenos? Russ cannot The towering giants voice died away then, not of his own choosing but rather as a result of the sudden and powerful wind that tore at those present. He cast around to look upon Qah, a reaction mirrored by Calgar and his Ultramarines, in time to see the mysterious aliens outline blossom and grow. The shadows around him twisted into spiralling tendrils of thorn-covered darkness, all questing forth in the same direction. Qah raised his arms up by his sides and the limbs unravelled, becoming a black, greasy mist caught on the powerful breeze. What is happening? The Warmaster called, the rising gale so powerful know as to cause even his mighty metal form to sway and groan. Your defenders are about to make a terrible mistake, and I must prevent that. Qah answered, and with that, he was gone. +++ Russ smashed Guillimans sword aside and swung his opposing fist, the blow hammering into the Ultramarine Primarchs chest plate. Guilliman staggered back but kicked out as he did so, the armoured top of his boot catching Russ in the ribs. Both giants staggered beneath the blow of their contemporary, and for a moment, the fight was over. Russ was the first to recover. He twisted on the spot, riding the force of the blow, and then sprang forward like a hunting beast, his chainblade snarling for Guillimans blood. Guilliman righted himself and countered, driving forward to meet the charge. He deflected the attack and answered with his own effort, a lunge that Russ only just managed to drive away from his neck. Better! Russ called, ducking and swaying back as his opponent kept up the advantage. But far from enough, Roboute! Some of my better Blood Claws have put up more of a fight! Your alien innards slow you down, Guilliman, and the sludge that flows through your veins leaves you sluggish and wanting! How can you even stand to draw your next breath? Guilliman gave no answer. He seemed to sense that there would be no retort suitable and so simply gritted

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his teeth and switched hands, keeping the tip of his blade pointed at Russ at all times. Without warning his entire outline blurred. Russs eyes widened as he took in the sight, and even though his instincts were as far beyond a mortal mans as could be possible, he was still too slow to react to the Primarchs sudden acceleration. Guilliman drove his blade through Russs chest plate, the keen energised metal stopping only when the eagle-winged guard rang against the ancient metal of his armour. Russs eyes widened as they fell to the hilt of the sword, and the armoured hand wrapped around it. Sluggish and wanting. Guilliman uttered, a victorious smile creeping across his face. It would seem that you have misjudged me, Russ. The Space Wolf Primarchs pupils narrowed almost to nothing then, his features twisting into a feral snarl of shuddering rage. You should not have done that, son of Macragge. He exploded in a maelstrom of sudden action, his sword arm swinging up and around to bring the blade crashing into Guillimans forearm. The limb parted beneath a welter of blood and Guilliman staggered back, arterial fluids spraying across his opponents armour. Russ unleashed an air-splitting howl of rage, so loud and potent that it caused human, Tau and Kroot alike to fall to their knees. He howled again and again, his cries resonating throughout the vast arena and beyond as he tore into Guilliman, his blade drawing a great ragged rent through his chest plate. Guilliman snatched at Russs sword arm and held his wrist tight, preventing the Wolf from attacking. Russ used his free hand to pummel the Ultramarine Primarchs face again and again, and within moments a spray of thick blood preceded each blow. Guilliman ducked low then, avoiding the next blow. He tucked his shoulders under Russs waist and, still holding his wrist, hoisted the warrior into the air. Russ turned end over end as Guilliman threw him over and into the ground, the impact turning the hard surface of the arena floor into dust. Russ found himself momentarily pinned, Agiseluss blade driven both through him and deep into the ground by the impact. Guilliman wasted no time in pressing home the advantage as he stomped his foot into the Wolfs arm again and again, each impact driving his vambrace further out of its original shape until he finally released his grip on his chainblade. Guilliman kicked the snarling blade away and then landed a bone-shattering kick to the Wolfs face. Russs head snapped to the side, blood bursting from his mouth. The Father of the Wolves was far from done. He snatched at Guillimans other leg and pulled, toppling the blue armoured behemoth. As he crashed to the ground Russ struggled to rise, but could not, for the blade he was impaled upon was thrust too deep into the rockcrete below him. He snatched at the plated arm still holding the hilt of the sword fast and tore the limb free. With his other hand he grabbed the hilt and pulled as far as his arm would extend, drawing the still crackling blade a good way from his body. It was enough, just. Freed of his prone position he threw his legs up and then forward, propelling his upper body up and finding his feet once again. He cast Guillimans severed arm aside and pulled Agiselus from his chest, baring his fangs in pain as he did so. He took the blade of the sword in his other hand and brought it down on his knee. Agiselus shattered amid a blinding flash of overloading energy. Bright forks of power arced around his arms, turning his armour black, but he did not flinch. He cast the broken and smouldering pieces of the blade to the ground as Guilliman rose to meet him.

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A glimmer of disbelief passed over the Ultramarine Primarchs face, but he managed to dispel his rage swiftly. You will pay for this. He said, raising the ruined stump of his arm. Upon hearing this Russ raised his arms in challenge. Then I urge you, collect that debt. Let us finish this. Guilliman started towards his brother, the ground shaking beneath his feet. Russ brought his arms down, ready to meet the giants advance, when a sudden storm of bright fire raked across his armour. Russ shuddered, blood flashing to glittering mist around him. He staggered back, pulse fire lancing by him and tearing up the ground at his feet. Stay your weapons! Guilliman roared, his face shaking with rage. He cast around, his finger extended accusingly before him. Tau warriors skidded to a halt all around him, terrified by the Primarchs rage. The Unity forces had managed to push their way further into the arena, driving the Kroot back in the process. None of the warriors had expected to incur Guillimans wrath at attacking his foe. He is mine, and I will face him with honour! Any warrior who raises arms against him will sign the death sentence of himself and his entire squad! This b-----d is mine alone to kill! A slow clapping sound grabbed his attention and he looked back to Russ. Bleeding from a score of smouldering impact wounds, the Wolf staggered forward, applauding his foe. How noble. Perhaps I have misjudged you, Roboute. No matter the Taus poisonous influence, it would seem that you still possess your legendary arrogance. There may be more of my brother left in there than I had first suspected. At that, a wicked smile formed upon his lips. I would ask you to return the applause, Roboute, but you would need two hands to do so. Guilliman unleashed a bellow of unfettered rage and charged, his legendary aloofness at last shattered by the Wolfs taunts. The two Primarchs met once more, trading blows powerful enough to shake the foundations of the tallest buildings of the city. Thats it! Feed upon your rage, brother! Let it consume you! Russ cried, weathered the most fearsome punishment with unnatural good humour. Every blow Guilliman landed dented or cracked his armour, and yet the gleeful smile upon his face remained. Despite being at a disadvantage Guilliman laid into Russ with all the force of an orbital strike, his every blow warping his brothers ancient armour. He drove his knee up into Russs groin and then landed a shattering uppercut to his chin, the force of the strike throwing Russ high into the air. Russ came down hard on the nose of an advancing Hammerhead. His weight and the force of the impact caused the crew compartment to cave in like paper and the skimmer crashed nose-first into the ground. Its engines cut out at the destruction of its pilot and the tank fell still. Guilliman was upon him faster than he was able to haul himself clear of the twisted metal. He leapt upon the downed craft and slammed his boot into Russs face, driving him deeper into the ruined metal. Even as Russ struggled to free himself Guilliman sunk his fingers into the thick metal of the tanks vast turret railcannon and slammed it down upon the Wolf again and again, the unnatural manipulation of the weapon and its mount causing the turret to pop free of its ring amid a shower of sparks and splintering armour

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plate. Russ kicked out and Guilliman staggered back, the huge weapon still fast in his grip. The turret slid free with a groan and crashed down on top of the Wolf, driving him yet further into the twisted wreckage. The entire Hammerhead bucked and shuddered, enough to cause Guilliman to leap clear of its convulsing hull. A moment later Russ burst from the innards of the craft, the thick hull parting before him as if nothing. He leapt over the sloping nose and drove his shoulder into Guilliman, forcing his foe back. His brother brought the gun around and smashed the turret into Russ. The Wolf raised both arms and the domed construct shattered around him, sending debris scattering far and wide. The impact did nothing to slow the Wolf. He carried on into his opponent and drove home his attack. The first blow hammered into Guillimans chest. The second and third were stomach blows, doubling the Primarch over. Russ grabbed Guillimans shoulders and drove his knee into him again and again. He followed with a vicious elbow into Guillimans back and then he stepped back, landing a horizontal punch that spun his foe around. Guilliman pivoted several times before crashing into the ground. Russ hauled him up onto his feet and threw him into the immobilised Hammerhead, sending him crashing through the hull and out through the other side. The Wolf followed, clearing the down craft in a single leap to land before his foe. He tore the fin-mounted Drone there free and cast it at Guilliman, the velocity of the hurl causing it to shatter as it impacted against the Primarchs armour. Pure hatred radiated from Guillimans eyes as Russ punched him again and again, driving him to his knees. You are dead, Roboute! You were dead the moment you came to this world! You were dead the moment to bent your knee to the bloody Tau! He dug his fingers into the Ultramarine Primarchs gorget and hauled him up, hammering blows into his face again and again. Blood poured from Guillimans ruined face as Russ pulled him close. I broke Magnus upon my knee on Prospero, and I will do the same to you. Beneath his mask of glistening crimson, Guilliman smiled. His black eyes turned to the skies and he raised his one remaining hand up to point beyond the Wolfs back. It does not matter, Russ. The defenders of the Palace are finished. The Viskeon come. Russ frowned and raised his eyes to the sky. Far above, below the churning mass of warp energy, the atmosphere burned. Hundreds of thousands of tiny fires ignited the atmosphere, as if the stars themselves were descending upon Terra. You will not survive the coming night, Russ. I vow that. The distraction was enough. Russ looked back to Guilliman in time to see his fist ascending. The blow sent the Wolf flying back, freeing his opponent in the process. Guilliman hauled himself to his feet and kept up the advantage. He drew his arm back and threw a punch powerful enough to shatter the planets crust. Russ spun away through the air, turning end over end. He twisted away over the heads of the warring factions and landed a good way from Guilliman. The Ultramarine Primarch rose, his dark eyes alive with anticipation.

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Praise be to the wisdom of AunVa. He whispered, watching as the thousands of drop ships burned their way through the atmosphere. Night was already drawing in, the distant sun only partially visible above the tallest of the buildings surrounding him. He looked to Russ once more, searching through the roiling throng until he picked out his brother, rising at the centre of a large clearing. Run, Russ! Flee, like the dog you are! Look to the skies and see the coming of Terras end! +++ Codian skidded to a halt as Russs powerful form rose before him, a mountain of punished armour parting the sea of bodies. Guillimans strident voice cut through the melee beyond. He heard the Primarchs threat and gazed up to see the darkening atmosphere ablaze. The knowledge inside him boiled to the surface of his mind and he saw the truth, saw what was coming for them. The enemy. The Viskeon. The Unitys army of night. No. We are not ready for this. He whispered. Grungi came to a standstill beside him, his axe blade bloodied and glistening. He followed the Chaplains gaze and cast a disinterested eye upon the descending craft. Hnn. More meat for the grinder. The Tau promised us Ragnarok and it would seem they are good to their word. I feel it in my bones, Codian. This is the soil that I will stain with my blood. I will die here, on Terra. There is fight yet left in all of us, small one. Both of them turned at the sound of the deep, feral voice. Russs bestial eyes blazed through the mask of blood and filth he wore, alight and alive with a boundless determination. You. He said, raising a hand slowly in the Chaplains direction. You were the one that called to me. Yes, Primarch. I knew only you would hear my call. Guilliman is beyond salvation, even I can see that. Russ looked Codian up and down, scrutinising the markings of his armour. As he did so his expression softened, and he looked upon Codian with a visible empathy. To see your Primarch returned, only to face you as an enemy must cause an ache in your heart greater than any mortal wound. Despite this you have fought against him to safeguard this world and the legacy it represents. The Imperium is all, Primarch. Without it we are nothing. Our race is nothing. My alliegance is and always will be to the Emperor, above all others. So you must be the Prophet. Russ answered, turning back to face his nemesis once more. Go. As fast as you can. Take flight and head back to the Imperial lines. I have a message I need you to deliver. Codian heard this and bowed his head. Of course, lord Russ. What shall I say? You will find Ferrus Manus, the father of the Iron Hands, and your Warmaster Calgar ahead at the Eternity Wall Gate. Tell them of what transpired here. Tell them of Guilliman, but most important of all, tell them of what is to come.

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Codian looked up as he heard this, intrigue and confusion at war within his expression. To come? It is time. Russ replied. It is the Wolftime. Codian nodded and, wasting no more time, turned on his heel and broke into a swift, ever-accelerating sprint. Grungi followed close behind, his craggy face deeply lined with puzzlement. Though he did not ask the question, he could see in Codians eyes that the Chaplain understood, and that was enough for him. Behind them, a long, rending howl split the air.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Eight: Return of the Wolves

Roboute Guilliman gritted his teeth as the terrible sound rolled across the arena, the design and construction of the stadium only adding to its acoustic effects. He knew immediately that this was no mortal howl, no mere cry of rage and bloodlust. His vision hazed at the sound, and his pulse quickened. His senses were second only to Russ upon this field of battle, and he felt the charge in the air, the hairs at the base of his neck standing on end. Bodies writhed around him, rendered insensible by the terrible, unending howl. Even though he was fully able to appreciate the agonies the mortal creatures around him were experiencing, he made his way over to the nearest prone squad and hauled a Fire Warrior effortlessly to his feet. Stand! Stand, damn you! We have a war to win! He let go of the Warrior and the Tau fell in a heap, rolling around in pain. Guilliman fought the effects of his own disorientation and rose to his full height, anger bringing a fresh glow to his face. Rise, or I swear I will kill you all myself! With the authority of AunVa himself, I command you! Rise and meet this threat! A few mere seconds brought only frustration to the Primarch. He spat a curse and searched about him, scanning the surrounding carnage with absolute scrutiny. After a few moments he made towards a certain spot and stooped low to retrieve something from the ground. It was his own forearm, still encased within its ceramite shell. Agiselus lay broken by his feet, its blade shattered and smouldering. He looked upon the ruined sword and felt his gorge rising, the blood in his veins hot and surging. Not only had Russ violated his flesh, but he had destroyed the most potent symbol of his homeworld he still possessed. Agiselus, the legacy of his adopted father, Konor of Macragge. You will pay, Wolf. He uttered, spears of hatred lancing from his eyes to assail his brother Primarch. This is far from over. +++ Leman Russ strode transcendent across the battlefield, his arms spread wide. He possessed no weapon, for Guilliman had seen to that, but such was his menace and presence that, at that moment, he needed no

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such armaments. The bestial cry issued from his lips still, its pitch and strength unchanging. It was as if Russ himself was not responsible for the noise, for it was an almost supernatural thing, transcending every imagined boundary or level one could imagine. The very air of the arena shimmered and hazed, as if a stifling heat rose from the ancient flags. He turned his nose up as a part of him recognised the presence of what was coming. Dark powers were building, and they were of the warp. Russs appearance had turned his unstoppable advance and slaughter of the Kroot into a rout; though he would be loathe to admit this much to anyone. The Wolf had taken his arm, destroyed his proudest weapon and punished him greatly, and now this. Lord! Lord Guilliman! His ward Berolinus staggered from the melee to stand by his side, battered and bloodied from his own exertions with the enemy. A master of emotions as he was, Guilliman could near taste the shame radiating from his loyal servant, though he soon decided that this was not the time to press answers from Berolinus. The warrior slowed as he noticed the grievous damage done to his Primarch and his jaw fell slack in disbelief. My Primarch, thisthis cannot be He let his storm shield and hammer fall to the floor as he raised his hands to the bloodied stump that was left of Guillimans arm, his fingers quivering. His was the manner of a man who had chanced upon his greatest prize or possession, lain in ruin at his feet. How..? Guilliman cast aside his wards incredulity and gestured around him, presenting the ominous phenomenon. We must regroup, Berolinus. We have pushed far enough. What good is this spearhead if we drive our advance too far without adequate support? Look to the skies. The Shais Montda come. Berolinus cast but a fleeting glance up at the fiery firmament before once again turning his attention to the unexplainable carnage about them. He fought the pain in his own expression as he observed the scene, clearly as affected by the Wolfs terrible cries as any. Let me have him, my lord. I swear that I will kill him for this affront Guilliman shook his head at this, and his expression told the Astarte that he would brook no argument. Russ is mine alone to slay. I will make him pay for what he has done to me. +++ The Wolf came to a standstill and raised his arms high. He tilted his head back and howled one final, lingering time. All those who had known Russ would attest to the fact that he was never known to possess any psychic abilities, and this was true, yet there was an unmistakeable resonance to the sound, an undeniable charge. He was done. He lowered his gaze and glanced about him, seeing the prone and debilitated Unity warriors as if for the first time. With casual disdain he began to walk amongst them, kicking and stamping as he

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went, ending lives with contempt. Deprived of his beloved weapon he stopped low and retrieved a pulse rifle. He examined quizzically before inserting his finger into the trigger loop, his actions consequently snapping the long rifle in two. He cast the broken pieces aside and continued to sift, retrieving guns and blades, none of which were any use to him. He plucked a pulse grenade from the belt of a fallen Guevesa and pulled the pin. Further away from him the Unity forces were consolidating, the effects of his crippling cried lessened by the distance. He cast the grenade far, like a stone, sending it into the midst of the recovering forces. He cast around as there was a flash of emerging energy behind him, his keen ears detecting the low, rumbling boom that accompanied it. A bright circle of rich crimson force unfurled like an iris, sending forks of etheric lightning out before it as it emerged. An armoured figure stepped from the shimmering depths of the rend and out onto the floor of the arena. He bore a mighty rune staff, the symbols upon it and those to match them on his armour glowing as if white-hot. He was a feral-looking warrior, clad in the armour and furs of a Wolf, with a great shaggy black beard that only added to this appearance. A high-pitched screech split the air and Russ looked on as a dark avian shape swooped low over his head, so close he felt the breeze at its passing blow through his hair. He shifted so as to stand before the warrior as he strode forward, a look of wonderment spreading across his craggy face. Lord Russ, it is you The Rune Priest uttered, the same wonder thick in his deep voice. After all these years, after so many fruitless quests, we have found you. It is I, Rune Priest. Your Primarch has returned. The warrior slowed as he reached Russ and fell to one knee, his head bowed. Though his face was hidden the emotion in his voice as he spoke was powerful. At last. At long last. I am your servant, my lord, humble and in awe. I am your faithful son Russ smiled as he heard this and laid a hand upon the Rune Priests shoulder. I know this. Were my eyes blind to your visage and my ears deaf to your claims, my heart would still know this to be true. Tell me your name, son of Fenris. I am Njal, my lord, the Stormcaller. Then rise, Njal, and know that the time has at last come. This is the Wolftime. Njal rose as commanded, his features still fraught with disbelief. He gathered his staff to his chest and cast around, back towards the bright portal. This is the Wolftime! He called, his strident voice carrying across the battlefield. Let the armies of Fenris hear this and gather! At last, the final call to war is upon us! No more shall the Wolves wander the unknown wastelands of the Empyrean, for we have found our prize! One by one, similar warp gates blinked into being all around them, saturating the expanse of the arena within moments. Armoured figures exited the anomalies, silhouetted against the brightness of the gates, to pour into the vast space. We have found him! We have found our Primarch! The Stormcaller cried, spreading his arms wide.

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Russ took in the incredible sight with silent wonder, his heart thrilling at the scene. He looked on as a hoard of baying, bestial creatures loped through one of the distant gates and bounded towards him, howling in exultation. Though the monsters had once clearly been Astartes, they were now far removed from that origin, although this fact presented little if nothing to cause him concern. My lord. It has been an age. Russ tensed as he heard the voice. His pupils narrowed and his nostrils expanded, both instinctively. The voice was barely recognisable, if at all. It was heavy and mechanical, every syllable tainted with the acoustic feedback of mechanical generation. The scent too was all wrong. It was industrial and sour, a pungent odour of machine oil, adamantium and energy discharge, as far removed from organic as could be. None of this mattered. He knew him. He would know him anywhere, under any circumstance. Bjorn. Russ uttered, turning slowly to regard the towering mass of metal. The venerable Dreadnought descended before him, its vast form creaking and groaning beneath the effort of lowering itself into a kneeling position. Bjorn. Russ said again, striking the ancient warriors arm with enough force to rock his vast armoured bulk. I would know you anywhere, young one! What manner of folly is this? Trying to measure up to your Primarch? He took in the vastness of the armoured Dreadnought shell, amusement glittering in his eyes. Bjorn took a step back and cycled his vast assault claw, as if to flaunt his power to the Primarch. This shell has served me well, my lord. For near sixteen millennia your Wolves have sought you. I made a vow on the day you left us, a vow that I would not rest, and never would I fall, until we stood by your side once more. More and more Rune Priests poured from the gateways, called to the gathering by the Stormcallers psychic cry. Yet more of the lupine creatures Russ had seen emerged, roving ahead of the other Astartes like packs of attack dogs, driven to near insanity by the scent of their Primarch. Bike engines growled as squads of mounted Wolves roared into the arena, throwing up dust and debris as they carved through the retreating warriors of the Unity. Tanks and other rumbling war machines pushed their way clear of the gates, battered and patched in several places but otherwise battle ready. It was a glorious sight, and one that caused Russs chest to swell with pride. He turned slowly on his heel to take in the sight, as hundreds upon hundreds of warriors descended upon him. One figure in particular pushed his way through the crowd, and the masses parted to allow him to do so. Russ regarded the Wolf, his eyes narrowing. The warrior was old, that much was clear by his thick greying mane and beard. He wore his hair in a braided topknot that flowed down over his shoulders and chest. He reached the Primarch and bowed his head. Great Wolf. He began, reaching around to pluck something from his back. My name is Ragnar Blackmane, and I stand before you today to fulfil an ancient prophecy. I am here to return this. He extended a silvered augmetic hand and offered the Primarch a long, slender object wrapped in faded animal leather. Russ took it, his eyes glimmering with recognition for the item despite its hidden nature. The Spear of Russ is yours once again, my Primarch.

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With that he rose once again and took a step back, joining the ring of ancient Rune Priests that had come to stand before Russ. The Primarch took in the sight around him and slowly nodded his approval at the gathering. My sons, one and all, I know of your quest. I know the lengths you have gone to in your search for me. I know of all the trials and horrors you have endured in the millennia since my departure, and everything you have done has made me proud. Hear me now, for everything I have to say is of the utmost importance. Much has been kept from you all, and for that I am truly sorry, but my actions were necessary. Had I not left your side, none of you would be standing here today. You have searched the warp for me for many thousands of years, and the ordeals you have suffered there in that blasted realm were great, but these quests have kept you safe, my sons, for they have kept you beyond the attentions of evils greater than any of you could ever imagine. A thick silence descended across the throng at hearing the Primarchs words. A sea of faces regarded Russ, every one suspended in confusion. The Primarch saw this and raised his mighty arms, beckoning his warriors closer. Gather, my Wolves, and hear my tale, so that every son of Fenris can understand what has come to pass, and what is yet to come. Let me tell you of the Emperor of Man, of Magnus the Red, and of the darkness of the end of days. Only then will you truly understand why I left you, what I am to ask of you now, and why everything you thought you knew was a lie. +++ Guilliman ignored the buffeting winds that tore at his hair as he watched the descent of the Orca. The landing craft came to rest upon the road, throwing loose debris up around it as it alighted. Within moments the side ramp descended and Fabius strode out onto the road to meet with his commander, surrounded by a small contingent of human and Tau menials. As he left the open iris the mechanical limbs at his back unfurled, As he closed the space between them his eyes fell to the severed limb in Guillimans hand, his expression tightening with concern at the sight. May the enemy be damned, my lord, for this infraction. No matter, I will fix this for you. The limb will be attached once more, as good as new His voice trailed away then, and a look of dark anticipation shone in his eyes. No, better. Come, my lord. He beckoned to the waiting craft, its interior modified to his own personal specifications. Guilliman stayed were he was, displeasure writ large across his face. Better? I am not one of your experiments, Fabius. We have a war to win, and with the coming of nightfall I intend to lead the attack upon the Palace personally. A simple reattachment of the limb will suffice. Fabius heard this and slowly folded his hands behind his back. He met Berolinuss gaze for a moment and then, ignoring the warriors scowl of displeasure, turned his attention back to the Primarch. Commander, forgive me but it pains me to see this. He gestured at the severed arm, his oversized features twisting into a mask of exaggerated pain. I would do all I could to ensure that such an outrage is not to be repeated. That one of the enemy was even

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capable of assaulting your flesh socallously, sets my blood on fire. Its pains me to stand by and do nothing, when I know that I am capable of assisting you so much. If you would but let me, I can work such wonders into you. I can enhance all that you are, my lord, if only you would allow me. You are the greatest among us without compare. I promise that I can make you greater than any Primarch ever was. He bunched his fists as he continued, as if to further accent the passion behind his words. I can make you faster, stronger. I can expand your senses, lord, beyond anything you could ever dream of. I could work the influence of the Ethereals themselves into your flesh, if you would desire it. As great as your presence is, I could give you the power to command every Tau in the Unity to obey your word, or suffer a pain worse than death. Imagine it. You are a Primarch, wrought by the Emperors own hand. I have the ability to make you more than even that. Guilliman did not answer immediately. His features remained immobile as he absorbed the Apothecarys words. Only after a lingering silence did he reply. Reattach the arm, Fabius, and then I will allow you to convince me further. +++ Codian charged through the small square, Grungi hot at his heels. He negotiated a scattering of mighty raised plinths, the statues above so vast that, were they to topple they would crush the entire square. He threw himself beneath a massive arch, the structure cracked and punished by the enemy bombardments, and sprinted through the shadowy gloom. Within minutes he reached the far side and slowed, his ears detecting the sound of engines ahead. A moment later several shapes hove in to view, slewing to a halt before him as they did so. Harsh spotlights bore down upon him, and bolters and shotguns threw out a collective staccato clack as they were armed and thrust in his direction. Without a firearm of his own, Codian raised the Dawnblade up, in readiness to defend his life. Daelo Codian! A voice barked, part questioning, part demanding. I am Codian. He answered, lowering his weapon. Despite the brightness of the lights he could see beyond him clearly, thanks to his Astarte senses. The figures shifted as they dismounted their rumbling bikes and put them to their stands. Grungi caught up with him and came to a standstill at his side, his face twisted in suspicion. The Astarte Scouts jogged to meet him, lowering their weapons as he did so. The sergeant of the small squad checked every angle of their surroundings before lowering his own bolt pistol and bowing his head in greeting. Chaplain, Warmaster Calgar sent us forth to find you. Your comrades are alive and well, safe behind Imperial lines. We have been instructed to retrieve you and bring you back, for he wishes an audience. Codian felt relief upon hearing that the others had made it to safety. Grungi slapped the flat of his axe against Codians leg, a harsh grin splitting his lips. Hnn. Luck, I say. The Warmaster sends a message, Chaplain. He was most insistent that you receive it. Go on. He wishes that the past be forgotten, and that the two of you would meet as allies. He understands what

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transpired between the two of you was misunderstood. Codian thought back to the last time he saw Calgar. The Grey Knights had very nearly come close to killing them all as heretics, all thanks to the scheming of a creature he now knew to be one of the dark and terrible star gods known as the Ctan. This being had attempted to see him alienated from all those he could consider allies, and up to now he had thought that plan to have worked. It would seem that his former Chapter Master was not as blind to the truth as he had originally thought. He gestured for Grungi to climb onto the back of one of the bikes. At this, the Scout sergeant offered his own mount to the Chaplain, humbled enough to accept the pillion seat. Then we must ride, and hard. Codian said. For there is s storm coming, and the Warmaster needs to know the truth.

Chapter One Hundred and Forty Nine: The Ultimate Gate, the God and the Dragon
Smash em! Grind em inta da floor! The vast abomination that was OMogdrak literally lumbered through the barricade as if it were constructed of no more than rotting flakboard. He wore an immense suit of armour, the design part Ork, part Tau in origin. The suit was a variant of the battlesuits worn by the Tau, greatly altered to accommodate the Orks huge frame. A brace of twin-linked plasma cannons adorned each iridium-plated arm, arms that ended in vast, energy-sheathed pulse claws. These charged claws were capable of shearing through the hull of a Land Raider and so made short work of both the fortifications and the unfortunate men and women in their way. OMogdrak swept his arms from left to right, demolishing the surrounding construction with languid ease. The cannons at his arms unleashed random orbs of searing energy out into the spaces beyond the breach. The soldiers there were packed tightly together and in great numbers, ready to repel the invaders. Plasma fire speared through bodies clad in armour that was not equipped to turn such powerful energies aside. The grey-skinned leviathan lifted his head and bellowed, the sound a guttural, bone-quaking noise. Orks poured through the breach around him, a torrent of thirst and hatred none of the defenders could have been fully prepared for. From their distant vantage points, heavy calibre weapons spat death out into the Grey Ork horde, breaking bodies and sending cyan blood blossoming out into the air. High energy blasts cut bodies in half by the score, reaping a bloody toll amongst the alien warriors, but OMogdraks Orks were numbered in their tens of thousands, and such casualties barely registered. OMogdrak led the charge into the inner defence ring, Orks spreading out around him to smash into the Imperial defenders. Kill em all, boyz! For da Aun an for da Greata Good! He lowered his head and smashed through the next rockcrete barricade, a choking cloud of grey dust enveloping him. Hazy azure plasma punched through the smog to assail the startled defenders, burning through all it touched.

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He was a monster, and unstoppable abomination, borne of the most savage qualities of the Orks and the most potent genetic skills of the Tau. A brutish, towering killing machine. He skidded to a halt as the reeling defenders scattered around him, gleefully scything bodies down with each swing of his arms. His black eyes shone with murderous delight. Las and bolter rounds struck his armoured form, only to glance harmlessly off the near-impregnable shell. The Grey Ork commanders personalised battlesuit armour was a unique piece, and no expense had been spared in its design. Mounted on each shoulder was an airbursting fragmentation launcher, specialised weapons available only to those in command. The cycling launchers activated at his unspoken command, each whirring into a dizzying revolution as it released a cloud of miniature bomblets out into the charged air. The tiny grenades exploded as they came within range of the unfortunate defenders, sending fire and razor-sharp fragments of metal scything through them. Bodies literally burst apart before the deadly storm, arms and legs spinning away from the flashing, booming melee. The Grey Ork commander swayed and turned on his axis, spraying the surrounding area with the small but deadly munitions. Moments later found the next towering rockcrete wall and charged once again, determined to bore his way to the very heart of the defences. He charged headlong into the wall and then staggered back, unprepared for the barricades resistance. His efforts had driven a huge crater into the thick bulwark, and yet it still held firm, despite the punishment. He shook his head and blinked, dust billowing from his grey skull. Slowly his expression of anger died, to be replaced with one of mounting anger at his lack of success. He dug his heels into the ground and charged again, unleashing a rising roar of unfettered rage. Once again he thundered into the barricade, driving ever deeper into the solid rockcrete. Huge chunks of the walls clanged against his armour, dislodged by his brutal attempts, yet despite this, he was still not through. Angered by this continued denial he raised his arms and fired, pummelling holes through the remaining wall. Within moments the assault had weakened the barricade enough. He deactivated the cannons and drew both his arms back as far as the restrictive armour would allow. A final, earth-shattering blow brought him through the last of the obstruction and he stomped forward, ready to begin the slaughter anew. The blow twisted him violently, so powerful it lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing into the wall. Protective energies coruscated around him as he fought to right himself, struggling with the cumbersome weight and stifling bulk of his armour. It took the Grey Ork commander several seconds to haul himself to his feet, during which time he had expected who or whatever has assaulted him to continue the attack. He brought himself up and around, roaring his anger out into the winding maze of defence walls, and his eyes fell upon the hulking figure before him. You will not take this gate so easily, xenos. A deep and rumbling voice uttered. The dark-skinned face of Vulkan radiated utter contempt, though despite this, it was an unmatchable sense of honour that stayed the mighty hammer at his shoulder from descending to finish the task. He extended a hand out towards the breach as the space flooded with armoured Astartes. OMogdrak took in the sobering sight in silence and no small amount of bewilderment. His every nerve burned with the desire of war, for all that he could see before him was glorious combat. He could barely contain his own desires, and it took all his will not to advance upon the waiting warriors and give himself up to the oblivion of

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wanton conflict. Go back. Vulkan said. You have proved your mettle enough. Turn away and go back to your lines, beast, or stay and die. I would kill you with but a single blow, and you know it. You will not pass this point alive, I swear it. I offer you this one chance, warrior to warrior. Take it. A wall of bolter barrels surrounded him, and yet OMograk smiled. All Orks held no fear of death, and this was one trait the Tau could not have bred out of them if they tried. Rattled my jaw good, dat did. Ill take dat ammer off ya when I kill ya, an Ill crack me plenty Imperial eads wiv it. Dead or alive, you wouldnt have the strength to pry it from my fingers, Ork. Now, you will turn back, or I will send you back. Make your choice. The burning look in his opponents eyes told Vulkan that the Ork commander never had any real choice. He would never back down from a challenge, for such an action was against his very nature. Both huge claws snapped closed and then open again, the sound of the double impact resounding through the rockcrete trenches. It was enough of an answer. Vulkan drove forward and swung the hammer once, smashing aside the descending claw. He returned and swung down, driving OMogdraks second vast arm down into the ground, the force of the blow causing the Ork to lurch forward. His third strike was a mighty effort, a single-handed uppercut blow that propelled his foe high into the air, his hulking form twisting as he ascended. The forth was a mountain-breaker. OMogdrak descended rapidly, his sheer weight bringing him down fast. Vulkan snatched the hammer in both hands and struck the falling xenos with such violence that he spun away out of sight, back towards the enemy lines. He leapt up onto the top of the wall without effort and watched as the alien flew through the air, passing over the heads of man and Ork alike as he fell back towards the enemy mass, shedding armour plates and hydraulic fluids as he went. No more than a speck upon landing, the Ork thrashed and roared, his crackling claws tearing apart those of his own kind foolish enough to find themselves within his vicinity as he rose. The blow did not kill him? Vulkan glanced at the Astarte at his side, the warrior still in the final stages of hauling himself up onto the thick vertical slab. No. Such a creature is built to withstand far worse. That was merely a tap, Astarte. A warning blow. I believe it will consider itself chastised. The Marine bowed his head at hearing this, and though his expression was hidden, his tone and manner were unmistakeable, tinged with confusion and doubt. Vulkan lowered his hammer and fixed his gaze upon the warrior. When he spoke, there was a manner in his voice and a light in his eyes that spoke of a deep and dark wisdom, a wisdom only a Primarch could possess. Some enemies are more useful alive than dead. Survive this, warrior, and you will come to understand my actions.

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Vulkan! The Primarch cast his gaze around in time to see both Corax and Khan approaching. The Khan vaulted his way towards Vulkan, leaping the scattered Dragons Teeth and razor wire like an athlete. Corax simply descended, clearing every obstacle before him on twin columns of fire. Both Primarchs came before him at the same time, their arrival scattering the Astartes and Guard in the immediate vicinity. It was Corax who spoke first. Landing atop the wall beside him, the Primarch of the Raven Guard stared out across the expanse to where the hulking Ork commander had already renewed his attack efforts, picking out the enemy creature with effortless, hawk-like ease. That is OMogdrak? He asked, extending a vicious, shimmering claw towards the distant figure. Vulkan nodded. At that, Corax scowled. It turns my stomach that we must allow such filth to live. He hissed, his vast black frame animated with an eagerness to slay the xenos. Mine also, brother, but we cannot ignore what we know, and we cannot deny the will of our Emperor. The Khan ascended by him, tulwar in hand. He took in the vastness of the enemy forces before him and then turned to Vulkan. Do you feel it, brother? A storm is coming. Our father is truly one now with the warp, and his rage shall be second to none. The enemy forces have vastly increased within the last few hours. I have seen ships fall from the skies like rain, many thousands of them. Vulkan said. Night is approaching fast. The Khan observed, looking to the setting sun on the distant horizon. This has to be more than a coincidence. They will attack when darkness falls. We must be ready for them. +++ Codians gaze remained fixed to the passing space between the monolithic structures of the Imperial City. The Bikes were running at full speed now, the collective roar of the engines echoing through the manmade canyons around them. Another gap flashed by, and just for a second he caught sight of the roiling sea of bodies and armour. It was no more than a snapshot picture, an image frozen in time. Bright explosions and energy discharges flashed and popped, and for a moment the sounds of the battle were magnified by space, and then it was all gone. They were close now. Close enough to see the enemy. Here before the Palace the buildings were at their tallest and most magnificent. All that separated him from the bulk of the Unity forces assailing the Eternity Wall Gate was this single line of structures. The Bikes roared along the deserted street, past burning Imperial tanks and ruined Tau sentry turrets. Despite the speed at which they were travelling the stench of death was still heady in the air. Bodies were scattered all about them, burned or bloated in death. Codian made a silent vow to avenge each and every dead Imperial soldier and citizen his eyes found there. He heard the sergeant speak into his vox unit behind him and suddenly the direction of the lead Bike

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altered. He reacted immediately, bringing his own mount around sharply in order to follow the lead Bike. They entered a tight alleyway, scattering debris as they passed. Up ahead the lead Bike illuminated the way as the alley darkened. He saw figures shifting up ahead, several of them. More Scouts, this time clad in dark, shifting shadows that disappeared as their camelioline cloaks were swept aside. The alleyway ended abruptly, and he saw that a large circular hatch set into the wall was being hauled open. One by one the Bikes roared into the dark depths of the culvert system. As he passed by Codian caught a glimpse of many Scouts, some wielding heavy bolters and missile launchers, others barely visible, their sniper rifles covering every possible angle of attack. Seal it behind them! He heard someone call. Then, only utter darkness. +++ Armoured bodies parted before him as he climbed the ever-rising steps of the dais. Despite the battle raging beyond them, the crowds were ominously silent. The Scout sergeant bowed respectfully and then turned to leave, his mission ended. The rest of the Scouts peeled away to leave Codian and Grungi to ascend the last few steps towards the figures awaiting them. Calgars now familiar Dreadnought bulk filled most of the space before him. He cast his gaze around the gathering to take in the faces around him. He recognised the Warmasters companions, Ultramarines one and all, and nodded in greeting to Uriel Ventris. The Ancient responded with a nod of his own, a quiet smile of brotherhood turning the edges of his lips up. Umbras and the others were also present, although they were further beyond Calgar and his warriors. Codian regarded his comrades across the distance, pleased to see them alive and well. Another figure dominated the group, and unlike the others this one was not of the Ultramarines. Eyes of liquid sliver regarded his approach, eyes that bore into him with the gaze of one far from human, or even Astarte. Codian had never laid eyes on Ferrus Manus in his life, nor even seen a likeness of his visage, and yet he knew without doubt the hulking warrior before him to be the Primarch of the Iron Hands. His mighty arms and smooth head were wrought of what appeared to be a living metal, as malleable as skin and yet suggestive of a strength and power to surpass any weapon ever fashioned. Manus did not speak as Codian and Grungi approached, though he did regard the squat xenos with a look of unhidden displeasure. Grungi met that look with indifference, untroubled by the vast warriors attentions. Warmaster. Codian said, banging his fist respectfully upon his breastplate. Brother Codian. It pleases me to see you alive and well here on Terra. It pleases me more so to see that myerror in judgement did not deprive this Alliance of an essential component. Codian raised a hand in response to this. Recriminations are unnecessary, lord Calgar. We all know the truth of things now, and those that sought to undo our efforts here were unsuccessful. All that matters is that we stand united against the coming darkness. That is why I am here.

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At this Calgar gestured towards the small group of Codians comrades. Much has already been explained, Chaplain. Your colleagues braved much to stand here today, and for that I commend them. Were it not for the efforts of another, they would have perished to our own guns. As if to take that as a cue, a dark shape ghosted into the meeting. Smoke seeped from the air and solidified, within seconds taking on a tall, slender humanoid shape. Qah. Codian uttered, genuinely surprised at the presence of the Old One. The ancient alien bowed his head slowly. Codian. You have done well to get this far, but I am afraid that the message you carry has already been conveyed. I have revealed the whereabouts of Russ, and the coming of the Wulfen. Codian heard this and felt only relief. At that he looked to the skies, ready to speak once again. he did not have to. They know of what is to come, Codian. I sense the burgeoning powers of the warp as they build. It is almost time, time for the Armies of Life to gather. The Warmaster and the Primarch understand what is coming, and that they must be sure to accommodate our allies. The coming night will bring much pain and war to these walls, but we will be ready for it. We will weather it, together. Qah cast his gaze across the gathering, his huge eyes seizing every face there and holding it, ensuring that what he had to say next would not be ignored or misheard. Hear me, and understand all that I say. Even now, our true enemies gather their forces and strength, ready for the final push that will see them either victorious or denied for all time. The Unity is in the final stages of committing its full strength to taking this Palace. These are vital times. Soon, with the full power of the Unity before these gates, the enemy will finally choose to reveal their true natures to us. They will come, the four abominations, and they will feast. There will be much bloodshed, and many millions of lives will be lost as we deny them, but deny them we must. All of you here present must understand what is to come, for if there is no unity amongst us, there can be no victory. To tell you that the rules of war that have dominated your existence between these stars have changed is a simple thing. What I have to tell you must be absorbed, and my instructions must be followed, otherwise we are lost. You are not the Emperor, xenos. Manus uttered, his patience finally rupturing. He swung one mighty arm forward and pointed an accusing finger at Qah with undisguised menace. Your allegiances matter not. Do not presume to take command of these There. Qah answered, the mere presence of his voice enough to suffocate Manuss own. He extended a hand and unfurled his long fingers, as if to present something to the angered Primarch. Xenos. You spit the word from your mouth with such hatred, Ferrus Manus. You know more than any other here what secrets lurk beneath the foundations of your own existence, and yet you still struggle to accept the truth. I do not stand here before you today as lord and master. I do not seek the domination of your kind or your Imperium. The truth is my gift to you. Accept it, or deny it and succumb. I care little for how unpalatable you find this situation. You were made for this day. You exist for it, every one of you. This is a war for existence, not for domination or territory. Life itself hangs in the balance, and life must answer the call to war. Life will answer that call, I promise you that.

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Manus said nothing, nor Calgar. The silence of the two champions was a powerful thing, and if any others present there had considered an argumentative response, they dare not voice it. It was the Warmaster who finally spoke in answer. Then help us understand, Qah. You ask us to forget everything we know, to disregard the very boundaries that have defined our Imperium, the same boundaries our Emperor set Himself all those thousands of years ago. Such boundaries were necessary, Calgar, though none of your kind could have known the truth. With that he gestured to the Chaplain, and a sea of eyes turned to look upon him. Qah is right. He began, stepping forward so as to stand at the centre of the gathering. He took a moment to meet the faces around him, and felt his fingers tighten unbidden around the hilt of his ancient weapon. Warmaster. Primarch. Astartes, brothers of the Guard. Every one of us here exists because of war. It is as Qah says, we were made for it. War is in our blood. Conflict dominates everything we are. Who amongst you knows anything but war? He raised a hand and pivoted slowly, inviting any of those present to argue their case. The only response he gained was a continued silence. This is no accident, no coincidence. Do any of you fail to understand that? There is only war. There has only ever been war. This is a legacy from a time when dark and thirsting abominations sought to devour all life, those same abominations that even now mass to see their terrible plans come to fruition. We are creatures of war, born to fight and kill. Do you think that it is but a circumstance of fate that this galaxy has never known peace? This galaxy cannot know peace, not ever, not until we complete the racial quest that each and every one of us was born to take, whether we knew it or not. You make no sense, Chaplain. Manus growled, his massive fists bunching in frustration. No? Then take existence itself as proof of my claims, Primarch. Were you yourself not brought into existence to fight and to kill and to conquer, all in the name of war? I exist because of the Emperor! Manus raged, his voice rising into a ringing, sonorous scream of utter rage. I exist because of the vision of one man, one great and mighty man, the greatest being to have ever lived! It was the Emperor who forged the Primarchs! It was the Emperor who brought the peoples of mankind together under one banner! He dragged us screaming from the edge of the abyss, from the very precipice of racial oblivion, and he did so for one reason! He believed humanity to be the ultimate race, the masters of the stars! The Emperor had a vision, yes. Codian answered, his voice calm in contrast with the Primarchs burning anger. It was a plan of unity. As a race we were forged, forged to conquer and dominate. Forged to be strong, unbreakable. Forged to be ready. For what? Calgar asked. At that Codian motioned around him. For this. For here and now. If Qah has yet told you anything of our true enemy then you will know that they are ageless, millennial. The Ctan are set to rise again, indeed, some have already risen. What good would a galaxy of peace and harmony have done us when they return to the harvest? None.

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The Emperor knew the truth. He knew that we had to be strong, be ready to face the coming darkness. The only way he could ensure that was through the foundation of the Imperium, and the unending conflict such a vast vision would bring. He forged us all, Primarch, as a race. He tempered and blooded us, and in doing so he ensured that we had a chance at least of survival, of success. He shifted then towards the edge of the gathering, to where the sounds of the battle echoed through the darkening air. We are not the only race to live by war. All the races of the galaxy share a common connection. All the Orks know is war, for they are ruled by it perhaps more so than any other. There is no harmony to be found out there. There is no peace, for peace is not allowed to exist. There is only war. What happens to us, then, if we win? Codian looked to Grungi, his eyebrows raised. The Demiurg stood before him, his neck craned so as to look upon the Chaplain. Grungi? It is a simple question, longshank. If all we exist for is to fight, then what happens to us if we find victory here? How do we exist? How do we continue to function? Can there be any true victory for us, if all we are destined to do is tear each other apart? Codian looked to Qah as he heard this, his expression troubled. That, I cannot answer. There is only one amongst us who can. Whether the rest of them knew the whole truth behind the primordial alien he did not know, and if Qah had revealed as much to them he did nothing to betray that confirmation. Instead, he simply folded his hands back inside the ever-shifting shadows of his form, and answered. Your enemy is, and always was the Ctan. Everything, existence itself, is a product of this coming apocalypse. What lies beyond victory, should we find it here, is something even I cannot answer. And so we stand here, united and ready. Codian said then, drawing his living crozius from its strap in a gesture of readiness. Manus and the others all looked to Qah, expectation writ large across their faces. The alien bathed in the collective attention of the throng for long moments, and then withdrew his hands from within his cloak of shadows once more. He gestured out at the surrounding skies and the waiting throng as he spoke, each and every movement slow and deliberate. The pieces fall into place, both revealed and hidden. Light and darkness shifts. In order to influence the skeins of fate, one must have an absolute knowledge of the cause and probability of each and every action. That knowledge must be manipulated meticulously so that optimum results are achieved. We have but one slender chance of winning this war, and so we cannot allow for any mistakes or errors in judgement. Answer the question. Manus growled, his indomitable impatience flaring to the surface once more. Qah bowed his head as if to placate the Primarchs temper. Listen, Ferrus Manus. Listen to your heart as you listen to my words, and you will see that you already have your answer. The balance of power has shifted now, enough so that we are able to put the next stages of our war into action. Listen, understand, and see. He stepped back, his hands rising. His outstretched fingers grew hazy, the living darkness there expanding.

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The air before the gathered warriors shimmering and became tangible, a phenomenon disconcerting enough to cause those closest to move back away from the ominous occurrence. Soon the hazy ring had driven the Imperials far enough back that it had created an ample space, several metres in diameter. Shouts and cries rose up in protest to Qahs actions as, though he had not harmed anyone, the use of his warp-based powers began to anger and worry those closest to him. Codian looked across the divide to see the Iron Hands Primarchs livid face, his silver eyes glowing with mounting anger. Manus pushed against the influence of the xenos but could not manipulate it, for all his vaunted strength. Just when it seemed he would finally lose his temper, it came. A burst of glittering, multi-hued light exploded into being, blinding the unprepared hordes. At the same time Qahs brusque psychic influence died away and his actions were quickly forgotten in the wake of this new occurrence. Codian lowered his hands, his enhanced vision soon growing accustomed to the light. He looked to the phenomenon before him and found he could see what appeared to be a being at the centre of the sensory maelstrom, albeit mostly obscured by the dazzling display. He felt the fingers of someones hand wrap themselves around his arm and turned. Czevak was standing by his side, his eyes wide with fear and wonder. As he spoke, his mouth quivered. Cegorach. It is he, Codian. The god of the Webway Within moments the glittering phenomenon coalesced, solidifying and sharpening into thousands of shimmering diamond fragments. These fragments swirled around in a dizzying tornado of light and sound, assailing the senses of all those present. It was a chorus like that of the sound of a million angels, and a light brighter than the fiercest sun. It was all this and more, and yet it was contained, bearable, if only just. It was magnificent. It was terrifying. The being did not speak, nor indeed attempt to communicate with any of those present in any way. It simply extended one shimmering arm and spread its fingers wide. Qah urged the others back and then retreated from the area himself, a glowing portal of swirling energy unfolding where he had stood moments before. The blinding being simply disappeared then, its bright body rolling in on itself until no more than a blazing speck of light, before disappearing completely. Cegorach was gone, but the portal remained. What is this? The Primarch demanded, the first amongst them to gather his senses and speak up. Qahs indubitable influence faded away in time for him to barge through the dissipating energies and stand before the gate, his every mannerism demanding answers. He comes. Qah whispered. The Dragon.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty: Stone Cold, Heart of Fire

+++THE LIONS GATE+++

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ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon watched the burning skies descend, and smiled. The Shais Montda. AunVa has finally released them. He turned to regard the collective of ShasO commanders before him, each one a vast, hulking brute in his own right. Soon the night will come, and then we will increase our push upon this gate. We will take it before the dawn breaks. Is this understood? One by one, the warriors bowed their heads in servile agreement. Commander, field reports confirm that Macharius has landed in the city beyond the Eternity Wall Gate. His forces move to bolster those of the Kaiguela Ilporrui. One of the warriors said. Then we must ensure that we are the first to break this fastness. OKirla replied. That glory must be ours. OMogdrak has many thousands of warriors at his disposal, and OKorstla is due to find herself bolstered by both Guilliman and Macharius. I will not be found wanting. He shouldered through the other commanders, his sights set upon the towering gateway still some distance away. He drew his pulse staff from his shoulder and activated its charged tip, the resultant burst of energy illuminating his simian bulk. If we are to take the glory for this then we must act now. We will receive our share of the Shais Montda but I refuse to wait for the coming of the night. We will pave the way for them. OVarshan, mobilise the Vespid. In want them ready on your command. OGheod, I want every available null drone we have on the field now. If our intelligence is correct then we are to encounter many powerful psykers here, and I will not have our armies fall to their filthy influence. OVaarch, the sniper teams are yours. OHnoldar, likewise the Broadside teams. OMedrek, the bulk of the remaining forces are your to direct. I need no more than a smokescreen, a diversion. Push them hard, but not so hard that we lose more than we can afford. The other commanders parted as they followed his orders, not a single question or objection passing their lips. OKirla himself shouldered his way forward, his pulse staff braced in its firing position and ready for use. All units, prepare to initiate the montka ural dake! For victory and for the Tauva! Up ahead, the guns of the defence line continued to pound the attacking Tau forces. Hidden by the bulk of the Unity forces, Okirlas charge would not be noticed until it was too late. Minutes later the tanks and the squads assailing the defences suddenly began to peel away, motivated by some internal command. A sea of sniper drones surged through the retreating armies towards the spread of fortifications beneath the mighty gate, and by the time the first of the defenders had noticed what was happening, the first shots had been fired. Railgun shells scythed through those unfortunate enough to find themselves standing atop the four metre high siege walls. Gun emplacements were targeted with murderous efficiency, three or four shells at a time turning the armoured guns into piles of smouldering scrap. Such was the power of the deadly shells that a few even managed to punch through the thick segments of the defence wall. Soldiers were dragged screaming after them, sucked into the vortex created by their extreme hyper-velocity. Behind the drones the larger guns of the Broadsides opened up amid a rolling thunder of seismic booms.

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The cannons wielded by these lumbering battlesuits were far more powerful than the smaller rifles of the sniper drones. These were shells that were fully capable of punching clean through a Land Raider. Great sections of the walls flashed to choking dust beneath the impacts of the railcannon shots. Behind the defences, Earthshaker emplacements groaned as they imploded, gutted by the unstoppable blasts. OKirla thrilled to see such destruction amongst the enemy, his pace quickening. He knew that such success would be short lived no matter how powerful the attack was, for that success sat firmly on a foundation of shock and surprise. The enemy would adapt, that much was inevitable. This was all about attrition, and the gaining of ground. And, when ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon gained ground, he ensured that it was his to keep. Vespid, forward! He cried. Behind him, the air suddenly became thick with the drone of thousands of vibrating wing cases. Vespid rose up into the air, so thick that the swarms blocked out the towering buildings behind them. The aliens surged over the heads of the others and descended upon the survivors in the raised trench, a storm surge of hatred and determination. Neutron radiation flooded through the defenders, killing soldier and Marine alike. By the time the first Vespid foot touched down behind the barricades, the first defence line was a broken carpet of ruin and death. The insectoid aliens despatched those still alive with cold and emotionless efficiency, before turning their attention towards the guns of the second defence line. Vespid, retreat! OKirla ordered moments later, reaching the nearest breach. As ordered, the aliens took to the skies once more, their work done. Many fell around the ShasO and his advancing forces as the Imperial guns exacted a bloody retribution, but he knew that such losses were inevitable. It was done. Through blood and determination they had taken the first line. Sniper drones clustered around every breach, picking off targets with ruthless efficiency. OKirlas Marine Hunters charged up to the punished walls and fell against the thick rockcrete, weapons at the ready. Many of the warriors were armed specifically for the occasion, the many weapons harnesses fastened about their bodies heavy with pulse grenades and other similar devices. The line of grenadiers hurled their explosive payloads over the wall, while those gathered around the various breaches poured pulse fire out into the spaces beyond. OKirla himself stood crouched before the wall, keeping an exacting eye upon the progress of his forces. I want the null drones brought up to maximum range! We have gained an advantage here, and I intend to keep it! I want markerlights up here now! Give those Skyrays as many targets as they can handle! Hammerheads and Broadsides to maximum range! Give me breaches for my Shas Kayon to utilise, and I will give you all victory! On cue, crimson markerlight beams stabbed through the billowing dust clouds all around him, hunting for the Skyrays targets. Partially visible through the dust, the glowing magnetic contrails of railcannon fire speared by. A shot hit the wall nearby him with a dull crump, close enough for him to feel the pull of its passage. A second later the rockcrete there lost its integrity, first sagging inwards, the surface cracking, and then finally coming apart. Huge chunks were dragged after the projectile, the dust created by the immense impact spiralling after the shell. He waited a moment more, until he was sure that the worst of the shells effects had dissipated, and then threw himself towards the newly formed gap. He snapped off a salvo of wild rounds through the breach as more of his warriors joined him, adding their

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own efforts to the attack. One of the Shas Kayon, a particularly eager individual, leapt through the gap, his pulse staff blazing. A brace of thunderous booms cut the air and the warrior jerked back, his armoured torso a mess of blood and flesh. Armoured shapes loomed out of the dust, dark and foreboding. Bolters roared and more of OKirlas hunters fell, bloodied and broken. The ShasO surged forward and swung his staff, cleaving the first pair of arms from their parent body, bolter and all. His second swing drove the glowing head of the staff through the Marines chest and the victim fell back, boiling blood cascading from the wound. OKirla pulled his weapon free and unleashed a salvo of point-blank rounds into the other Marines, burning through ceramite and flesh. Another lunge punched through the faceplate of a Marine and he fell back then, wary enough to preserve his own life. Shas Kayon, retreat to safety! He ordered, throwing himself back. The warriors under his command followed the order immediately and without question, peeling away from the open spaces and heading back into the temporary safety of the walls. Satisfied that his order had been carried out, OKirla turned his attention to the dead Astarte at his feet. The long, syringe-like extraction blade extended from his forearm and he thrust it into the Marines neck, driving it with absolute precision between the supple ribs of the sealing rings. He drew his head back and allowed himself a moments relish at the absorption of the marines geneseed, his own physiology invigorated by its absorption. The taste of geneseed was pure ecstasy to him, as it was to all his kind. His every sense sharpened, focused by the assimilation of the genetic material. Time seemed to slow around him as he became ultraaware, alert to every sensory experience available. He could hear each individual order issued by the nearest Imperial commanders. He could smell the rank odour of perspiration that the enemy hordes exuded. He could sense the panic and the desperation of his enemies, and he thrilled at this. Shas Kayon, take your sustenance where you can and then retreat back to safety! Broadsides and Hammerheads, press home the attack! This trench is ours! Vespid, ready to advance once again on my command +++ +++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ Codian looked on as the ancient and immortal being stepped from the swirling depths of the warpgate and he tensed, sensing a similar apprehension flooding the area around him. He could feel Qahs influence as a warm, tingling sensation, forceful but subtle. The dark being held the others back with his unmatchable psychic will, even the Primarch. Weapons were raised in readiness but Codian held no doubt that those weapons would not be allowed to fire. This was not a confrontation. The tall being took in his surroundings as he emerged. There was no fear in his manner, nor hostility. Codian could feel the ancient majesty of the warrior. He was clad in a suit of ornate crimson armour that was literally festooned with shimmering green jewels, each one almost identical to the stone that had held the fragmented essence of the Eldar spirit. He wore a vast horned helm, and draped across one shoulder and fastened to his waist a hide of brilliant green reptile scales.

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In one hand he carried a mighty axe, its head wreathed in ghostly fire, and in the other a vast, long-barrelled weapon of unidentifiable xenos origin. Like Qah, he knew instinctively that this individual was old, ancient even. Unlike Qah, this newcomer literally exuded a primeval aura of age. He has come. The voice inside his living blade whispered to him, a clear reverence in its soft, ghostly tone. The Hero of Haranshemash, the world of blood and tears. He is the one, the Shepherd of the Asurya. The Dragon, the Burning Lance. Fuegan. Fuegan. Codian echoed. Though the reaction had been unbidden, he had not thought his voice loud enough to attract the attention of any of the others. When it did this shocked him, and he found himself taking a step back as the glowing eyes of the ghostly warrior found him. It spoke then, and it did so with a voice both ageless and ghostly, its tone somehow detached, surreal. Lower your weapons and listen. Those Without Souls are abroad. They will come to devour you all. Close your eyes and listen for them. You will hear their terrible song. The being was some manner of Eldar, Codian knew that. Whatever it was now he could not explain, but he knew it well nonetheless, for he had seen it in his mind. The Eldar called it Fuegan, and it was a great warrior. It. He could envisage no gender for the creature, for it was above such distinctions. Whatever it had originally been was long gone. Sex. Age. None of the mortal constraints of existence applied to it. It was only Fuegan, the Burning Lance. Despite the palpable hostility surrounding it the entity stepped out into the centre of the gathering, unafraid and proud. It regarded all those around it, and when it spoke, the eternal fires that burned around its ethereal blade flared at its words, as if in empathy. The Time of Finality is upon us all. Hear the call of war, and heed its cry. We are marked by the Hunger of Ages. A murmur of unease passed through the gathered soldiers and Astartes. Most of those present did not know of the ageless being that stood before them, and even if they had, the situation would not have been any less tense. The towering Primarch looked to Qah, his quicksilver features twisted in a grimace of unabashed displeasure. What is this latest occurrence, alien? What have you brought before us now? This thing reeks of the Eldar. Fuegan. His name is Fuegan. All eyes turned in time to see the female Inquisitor pushing her way through the gathered bodies. Her progress took no small effort, but the sheer disbelief writ across her face spoke of a mixture of wonder and determination that no man or Astarte could diminish. The Phoenix Lord of the Fire Dragons. Throne, he is real. He is here. Fuegan regarded her progress with a detached indifference, as one would the passing of an insect. Orechiel slowed as she reached the imposing warrior, her expression hardening in the presence of the burning axe in his hand.

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Auethril. Are you still in there, somewhere? Do you remember me? None present save for Codian and Czevak knew the truth of Orechiels former association with the being that had become Fuegan. Orechiel had told Codian and Czevak of Fuegan once, in the hours following their first meeting. She herself had sought the remains of the eternal warrior, and she had succeeded in locating them, only for the Eldar that had accompanied her to take them as his own. Auethril had become Fuegan, and the cycle had begun once more. Do you remember Cthelmax? Do you remember anything? Fuegan did not answer. He turned his blazing eyes away from the woman and cast them out across the general throng, pausing slightly only when he found Codian, and the ancient weapon in his hand. The Asurya will come to make war with the stirring legions of the Yngir. Soon this charade will end, and the true face of war will show itself to the masses of life. The dust of the world-tombs shifts once again. More questions were raised at this, the voices of many of those present rising as one. Codian started forward, apprehensive of the being yet unafraid. What of the Eldar, Phoenix Lord? He called, pushing through the press. We cannot win this war without them. By this time Fuegan was already in the initial stages of leaving the gathering. Bodies parted before him, fearful of the imposing warrior. He paused as he heard the Chaplains call. When he turned to face Codian, he did so slowly and with absolute grace. The Eldar will come, Prophet, you know that better than any. I see the truth of you, for the strands of fate have woven themselves tight around your soul. Listen always to the voice, Codian, for it is your guide, your key to understanding all that has passed and all that is to come. You are unique amongst your kind, for the mon-keigh lead brief and awkward lives. Your kind is too young to hold the lia-raibha, the race memory. Fuegan lifted his burning axe up to Codians temple. The Chaplain blinked, the searing heat of the blade prickling against his skin. You have been chosen, I see that. The lia-raibha is restored within you, and it is strong. I will tell you this then, in the hope that you hold the power to communicate all that must be known to your people. Tell me. Codian answered. Fuegan shook his head slowly at this. Words cannot breach the boundaries between our races, Prophet. Only memories. The glowing runes set into the Phoenix Lords axe grew brighter at this, writhing as if in agony. Codian found his gaze drawn to them, as if he could not resist their siren call. Then it came, and he felt it swallow him whole. Darkness. Screaming. Pain and death and nothing but the void. He saw the horrors as they stirred, vast things of utter evil, inimical to all life. They were coming. The hunger was an ache deep within his soul, an empathic reaction to the depthless appetite of the abominations. He gasped on impulse, his soul numbed by all that he experienced. The Eldar fled before the roiling

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darkness in their thousands, riding the crest of the living destruction. The image swam like liquid and he found himself fighting to stay on his feet, disorientated by the nauseating shift. Faces flickered past his vision, grey afterimages that refused to focus no matter how hard he tried to see them clearly. He could feel the hate, palpable and cold, like ice soaking into his bones. Bitter hatred, burning with jealousy. Twisted bodies, ravaged by unending pain. Grey faces, hairless heads and eyes as black as night. He fought to identify these beings, for he could not shake the feeling of recognition from seeing these humanoid creatures in his mind. at first he had thought them to be Tau, but the differences were as obvious as the similarities. What were these twisted, hate-filled creatures? Were they hybrids of some kind, bred from Tau genetic stock? Bred to hate and to wish for the death of all other life. Fragile and sickly, they raged against the very existence that had brought them so callously into being, for their lives were short and filled with pain, and for all their vaunted knowledge, their own cruel mortality was an enemy they could never defeat. No. Said a voice in his mind, a collective chorus of every Eldar he had ever met. They were the first. They were the true fathers of the Tau, the ancestor race. They were the Necrontyr.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty One: In the Arms of Fate

Fabius smiled in satisfaction as he wiped his bloodied hands clean. His work was complete. The procedures had been a success. Guilliman was awake. He had been all through the surgery. I am finished, my lord. Your body adapts to the surgeries as we speak. He said, throwing the blood-soaked cloth onto the floor of the hold. Rest now, and allow your body time to heal. You should be back up on your feet within a few hours. I would advise that you remain here until you are ready to take to the field once more. The Primarch could not speak, his neck and windpipe sutured shut. He simply nodded, though the frustration in his eyes told of his eagerness to get back to the war raging beyond the Orca. Fabius gestured at the drones hovering in waiting behind him and they advanced. One gathered up the various surgical tools spread across his metal bench, while the other misted the surrounding workspaces in counterseptic fluids. You should already be able to motivate your limb. Can you flex your fingers for me? Guilliman did so. He curled his fingers into a ball, the effort causing his hand to quake. Excellent. Do not concern yourself with the brace. By now the bone should have reconnected, and the flesh has all but knitted back together. It should be no more than an hour before the brace is ready to be removed. Rest now, and when you are ready we can test your new abilities.

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At this Guilliman reached up to his neck with his undamaged hand and touched the angry puckered flesh there. Then he felt the small, diamond-shaped organ set into his forehead. Fabius smiled. Patience, my lord. I will return shortly. Forgive me, but I must use this time to gather more genetic stock for the Shas Kayon. This war is far from over and OKirlas campaign will require much fresh blood if it to yet succeed With that he removed his bloodied gown and cast it aside. He passed by the ever-present Berolinus and threw him a nod. Once the Primarch is recovered, brother, I will facilitate your alteration. That is, if you still wish to go ahead. I will be ready. Berolinus spat. Fabius smiled and tilted his head once more. He looked to the small gathering of Tau medical staff attending to the Primarch. Take care of him, whatever he needs. I will return shortly. With that, he punched the activation stud next to him and the rear hatch hissed open, allowing the fading sunlight to flood the interior of the hold. He stepped out onto the extended ramp and the hatch closed behind him. The sounds of warfare flooded his ears, deep and all-pervasive. He could feel the low seismic rumble of artillery and explosions in his chest cavity and at the centre of his brain. The air was thick with the heady scent of combat and death. Acrid smoke and cordite mingled with the rich scent of blood and cooked meat. The blood did not worry him, for it was an odour he had long since grown used to. Roving squads of Fire Warriors shoaled around the Orca like fish, voices raised in indecipherable exchanges. He watched as the warriors passed by, utterly focused on whatever orders had been given to them. He waited a short while longer, taking in the sights, sounds and smells of war, savouring them, for it was an age since he had stood upon the battlefield. At last, the activity of the Unity forces died away around him, and soon all that was left to be seen was a scattering of non-combative units, damaged armour and silent, disinterested automata. He afforded himself one last glance about him and then swept around the dormant landing craft, heading out towards the shadows of the nearby buildings. The area around here was dense, flecked with many small paved squares and intersections. As he approached he raised a wrist and tapped the Tau-designed communications device there. He did not speak, but instead opened and closed the channel several times. A moment later the communicator buzzed, the crackling sound mirroring the sequence exactly. By now he was already in the shadows of the nearest building, and heading towards a darkened walkway. Litter and rusting detritus lay across the entrance to the alley, and he found himself having to negotiate the scattered refuse. He passed by a crumbling incineration unit and underneath the dark metal struts of a walkway high above. Here the alley took a sharp right angle and he followed it, deeper into the gloom. Here the space was dark and foreboding, with only the guttering light of a few scattered lumen-globes to light the way. A few metres into the void he slowed, and then came to a stop. And there he waited.

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Several uneventful moments passed, the distant sounds of the war dull and muted on the cool breeze. Somewhere in the darkness he could hear the steady drip-drip of water, constant and rhythmic. There was nothing else to be heard, not even the scraping shuffle of scurrying vermin. Is it done? The voice was close, so close he felt the rush of air in his ear. He did not flinch; in fact he displayed no shock or surprise whatsoever. It is. He answered, turning to face the hulking shadow standing before him. He could see barely anything of the figures shape, not even in the dim light. He had heard no approach, but that did not shock him. The Primarch is altered. The deed is done. Roboute Guilliman is now stronger, faster and more deadly than he ever was. The shadow did not answer this. Although Fabiuss reply had not been a question, he had still expected a response. After a few silent moments, he spoke again. I would ask why, but I know that there is little point. You kind have always been so secretive, so insidious. Still, what do I care of your plans? I have my own agendas to take care of. In any case, the deed is done. I have fulfilled my part of the bargain. At this, he heard the figure make a sound for the first time. Motivated by the quiet rustling noise, several of the spidery metal limbs set into his back unfurled. Bladed claws struck out into the darkness and caught something. Fabius withdrew the limbs and shifted the bloodied sack into what little light he could find. Another of the chirurgeon limbs unfolded, long probing needles stabbing gently into the rough, woven sack. He inhaled deeply as he tasted its contents via the delicate sensory probes. As ordered. The figure whispered. Fabius smiled in genuine pleasure at his reward. At last. At last. How did you manage this? How did you even get close to the Custoah, never mind. Your kind, you never give your secrets away, I know. At that the Apothecary lowered the sack and turned to leave, the exchange done. He had taken no more than a couple of steps when he hesitated, looking back over his shoulder. It was you, wasnt it? The Ork, I mean. You took the Ork. I have no idea what you are talking about. The voice answered from the darkness. Fabius twisted slowly, a look of suspicion crossing his face. The Ork specimen I held in my laboratory. I assumed one or more of you hadliberated it, for some unknown, outlandish reason. Not that I care, you understand. My work with the Greenskins is finished. We took nothing from you, son of Fulgrim. You have nothing we need. Fabius raised his eyebrows as he heard this. As an afterthought his dug into one of the many pockets of his vast overcoat and pulled something out. It was a prism of some kind, fashioned from some dark green, glassy material. Its cracked surface was covered in the runes, symbols and whorls of some indecipherable alien language.

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He tossed the object out into the shadows. A huge shape loomed from the darkness and out into the light, the weak glow glinting off its smooth carapace. The Alpha Legionnaire caught the device and turned it over in his hands. Then he shook his head slowly, the glowing green eyes of his helm shining as they looked upon the Apothecary. This means nothing to us. Fabius shrugged and waved a hand. Keep it. Discard it. Destroy it, do whatever you will. It is of no consequence to me. Go back into the night and about your business, we are done. Be warned though, Alpha Legionnaire, the Primarch is beginning to ask questions regarding the disappearance of your Legion. Not even you can stay hidden forever. With that he left the darkness and turned towards the mouth of the alleyway, his secret bargain with the warriors of the Alpha Legion done. Bile. He paused one last time as he heard the voice, though he did not look back. Our eyes will be on Guilliman the moment he re-enters the field. We will see if you have kept your end of the bargain. If he is unsatisfied, if Guilliman does not live up to his every expectation, we will find you. No matter where you run, we will find you. Of course you will. He answered with a wicked smile, and then stepped out into the fading light. +++ +++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ Push! All of you, push! Codian dug his heels in and followed his own instructions. The smaller Guardsman clustered around him put their shoulders to the pole and shoved for all they were worth. The towering field lamp ascended, its base support finally crashing into the solid rockcrete beneath it with a hollow metallic clang. Codian righted himself and spun his finger around. Light it up! Light it up! High above his head the power bank of lamps came online with a low, crackling thrum. He wiped the back of his gauntlet across his face, smearing the dust that caked his features. Night was approaching fast. The skies beyond the city were a deep red, as if the sun itself was sinking into a painful, bloody death. The same scene repeated itself on both sides of him, stretching as far as the eye could see. Portable field lamps were being raised, ready to counter the coming threat of the unknown Viskeon. The trenches were a hive of activity now, even more busy than they had been during the daylight hours. The day had seemed to last forever, as if he had been fighting this war for months, and yet now, with the coming of the night, time seemed to be hurtling by far too quickly. Other precautions were being taken too. The onset of dusk had seen the enemy forces here before the

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Eternity Wall Gate decrease their efforts. The attacking forces had pulled back slowly as the sun had begun to set, leaving only the long range ordinance to keep up its relentless bombardment. There was no way for the enemy to disguise their intentions now, Codian knew that as well as the combined command structure of the Imperial defence. They knew what was coming and the Unity knew they knew. The threat of the Viskeon was a powerful and unsettling thing. No one had the slightest idea what they were about to face once the night drew in, and yet everyone knew that something was coming. That the Unity had drawn their forces back to facilitate this only compounded the palpable sense of foreboding. He looked on as fresh gun emplacements and portable void shield generators were hurriedly set into place, and could not help but share the mounting sense of trepidation that soaked through the defence lines. The appearance of the Eldar, or at least one of their enigmatic champions, had only served to heighten that tension. Exactly where the being known as Fuegan had gone, and what his intentions were here, no one seemed to know. Even Qah had remained tight-lipped about the situation. Codian had heard whispers concerning the re-emergence of the beings that had named as the Void Champions, and yet nothing had yet been confirmed. Reports had filtered in as the day had worn on, serving only to add to the melting pot of the defence lines. There were so many variables out there still to consider, far too many for any man to hope to make sense of. Guilliman was still out there somewhere, his own Primarch. Likewise Russ, the feral and yet personable Primarch of the Space Wolves. No amount of incoming intelligence had as yet given any clues as to the fate of these two legendary figures. Then there was Regaas, the self-proclaimed Sigilite of Terra. As far as he was aware, only he knew the terrible truth behind the true identity of this being, and yet, of his fate, he had heard no mention. The key to all of this intrigue and confusion was Qah, he knew that, and yet the ancient alien had offered nothing in the way of information. Codian had considered confronting the xenos a number of times over the past few hours, and yet he had thus far failed to motivate himself to do so. Was this a product of his own emotions, or was it more? Was Qah himself responsible for He shook himself, dismissing such notions. Neither man nor god chose his actions or his fate, he told himself. He was the master of his own destiny, no matter what that destiny intended for him. He began to pace along the trench, fighting to make sense of everything churning inside his head. He understood better now the knowledge that Cypher had granted him, the words of Fuegan clarifying it in his mind. Cypher alone had not laden him with this vast information; rather he had simply unlocked what had already sat deep within his mind. He had merely provided the key to release that which had lain within him since his birth, a legacy of his own existence. He understood more fully now exactly what he knew, what he had truly known all along. The human race were part ofthis. He was part of this. The Eldar were part of this. The Orks were part of this Such considerations staggered him, and yet a part of him was far from surprised. A part of him had known this to be true all along. To describe the revelations within him to the uneducated would be an impossible task, he knew that, and this was frustrating. It would be like trying to explain to a xenos what it was to be human, or trying to explain to a human what it was to be an Astarte. Explanations would never suffice. One had to experience it, to feel it.

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To become it. He was here now. He had fought tooth and nail to be here. He had strode through the fires of hell to stand with the defenders of the Imperial Palace His eyes widened as he considered this. Halls of Hera He whispered, the curse no more than a breath. In all the excitement, he had forgotten the prime reason for his presence here. He had forgotten the message he had fought to deliver to Calgar and the others. They know of what is to come, Codian. I sense the burgeoning powers of the warp as they build. It is almost time, time for the Armies of Life to gather. Qahs own words. The xenos had claimed to have delivered the message he had strived to convey, and he had accepted this. Only now did his heart leap at the consideration of these words. Had Qah told them the whole truth? Had he told them all that they should expect? He doubted this. He felt the Dawnblade shiver as he thought this, and a part of him knew what was coming. A cold breeze gusted past his face and he turned. The shadows swam and coalesced, and Then Qah was there. You heard my thoughts. Codian said, discomfort clear in his voice. Are you in the habit of eavesdropping the minds of others, Qah? I am not, Codian. I do not peer into the minds of others unbidden. You must try and understand, some thoughts find me, seek me out. Your intent was a subconscious one, but it was intent nonetheless. Then answer my question. Codian replied. You have not told them, have you? They cannot know the truth of all that is to come. Qah did not answer immediately. His vast eyes narrowed as he considered Codians question. The answer was obvious to the Chaplain moments before the alien spoke. Only Magnus knows the full truth, Codian. Some information can be deadly, no matter its good intent. They are not ready to deal with the truth. They know of the Ctan, and of the Armies of Life Yes, but old wounds run deep within your kind. The very presence of Magnus has put great strain on the integrity of these defences. At this point, I doubt whether the defenders of Terra could withstand suchrevelations. They need to know, Qah. Calgar and the others need to know. Yes. When the time is right, they shall. With that, the xenos directed Codians attention to the ever-darkening skies. The Chaplain looked to the heavens, and watched as the roiling, seething colours boiled across the firmament like thick, lurid oil through water. Despite the failing light, he knew that the darkness of the approaching night should have been far more advanced than it was at this present time. The seething storm above the world threw out it own illumination, and though it was far from enough to rival that of the sun, it was nonetheless a lifeline. As powerful as we are, Codian, we are as nothing against the darkness that comes to consume us. You cannot know the horrors of the First War. The greatest strength of my kind in that war was the ability to scry

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the myriad paths of the future. Fate is a puzzle of infinite pieces, and if one is able to understand the nature of those pieces, is able to understand the nature of causality, then one is able to create a masterpiece. As potent as this masterpiece is, it is fragile, its needs exacting. The slightest shift in events, the slightest imbalance, and it can be undone. All of it. Truths must and will be revealed, but only when necessary. I can show you, if you like. I can show you the fate of the impatient. Qah raised a hand, and as he did so the skies beyond him darkened further. Sickly green tendrils of ethereal lighting raked the black, boiling skies. The walls of the defence line began to crumble, folding in on themselves. A thick green mist drifted up from his feet, acrid and caustic. He felt movement around his feet, as if the ground itself was alive and on the move, and his ears rang with the din of a million scuttling legs. Megalithic structures, dark and angular rose up behind Qah, the massive alien symbols etched into their vast walls pulsing with power. As he watched, immense spikes of burning energy stabbed from each rising monolith and into its nearest neighbour, linking the foreboding structures in one vast, all-encompassing grid. He could hear the screams on the dry, dusty winds. They were ragged and hoarse, heavy with pain and despair. Enough! He snapped, shaking his head. The terrible visions surrounding him melted away like smoke on the breeze. Within the space of a heartbeat, everything was as it had been. So many of the myriad paths of Terras fate lead to this terrible and blighted future. So many chances to lead you all to a fate worse than death. So, the answer is no. I have not revealed the full truth to them yet. The Chaplain shook his head slowly, infuriated by the ever-intertwined intrigues of this dark time. He turned away from the alien, his frustration threatening to boil to the surface. There was a rush of cold but gentle air and Qahs image formed before him. There are more pressing concerns to worry about at this time, Codian. The night will soon fall, and when it does, the dark armies of the Viskeon will descend upon these defences. The fight will be hard, perhaps the hardest of the war thus far, but the night will bring with it hope. Codian raised his head as he heard this, his anger slowly fading. Fate is a delicate thing, and timing is all. You see, with the arrival of the Viskeon, the Dragon has now committed the majority of his martial strength to the push for the Palace. In his arrogance he has directed his full attention to breaking these walls, for his actions are now born of desperation, and he feels the pressure of the passage of time. And you call this hope? Yes. If you could feel the shifting of the warp or read the boiling storms above, you would know. You would see it. See what, Qah? I have no time for riddles. The Armies of Life, Prophet. They come.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Two: Night Hunters

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Daelo Codian let out a long, quiet sigh and blinked. The catalepsian node implanted into his brain fell dormant once more, its procedure complete. For the last few hours the tiny organ had been shutting down the various areas of his brain, one after another, supplying him with the rest that conventional sleep could not, for he had not slept in days. More than ever now, he could not allow himself to sleep. The sun had finally set beyond the city, and night was upon them. The enemys long-range guns had fallen silent little over an hour ago. Since then, they had been able to hear them. The Viskeons. Strange and guttural howls echoed through the distant buildings, carried on the cool night breeze. The Unity had cut the power to all the avenues and squares surrounding the Palace, in order to better facilitate the inevitable Viskeon attack. He had watched these past few hours as pocket after pocket of light was snuffed out, until only a handful remained. Codian knew only too well what this meant. Every single isolated light source was an Imperial emplacement or other isolated position, lost and alone amid the deadly sea of the Unity. Isolated and without hope of rescue. He felt great sorrow at the plight of these unknown Imperials, and yet he knew he could not afford to focus on their predicaments. He and the others were on the verge of being tested to their limits, and soon. The field lights illuminated the sprawling no mans land before the first defence wall, giving them a visibility of some hundred metres. Auspex sensor spines were set at regular intervals across the walls, pinging softly as they scanned the darkness with ceaseless vigilance. Gun emplacements were manned, and Earthshaker platforms were on standby, ready to acquire firing solutions at a moments notice. The mood was tense, and rightfully so. The long, grating howls continued unabated, sounds that defied all efforts to calculate range or direction. He shook the terrible noise from his mind and thought back to the revelations the being Fuegan had revealed to him. The Necrontyr. He knew nothing of this long-extinct race, save for what his instincts told him. He now knew that the knowledge that Cypher had gifted to him was in fact something that had been locked away inside him, inside his very cells. The Tau were the Necrontyr, at least in terms of ancestry. He knew that this was a significant revelation, even if he knew nothing of that ancestry. He also knew that the mysterious Necrontyr were connected to the Ctan, a fact that gave this knowledge a far darker edge. His own lack of understanding frustrated him. To be ignorant of the facts was bad enough, but to know of them and yet be unable to understand them, this was truly infuriating. He paced along the length of the wall; barely conscious of the scattered groups he passed by. Guardsmen, Astartes and Arbites alike huddled behind the emplacements, ever ready to defend their positions in a moments notice. In many ways, he envied them. +++ Corporal Lence Orvitz elbowed his companion and then lowered his gaze, keeping his lasgun drawn close to his chest.

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Tarv snapped his head around and made to curse his comrade, only for the intended blasphemy to die in his throat as he clapped eyes on the dark, hulking figure that passed by. The Guardsman bit back his retort and shifted, allowing the imposing Astarte Chaplain to pass by unhindered. Only when the powerful warrior had passed them and all but disappeared into the gloom did he dare shoot a glance at Orvitz and speak his mind. You stupid piece of grox s--t! Are you trying to get me strung from this bloody field light? Stow it, Tarv. Orvitz replied, spitting into the dirt at his feet. You were snoring fit to wake the dead! That Marine wouldve had your intestines for a bandolier if hed have caught you napping, you idiot! I probably just saved your life! Tarv snorted and reached inside his jacket, producing a near-empty pack of crumpled lho-sticks. He plucked one free of the pack and straightened it, before placing it in his mouth. He lit the stick and took in a good lungful of the scented smoke. Huh, what the hell do they expect, Len? We havent had a wink of sleep now for well over a day. Im sagged, totally burned out, yknow? Man, I cant even lift this stick up to my mouth without getting the shakes. We need recupe Tell that to them. Orvitz answered, waving his rifle in the direction of the wall. Emperors balls, Len, were on a razors edge here. Listen to that. Theyre coming. Yeah, and Im burned out, Len. Im done. Whats an hour of shuteye, eh? We got emplacements fixed an all along here, and auspex spines watching the killing ground for us. The repeat of a heavy stubbers the only alarm call Ill need. Sides, we dont even know what these Viskwhatever theyre called, are. Im not going to lose sleep over an enemy that might not even exist. Stuff it. Orvitz shrugged and shook his head. He wasnt in the mood to argue. If Tarv wanted to be caught napping by one of the line commanders then that was his call. He sighed and shook himself, the incessant bite of the cold night air soaking through to his flesh. He slung his lasgun across his shoulder and climbed the metal rungs leading up onto the scaffold. The cries of the enemy had set him ill at ease, just as they were intended to do so. He cursed the invisible enemy and hauled himself up to the edge of the wall. This was the first of the defence lines here before the gate, and this fact caused him no little concern. This was the first line the enemy would hit, and that scared him. He and the rest of the Terran 3504th had been sent in to bolster the numbers here following the withdrawal of the enemy hours ago, he did not know exact time that had passed. A quick glance out into the desolate no mans land before him brought home the death and pain that had occurred here only hours ago. A number of blackened, cooling piles of scrap metal lay broken and scattered amongst the rockcrete rubble here. He knew that these had once been Sentinel lifters, units brought in to carry out hurried repairs of the punished walls of the defence line. A suicidal job, by all accounts. The guns of the enemy were as far-reaching as their own, and many had fallen as they had desperately fought to fortify the line. There were bodies here too. Human and Tau corpses were strewn before the walls, scattered lumps of dead flesh that stretched out into the night, a carpet of suffering and death. Most were Tau, and he gave silent thanks for that. He could hear the quiet buzz of Tarvs snoring even from up here. The defiant Guardsman had fallen asleep once again. Tarv was going to get himself killed if he wasnt careful, and it would not be by the enemy.

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Tarv wasnt the only one who was tired. He was dead on his feet too, but he couldnt let that urge for sleep claim him, not now, not in a million years. Not while the enemy were poised to attack. He took his prized auspex out of its holster at his side and activated it. The soft ping-ping of the device filled his ears, unusually loud in the silence of the night. He knew that the sensor spines along the wall were far more powerful and had much better range, but he trusted his piece, and had done so for almost five years now. He didnt want to have to wait for the alarm to be raised by one of the sweep teams. He wanted to know first-hand when the enemy were about to attack. The soft song of the auspex was almost like a lullaby, rhythmic and soothing. He felt his eyelids growing heavy, and was thankful for the cold breeze against his face. He lowered himself down onto the wall top and made himself as comfortable as possible. Then, as satisfied as he knew he could be, he lifted the sight of his rifle up to his eye, and waited. For several minutes he waited there, unable to shake the sense of terrible foreboding nagging at the centre of his brain. He couldnt put his finger on what was wrong. He was scared, yes, fearful of the inevitable attack. It wasnt a simple fear, though, it was something deeper, a sense that something was wrong, something had changed. The more he studied this, the more it troubled him. Soon, even Tarvs incessant snoring had faded from his ears, such was the Tarv. He couldnt hear Tarv anymore. He couldnt hear He couldnt hear it. The awful roaring of the enemy. He couldnt hear it. It had stopped. He shifted, checking his power pack to ensure that it was charged and ready. Somethings wrong He began. The gunner near him shifted his vigilant gaze and looked to Orvitz, his face hidden by the gloom and the distance. He was still glaring at him as something hissed through the air and punched through his cheek with a dull, wet thuk. The long metal spike jammed itself into the soldiers skull and pitched him back off the emplacements seat, his blood glistening beneath the glare of the field lights. Orvitz felt his throat constrict and, try as he might, he could not cry out at the mans death. Fear and shock mobilised him and he threw himself to the side, his most laughable instincts compelling him to rush to the aid of the clearly dead soldier. These instincts saved his life. A heartbeat after he moved there was a flash of sparks and a curt, metallic scraping. Another of the vicious spikes glanced across the top of the wall where he had lain a second before and then slid away into the space behind him. The nearest field light erupted in a blinding shower of sparks and then went out. He finally managed to cry out, fear flooding through him, and landed hard on the boards a foot or so away from the now vacant emplacement. Attack! Attack! He screamed, finding his voice, though even as he called he knew his warning was too late. The destruction of the field light had been all the warning the defence line had needed and, as if to confirm

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any doubts, the auspex units scattered across that length of the wall began to sing. He curled into a ball as more of the deadly spikes sailed across the top of the wall above, so close he could feel their passing. He heard Tarv below, coughing and spluttering as the mounting tumult dragged him from his sleep. Shouts and cries rose up across the line, the defenders slowly realising what was happening. They were coming. The Viskeons were coming. The stubber above him rocked violently beneath a powerful, ringing impact. Yet another spike twisted away over his head and into the raised trench, clattering in the gloom as it landed. Further along the lines the nearest Earthshaker emplacements opened up, sending their powerful shells out into the night. The thunderous booms were punctuated with the less powerful hollow pops of mortar positions. Within moments, the Imperial defences were in the swing of full response. He felt the walkboards quake beneath him and realised then what this meant. Shouted orders drifted past his ears and he glanced down and past the back of the emplacement to see squads of soldiers filing up the nearest rungs, ready to counter the threat. The sound of lasgun fire filled the air a moment later, and he knew then that his time cowering in the wake of the enemy attack was over. The Emperors eyes would be on them all here, he knew that, and he could not be found wanting by that gaze. He could hear them more clearly now, their harsh cries growing louder every time. Guardsmen filled the walkway now, sending a hail of lasgun shots out into the night. He could tell by the way they were loosing the shots that they still could not see the enemy. Most of them were firing from the hip, literally hosing the ground beyond on full auto. One of the men let out a wet cough and flew back, his chest impaled. The force of the blow caused him to convulse, and Orvitz had to duck as las-rounds slid past him, striking the stubber and the box of the emplacement. He heard a scream rise up from the trench below and past him. Some poor bastard hadnt been as lucky as him. Get a grip! He screamed to himself, tearing a frag grenade from the webbing around his chest. He pulled the pin free with his teeth and hurled it over the wall. He let out a cry of desperation and ascended, unleashing a withering salvo out into the night. He saw them. Just for a moment he saw the enemy. The Viskeons. The blackness was unforgiving, vast and endless, thick as oil. Far beyond the shells of the Earthshakers were doing their job, sending vast plumes of angry red fire out into the darkness. Just beyond the reach of the field lights, where the intermittent glow of the artillery threw sparse light through the void, the ground seethed. Vast shapes bobbed and swayed, barely visible yet definitely present. He couldnt believe how far away they still were. The stubber. The presence of the weapon barged its way into his mind, as if unwilling to wait for him to realise it on its own. He shouldered his rifle and turned to the emplacement, ready to take up the role of the dead gunner. Get back! He almost jumped out of his skin as the Commissars bolt pistol loomed, so close he found himself staring down the barrel. He held up his hands and backed away, before reaching for his lasgun once again. The officer said nothing more. He withdrew his pistol and holstered it, and then swept the folds of his stormcoat aside in order to climb into the gunners seat. Orvitz watched as the man checked the ammo

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feed, racked the weapons slide and then adjusted the wide crosshair in order to accommodate his height. He didnt argue. He turned back to the wall and raised his rifle, ready to resume his part in the defence of this holy place. The vast black shape was there, right up in his face, as large and deadly as the barrel of a Baneblade. Shock and terror struck him with all the force of a lightning strike and he fired, his lasgun only halfway to his shoulder, and unloaded his clip in one swift and powerful salvo. The shape spun up over his head and disappeared, its trajectory carrying it out into the trench beyond. Warm fluids splattered across his face and armour, and he knew it had to be blood, or whatever passed for it, from his foe. He blinked the foul substance from his eyes and scrambled around for a fresh clip, ejecting the spent one in the process. By the time he could see the pack was in place and he cast around, ready to kill again. The Guardsman by his side lurched back, crying out in surprise, as a vision of utter horror leapt effortlessly up onto the wall before him. The thing was huge, easily as tall as an Astarte. Orvitz only caught a glimpse of it, but that heartbeat afterimage burned its way into his brain, every last detail, and he knew he would die with that terrible vision branded on his mind. The creature was vast, clad in a suit of body armour that seemed to suck in light itself. Its exposed flesh was dark green and mottled, covered in ugly warts and shiny, snake-like skin. It thrust a hideous long-hafted weapon before it and the pincer-like head snapped shut around the Guardsmans neck, shearing his head clean off. He raised his lasgun and blasted the thing off its feet, sending four rounds into its armoured hide. The Viskeons stomach blew out like a burst balloon and it fell on its side, its weapon spinning away back over the wall. The heavy stubber opened up behind him as he charged along the walkway, the body of the dead soldier falling back into the trench. More of the alien creatures leapt up to meet the Guardsmen and he put a round through the temple of one of them, causing its massive body to pitch forward like a vast sack of meat. He screamed as he charged, unashamed of his fear, still firing on full auto. Another of the aliens drove the bladed haft of its weapon through the neck of a Guardsman and then flung his ruined body out into the night, braying and roaring like a beast. Orvitz put a brace of rounds into its back, and then his pack ran dry. He slowed, his hands quaking fit to shake loose, and hurriedly exchanged the clip. The beast cast around and glared at him with nauseating yellow eyes, its open maw a black hole of serrated incisors. He finished reloading in time to throw himself to one side, almost rolling over the top of the wall, as the terrible jaws of the pincer-staff snapped closed where he had stood a second earlier. The thing was fast, far faster than anything of that size should ever be. It pulled the weapon back and then brought it crashing down on the wall top, hunting for him. He rolled onto the walkway and fired, his lasgun wedged against his stomach. The Viskeon took a hit to the centre of its chest but kept on coming, unfazed. He fired again and again, catching it in the stomach and then the face. The third round zipped through its open mouth and blew the back of its skull out. The dead creature pitched over the wall and Orvitz was on his feet, bile filling his mouth. He heard a scream and knew it was the Commissar, but he didnt care. He couldnt, not now. Chaos and confusion threatened to overwhelm the defence line as he dropped down into the trench, feeling the jarring impact as his feet hit the ground. Another spike rang as it embedded itself in the second wall before him. Tarv was nowhere to be seen. His lasgun was there, lying discarded on the ground. His helmet

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was there too, glistening and dark as if covered in blood. It was propped against the wall, its back to Orvitz. He didnt dare check it. He didnt want to know if it was still on Tarvs head. A squad of Arbites ran past, riot shotguns shouldered and ready for use. He stepped back beneath the gantry, feeling the cold wall at his back, breathing hard. Oh no. Oh Throne, no The thing he had shot, the first enemy to fall to his gun, was still moving. Its back was a ruin, huge bloodied craters big enough to fit a fist inside peppered across its armour, and yet it was still moving. Reaching for its weapon, for the terrible pincer-staff He ran up to it and blasted it at almost point-blank range, the quick burst disintegrating its neck. He kicked the head away and watched as it bounced into the wall, dark blood splattering against the thick rockcrete. The body. The body. The body was still moving, still clawing its way forward. Headless, and moving He gave a soft, choking sob and stepped back, the gun in his hands shaking. He managed to steady himself enough to send a few shots into the twitching, moving corpse, and yet these too seemed to do nothing to slow its progress. He felt something hit the back of his heel and stopped. His terror at the alien body broken momentarily he cast around, and what he saw then finally brought the contents of his stomach through his mouth. The head of the Viskeon thrashed and quaked in the dirt, its eyes wide and its mouth opening and closing in soundless agony. Something wet and fleshy was growing from the ruin of its neck, expanding out across the floor. As he looked on, tiny stumps began to elongate from the mass, cracking like dry twigs each time they gained length and mass. It was growing. Throne take them all, it was growing. An armoured boot smashed down on the head and burst it in a puff of bone and blood, driving the ruined thing into the floor. Orvitz leapt from his skin as the space before him darkened, and he saw him. The Astarte Chaplain, huge and terrible in his eyes. The Marine said something to him but he did not hear it. Nonetheless he stepped to the side, sensing the warriors intent. The headless body had reached the second wall now and was in the process of clawing its way up the thick rockcrete, only it wasnt strictly headless any more. A misshapen, fleshy lump had begun to grow between its shoulders, pushing its way into being amid a torrent of alien blood. Shock and despair seized him in its grip and he stumbled back, falling onto his behind in the blood-slick dirt. Tears streaming down his face, he lifted the barrel of the lasgun up to his mouth, and begged the almighty Emperor to forgive him. +++ Codian felt his stomach twist at the sight. The xenos thing was still alive, alive and moving. It had been decapitated, at least as far as he could see, and yet, unbelievably, it seemed to be in the process ofof growing another head. He thought back to the first time they had talked of the Viskeons, and remembered the mention of regeneration, but this, this was unnatural. Accelerated, somehow, it had to be.

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He lunged forward and swept the Dawnblade down, severing the rising body from neck to groin with a single blow. The ruined flesh slid down the wall, convulsing as the ancient weapon drew the life force from it, and then fell still. It would not rise again. He cast around and fired, punching another creature off its feet. Flamers! He cried. We need flamers, grenades, meltas, anything with the power to put these things down for good! He turned slowly then, his eyes finding the shaking Guardsman at his feet. He glared at the man, the vision slits of his helm burning in the gloom. You. He said. Did you not hear me? Put the rifle down and spread the word. Flamers, grenades, go! Corporal Lence Orvitz did not argue.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Three: Hydra

The defence line was close to breaking. They were seconds into the enemy attack, and the line was near to a complete rout. Codian shifted his aim and fired twice, making a ruin of the Viskeon in his sights. The things torso came apart as it fell, blood and viscera spreading like the vile petals of some fleshy flower. Get those void shields up! He cried, pivoting on his heel in order to cover the opposite end of the trench. Men screamed and died as dark shapes tore into them, snapping heads from shoulders and raking stomachs free. He fired out into the gloom and did not stop until the hammer of his pistol clack-clacked over and over again, his clip empty. He fell to one knee and rapidly reloaded, one eye always of the desperate fight. Men screamed and fled in terror all around him and yet he remained calm, collected, just as an Astarte was conditioned to do. He rose once again, retrieving the Dawnblade as he did so. The shield generators! Fire them up! Flamers and assault weapons to this position! Now! We have breaches! We have breaches! To his left he heard the familiar whoosh of erupting flame. He afforded himself a quick glance down the line and saw the troopers there hosing the enemy with flaming promethium. The defenders were starting to respond, albeit piecemeal, but even now he could tell that it was not enough. The Viskeons were coming over the wall faster than anyone had anticipated. They were huge creatures but they were agile, able to leap up onto the parapet in a single bound. He had expected terrible things of the Unitys secret army, but these past few minutes had blown his every expectation out of the water. The Viskeons werent armed with ranged weaponry in any conventional sense, and for this fact he found himself grateful, but still they were swift and strong and utterly deadly, able to tear apart a Guardsman with

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frightening ease. He felt the ground shake beside him and threw himself around, sweeping his living crozius in a wide arc. The alien attacker came apart from waist to shoulder, its inhuman face still contorted in a rictus of hate and bloodlust. Dark energies curled from the bisected parts of the alien, the very life force of the Viskeon flowing from it into the blade. The Dawnblade. The Dawnblade knew how to kill the Viskeon finally and with one strike. Drink the life from them, every last drop. That, or punish the very stuff they were made of utterly. Hold this line! He thundered, striding down past the ruined stubber emplacement in the opposite direction of the flame teams. Hold this line unto death, and beyond should your faith be strong enough! Do not let this enemy break through! Do not dishonour the Emperor through fear or weakness! His gaze is ubiquitous, and I am His Judgement! The sword is not lenient in the hand of its master! His instincts kicked in again as another enemy loomed from nowhere, radiating deadly intent. He spun around and put a bolt through its face, driving it back. A series of fast and violent blows took the things vast meat-slab body apart where it lay. Line control, Chaplain Codian here! Get me the Warmaster! He commanded, shouting into his vox link. Line contr +Calgar here. News of the attack has already started to filter through, Chaplain. I have ordered Astarte support squads to your section of the defences, as many as we can spare.+ Be advised, Warmaster, the xenos warriors are able to generate. I repeat, they are able to regenerate. We need flamer teams to support the defence squads. We need to burn them The link erupted then, gunfire hammering in his ear. He waited anxious seconds before Calgars voice came back. +Confirmed, Chaplain. Ultimate and Lions Gate both report attacks along their primary defences. This is coordinated, Codian. Hold tight and dont give the b-----ds an inch. Calgar out.+ He severed the link and stepped aside as a squad of Astartes jogged past, assault weaponry armed and ready to deal with the threat. This section of the wall seemed secure, at least for now, but his eyes and ears told him that much of the wall was under assault by now. The enemy were attacking in such numbers that breaches were inevitable, and the most vulnerable point of the raised trenches were the access spaces. These were sections of the secondary defence wall that were left open, in order to facilitate the passage of troops and support teams to filter through the trenches. Either stationary armour, emplacements or heavy weapons teams manned each gap, and though the weapons that guarded these spaces were potent indeed, they were still vulnerable spots, open to attack by the enemy. He started out towards the nearest of the access spaces, intent on doing all he could to keep the enemy from gaining ground. Roving squads of Guardsmen and Arbites passed by him, shooting up at the top of the walls or despatching those Viskeon who had already fallen to their guns. He listened as he passed to the shouted orders of the officers, and it soon became apparent that his warning had already begun to filter through to the masses. Satisfied by this at least, he doubled his pace towards the access space. Spaces were set at hundred metre intervals, and it was not long before he reached the nearest of them. As he predicted the enemy had already begun to cluster around the space. A few of the bravest or most foolish

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of the attackers leapt up onto the second wall, intent on catching the defenders of the access space unawares, only to be cut down merciless and sustained salvos of las and bolter fire. A loud, rumbling boom shook his chest armour and he skidded to a halt, watching as the huge column of flame rolled out and over the gathered Viskeon. The burning flames swept from left to right, hosing the entire space. The alien monsters howled as they were incinerated, flesh turning to ash within seconds. The fire died away, its grisly task complete. Seconds later a number of armed figures charged through the gap and began to rake those Viskeon still alive with lasfire. We need more men here! Codian called. Get men and weapons into this trench now! Keep this line bolstered or we will lose ground here! There were none amongst the Guardsmen who dared to argue with an Astarte Chaplain. Several of the soldiers shouted into the gap and then ran to follow his orders. Officers appeared, their faces radiating anger. That anger faded upon seeing the Chaplain. a simple gesture from him brought squads of men flooding forth. Codian waited for them to pass and then moved to check the defence emplacement. He checked his surroundings for signs of enemy activity, and then, pistol still raised, peered around the opening. The Hellhound sat idling, its vulnerable rear armour resting against the third inner wall. The gunner atop the turret cupola trained his storm bolter upon the Chaplain. Several Guardsmen were astride the hull of the tank, standing or kneeling behind the fearsome Inferno cannon. Rifles were brought forth, and then slowly retracted. Keep this position tight! Codian called. On pain of death, and worse, dereliction of duty, keep the enemy from gaining ground! The Guardsmen saluted. Satisfied that they would play their part, he turned back to the war for the first trench. He heard it first. The sound was strange, indescribable, like the cries of a wounded animal. He scanned his surroundings for the source of the sound. There. His stomach tightened with disgust as he laid eyes on the abomination. It was an arm, a vast and powerful slab of muscle and claw. It was alive. A glistening sack of flesh and bone dragged it across the ground, straining with the effort of shifting the limb. The thing was Viskeon, in a fashion, and yet it was small and child-like, with the proportions of an infant. It cried and wailed as it dragged its own adult arm towards the shade of the walkway above, hissing hatred at the Chaplain. Even as he looked on, the creature continued to grow. It would shudder and then inflate, flesh and bone increasing in mass inside its body. Another Viskeon warrior was literally growing from the severed arm, and within minutes it would be of the same size as its original donor. Codian put a bolt round through the vile thing and then stamped what was left into an unrecognisable pool of viscera and gore. He watched the wretched remains for a moment, in order to ensure that they would not re-knit and begin to rise again. This time they did not. +Codian, this is Calgar.+

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He started as he heard the link come alive. Warmaster, this is Codian. +Good to hear you still with us, Chaplain. I have spoken with the Tau and the male Inquisitor regarding everything they can tell us on this enemy. The apparent legend behind the Viskeon, according to the Tau, is that the Hordes of Shadow will take the Palace in one single night. Czevak believes that this has something to do with the Viskeon weakness, rather than strength.+ I dont understand, Warmaster The daylight, Chaplain. He believes that the daylight will slow them down. If this is true, if we can hold these lines until daybreak, then we may have a chance.+ Understood. Codian out. He severed the link and then sprinted beneath the walkway, movement above him catching his eye. The enemy creatures landed, snarling guttural orders to one another. He launched himself from his hiding place and tore into them. The Dawnblade smashed through flesh and bone and the Viskeon came apart, powerless to withstand the blows. This would be a long and testing night. +++ The sound of screaming engines howled around the buildings of the square, drowning out all other noise. The Aquila touched down amid a tornado of swirling rubble, while squads of Tau ran from the descending aircraft and its violent descent. Guilliman stepped from the ramp of the Orca in order to witness its descent. Fabius was by his side, as was the ever-present Berolinus. The latter still bore the scars of his recent surgeries, the flesh at his throat red and puckered, and sutured with thick black stitches. The Primarchs own surgical scars had healed completely, leaving no trace or evidence behind. He looked on as the craft rose up on its extending legs and the belly descended, revealing an opening hatch. Lord Solar Macharius stepped out onto the surface of Terra, flanked by warriors of his personal guard. His polished golden armour shone, reflecting the lights of the Primarchs makeshift camp. He smiled as he approached, and removed his gilded helm. Brother Primarch. Well met. Guilliman took the offered hand in a warriors handshake, his vast hand dwarfing the Lord Solars arm. Macharius. It is good to see you here at last. The Lord Solar nodded and the two warriors separated. Macharius kept his helm beneath his arm and unhooked his cane from his belt. In ancient days, the first Macharius had carried a cane that was said to have been topped with a small, gilded bust of the Emperor of Man. Macharius had famously claimed that this was his personal devotion to his Emperor, and that his bearing of the cane upon each world he conquered represented the presence of the Emperor Himself, come to claim that world. This pale skinned reincarnation of the Lord Solar bore a cane topped with the symbol of the Unity. That

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symbol pulsed softly in the gloom, lit with an inner azure glow. Walk with me. Guilliman said, his hand resting upon the hilt of the re-forged Agiselus. Macharius tilted his head and extended his arm. Watched by the soldiers of the Lord Solars guard, Berolinus and Fabius, the two commanders of the Unity began what appeared to be a leisurely stroll. I took the liberty of dispersing my forces throughout the three zones, Primarch. Macharius began, taking in the punished buildings all around him. With the Viskeon attack underway, I thought it pertinent to bolster each force evenly. After all, it would not do to have Ork and the Shas Kayon brute accusing us of conspiring to snatch all the glory here at the Eternity Wall gate. Besides, Im sure OKorstlas pride has been hurt enough by our intrusion into her territory. I have little concern for her pride, Macharius. I care only for results, and the swiftness at which they are achieved. There is no room for pride when one follows the teachings of the TauVa. Quite right. Besides, such considerations may well be moot. From what I can gather, much faith has been put in the attack of these Viskeon. As I hear it, many expect them to break the walls in a single night. I myself have misgivings about this As do I, Lord Solar. We shall see what the dawn brings. Macharius nodded at this and the two men kept on walking. After a few moments of silent contemplation, he spoke again. AunVa, praise His name, grows impatient. This concerns me, Primarch. The news of the return of your brothers has managed to filter through the fleets. Most do not even know of them, of who they are and of their origins, and yet it is enough to know that others like yourself walk amongst the defenders of this world. I am sure you can imagine I can. Of course. Whatever the reason, the order to descend came direct from the Aun Himself. There seems to be an increase in urgency here, Lord Guilliman, and it concerns me. Such concerns are not ours to voice. Guilliman answered, though it was clear by the tone of his voice that he too had sensed as much. Whatever it is that our Aun knows or senses, it matters not. We will prosecute this war with utmost haste, and we will take the Palace as soon as we can. They reached the edge of the perimeter, where the temporary lights blazed out to meet the darkness of the inner city. Line up line of tanks and emplacements were spread out across the streets to face the lightless streets. A Stealth team passed by them, each warrior shimmering and then fading into nothing as they entered the city. Macharius slowed as he observed the departure of the team, and then came to a halt; his eyes fixed upon the endless shadows long after they had swallowed the warriors. News travels fast through the fleets, brother. I know that you engaged the Wolves of Russ here. Guilliman did not answer, and after a few moments Macharius glanced behind him. The Lord Solars face was fraught with concern.

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Russ will be dealt with in time. The Primarch said. I promise you that. The Wolves of Russ and the Primarch himself are all that stands between the Eternity Wall Gate and us. We have faced each other on the field of battle once. The next time we do, I will ensure that crush him utterly, and lay his feral warriors to waste. Macharius seemed more than satisfied by Guillimans answer. He nodded slowly, a smile of approval creeping across his face. The tenets of the Tauva aside, Primarch, AunVas favour would shine upon those who were first to break the fastness of the mighty gates. I believe that we shall be the ones to do just that. Let the Viskeon weaken and degrade them, I say. Come the eve of the new day, we shall set foot inside the sanctum of the Emperor, and we shall be the ones to release him, once and for all, from the heresy that plagues his existence. Macharius fell silent then. The mirth in his expression died away as he turned away and raised a hand up to his ear. He uttered a few quiet words, his voice heavy with frustration. Then he fell silent. Guilliman turned to face him, his hand still fast upon the hilt of his sword. He did not speak, although his eyes narrowed at the Lord Solars expression of concern. Fort several moments Macharius stared into the gloom of the deep city, his eyes unblinking and his face set in stone. His hand shook, a barely noticeable thing, as if his grip around the cane would shatter the steel haft. Finally he looked to Guilliman, as if awakening from some rage-induced trance. One glance at the man was enough to confirm that he was struggling to maintain his composure. I have just received word from the fleet. It would seemit would seem that we may have underestimated the enemy. We are under attack. Guilliman tensed as he heard this, as if expecting that attack to come at any moment. Under attack? The fleets, Primarch. A few minutes ago, the fleets came under attack. They have yet to identify the ships in question. Guilliman sneered as he heard this. Such efforts are trifling at best, Macharius. The enemy clutch at straws, but it is too little, too late. They have seen us deploy our strengths here, and intent to strike at our fleets whilst they are at their supposed weakest. Let them. We have come to conquer this world and there is nothing they can do to prevent that. Terra is the ultimate goal. If we lost every ship we have, it would not change out situation here. What would they hope to achieve? Would they see us stranded here? Would they bombard us from orbit? Of course not. AunVa is immortal, Macharius, and his power is without compare. He is able to command man and machine alike with absolute authority. They pose no threat to him. Macharius heard this and nodded, the hard edges of his expression softening. Of course. I myself have seen the power of the Aun at work, first hand. His will is strong enough to break apart the mightiest battleship. Then we have no cause to worry. Guilliman said. With that he turned to the darkness before them and drew his sword. Agiselus sang as it was freed, the keen blade ringing against the oiled interior its scabbard.

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The Primarch fixed his gaze upon the lightless depths of the city, and made a silent vow that he would wet his blade with the blood of Russ when next they met. The Wolf would pay with his life. We will the Wolves from our path, and then we will smash the defences of the Palace aside. We will have victory.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Four: The Long Night

The Sentinel lifters harsh spotlamps swung through the night as it lurched forward, its progress facilitated by shouting Munitorium adepts. The machine ground to a halt as it reached the supply lines, and it lowered itself down onto its haunches in order to place the crates upon the floor. Adepts and military runners swarmed around the crates, ordering mindless labour servitors to break them open. Packing fibres gusted into the air as promethium tanks were hauled free and carried away by human chains. Codian rounded the corner and stepped through the access way as a group of grey-robed Munitorium adepts hurried by, laden with satchels of plasma canisters. He watched them leave before turning his attention back to the activity of the supply lines. A few of those present looked up at the approach of the Space Marine Chaplain. Unmasked, the skin of his face was plastered with the blood of the Viskeon, and his hair matted with the viscera of the alien enemy. His ceramite armour was scratched, chipped and dented in a dozen places, and much of his vast form was caked in black, greasy soot. He slid the Dawnblade into its holster and ejected the clip from his bolt pistol, letting it fall to the floor with a ring. One of the robed figures scurried forward and retrieved the spent clip before sinking back into the mass. Bolt pistol ammunition! He called. A crate was soon carried over to him and he did not waste the opportunity to replenish his ammunition supply. He scooped handfuls of magazines up, placing them wherever he could about his person. Only when he was satisfied that he could accommodate no more did he dismiss the bearers and turn his attention to the space beyond the bustling supply lines. A short way through the milling throng brought him into the presence of the Warmaster and the other commanders of the Eternity Wall Gate defence. Faces turned to him as he approached. Codian. Ventris said, a smile creeping across his weathered face. The Ancient moved to greet the Chaplain and placed a hand upon his shoulder guard. It is good to see you here at last, a part of the defence of this world. It is good to see you also, brother. Codian replied, returning the gesture. Codian tilted his head and then looked beyond Ventris to gathering of warriors awaiting him. Brother Codian, join us. The Warmaster said, beckoning him over with a wave of one huge fist. Codian slid

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home a fresh clip as he walked over to Calgar and the others. Cassius and Tigurius greeted him, the latter affording him no more than the most cursory acknowledgement before turning his attention back to the small army of officers and Marine commanders surrounding him. You must forgive him. Cassius said, greeting the Chaplain with a fist-to-chest salute as he approached. He is currently advising the defence elements of the movements of this Viskeon army. He is in direct liaison with Magnus at the Lions Gate. It would seem they are finding particular success against the Viskeon there. As will we. Codian replied, looking back towards the many defence walls beyond him. I have just come directly from the seventh trench. We are holding fast there. The first six trenches may be lost to us but they are choked with the Viskeon dead. We have three, maybe four hours until sunrise. I think we may just hold them. Codian. Calgar said. Well met, Chaplain. I see from the state of you that you have taken more than your toll of the enemy. Calgar himself bore all the scars of hours of brutal combat. His vast frame was awash with the blood of the enemy. His mighty fists were black, the result of a combination of energy discharge and Viskeon blood. It was clear that all of them had seen action against the alien infiltrators and, like him, had only returned from the battlefront a short while ago. How goes the defence of the Palace, Warmaster? Do the other Gates fare well? We are holding them, yes. The night and these Viskeon have brought much punishment, Chaplain, but the Gates still hold. The sheer numbers of the enemy harry us still, but we continue to hold them back. Codian holstered his bolt pistol and joined Calgar as the hulking commander of the Alliance turned back towards the monolithic gates. Once he was sure that he was beyond earshot of the majority of the gathered throng, he spoke. We are holding them only by the skin of our teeth. All three of the Gates have lost ground to these monsters. Many have died tonight, many more than we have lost to the Tau. We must wipe these Viskeon out, we must utterly destroy them, for I fear that if we have to withstand another night of such punishment then these defences will fall, and the Palace will be lost. Codian did not answer, for in truth, he could think of no positive response. He agreed fully with the Warmasters assessment of things. The Viskeon were bestial and crude, and they were utterly devoid of any form of support. The strength of this new and terrible enemy was numbers. Where other armies could be whittled down through sheer force and firepower, the Viskeon could not. They did not need armour, nor support. He had seen many terrible things in the hours he had defended the Palace. He had seen alien warriors grow from severed limbs. He had seen individuals torn apart, only for the separate pieces of his victims to begin to expand and grow, and form entirely new bodies, up to five at a time, from the remains of the deceased creature. When he had first encountered the Viskeon he had, for all their ferocity and strength, dismissed them as feral and easily countered. He had been mistaken. There have been other events in your absence, Chaplain, events that may prove pivotal to this war. There are more Eldar are among us. More?

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His heart leapt at hearing this. He thought back to his meeting with the creature he had come to know of as Eldrad, and of the spirits onboard the Ishyrea. He had always secretly hoped that the Eldar would play their part and now, to hear that desire confirmed raised his spirits. Once he had considered the Eldar a dire threat, and they had been, but here, now, things were much different. He still knew little about that ancient and enigmatic race, but he did know that they were powerful, enough so to tip the scales of this war in the favour of mankind. Yes. Calgar continued. It would seem that the brothers and sisters of this Fuegan are amongst us now. I have been receiving a steady flow of reports since the Viskeon first attacked. Sightings of Eldar have been confirmed at all three Gates, and even within the Palace itself. Every report seems to be analogous. Lone Eldar, operating without support, making no attempt to either attack or interact with Imperial forces. Magnus has ensured that the word has been spread that these individuals must not be engaged. He seems to know more than any of us on the subject of their appearance. Trust him. Codian answered. Even he could not explain the confidence he held in the repentant Primarch, and yet his conviction was without question. Almost as surprising to him as this was the fact that the Warmaster agreed. Magnus seems to have faith in the Eldar, and I trust his judgement. I cannot say exactly what plan these xenos warriors are following. All I know is that they are at large, an undisclosed number of them, and that they seem to share a common purpose. Whatever their collective agenda, they are amongst us now. At this moment in time, if they engaging the Unity forces then I say we leave them be. Codian said. The Eldar are as much a part of this war as we are, Warmaster. In time, I believe that they will approach us. For now we must leave them to play their part. I am starting to learn that it is wise to trust your judgement, Daelo Codian. Calgar replied. Whatever source of knowledge you hold, it has thus far served us well. The creature Fuegan spoke of something inside you, something that set you apart from the rest of us. I will not press for answers, Codian; for I doubt that I have neither the time nor the patience. It is enough for now that I have faith in you. Faith has long been one of our most potent weapons. Codian said. Faith in the Emperor and faith in one another. With that he pointed to the skies above, to where the storm raged still. He will deliver us. The Emperors final act will be to bring all the forces of life together to fight this war, Lord Calgar. I know. Calgar answered. Codian looked to the Warmaster as he heard this, his eyes narrowing. He had not expected this answer. A short while ago I received word from the fleet. Ships have exited the warp around the planet, Chaplain. Thousands upon thousands of them. Codian turned his gaze to the heavens once more, his heart stirring at the news. Then he saw it. He saw it with his own eyes, as surely as if the phenomenon had been waiting for his attention. The vast storm shuddered, the unnatural light of its presence flaring like a dying star. Vast flares of energy coiled in on themselves, writhing like dying serpents, and then the storm itself looked to shrink, to implode. Blessed Halls of Hera He breathed, watching as the storm swirled, pulling itself into a pure white point of central light. Then that light blinked, shimmered, and was gone.

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In its place the firmament was visible once more, and yet it was changed utterly beyond anything he could remember. Stars, millions of them, dominated the heavens, tiny pinpricks of every imaginable colour, so thick that the void of space could barely be seen beyond them. Each star was a ship, Codian knew that. Thousands, you said. He uttered to the Warmaster, who had by now turned his own attention to the skies. That may have been a vast understatement. As the two warriors looked on, the first of those stars began to fall. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++ This deep within the bowels of the vast Ziggurat Imperialis, within the very lowest levels of the ancient edifice, the dust-covered catacombs had lain undisturbed for millennia. The catacombs were a dark and forbidden place, a place of legend. Only a handful of living individuals even knew of their existence, and those who did would never dare to venture into their haunted depths. They were the oldest part of the Palace, pre-dating even the Imperium itself by several millennia. The legend of this place claimed that the Emperor Himself ordered the Palace to be built over the catacombs, in order to seal their secrets deep within, for all time. They were of a dark and terrible time in Terras history known as the Dark Age of Technology. Mankind had reached the pinnacle of its scientific and technological ability, and it was a time when borders and limits seemed powerless to prevent the ascension of man. The Age of Strife had come to claim the power and magnificence of mankind, and much was lost. Much, but not all. Here in the catacombs, many ancient relics of the Dark Age of Technology survived still. The ancient glow-globes guttered as the shapeless void soaked through the walls of reality and formed at the centre of the wide stone corridor. Antiquated defence systems rattled to life, dormant logic cores firing up at the sudden presence of the intruder. Glittering null-dust puffed out into the corridor, and ancient censers filled the space with the choking smoke of burning daemonbane. Qah formed from the dark mass and swept a hand before him. The dust and smoke dissipated immediately, and the defence systems crumbled to metallic dust. These were systems designed to dispel the most powerful entities of the warp, and yet the Old One turned them aside as if they were nothing. I know you are down here. He called into the gloom. I know you hunt for me. I have been waiting for you, but I could wait no longer. I know why you have come to this secret place. I cannot allow you to bring them here. You speak as if you have a choice, decrepit thing. A voice answered. Qah turned on the spot to look out into the shadows beyond. A golden radiance flared into being, the shape of the individual at its centre apparent as a barely visible outline. The radiant being floated towards Qah, its eyes twin cores of burning

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radiance. I knew. I knew you would come here seeking them. You still think that you have a chance, dont you? You still think that you can save this world. This confrontation is not destined to pass at this time or location, Ctan. Leave this place. We shall have our reckoning soon enough. Deep within the luminescence, the Deceivers expression darkened. Do not presume to order me to follow your mystical and far-reaching schemes, you filthy warp-thing. I could swallow you whole, for all your bitter taste, with but a thought. Yes. You could have done so at any time since my coming here, Mephetran, and yet I exist still. Do not play me for a fool, Ctan, for I am far removed from the simple creatures you have grown so used to manipulating. We have spent too long in the presence of the warp. It has tainted us, become one with us. So much as a taste would tear you apart. I do not need to consume you to destroy you Has the passage of the ages dulled your memory so? It would not be the first time your kind has underestimated mine, Mephetran. You have seen with your own eyes, the power of my kind unbound. Would you test us? Us. Mephetran turned his head slowly as he heard this. In the corner of his eye he could see the broken, swirling light far behind him. It did not surprise him that Qahs last surviving comrade had been present all along without detection. Would you test us? A detached and ghostly voice echoed. Remember Gia. The corona of radiance that surrounded him visibly brightened, agitated empathically by the presence of two of his most ancient and hated enemies. Such bravado. It is fortunate that I have come here only to satisfy my own interest. Do you really plan to wage this secret little war here? You will not survive this, Qah. He has tasked the Void Champions with your destruction, and they will not rest until they have fulfilled that command. Then they will never rest. Qah answered. With that his entire body dissipated into thick black smoke that twisted away down the corridor at incomprehensible speeds, as if torn away by the fiercest gale. Mephetran smiled as he turned to face the shimmering, multi-hued wall of light. Remember Gia, you said. How fitting a subject to broach. You will soon come to see what I mean by that. Cegorach did not answer. He simply faded from sight, his burning eyes the last visible part of him to sink into the darkness. Mephetran looked away from the departing being and took in the desolate emptiness around him. His eyes roved the gloom as he spoke. I sense your Eldar too. He whispered. I know they are down here, hunting the Void Champions through the shadows. What good sport you will make, in time. +++ +++THE WALLS OF THE IMPERIAL PALACE+++

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Rogal Dorn thrust his hand forward and caught the howling shape by the throat. His fingers sank deep into alien flesh as the Viskeon struggled in his grasp. For all its strength and power, the xenos was not strong enough to break free of the Primarchs grip. He squeezed his fingers tight until he felt the Viskeons spine give way, and then cast the limp body back over the wall and into the abyss. Even as it twisted away, he could see the dark shapes scaling the walls, ascending faster than any human ever could. The Viskeon needed no siege weapons or scaling equipment. There were no ladders or ropes to smash aside or cut. Bolters here! He called, signalling many points along the wall below him. Marines hurried to his sides upon his command, boltguns raining thunder and death down upon the ascending creatures. They were deep into the night now, and had fought the advance of the Viskeon for hours. All this time Dorn had kept command of the walls, leading the defence personally from the west face, and during that time he had made sure to keep himself appraised with the situations at the three Gates. The Viskeon attacks were more concentrated there, as he had expected. The walls of the Palace towered above even the tallest of the citys buildings, and were so thick that they could withstand the most punishing attacks. It stood to reason that the Viskeon would concentrate their efforts upon the Gates. Despite this fact, even though he had no idea of the numbers of this latest enemy force, he knew that there had to be hundreds of thousands of them. Not a single section of the walls had escaped attention, and though the attackers were spread thinly enough to contain, at least for now, the number of Viskeon scaling the walls seemed to be steadily increasing. He had received word from the Warmaster almost two hours ago. The enemy had the ability to regenerate, and worse, multiply. The only way to stop this was to ensure that the body be utterly annihilated, but this was far easier said than done. Those Viskeon who fell to the guns of the defenders were sent tumbling away into the darkness, and though the deadly fall had to obliterate the victim, there was no way of being sure. Frag grenades! We need more frag grenades up here! He called. Mortar shells too! I want the ground before these walls pulverised and burning! Over the past few hours he had devised a number of effective defensive techniques to deal with these alien invaders. The sheer distance of the drop to the streets below rendered the incendiary frag grenades useless, if primed in the usual way. The grenades had to be dropped unarmed, otherwise they would simply detonate long before they reached the ground. Gravity and distance were enough to cause them to detonate on impact. The mortar shells of the Guard were another effective deterrent for those on the ground before the walls. The Guardsmen had soon learned that the best way to use these was by hand. A steady rain of mortar shells continued to fall from the walls, simply hurled out into the night. Far below, the constant flash flare of detonations illuminated the ruined streets. Activity a short way along the wall attracted his attention and he looked on as several Techmarine Sellios strode towards him, accompanied by a small army of servitors. Some of the mindless units were hauling heavy munitions crates with them, whilst others were distributing the ammunition and equipment inside to the warriors of the defence. Sellios regarded him with a nod as he passed and Dorn returned the gesture, before snatching a good handful of bolter clips from the nearest crate. He placed the pile at his feet and them took one, slamming it

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home into the underside of his boltgun. Almost an hour had passed since he had last fired his boltgun, and he was eager to get back into the fray. He sheathed his sword and knelt on the firing step, lowering his bolter one-handed over the wall. Despite the gloom he could clearly see the dark shapes ascending below him, dragging themselves higher through claw and sheer strength alone. He emptied his clip in a matter of seconds. Each shot found a target, and killed without mercy, blowing Viskeon from the walls in showers of blood and gore. He watched the last victim tumble away and then drew himself back up, ready to reload again. He caught sight of the bright plume of fire far below just as he withdrew. Something had exploded below, almost halfway down the wall. He threw himself back onto the step and peered over the wall, in time to see the last vestiges of plasmic fire fall away into the gloom. Another glittering light was already streaking through the dark night towards the west wall, and he watched its progress as it slammed into the wall almost half a kilometre to his left. Dark shapes tumbled away in the explosion, Viskeon dislodged by the small but powerful blast. Someone was firing upon the enemy, and they were firing from somewhere within the city. Within moments, a hail of bright miniature comets looked to erupt from nowhere, thousands of them, all darting their way towards the wall and the climbing enemy. The assault seemed to be coming from the many towering buildings of the city, and though he knew that there were no friendly units left in this part of the city, it was clear that the Viskeon were under attack. Within moments the rest of the defence forces began to notice this too. Shouts and cries soon choked the vox, as the marines under his command struggled to make sense of what was happening. Dorns mind worked overtime as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. A thousand possibilities thundered through his mind, and yet none of them seemed feasible or made any logical sense. A sound broke his reverie, not through sheer volume but rather its proximity. It was a whisper, barely even that. It was a short, wet hiss, a curt, barely audible noise, and yet it snatched his attention as sure as the roar of an artillery shell. He cast around, his sword and bolter at the ready, fast enough to almost skewer the Viskeon raider standing on the lip of the wall. The creatures eyes were wide, yellow and bestial and glistening with surprise. Its forehead was a ruin of bone and flesh, brain matter glistening in the air before it as if frozen in time. The Viskeon was dead, that much was clear by its injuries. It toppled forward onto the wide floor of the wall top and Dorn was quick to haul it back over the precipice and out into the night. He heard a roar from below and glanced down in time to see another of the aliens plummeting away, fountaining blood. It had been almost at the summit of the wall when it had been attacked. There, to his right, another Viskeon assassinated. Puffs of rockcrete blew back from the wall where the silent projectiles that had killed it buried themselves in the thick barrier. A third Viskeon reached the top and leapt over the bulwark, howling with bloodlust. Its feet had not even touched the floor when a hail of glinting death shredded its bulky form. Fury of the Phalanx. Dorn uttered. What is this?'

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Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Five: The Coming of the Lost
+++THE LIONS GATE+++ His name was Lion ElJonson. The Lion. He was the greatest son of lost Caliban, father of the Dark Angels, flesh and blood of the Emperor of mankind Himself. The Lion had spent millennia in obscurity, trapped in limbo between the borders of life and death, laid low by treachery and sedition. He had dreamed as he slumbered, deep within the fathomless depths of the Rock, held far away from the eyes of mortal man by powers beyond the ken of all, awaiting a time when prophecy would be realised, and he would be freed, the ancient debt repaid. He had awaited this time, for he, like all his brother Primarchs, had seen it. The End Time. The Final War. Now, at last, the Lion was free. And the enemy would know it. The Lion stood before the walls of the Ultimate Gate defences, alone and defiant. Viskeon screamed their rage and bloodlust out into the night as they charged him in waves a hundred strong, and yet they knew nothing of the being they faced. The Lion stood his ground before the Viskeon, his mighty arms swinging the Lion Sword from left to right. Each sweep destroyed tens of Viskeon, severing limbs and parting bodies. Those who fell to his blade did not rise again, for the unknown power within the dark energies that wreathed the blade brought with them an irresistible finality that transcended even the Lions vaunted physical power. Every thrust and swing was like a concussive blast, felling every Viskeon within reach. Wave upon wave fell away, parted and broken, only for those beyond to drive forward and fall. The touch of the blade was potent indeed, and the bodies of his victims smouldered and burned to blackened ash at his feet. A deep film of greasy soot surrounded him, ankle-deep. The choking stuff drifted thick on the wind, stinging his eyes, and yet he did not pay it any heed. He had long since ceased to voice his rage at the attacking creatures. Now he simply killed in silence, over and over again, ending twisted lives with every stroke of his obsidian sword. The guns of the defence lines roared above and behind him, reaping hundreds of Viskeon lives by the second. Jonsons presence seemed to infuriate the beasts, his brazen challenge attracting them, luring them into the trap that awaited them. He advanced, a single step at a time, the aliens breaking around him like a raging torrent. None could break through his defence, for he was a monstrous opponent, a god of war. He flung the Lion Sword in a wide arc before him and shattered a sea of crude pincer blades, sparks coruscating before his eyes. The strike lost no momentum as he swung the blade back, twisting it around his head to counter the attacks from behind. He had fought the Viskeon like this for hours, alone and without pause or rest. In that time he had not faltered, not a second, nor had he taken a single wound. His eyes were wide and his pupils small, his perfect teeth permanently drawn in a rictus of absolute fury. He swept to the right, cleaving bodies in two, and then threw a powerful back-handed punch at those

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attackers who loomed in to exploit the absence of his blade at his left shoulder. Viskeon bodies twisted away behind him and slammed into the wall, bones shattering to dust. The first bow wave of searing amethyst fire came without warning. He looked on as the nearest hate-filled alien faces turned to black ash before his eyes, seconds before the flesh and bone disintegrated and the ash that remained curled away on the wind. For the first time in hours he could see clear space before him. He took the opportunity to gather himself, to take stock of his situation and change his defensive stance. The second burning wave flared up from the ground a few metres before him and rolled through the enemy, turning bodies to ashes in the blink of an eye. The screams of the dying echoed through the air, ghostly and disjointed, lingering far longer than the laws of reality would usually allow. The Lion sensed the approaching presence long before the descending shadow fell across him. His face streaked with the blood of his enemy, Jonson slowly turned his head to regard the coming of his brother. Magnus. He growled, his voice heavy with disdain at the intrusion. The time for the cleansing of your soul in righteous conflict is at an end, Lion. Magnus answered, drifting down onto the ground beside the Primarch of the Dark Angels. Like the Lion, Magnus was a monstrous and imposing being. His long red hair was braided and swept back, revealing his pale, scarred features. He came to rest beside his brother and banged the haft of his massive chainglaive on the ground. The sound of the strike rolled across the battlefield like thunder, and where the haft struck the ground bright energies sprang up, expanding at an incalculable rate until the vast bubble of force had created a barrier that the Viskeon could not pass, for all their most fervent efforts. You must come with me, Lion. I have felt a shift in the tide of this war; one that will affect all that will come to pass. We must retreat, now. For a lingering moment Jonson looked as if he would protest, his eyes narrowing. Finally, as if sensing the weight behind Magnuss words, he relented, his reply a simple nod of the head. Magnus returned the gesture. Then, with an almost dismissive gesture, he raised his free hand up and spread his fingers wide. Then those same fingers closed, and they were gone. The Lion blinked his eyes and he was elsewhere. He shook the tingling sensation of sorcery from his person and cast his gaze around him, assessing this new location. They were far behind the front line now, in a position elevated enough to see both the lines upon lines of raised trenches stretching out into the distance and, beyond these, the last vestiges of flickering illumination that signalled the lingering dissipation of Magnuss spell. Why have you brought me here, Magnus? He spat, his voice saturated with bitterness at his brothers intrusion. In answer to this, Magnus raised his hand to gesture slowly around him. It is as I said. The layers of fate shift, waving and intertwining. Scenes are set, the pieces slide into place. This war progresses and we must progress with it. He is coming. Jonson tensed as he heard this. Magnus stepped forward and laid his chainglaive across the Dark Angel Primarchs chest, as if to hold him back. Jonson did not find the time to protest. A sound rose up as if from nowhere, keen and yet distant, like the howl of some ethereal wind. The temperature dropped several degrees, enough so that frost began to sneak across his black armour.

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Shadows pooled and coalesced before them, and once they had formed a thick wall of solid darkness, something stepped through. Jonson regarded the wretched thing before him, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his sword. It was a marine, or at least had been, once. It was a thing of death now, whether apparition or animated cadaver, he did not know. It wore black power armour, and that armour was adorned with bones and bright flames. The flesh of its exposed head was hairless, pallid and gaunt, shrivelled with death and age, and pulsed with a soft, cold light. In one hand it carried a skull, a maleficent thing that oozed darkness so potent he could feel its pull at the edges of his soul. Jonson found himself transfixed by the thing for a moment, lost in the endless depths of the black eye sockets. Voices whispered in his mind, and a deep and terrible recognition twisted and seethed in the pit of his stomach. Centurius. Magnus uttered, and Jonson felt his mind returning to him at the sound of his brother Primarchs voice. My Primarch. The ghost answered. With that he fell to one knee before the Primarch and lowered his head. Magnus stepped forward and laid a hand upon the warriors shoulder. When he spoke, his voice was quiet. You have done all that I asked, Centurius, and you have done well. He is proud of you, as am I. You role is ended, shepherd of the lost. I would ask but one more thing of you now. It will be done. Centurius replied, already fully aware of the Primarchs intent. With that he rose once more and turned to look out into the night, and the distant armies of the Viskeon. And was gone. +++ Did you see that? Throne, did you I saw it. The towering Judge replied. He swept back the folds of his thick leather stormcoat and knelt behind the wall, ejecting the spent clip of his bolt pistol as he did so. The eagle-topped head of his shock maul hissed against the solid rockcrete as he placed the active weapon on the ground and pulled another clip free. Judge Grendale Uvasaar felt the thick wall at his shoulder shudder as he loaded his pistol, shaken by the ferocity of the attack. The two mighty beings had simply vanished minutes ago, and already the vacuum created by the departure of the Lion had turned his support role into one of outright and desperate defence. This section of the first wall was manned almost exclusively by the Adeptus Arbites of the 354th City Precinct. Shotguns barked either side of him, and the heavy flamer emplacements rumbled as they poured gouts of fire out into the attacking horde. Shock squads move up! He called into the vox. Suppression shields, mauls and mastiff teams! Anything makes it over this wall, anything, and I want it put down! He threw himself up and snapped off a fierce volley of shots out into the darkness. Smoke drifted past his face, thick with the odour of burning flesh. The Arbite by his side threw himself against the wall and swung his shock-maul out before him, taking the legs of the attacking monstrosity in a flash of buzzing energy discharge. The creature fell forward, its legs ruined, and landed on the floor of the raised trench behind him. The throaty metallic snarls and barks of the cyber-mastiffs filled the air, and he heard bones snap as

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the machines tore the alien apart. Flamer! Get a flamer to that! He commanded. The Viskeon was fast, faster than anything of its size should ever be. It leapt up onto the wall before him and he cast around, in time to see the gnarled, clawed feet land upon the parapet before him. He swung the shock maul out at the legs of the alien attacker, but the Viskeon leapt up, throwing itself into a forward roll that carried it over his head and down onto the walkway. Uvasaar threw himself around and struck at the xenos, but the Viskeon was too fast. It dodged his blow and swung the haft of its weapon out, the strike catching his chest armour. The Judge staggered back against the wall and raised his bolt pistol. He fired a single shot and the Viskeon lurched back, the bolt driving through its chest armour and detonating inside its body cavity. The alien reeled; blood and bone matter spraying from its torso. Uvasaar drove his maul into its shoulder and brought it to its knees amid a burst of crackling energy. For His realm and His Throne! The Judge cried, swinging the maul around his head, ready to strike the killing blow. The Viskeon swatted the descending blow aside with its pincer-staff and rose, following with a strike that threw the Judge off his feet and into the wall. Uvasaar rose fast, rolling along the walkway and then springing to his feet. The Viskeon stabbed down at the place he had fallen and struck cold metal, the blow ringing like a bell. It followed the Judges progress and thrust, the claws snapping shut inches from his neck. The Judge rose sharply and blew the Viskeons left arm from its socket, the shot rendering its shoulder a ruin. His opponent let out a screech of pain and spun around, bringing its weapon out and round to strike the Judges sidearm from his grasp. The bolt pistol clattered away across the walkway and Uvasaar took a step back, his hand stinging with the impact. The Viskeon ignored the wound and kicked him clear off his feet, sending him crashing into the metal grille. The xenos staggered then, falling to its knees, its injuries taking their toll. A good portion of its chest was nothing but a gaping wound, and its arm was gone. It slammed its weapon into the grille and hauled itself up, shaking with the effort. A bolt round cleaved its head in two, and sent bone and brain matter out into the night. He cast around to see the Astarte standing in the trench behind him, his smoking bolter held out like a pistol before him, and despite the fact that the warrior had saved him, he felt a shiver run down his spine. The Marines armour was a hideous parody of everything he had come to recognise of an Astarte. The face of its helm was a grinning skull, and its chest plate was wrought to resemble ribs. Its eyes were twin embers of guttering green light, and its gaze chilled him to the core. Another deathly Astarte stepped from the very air by his side and began firing out into the Viskeon lines with his heavy bolter, the weapons harsh chatter hammering against the Judges ears. Uvasaar stepped back, almost crumbling with shock, unable to believe his own eyes. Like vast shadows of wrath, ghostly Marines bled into being all around him, firing upon the enemy even as they appeared. He leapt down from the walkway as a squad of the warriors materialised metres away from him, sprinting as they stepped from the air, one by one. Wielding bolt pistols and chainswords they leapt up onto the lip of the wall and then out into the darkness, unafraid of the sheer numbers of the enemy beyond. Daemons! Daemons! He cast around in time to see one of his men sprinting forward, his eyes wide with fear. The officer racked his shotgun and skidded to a halt on one knee, raising the weapon up to his shoulder, ready to fire.

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The Judge sprinted towards him and kicked the shotgun aside. Pull yourself together, man Daemons, Judge! The terrified Arbite hissed, his entire body shaking. The terrors of the warp have come to claim us! They step from the abyss, come to claim the souls of the dead and the damned! Uvasaar had heard enough. He lunged at the man and swept the flat of his pistol across his face with enough force to send the Arbite sprawling on the floor. Pull yourself together, Arbitrator! The men under my command do not fall apart, not ever! Who or whatever they are, they fight the Viskeon! Do you not see that? Get up onto your feet, retrieve your gun and take advantage of this. The officer shook himself and nodded, whispering frantically beneath his breath. Uvasaar hauled him to his feet and shoved him into the stream of Arbite bodies passing by. One of the apparitions strode past him and hauled an Arbite to his feet, his bolter spraying deadly fire out into the Viskeon that managed to penetrate the defences. The ghostly Astarte pushed the Arbite aside and met the enemy, firing his bolter again and again until the alien warriors were upon him. The Astarte disappeared for a moment beneath the sheer weight of the attacking enemy. His bolter continued to roar and several of the Viskeon lurched back, bloody holes blown through torsos. The Judge saw all this and brought his bolt pistol to bear, snapping shots out into the horde. Shotguns here! He commanded, waving Arbites forward with his shock maul as he unloaded his gun into the aliens. His efforts were soon joined and a storm of shotgun rounds tore into the attackers, taking them apart swiftly and without mercy. The Judge waved to signal the end of the attack and sprinted forward, smashing dead and dying Viskeon aside with the charged assault weapon. He was gone. The Astarte was gone. Uvasaar simply stood and stared at the body-strewn ground, searching for any sign of the existence of the warrior. There was nothing there to confirm that the Marine had even existed, not the slightest scrap of evidence. The long, pained scream shook him from his reverie and he cast around, his heart near leaping from his chest, in time to see the Viskeon warrior that had succeeded in almost ending his life. The creature was suspended in mid-strike behind him, its terrible pincer-staff poised above its head. The Viskeons vile features were wide with terror and pain. Dark energies poured from its eyes and open maw, as well as much of its vast muscular form. The energies swirled away, twisting through the night air, towards a dark and terrible spectral figure standing on the walkway above him. May the Throne have mercy Uvasaar whispered. The ghostly Astarte there paid him no heed. He held one hand aloft, as the dark skull between his fingers drew the very life force from the Viskeon all around him, and screamed his wrath into the night. +++ +++THE WALLS+++ Primarch! Look! Dorn twisted at the waist as the call drifted through the night air. One of the Fists down the line was pointing out into the skies, to where a flare of light could be seen, coming in swiftly through the urban

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canyons of the city. +Contacts! We have contacts inbound, Primarch! Friendly signatures+ Dorns eyes narrowed as he heard this. He felt his grip tighten around his weapons as bright explosions began to blossom on the ground far beneath the incoming craft. Tiny black specks blew in all directions and he knew that these were Viskeon, hundreds of them. Within minutes the craft screamed by his position, catching his cloak with such force that it snapped about his face and body, he followed the progress of the craft, watching until it passed away out of sight and began to rise, ready for another run. It was a Thunderhawk. My Primarch He turned to see Captain Dolis heading towards him, flanked by a small number of Marines. The Imperial Fist captain swung his hammer up onto his shoulder and fell to one knee before the Primarch, bowing his head, and then nodded out at the fiery speck in the sky. Templars, my lord. Dorn tilted his head. I know. I saw it too. There are reports filtering in from all across the walls, Primarch. Drop pods and Thunderhawks are falling from the skies all around the Palace. Thousands of them. Dorn heard this and turned back towards the night. He raised his head and looked out at the clear night, at the thousands upon thousands of new stars dominating the heavens. My sons have come home. At last. +++ +++THE ULTIMATE GATE+++ The Ork landed hard on the ground of the trench and let out a bellow of shuddering bloodlust, spreading its arms wide. It was a huge beast, easily twice the size of a man, and terrifying. Vulkan of the Salamanders was far more than a man, and undaunted by such a creature. He charged forward and swung his hammer up, the blow sending the armoured brute twisting up and away over the wall. More of the beasts charged in through the breach to his left, the hole created by the earlier advance of the Ork commander. The Khan stood his ground at the centre of the breach, alone and fearless in the advance of the enemy. He swung his mighty tulwar from left to right again and again, each strike carving Orks in two. He needed neither precision nor finesse here, for the enemy were so thick on the ground that each strike bit home. Foul beasts! He roared, turning on the spot to sweep the blade out before him again. Ork filth! Pass my blade if you can! Test me and die! Jaghatai Khan was a force of nature unleashed, as wild and fierce as the driving winds of the Steppes. His ancient curved blade flashed again and again and there was nothing that could hope to stop it. Orks broke around him and yet the Khan was as an island, a pinnacle of unbreakable rock at the centre of the torrent.

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He killed and killed over and over again, and not a single blow landed upon him. His blade turned aside crude bullets as well as blows, and he did not falter. Vulkan observed the combat for several minutes, his eyes glistening with admiration. Finally, the call of battle became too strong to ignore and he turned to the hulking Salamander Terminators behind him. The Khan is yours, my warriors, and you will give your lives if need be to watch over him, to guard him. My brother is a Primarch without a Chapter, and as such, my warriors are his. My lord. One of the massive warriors replied. As one the Terminators bowed their heads and then turned their collective attention to the breach, power fists coming alive with pulsing energy. With that he turned his attention back towards the raging battle. Hours ago the Orks had found themselves reinforced, and the creatures that had come with the night were as bestial and ferocious as the Greyskins. He had heard that the beasts were known as the Viskeon, and they were foul creatures that were able to regenerate damage and even multiply through dissection. He had slain a good many of them since the darkness of night had descended upon the Ultimate Gate. The scream of jump pack engines grew louder in his ears and he saw the dust and rubble around him scatter. Corax of the Raven Guard came to rest before him, the engines of his jump pack stuttering and dying as he touched down. The Viskeon have spread themselves across the outer edges of the walls. We still have little idea of their numbers, but it would seem that the Orks have finally asserted their dominance. Vulkan shook his head slowly at this. Why do they fight, Corax? Where is the sense in it? It is clear that both forces seek victory here in the name of the thrice-damned Unity, but still It makes no sense, Vulkan, true enough. Corax replied. Still, who are we to argue with them? If they want to kill one another, then we let them. Their incompatibility may yet prove to be our greatest weapon against them. Indeed. It would seem that the Unity has made a grave error of judgement here. The Orks and the Viskeon may yet wipe one another out. Something else concerns me, Vulkan The towering Primarch tilted his head as he heard this, for he already knew what his brother had come to say. I know, Corax. I have seen it too, and I do not know what to make of it. Vulkan was referring to the events that transpired a couple of hours previously. The raging storms that had surrounded the planet had suddenly and inexplicably cleared, to reveal a vista thick with the twinkling flare of orbiting craft. All three of the Primarchs had watched as those stars had begun to descend, many of them towards their part of the city. Thousands of dropships had descended upon the city. Do we dare to hope of reinforcement, or do we assume the worst? Corax asked. I cannot answer that. All I can say is that, given the sheer number of landing craft we have witnessed landing within the city, if they are the ships of the enemy, then the Ultimate Gate will fall. Corax did not answer, for he knew that his brother was right.

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+++ +++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ Codian swept the flaps of the temporary command centre aside and stepped into the pale light of the holo-projection. Calgar, Manus and a number of the others stood around the tactical desk, their hulking armoured forms reflecting the glow of the three-dimensional image. We think that they are Imperial. Manus said as the Chaplain joined them. He pointed to the many blinking symbols on the map. Codian observed them, and saw that the readings were unsure. Although we cannot say for sure. The Primarch continued. We have no way of sending a scouting unit out into the city to investigate now that the Viskeon have us surrounded. As far as we can tell, there isnt anybody left out there who could investigate this. Said Calgar. We havent heard from any of the Scout units since Codians return. Aerial surveillance is an obvious impossibility, given the situation. Not even a servo-skull would survive out there long enough to take a look. What about the fleet? Czevak asked. I understand that the ships in orbit are currently indisposed, but surely we can trouble one of them to perform a sentinel sweep No, the fleet has enough to worry about for now. Uttered the Primarch of the Iron Hands. I doubt that such requests could be answered at this time in any case. Gormat said. In understand that communications with your vessels in orbit have been steadily worsening. This is no coincidence. This is the Unitys doing. Such difficulties in communication will only worsen as the war progresses. Then what about psychic communications? It was Orechiels turn to speak. We have psykers here, and plenty of them. Manus shook his head. No good. The dissipation of the storm has affected them in undesirable ways Forgive me, Primarch, but we have one such individual amongst us who is above such weaknesses. Tigurius. The Warmaster shifted his bulk in order to turn towards the powerful Librarian Dreadnought. Tigurius met his gaze, the soft light of the projection playing across his angular sarcophagus. I have already tried. He said after a long moment of silence. As he spoke, his mechanical voice was heavy and yet soft, as if saturated with an emotion his vocal synthesisers could not effectively convey. I sensed them, but I cannot say who they are, or what they represent. I see many things, and much of what I see carries with it an essence of familiarity, a lingering, ancient recognition. I see pain, and suffering. I see the oblivion of the void and the regret of ages. I taste the aura of death that carries on the breeze. That which has fallen, has fallen far. A deep and foreboding silence was the only response the others could provide.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Six: The Dark

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We have a decision to make. Calgar finally said. The others looked to the Warmaster, and even Manus remained silent as he awaited the word of the commander. Another two hours had passed since the meeting to discuss this latest turn of events. They were still hours away from the dawn, and the Viskeon attack seemed far from losing its momentum yet. We have to know. Manus answered. One way or another, we need to discover the truth. If this is truly our worst fears confirmed, and the Tau are set to be reinforced, then we must be ready. This course of action would mean forcing our hand before we are ready to do so. Calgar warned. I am loathe to place myself in a position that compels me to do that. My lord, the Primarch is right. Ancient Ventris interjected. It is a risk, to expose one of our most powerful factions in this war, but we need to know the truth. If they are Imperial then they could tip the balance of this war. If we are right, and these Viskeon are more vulnerable in daylight, then it is highly likely that the attack will falter as the sun takes dominance of the skies. The Viskeon will filter away back into the Unity lines, and the Tau will renew their efforts Exactly. We will need the power of the Titanicus as the new day dawns more than ever I understand that, Warmaster, but what if these new arrivals are Imperials? If that is the case then their attack may already be underway. They will need all the help they can get. We can defend these Gates for a good while but we need to take the initiative, we need to starting pushing back. If we play our hand now then the Tau and the Viskeon alike would find themselves crushed between the hammer and the anvil. I agree. Codian said. I see the Viskeon now as the Tau intended them. They are a shock force, an enemy whose key to survival is sheer weight of numbers over power. I dont think the Unity ever intended for the Viskeon to overwhelm these defences. Dont you see? Even if they managed to suffocate us, to break through to the Gates themselves, they do not have the ability to bring them down. Go on. Manus replied, placing one vast silvered hand upon his chin. Codian looked out amongst the rest of them and could see that his words intrigued them. None of us ever expected a conflict like this to come to the walls. Unsupported infantry, poorly armed, but with the ability to continually sustain their numbers. They are an attrition force, intended to weaken us, to soften us up. Once the day comes they will retreat, and the Tau forces, rested and re-suppled through the night, will begin the push anew. And so, Chaplain, you think that a counterstrike is what is needed here? Yes, Warmaster. I think that this is exactly what the Unity does not expect from us. I think that the Viskeon are intended to keep us where the Tau wants us, here, behind these walls. Night brings with it many opportunities, and they know that this is our territory. This was always intended to be a siege on their part. For good or ill, I say we force them to reconsider that. And if we lose the Titans? Cassius asked, giving voice to the fears on all their minds. Ferrus Manus was the one to give the answer. They are Titans, the most powerful war machines of the Imperium. If the Tau have the capability to destroy them then they will fall, no matter what. Too long have we held our most powerful weapons at bay, for fear of expending their power upon the hallowed edifices of this city. We can no longer afford to hold them back. The streets are riddled with the enemy, an enemy who cares nothing for the preservation of this capital. It is time to unleash our power upon the enemy, and I say we cannot afford to wait until the day breaks. I cannot imagine there to be survivors left out there. Czevak whispered, his voice heavy with regret.

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Then it is decided. The Warmaster said. The Titans will walk, and the city will be sacrificed to expose the enemy. May the Emperor forgive us. Cassius nodded, taking the Warmasters words as his orders. This is Cassius. He said into the vox. The Warmaster has spoken. Let the Titans walk. The Crown of Konor shall play herald to this advance. Carve them a path. Codian felt his pulse quicken as he heard this. A part of him had always known that desperation would drive them to take this course of action, and now that knowledge was about to be put into practice. He looked around at the warriors gathered before him and then moved to the entrance of the field station. He swept the curtain aside and moved out onto the raised plateau of the Penitent Square, the vast space that had once housed the millions of pilgrims that journeyed to Terra long ago. He felt the absence of Qah more than ever now. The mysterious xenos had left without word or warning a couple of hours ago, and no one seemed to know why, or where Qah had gone. As he considered this he cast his gaze out across the vast space. Many of the pious that had made the pilgrimage to Terra had found the end of their journey here, before the Eternity Wall Gate, as all but a favoured few were allowed to pass beyond into the Palace itself. This had once been a holy place, and to see it in its current state saddened him. As an Astarte, Codian did not worship the Emperor as a god but rather he recognised the father of man for what he had been, the greatest ever living man. That aside, he appreciated the worship of the masses as a beneficial thing, for it was one of the foundations on which his Imperium had been built. Whether through fear or love, or even both, it was a unifying force. He could only imagine the effect that this chaos and ruination was having on the most pious of the defenders. A heartbeat later, the terrible and mighty gun of the Crown of Konor barked, if such a term could even begin to describe the reality-shattering force of the terrible noise, and swept the thoughts from his mind with a torrent of agonising sensations. He felt the ground tremble beneath his feet and gasped, struggling to draw breath as the shockwaves of the blast flattened his lungs. His eyes blurred, and for a moment there was only darkness, and then the brightest of white light, his superhuman senses struggling to restore themselves. There was no refined way to fire a doomsday cannon. Entire squads fell to their knees, assailed by the terrible power of the cannons recoil. Codians senses returned in time for him to see the bright, blazing shell as it rose up into the air, twisting its way out towards the darkness of the city. After what seemed an age it fell down into the invisible depths of the city a few kilometres away, and the black horizon lit up and came apart before his eyes. +++ Gallans betrayal! Guilliman cursed. He stumbled back, holding a hand before his face, as the city beyond lit up. Buildings were framed before the overwhelming mushroom of explosive light, only for a second, before they literally disintegrated into nothing. Berolinus steadied himself against his master as winds buffeted him, tearing his screeching familiar away from his shoulder amid a flurry of feathers. What was that? What have they done? Taken a stab in the dark. Guilliman replied. Their fear is beginning to show. The Viskeon test them, and it would seem that their relentless advance is starting to take its toll.

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Berolinus steadied himself and looked to his Primarch. His expression betrayed the fact that he was not convinced. I dont see the sense in it. Surely they know that Russ and his Wolves are out there? Guilliman raised his blade and pointed out into the depths of the city, to where the darkness still enveloped all. My brother awaits us that way. I would assume that they would have a fair idea of where to aim, if they did indeed intend to target us. No, we are not the objective. You are right about the sense of it, though. They are up to something. Id wager that it has something to do with this latest turn of events, my Primarch. The end of the storm, the arrival of this new fleet, and the descent of these unknown ships. Guillimans eyes narrowed as he heard this. The arrival of this new fleet had set the entire Unity on edge, and with good reason. This was one factor that he had not worked into his plans, and it troubled him greatly, though he would never voice such concerns openly. Several attempts had been made to establish the identity of the new arrivals. He had sent many Stealth teams into the city in order to investigate the landing craft. None had returned, or even made any attempts to contact him. This did not bode well. The Primarch took a moment to contemplate the burning horizon to the east, his expression one of utter frustration, and then spoke into his personal communications channel. Guilliman here. All ShasOs be advised. We press on. Do not concern yourselves with the enemy bombardment. If we stick to our advance the artillery will not find us. The Wolves await our guns, and we will not keep them waiting. Macharius, I want your forces ready to receive them at a moments notice. The Wolves and the Kroot are all that stand between the Eternity Wall Gate, Shadowblades forces, and us. We will reinforce her before dawn breaks. This is my command. The Primarch finished, satisfied that his orders had been relayed and understood. Nothing shall stop us, Berolinus. He uttered, raising his fist. Nothing. +++ Codian shielded his eyes against the glare of the blast as another shell tore the horizon apart. Entire sections of the city were pounded into dust beneath each blast, lost forever to the war for survival. As his vision began to clear, he saw a small but familiar shape jogging towards him, negotiating the gathered bodies of the defence as he neared. Though battered and bloody, the Chaplain recognised him immediately. Grungi. Chaplain. The short alien replied, breathing hard as he came to rest by Codians side. So this is where you are hiding, far from the front lines. Hnn. The foul visage of these creatures obviously tests your constitution more than I had realised. Codian did not answer. By now he had grown used to the Demiurgs jibes, in fact he had warmed to them, although he would never admit as much to his short colleague.

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I see the Viskeon have managed to overwhelm your appetite for combat. The Chaplain finally said, reciprocating the squat aliens taunts. There is no shame in fatigue, Grungi. You are, after all, no Astarte. Grungi threw his head back and emitted a short, sharp bark of a laugh, humour glistening in his eyes. Stalk-leg, we Demiurg need no genomancy to aid us in our fight against the Tau. Save for the blade that replaces my hand, I am what nature made me. Codian shook his head and gestured out towards the west of the city. Natures wonders are finite, Grungi. The gods of war have come, and they will show the enemy the true power of the machine. Grungi followed the Chaplains outstretched finger, and smiled. +++ +++THE WALLS+++ Dorn gathered those nearest Fists about him swiftly as he heard the calls passing along the battlements. They were coming. He did not fear them, for he feared nothing, but rather his actions were born of a desire to present himself appropriately to the newcomers. He had witnessed the Thunderhawks decent into the courtyard behind them almost an hour ago, and he had known since then that this meeting would come. The bead in his ear was alive with chatter as the Imperial Fists stationed further along the wall witnessed the passing of the newcomers, and even from here he could sense the feeling of underlying excitement at the arrival of the Templars. The Viskeon were still on the offensive, though by now the strength of their attack had faltered greatly. The mysterious allies within the city continued to pour their fearsome firepower out into the walls with unerring accuracy, and alien bodies were shattered and flung away with every bright blast. Whoever they were, their efforts had bought him the opportunity to partake in this meeting, and for that he was grateful. Despite the darkness of the night the battlements were well lit, and as such he caught his first glimpse of black and white ceramite in the distance long before the Templars reached him. At the centre of the approaching warriors was a figure clad in burnished golden plate, bright braziers flickering in the breeze as they burned above his head. As he neared he saw that the figures progress was slow, his every step laboured and uneven. Despite this there was a regal air to him, one that could never be diminished by physical impairment. One of the Astartes, a veteran of many wars given by the profusion of purity seals and honour markings he wore about his armour and the crimson colour of his shoulder guards left the group and jogged towards him, his boltgun held tight to his chest. Dorn examined the warriors scarred face as he neared, and he noticed that the Marine did not once look up to regard the Primarch eye to eye. His brow was furrowed and his face looked as if it could barely contain the emotion hidden behind it. My Primarch Rogal Dorn. The warrior began, falling to one knee before the father of the Imperial Fists, his eyes still fixed to the floor. My Lord High Marshal Helbrecht. The warrior rose swiftly once again and backed away, his task as herald done. Dorn simply allowed his gaze to flow from the messenger and towards the golden figure.

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The High Marshal was of great age, that much was apparent by his visage. His smooth head and face were tanned and lined, like old leather, and criss-crossed with many old scars. The worst scars had literally consumed the right-hand side of his face, and both his right arm and leg had been replaced with bionics. Chains bound a flowing black tunic to his mighty frame, and countless purity seals were nailed to every segment of his armour. The thing that struck Dorn and held his attention were the warriors eyes. They were red with tears, tears that flowed freely down his face. My Primarch. Helbrecht whispered, his voice harsh and deep like that of some feline predator. He drew the sword at his side and placed it tip down upon the ground, and then kneeled before Dorn. This is a day of legend for the Black Templars, a day undreamt of. Let the ground shake and open, to swallow us whole. Let the guns of the enemy rage against us, shattering our bodies. Let the legions of the xenos trample us into the bloodied ground, and scream their victory to the boiling skies above. None of it matters. We stand by the side of our Primarch once again, Rogal Dorn, son of the Emperor and father to us all. Nothing can touch us now. Dorn smiled as he heard this, honoured by the commanders greeting. The Templars had arrived from nowhere only a short time ago, and communications between the two brother factions had been only sparse and curt. Yet here their High Marshal knelt before him, and not a single question had as yet passed his lips. There was no doubt, no mistrust, and nothing else to suggest that the Templars doubted him to be the genuine thing. The bond between an Astarte and his Primarch was a strong and instinctive thing. It was unbreakable and omnipresent, for his blood flowed through the veins of every one of them, whether they be Imperial Fist or Black Templar. Helbrecht had known this ever since his first glimpse of Rogal Dorn, just as Dorn had recognised a warrior born of his blood the first time he had laid eyes on the Astarte. Rise, High Marshal. Dorn said, stepping forward. Helbrecht did so and Dorn took him in a warriors greeting. Their arms entwined and each laid a hand upon the shoulder of the other, although Dorn had to crouch to achieve this. My Primarch, a gift. For you. Helbrecht offered his blade to Dorn, pommel-first. The Primarch took the weapon and inspected it, his eyes narrowing. Many thousands of years had passed since he had last laid eyes on the weapon, but the sight of the gilded pommel was etched into his memory for all time. Helbrecht saw this recognition in the Primarchs eyes, and spoke. We call the blade the Sword of High Marshals. It has been carried into battle by every High Marshal since the great Sigismund, the first Champion of the Emperor. Your blade, my Primarch, once broken in anger across your knee, re-forged once more. Dorn held the sword tight in his grasp and closed his eyes as he thought back to that dark time. The aftermath of the Heresy had been a turbulent period, and one that had almost seen the wounded Imperium torn apart by internecine conflict. Dorn had loved his Emperor, and on the day he had found his ruined form lain prone beside the b-----d Horus, his heart had broken. He had shattered the blade in grief, but the love of his sons had seen it forged anew, and now it was returned to him. For every enemy I slay, I do so in honour of the Templars. He said, raising the sword aloft. A mighty cheer rang out across the walls, issued from the mouths of Templar and Fist alike. Brothers embraced, and the

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sound of crashing armour rang through the night. Dorn drunk in the powerful celebration, unable to keep himself from smiling, despite their situation. Many of the Astartes had paused to greet their brethren but those who still defended against the Viskeon attacks did so with a renewed fury. The tops of the walls blazed as bolters sang, and alien bodies were dislodged by a deluge of murderous fire. So many questions ran through Dorns mind that he found he could not choose which one to voice first. So much had transpired since the departure of Sigismund, and he would know it all if he could. Helbrecht caught sight of the question behind his eyes then. My Primarch, when the Eye closed we took that as the sign. There were many among us that spoke of the end of Sigismunds crusade. We few knew the truth, though. We knew that this was the sign that we had awaited for so long, the sign that his true crusade had begun in earnest. He always knew, my lord Dorn. He always knew that Terra would be our goal. From the moment we left for the stars, he knew that we would realise our quest here, on holy Terra. Then Sigismund was as wise as I ever knew him to be. Dorn answered. For your destiny is here, my son, and your crusade has found its conclusion. Together, we will fulfil that destiny.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Seven: Visions of Treachery

The constant thunder of Titan weapons drifted in through the open door behind him, a continuous reminder of the fierce advance of the god machines. Even here, deep within the mighty mobile edifice that was the Crown of Konor, he could hear it still. The tiny chapel lay at the centre of the vast Leviathan, and yet the sounds of the Titans continued to disturb the tranquillity of the chapel. The Crown was after all the true heart of the Eternity Wall Gate defence, and as such its every ramp, hatch and access way lay open in order to accommodate the constant flow of human traffic passing through it. Still, the mighty cannon of the land fortress was so vast that it took almost half an hour to reload, and he had intended to take advantage of that pause in order to seek out the vehicles chapel, for the hours to come would surely take their toll upon him, and he needed to ensure that his mind and body would be ready for the trials they would bring. He depressed the hatch activation stud and the thick adamantium sheet slid into place, immediately bringing quiet to the small space. Satisfied, he turned towards the altar at the far wall. It was a simple thing, constructed of dark wood edged with gold, and lit with guttering candles. A small golden statue of the Emperor sat upon the altar, and behind it hung a faded but magnificent banner depicting the Imperial Aquila, surrounded with the pale white U symbol of the Ultramarines Chapter. It pleased him to see that Calgar had not fully abandoned the old livery of his Chapter. Indeed, several iconic artefacts lined the walls of the chapel, such as pieces of armour and ancient weapons of great artifice. He removed the Dawnblade from its scabbard and carried it over to the altar, to where the crimson carpet at his feet had worn and faded through the centuries by the thousands of armoured knees that had fallen here. Most of those who knew the Astartes well enough, particularly members of the Inquisition, struggled to understand a Marines stance on the supremacy of the Emperor. The Emperor was a god to the common

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man, a divine being, and was worshipped as such. They could not grasp why the Astartes refused to deify the Master of Mankind. The Emperor had been a man, once. Marines respected war above all else, and the Emperor had been the greatest warrior ever to have lived. Codian lowered himself down onto his knees and placed his weapon head-down on the floor before him, holding the hilt in both hands close to his chest. He closed his eyes then, and pushed all thoughts from his mind, leaving only the image of the golden idol in his minds eye. Minutes passed. Codian. The voice, though quiet, caused him to start. He felt the hilt of the Dawnblade grow warm beneath his fingers, even through his armour. Leave me, spirit. Now is not the time Now is the time, Codian. The war progresses, and soon your kind will face the greatest of tests. There are still many terrible trials to come, trials that will test the resolve and determination of the mon-keigh to their absolute limits, but there is an even greater test approaching. A test of faith. Our faith has been tested already, and it has not been found wanting. You do not understand. You know many secrets, more than any of your kind. You have ascended, Codian, evolved by regression into the state that was always intended for your species. You know much of what the past and your origins intended for you, but there are dark truths hidden from even you, revelations you could never know. You must know them now, Daelo Codian, while there is still time. Codian let out a deep sigh, frustrated at his inability to find peace here. The Dawnblade pulsed softly in his grasp, alive with the power of the presence within. You are correct, spirit. I know much, but there are still questions in my mind that need answers. We have a history in this war, you and I, a spiritual link that I recognise but cannot explain. This is why I have tolerated you; welcomed you even, into my thoughts. You have given me guidance in this war, and doubtless kept me alive when I should have rightfully met my end. For this I am grateful, but I ask you now, Eldrad Ulthran, why? Why are you here? When we parted I assumed that we would not meet again. How is it that you came to reside in this ancient blade? The Dawnblade is a conduit, Codian, a gateway to the souls of the departed. It was fashioned as such, as a vessel to channel the vengeful souls of the Eldar. I knew that you would find the blade, and I knew it would serve you well. But why are you here, Eldar? You may return to your people now, Daelo Codian, and pay no further consideration to the resolution of our acquaintance. Do you remember those words? That is what you said when we parted ways. You needed me to physically return you to that place, Eldar. So my question stands. Why are you here? Your memory serves you well, warrior. Remember, then, something else that I told you. Destiny is a complex puzzle, far too much so for any mon-keigh to understand. To attain certain goals one must be meticulous in placing each and every piece. Meticulous. The Eldar have done much to manipulate fate, for we are able to trace the myriad paths of destiny and divine the outcome of many futures. We are masters of such arts, but, sadly, we are not infallible.

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As the mon-keigh perceives time, I myself existed as flesh and blood for an age, and at the time of my death was the oldest mortal being left amongst my kind. Once I too was young, and burning with the fires of youths zeal. There was a time when the Eldar were hedonistic and foolish, an age where the pleasures of the flesh and the pursuit of earthly limits raged unchecked through my people. There were those of us who had seen the ruination of the Eldar within the skeins, but we were a precious few. I do not have time for this Codian began. He hissed his displeasure through bared teeth and started to rise, only to feel a hot and aching weight seize his kneeling form. You will hear me, Prophet. The voice said in his mind, its tone harsh and oppressive. Try as he might, Codian found himself unable to move. I have salvaged your life many times since you came into the possession of the Blade of Vaul, and now you will take my confession as payment for this. I care not if you wish to hear me. You must know what I have to say, and you must recognise the significance of my words, or all may yet be lost. Then speak, and be done with this intrusion! Codian spat, furious at the influence of the alien spirit. Then listen, Codian, and know my secret shame. The passage of time is a counterweight to life. That which it takes in physical vigour, it replaces with experience and understanding. Once I was hot-headed and brazen, full of the passion of adolescence, and though the path I chose served to temper some of that fire, there still burned within me a desire to take the rains of destiny as my own, and steer it in the direction of my choosing. I see that folly now, tempered as I am by age and experience, and I see that I was as much a pawn of fate as any other. What I did, I did for the good of my kind, and my actions were fuelled by a desire to bring peace to these stars. I was incapable of understanding the infinites of existence, even as I looked upon them. I see now that my actions were guided by a higher presence. Despite all this, my motives were my own, and my actions, however ultimately justified, were misguided. Damn you, Eldrad! I understand little of your rant and I care for it even less! Say your piece and be done! Very well. You know it as the greatest betrayal of your history, Prophet. The very mention of it causes your blood to boil, and your soul to seethe at your core. You know it as the Heresy of Horus. I am responsible for that heresy, Codian. A fury unlike any he had ever known seized the Chaplain as he heard this. Anger welled up inside him and he fed on it, his nerves igniting. A newfound strength surged through his limbs and he found himself struggling to move, to defy the indomitable will of the Eldar ghost, and he did so with earnest. Never speak of such things! He cried, flinging his arms up. The Dawnblade sheared through the altar and the idol of the Emperor, shattering its golden likeness into whickering shards. Codian saw the result of his actions and fell forward onto his hands, despair flooding through him. Forgive me He whispered, glittering golden dust falling around him. There is nothing to forgive, Codian. He cares nothing for icons or statues. Quiet your heresy, xenos! You know nothing of my Emperor I know more than you could ever imagine, I promise you this, and by the time this war comes to its conclusion you will comprehend this. It matters not whether you wish to hear the truth, Prophet. Hear it you shall, and you shall understand it, for untold lives rests on your ability to hear and understand what I have to say. Yours is a selfish anger and you must put it aside. Listen, and understand the danger of arrogance, and the power of manipulation. Speak then, spirit, and be done, for I have a war to fight.

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Very well, but this is a tale that cannot be told. It is a tale that must be shown. See the truth, Prophet, and learn, for what you are about to witness is a history so secret that it has never been recorded, a history buried so deep beneath a sea of lies and falsehoods that even the most powerful of this galaxys denizens are unaware of the truth. It matters not what you think you know of the legends that surround your Imperium and its Primarchs, Codian. All you know is lies. Here is the truth. A blinding light erupted from the Dawnblade, searing all other colours from the chapel. Codian felt a warmth flood his body and he closed his eyes, knowing that it would be useless to fight it. The light continued to burn within him and he centred his mind as best he could. Then he felt a pull at the very core of his being, as if his soul fought for release, and then And then Codian. He recognised the figure standing before him immediately, even though he had never laid eyes on him before. The Eldar witch was tall and slender, clad in armour that writhed with burning runes. He carried a long staff at his back that seemed to shimmer and haze, its outline constantly blurred. He wore a tall, crested helm, the eyes of which shone with psychic power as they turned to regard him. This was Eldrad Ulthran, alive and in the flesh before him. The featureless white surrounding him began to slowly bleed away, changing and forming into solid mass. As the new location took shape, Eldrad slowly reached up and removed his helm, to reveal a flawless and youthful face, almost deathly pale, with eyes a dark as pools of shadow. This is it. Sorrow of Isha, we have found it. The nest of evil, of slumbering daemons. Codian made to reply, bewildered by the scene, before realising that the comment was not directed at him. Slowly but surely be began to understand what he saw before him. This was history, the mists of time peeled away once more, if only temporarily. The scene changed, shifting its focus away from him, and then omitting him completely, as a history both ancient and incredibly secret repeated itself before his eyes. The young Farseer glanced around him, his face twisted in utter disgust. Several Warlocks ghosted through the vast chamber, passing between the machinery and the towering glass cylinders. The liquids within were murky, too much so to pick out the features of the stirring forms within. Eldrad did not need to be able to see the slumbering abominations. He knew them well enough, for he had seen them many times in his fevered dreams. This one. This ones mind is strong and bright. I feel its dreams as it sleeps. Jyuraelle whispered softly. She lifted her hand up towards the cylinder and spread her fingers wide, so that they hovered inches from the glass. Leave it! Eldrad snapped, the force of his anger driving forth like a spirit wind to knock the Warlocks hand away. Touch nothing, lest we are corrupted by the malevolence of these creatures! Guard your emotions, all of you, more than ever. We have little time here. We must do what we came to do and be gone. This is a place of great danger, and if we are discovered here then we will be killed. This one bears the wings of the hawk at its back! Aughris spat, fighting to keep his emotions in check. These truly are daemons, Eldrad. We must destroy them, now! Every Eldar in the chamber flinched as two of the half-glimpsed forms shuddered at Aughriss disgust-filled words. Eldrad gasped, feeling the waves of palpable hate radiating from the abominations. A darkness

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flooded through him, cold and terrible, and he saw then, at that very moment, that his quest to find and destroy these monsters was wholly justified. The skeins were true. The mark of the Yngir stains this place. If we allow these beasts to live then we allow the doom of the universe to gestate and grow. The mon-keigh will bring the destruction of our race as surely as day brings night. Not even the mon-keigh Emperor realises the vipers he nurtures here in this cursed place. There are soulless ones here. Ysuan uttered, dread weighing heavy in his voice. I feel the void within them clawing at the edges of my soul. Were it not for the wards of power that protect these vessels, our minds would surely be shattered. Then we purge this benighted place. Eldrad said, removing the staff from around his shoulder. The power and knowledge of the Eldar were without compare, and yet it had taken Eldrad and his followers everything they had to penetrate this terrible, secret place. The sheer effort of breaching the wards of power that sealed this chamber closed had killed two of them, Alsheenai and Oaeh, burning their souls from their bodies as they fought to push through the layers of psychic force. Here, at last, their prize was laid open to them, and Eldrad made a silent vow that he would justify those deaths, and the deaths of all those who had fallen in the pursuit of this destiny. Break them open. Lay these abominations low, while we still have time. He suppressed a shudder as visions of the future passed through his mind, too dark and terrible to bear. Visions of pain and death, of ruin and utter desolation. A future in which life itself was the enemy, hunted and hounded to extinction. He would not allow this future to pass. All around him his race was succumbing to the slow, degrading influence of corruption and decadence, and he could not stand by and allow the mon-keigh to bring about an apocalypse of desolation that would last until the stars themselves grew dim and ceased to shine, for he knew that the majority of his kind were ignorant to this threat. For the preservation of the ages, and for the perpetuation of our majesty. Jyuraelle intoned, drawing the mystical form of the Fir Farillecassion before her. Her fingers traced the glowing crimson symbols in the air as she slowly raised her witchblade towards the glass of the tank before her, the runes carved upon its keen surface writhing in eagerness. The runes faded as they sank into her armoured form, the power of the spell fortifying her mind and spirit as she prepared to do what had to be done. The dark shape at the centre of the fluid-filled tube shifted, as if sensing her intent. The blade in her hand shook softly, and the warlock cursed beneath her breath, visibly shaken by the presence of the gestating being within. Hnnngthis onethis one is strong. She hissed, trauma clear in her wavering voice. I feel it, Farseer. Its powerful mind far belies its unborn state. It has the potential for great power, this monstrosity, for the force of the warp flows through its veins. Even now, I believe that it is aware, aware of us, aware of its surroundings Magnus. Eldrad whispered, disgust and awe heavy in his voice in equal measure. I have seen this one, the Ruination of Worlds, the Red Sorcerer. Kill it. Kill it now, while there is still time. Kill them all. Jyuraelle nodded and raised her blade above her head, ready to strike. The sword erupted in a haze of pale azure light and she brought it down with all her might to crash against the thick tube. The witchblade never connected. The indistinct shadow within the tube writhed, the thick, viscous liquid churning. A low, soul-shattering scream rose up as if from nowhere to assail the Eldar, and ethereal winds tore at their robes. Fingers of crimson lightning speared out from the tube and struck the Warlock, breaking against her and lifting her clean off the ground. It tore the blade from her grasp and stabbed deep into her body, causing the pulsing runes scattered across the armour beneath her robes to shatter and dull.

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Eldrad staggered back as the energy forks coruscated all around him, flashing from tube to tube, the unearthly powers illuminating the forms within. Each dark mass writhed as the energies struck it, and within seconds the entire chamber was in turmoil. Systems overloaded, showering the Eldar with sparks. Tubes burst beneath the onslaught, throwing glass through the air and spilling gallons of thick, murky liquid out onto the floor of the chamber. The terrible power arced around the chamber for several seconds and then died away, causing flickering afterimages to flash across Eldrads vision. He gathered all his mental strength and stepped forward towards the nearest ruined tube, bringing his glowing staff up, ready to fulfil his destiny. It was gone. The infant creature that had occupied it was nowhere to be seen. Fear began to mount inside him as he freed his mind, sending his consciousness flooding through the chamber. They were gone. Not a trace of them remained. Farseer Aughris began. I know, Warlock. They are gone. They have fled this place. Howhow is that possible? I cannot say. None of us could have expected this, not even I. Our suspicions were correct, and yet we greatly underestimated the potential within them. They have escaped us. We have failed here. The gathered Warlocks converged around Eldrad, fear and confusion rising through them. Ysuans blade glowed brightly in his hands, the living weapon roiling in empathy of that fear. Then all is lost. We have failed to put an end to the princes of the mon-keigh, and the galaxy shall suffer for that failure. As he heard this, Eldrad turned to the others, the eyes of his helm glowing with a clear determination. No, we have not failed. I have seen this day, this possibility, within the skeins. I had hoped, prayed to the gods, that we would prevent this, but we did not. Powers that we cannot understand have snatched our quarry away from us and spirited them beyond, scattering them to the four corners of the stars. This was nought but impulse, the instinctive survival reaction of the young. They may be gone, but they are far from safe. We will find them. I do not understand, Farseer! Ysuan raged, his voice breaking. Eldrad felt the tears of grief than ran down his cheeks as if they were his own. I have seen into them, these Primarchs, and I know them now. I have seen strength and weakness, potential for both greatness and failure. I have stared into the souls of them all, and I see the path we must take next. This is far from over. But they are gone. Aughris said, cradling the shattered body of Jyuraelle in his arms. And we will find them, Warlock. We cannot destroy them, we know that now, but we can manipulate them. I will scour the tides of the ether for them and I will not rest until we have found them all. With care and diligence we will forge their destinies for them, I vow this, and by the time these Lost Princes of the mon-keigh return to the fold of their Emperor, our work will be done and the seeds of dissention shall be sown amongst them. The greatest empire to rise since our own will be destabilised before it even has a chance to flourish, and our future will be secured. It was Ysuan who spoke in answer, and Eldrad felt the darkness of the question forming in the Warlocks mind long before he gave voice to it.

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Can we really do this alone, Farseer. There are few of us still dedicated to the old ways now, and we all know that we do not have the strength to save our peoples from themselves. The construction of the Craftworlds is almost complete, and soon the Great Exodus will begin We can do this, Warlock, and we will. If we do not, those amongst us who escape the coming of the Perverse Night will fall to the ignorance of the emergent power of the mon-keigh. No, we will succeed. Now come, let us leave this foul place, and I will explain all that must be done. Each of the Warlocks nodded in turn, and at this Ysuan commanded the webway gate to blossom before them, as was his particular skill. Eldrad ushered the others trough the breach, and only when he was sure that the last of his companions had left that infernal place did he pause and look back into the gloom, the eyes of his helm glowing ever brighter. He could sense them, hidden in the darkness. Codian gasped, drawing a great breath as the vision faded, the alien shapes sinking into oblivion. Slowly but surely the dark wooden altar before him took shape once more, punished and broken where his blade had carved through it. The realisation of all he had heard brought a sickness to his stomach, and an ache to his heart. He wanted to deny the spirits claims with every fibre of his being, and yet he knew deep down that the being once known as Eldrad spoke only the truth. How? He whispered, shaking his head slowly. How did you do it? It was hard, Codian, but ultimately necessary. One is able to achieve the unheard of when the stakes are high enough. I had looked but briefly into the souls of the Young Princes but I saw much, and I knew what I had to do. The Primarchs were powerful and each held a potential unheard of, but I saw there the many flaws that I could and would use to turn them against your Emperor. Pride. Arrogance. Aspiration. Jealousy. All these traits and more I recognised, for my own people were slowly degrading into ruin through these very universal flaws. I knew then that fully half of them had the potential to turn from the Imperium and rebel, and I saw what I had to do. We found the one that came to be known as Angron first, on a world cursed with the same vile afflictions of decadence and corruption that were slowly destroying the Eldar. He was young still, no more than a child, and yet the hatred and power within him was already strong. This one needed no influence or manipulation. I had come to poison his mind against the Emperor, Codian, and what I saw when I arrived on that world was a creature who was already lost to madness and corruption, a creature whose rage was unbound and uninhibited. He slaughtered twelve of my followers with his bare hands, and none but our most potent powers could touch him. We left him then, to the winds of fate, for we knew that Angron was destined to be a name that would strike terror into the Imperium of the mon-keigh. After this dark event, we realised that we needed to plan ever more carefully. My followers and I spent many years divining the skeins of fate, constructing ever more complex matrices of strategy, and we did not rest until we were sure that our millennial plans were perfected. Even as our race finally brought itself to oblivion and beyond, we did not rest, for we knew that a far greater threat still lay within the future, dark and terrible. It was to be many years later that we acted once again, sure that we had realised the plans that would bring the Imperium to its knees. The next Primarch we discovered years later, when the crusade of your Emperor was in earnest. We had seen him denied, rebuked by his master for his devotion and fierce obeisance, and we knew it was time to act. I came to him alone, on board his mighty starship. The one named Lorgar was broken with grief, for his misguided faith had brought him nothing but enmity and chastisement from the being he so loved. He was a

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creature given to visions, and he received me as such. I told him that the Emperor was a fool to reject his devotion, and that he was not worthy of the love and worship of his most faithful son. I whispered many corrupting words into his ear, and he listened. Lorgar was the first of them to be turned through my influence, but he would not be the last. Where Lorgar was turned from the Emperor by rejection, the one named Mortarion was turned through bitter denial. I had seen that the Emperor would win the allegiance of this son through challenge. Mortarion wanted for nothing more than to slay the dark and murderous being that had raised him as a son in his isolation. The Emperor denied him that. The Emperor took from him the very driving force behind his existence, and Mortarion never forgave him for that. Like Lorgar, his corruption was easy. Mine was the voice that whispered to him in his fevered dreams, whispered to him of his own failures and of the arrogance of the Emperor in denying him his rightful destiny. And so it was that dread Mortarion came to fall from grace. Codian let out a quiet snarl of anger and rose, his face red with rage. So, spirit, at last we begin to see the truth. I hear your words and my soul quakes in anger. The very Imperium I serve lies in ruins, broken and bleeding, gasping its final breaths, and now I learn this. I have fought and killed under your guidance, despite every fibre of my being railing against that. I have bent my knee to your myriad plans, and even considered your kind to be allies in this war. Now this. Now you tell me that the worst schism ever to blight my Imperium was caused by you. You tell me that you are responsible for bringing ruin to millions, and for steering fully half of the greatest warriors of man into the embrace of the gods of chaos? No, Codian. I was merely the path by which these Primarchs found their way to corruption. For millennia, our two races were sworn mortal enemies, consumed by hatred for one another. Had I not acted when and how I did, the mon-keigh would have scoured the Eldar from the galaxy. Would you hold me to task for ensuring the survival of my race? Understand this, as great as the all the Primarchs were, those that turned away from the Emperor and fell to the corruption of chaos were always destined to do so. This had to happen, no matter how it came to pass, and you will understand that, in time. There is little I truly understand of this, it would seem. Codian replied. Tell me, Eldar ghost, why I should believe any of this. The very question I was asked by the one named Konrad Curze. Of all the Primarchs, Curze was the most unsettling. Not even I dared to face him in person, and so I weaved a great and potent spell that saw my spirit transported as a vision across the gulf of space to the world upon which he ruled through absolute fear. Like Angron, I found Curze before the Emperor came for him, as fate decreed was necessary. I told him all that would come to pass, of the coming of the Emperor and of the Imperium. I told him that I was a vision of his dark future, and that the Emperor would order his death in years to come. Of course, he did not believe my claims, but this did not matter. That I had warned him of the coming Emperor was enough. From that moment on, he would never trust the stranger that would come and claim to be his father. The fall of the warrior named Perturabo was brought about by shame. The weakness I saw within him was frustration and pride. On the world of Olympia I sought him out, and even then he was all but broken by his own actions. His warriors had slaughtered the peoples that had raised him, and the pyres of the dead burned across the world. Years of dissatisfaction and jealousy had brought him to this point, and the mon-keigh of Olympia had weathered his wrath. I came to Perturabo when he was alone and on his knees, the dead scattered all around him. His heart had been broken by the news that Horus and others had turned their backs on the Emperor, news that had opened his eyes to his own rage-fuelled actions. He offered no resistance when I appeared, and told him but a single, soul-shattering truth. The Emperor would never forgive him for his actions. With but a single truth,

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Perturabo was turned to darkness. The champion Fulgrim had already turned to that darkness of his own accord by the time I came to him. Ours was a face-to-face meeting, but even I could not have foretold that he had fallen to the very same evil that had brought ruin to the Eldar. Like Angron before him, there was no need to beguile or coerce him into turning his back to the Emperors will. We fought, Fulgrim and I, and I withdrew, angered by the confrontation but sure that the seeds I had sown were slowly but surely coming into fruition. His brother, Alpharius, was turned shortly after. By this time my plans were well known by my people, enough so that those who had survived the destruction of our empire unscathed and uncorrupted were eager to rally to my cause. The Eldar met his fleet in war, for if we had not, the one you know as Russ would have been lost, and this would have upset the delicate balance of my exacting plans. While our forces fought I myself sought out the Primarch. Like Curze, I had seen his eventual death within the skeins, and I warned him of this. Alpharius was already corrupted by this point, and I knew his deepest desires and flaws. To learn that he would fall to the blade of one of his most despised brothers was enough to shape his destiny for all time. What of Magnus? Codian asked, pointing the tip of his blade out towards the closed door, as if to draw the spirits attention to the fact that the Primarch of the Thousand Sons fought somewhere beyond the Crown of Konor still. Magnus claims that his loyalties were never truly diverted, and that, despite everything, his faith in the Emperor never left him. Did you not see that in your divinations? I have yet to explain all that, Prophet. You are correct, of course, in that Magnus was never truly corrupted. None of us knew just how closely this ones soul was linked to the ether. All I did see was that Magnus would fall to chaos, like his brethren. I came to Magnus many years before the betrayal of Horus. Unlike the others, I saw that there was no need to try and turn him against the Emperors rule directly, for his was a mind strong enough to withstand such temptations. No, I saw his weakness as a hunger for knowledge, an insatiable need to learn, to understand that which should not be understood. As loathe as I was to do so, I showed him the truth of the darker arts, and revealed to him the power of forbidden sorcery. In me, Magnus recognised a kindred spirit. He saw in the Eldar much of what he desired for himself. My lie to him was the reassurance that such blasphemous powers could be controlled, and harnessed for the good of all. The pursuit of those same powers eventually ensured his place within the rebellion, and later, the destruction and eternal rebirth of his Legion. You have yet to speak of Horus, Eldrad. Codian said, the very mention of the dead Warmasters name like poison on his lips. That I have, Codian. Horus was the crux of it all. In him I saw the greatest potential. I saw the power of a star ascendant, a drive and ambition unmatched by any of his brothers. I saw the truth of Horus the moment I laid eyes on the slumbering infant, and I tasted the doom of billions as an aura around him, heavy and dark. Of all those who were destined to fall from grace, Horus was unique. Much of what I saw back in those terrible and desperate times I did not truly understand, and many thousands of years would pass until I would realise the truth. You see, I did not need to turn Horus, for his was a destiny that was set in stone. He was born to betray, and to die for that betrayal. That makes no sense. Codian answered. Long ago, I would have agreed with you. I saw it even then, standing amongst the slumbering Primarchs. I saw that, of all of them, two of the Young Princes were destined to die, as if that destiny was written into the very blood that flowed around them. It was if they were created to do so. I saw the Angel of Blood, his fate

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irrevocably sealed. I saw Horus, the Eye of Darkness, born but to be destroyed. Both martyrs to a cause I could never have understood in my youth. I understand that cause now, for the passing of the ages has revealed much. I need you to understand this more than anything else I have told you, Codian. I need you to understand the truth. Then I am destined to disappoint you, spirit, for I understand nothing of what you have told me. I see that you worked to destabilise all that the Emperor wrought, yes, but beyond that I see nothing but confusion. Then listen to my confession. Do you not see the patterns within my words? All I did, everything I planned. I changed the fate of a galaxy, Codian. I changed existence, and yet I changed nothing at all. I strove to become the avatar of manipulation, when all along it was I who was being manipulated. The masses of your kind believe the Emperor of man to be a god. We see the truth in that now, and we see why that fact was hidden for us for so long. Enough. I tire of hearing the truth. I see no point in this confession, what is done, is done. Besides, it would seem that your tales of galactic subterfuge are incomplete. There were twenty Primarchs, spirit Indeed there were, Codian. We sought them out that fateful day, the twenty Young Princes of the mon-keigh. All but two of them were snatched away from us, borne into the raging currents of time and space by the nascent powers of Magnus. Unknown to my companions, two remained, hidden by the shadows. So corrupt were they, so damned by their very existence, that their brothers instinctive efforts at preservation could not assist them. They were Gog and Magog, mirror-image brothers equally cursed in blood. The twin voids of unlife terrified me; Codian, and I could not act. You see, I recognised something in them that I knew should not have been, a corruption that not even the Emperor could have forseen. It was a cancer more timeless than any living thing, a dark and doom-laden legacy of ancient origins. The mark of the Yngir. So what are you saying? I am saying that the cursed Primarchs never left the side of the Emperor. I know that such things have been stricken from the history of your race for all time, for it is the lot of your species to record the past, rather then remember it, and I am not the one to delve into such details. Perhaps the Emperor knew something of the sinister future of the these creatures, I can only speculate. All I do know is that, for a time, they were his only sons, and they spent many years by his side before the discovery of the others. Who can say what manner of insidious evils they worked in his presence during that time, and what they achieved in the service of their true, vile masters. Such obscure historical facts matter not, Codian. What matters is that you understand all that I tell you. My mind reels with all that you have revealed, Eldrad. So much so that I feel I can take no more! Give me blunt, coherent answers or leave me ignorant, the choice is yours. I need you to understand evil, Codian, and betrayal. I need you to understand every facet of these traits totally. Only then will you be able to sift through the layers of such traits and determine the necessity of each instance. You need to understand that some evils are necessary, whilst others are exactly the opposite of what they seem. You need to harness the wisdom that will divine reason from these evils, and lay the truth of them bare. What may seem like the most manifest betrayal may be far from just that. Do not judge, Prophet, until you are sure, and do not hate those cursed by the obligation of their actions. Clear your mind and see into the soul, for there you will find your answer. Codian holstered the Dawnblade and shook his head in frustration, the very limits of his tolerance breached. I have heard enough. He said, heading towards the door of the chapel. And I will hear no more. They have returned. The Eldar spirit said then, causing him to pause within the threshold. And when they

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come, they will need you. They will need a voice to speak for them, otherwise the forces of life will tear themselves apart in internecine war. They have returned. Who, spirit? The last of the Lost Princes. Came the reply.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Eight: The Deceit

+++THE CHAMBER OF ASSASSINS+++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++TERRA +++ Fraudator Regaas the Sigilite regarded the men and women about him, his gloved hands resting upon the arms of the deep crimson throne upon which he sat. The sparse lights of the chamber shone upon his black leather bodyglove and his oiled hair as he twisted slowly in his seat, his keen eyes roving across the gathered figures. Dark figures lined the chamber, a sea of bodies that literally stretched away into the darkness, for the Chamber of Assassins was a huge space, located deep within the secret heart of the Ziggurat. My faithful few, my agents of the Officio Assassinorum. He began, rising slowly from his seat. Never before has a gathering of this magnitude taken place within this secret and hallowed location. Then again, these areunique times. When he spoke, his voice carried through the dusty air with a weight that far belied the stature of its source. His pale features were framed with a soft light that seemed to pulse from under his skin, and the whites of his eyes looked to shimmer and glow. Dark times, terrible times. Terra is besieged. The enemy are at the gates, and in numbers untold. Once our Imperium stretched from this world to the corners of the galaxy, and now we are reduced to this. He gestured slowly about him at the ancient walls. A single fastness, one last bastion. I am the Sigilite, the supreme ruler of Terra, the voice of the Emperor of man, and yet I am without a kingdom. All that remains now of the might of Terra fights as we speak to keep the enemy from these walls. He paused, a look of sadness passing over his face. Palpable waves of grief emanated from him to wash over the gathered figures, as if his own emotions were virulent and all-pervading. Our beloved Emperor has passed into the night. Our father, who has clung to life since the last great schism, is dead. We defend a corpse, brothers and sisters. An atrocity has been committed here, at the very heart of the Imperium. Our Emperor is dead, and that betrayal was committed by those who were tasked with his protection. He was murdered by the Adeptus Custodes. The agents of the Assassinorum were known to be a hardy and disciplined breed, not given to display emotions other than hatred or rage, and yet a quiet gasp of disbelief passed through the gathering at the Sigilites words.

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After a few moments Regaas held up his hands for silence, and then continued. Whatever their motives, I cannot guess, but the treachery of their callous act was enough. The Custodes are against us, and they have succeeded in achieving that which the vile Tau came to do. Many are the enemies that surround us, my agents, but we are loyal, and we are strong. They cannot touch us, nor break us, for we are stronger and better than that. I have gathered you all from the dark recesses of this Palace, where you have hidden since this war began, for it is time to act. We tried to save this world from the shadows, but even we were not aware of the sheer level of deceit and treason that has made a ruin of our Imperium. We usurped the other weak High Lords for their indecision and failure to unify, and because we could not be sure of their loyalties. We were right to fear this, and we see that now. Just when it seemed as if we had regained stability, and thus laid the foundations required to unify this defence, that hope was dashed by monsters from the mists of our ancient history. I say enough. He paced before the gathered assassins, his arms raised up by his sides. His features were more illuminated than ever now, and his eyes shone with a golden light. The Emperor was the greatest of our kind, and we will never see His like again. We cannot know His ways, and yet we must trust in Him. In the moment of his final death He came to me, His Sigilite, and spoke unto me. He tasked me with the ruination of the conspirators that infect this world. He gifted unto me but a portion of His greatness, so that the Faithful would know me, and would rally to my cause. His power flows through my veins now, for I am His vessel of vengeance. I am His burning fist, and I will strike the life from all those who oppose us! At that moment, Regaas the Sigilite ignited, golden light erupting from his form to scour all other colours from the chamber. Unnatural winds tore at the assassins as they fell as one to the ground, in genuflection to the burning figure. The time has come! Said a voice of thunderous power. To excise the cancer from this world! No longer am I Fraudator Regaas! I am the Messenger, and my message will be heard! He bathed in the exultation of his audience then, letting the waves of applause wash over him. For several moments he kept his stance, his arms held aloft, the adulation of the secret army a potent confirmation of his own self-importance. Then, without any word or warning, he turned from the gathered throng and passed into the shadows of the doorway behind him, and out of sight. He passed into the darkness then, his strident form still aglow, as the door slid closed behind him. As he progressed further into the gloom the radiance emitted by the being receded, and he began to transform. His skin became liquid and golden; the living metal looking to literally absorb every last trace of clothing until all that remained was a well-defined and naked humanoid shape. He rose then, every step connecting less and less with the ground beneath him until he trod no more, and his partially cloven feet were a good distance clear. The shadows around him ran fluid; twisting and swirling like oil at his behest. His glowing outline shimmered briefly and then dissipated abruptly, and he was no longer deep within the Imperial Palace. Mephetran smiled as he took in his surroundings, despite the utter darkness around him. As if in response to his arrival, sickly emerald thunderheads rumbled and flashed to life in the distance, and within moments the monolithic chamber was bathed in that same green glow. My lord. His gaze fell upon the ancient, silvered figure before him as it crossed its arms before its face and then stepped back, placing the bladed haft of its softly-pulsing staff onto the dust-strewn floor of the airless tomb complex.

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The Necron Lord had no name in which he could be addressed, but once he had assumed the guise of a human creature by the name of Maturin Ralei. Now the necessity of that guise had long since passed, and he was free to exist as the unliving creation of his Ctan master. The time fast approaches. The Deceiver said. Soon I will lead my armies in the harvest of the living. My plans proceed just as they should. Life is drawn to Terra from all the furthest stars of the heavens, and soon there will be enough of it to draw upon, and the Feast of Ascendancy will begin. The godlike being smiled malevolently as he considered this, his inhuman eyes blazing with anticipation. No living thing could even guess as the depthless hunger of a Ctan. What of the others, lord, and their legions? Drochtyrs champions and their legions are already amongst the cattle. That was always inevitable. His arrogance and self-importance are key elements to this plan. He sees his own efforts as the initiation of this final phase. We must continue to allow him to think this. Our own machinations shall be conducted far beneath the furore and chaos brought about by his own. An event such as this could never been planned without the inclusion of the others. The Necron Lords eyes shimmered as it heard this, as if the very mention of those opposed to its masters will stoked some mammer of anger in what little remained of its emotions. The matrix is alive with activity. Every tomb world stirs, my lord. I can confirm that the legions of Faltoroch are already awakened and abroad I know. Mephetran answered, his voice charged and heavy with disdain at the concern of his skeletal minion. He gestured with his hand and the Necron Lord fell to its knees amid a storm of coruscating energies, unleashing a mechanical howl of agony as it did so. Never presume to inform me of any fact, slave. I exist but to know the truth of things. I have seen this, and more. I know of the coming of Faltoroch, just as I know that the Great Ward Sphere has begun to open. The assault upon the Necron ceased as immediately as it had begun and the punished machine staggered to its feet, residual discharges flaring about its artificial form. Though it was impossible for the things rigid, skeletal features to display any form of emotion, the fear in its voice as it spoke was obvious. Then Gia is freed. Yes. The Great Ward Sphere cannot act as her prison forever. Once, an age ago, we had to make a choice. We could not have put an end to her then, and thus our dominancy was delayed. Now she has been starved for aeons, and tortured so totally by her confinement that she is far beyond any dimension of sentience. She will provide only distraction, and will be destroyed along with the others, when I ascend. The Necron Lord paused then, as if rendered immobile by his considerations. After a few moments, he spoke again. From what I am to understand of my lords intent, the technology of the cattles dead Emperor is to facilitate this. Has this plan beencompromised by the loss of this creature? Mephetran shook his head slowly. Compromised, no. It has indeed been facilitated by this event. The cattle things are by and large easy enough to fool. You seem to forget, my servant, how much the technology of the young races is founded upon our own. They tried their best to rectify this, those opposed to Drochtyr, but one cannot remove a cancer that is riddled through to the heart. Indeed, the events that occurred during our dormancy have

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done much to facilitate my plans. Technology can be manipulated and turned to ones own use, no matter its origin. The Necron Lord bowed deeply and then stepped back, turning as he did so to sweep his staff out at the endless gloom. Your legions are stirring even now, lord, here and on every single world you command. Your word is all that we await. Soon. Mephatran answered, his shimmering form already starting to warp the gloom around him as he prepared to return. Soon. +++ Roboute Guilliman stiffened as the shapes whispered out of the darkness and came to land before him. The stealth suits quickly and quietly filled the square in numbers hundreds strong, emerging from their camouflage as they did so. He said nothing as the Tau warriors swiftly and silently set to work securing the surrounding area. Fireteams moved to cover every corner. Jump packs flared as small squads ascended once again to perch upon window ledges and other accessible vantage points, covering every angle of approach. Flocks of drones disgorged themselves from the main mass to drift out deeper into the city in order to hunt through the extremities of the area for any signs of enemy activity. The Primarch witnessed all this in silence until a figure clad in pure-white stealth armour broke free of the Tau ranks, a small group of bodyguards in tow, and moved to meet with the waiting commander. Greetings, OKorstla. He said with a nod. The Tau commander removed her helmet and fixed it to the mag-clamp at her waist. She set her black eyes upon the Primarch, ensuring that she visibly ignored the Astarte by his side. Berolinus stiffened at this, but made sure that he did not let this insult manifest itself in his manner further. We are greatly tested, Guilliman. The invasion is proving more difficult than we had originally envisaged. Difficulty is to be expected, OKorstla. Terra is the final stage of our dominance over this galaxy. We Many unforeseen circumstances have ravaged our forces. Shadowblade answered, cutting the Primarchs reply short. The Viskeon are proving less effecting than we had anticipated. For all their survivability, they lack the strength and support to test the defences of the Palace This time, it was Guillimans turn to interrupt. The Viskeon, commander, were created for one purpose. In his wisdom, AunVa realised that success would only be realised through attrition. We need to keep pushing the defences. We need to wear them down, to break the spirit and exhaust the bodies of those who deny us. Troops need to rest, OKorstla. Guns need to cool. The Viskeon are here not to break these defences, but to keep them harried. When dawn breaks upon this city, the Tau will renew the attack, and the Palace will be overwhelmed. Shadowblade bunched her fists and stepped forward, anger twisting her grey features. You do not seem to hear my words, Guilliman! Have you not seen the events of the last few hours? The

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rearguard of my own forces has come under attack by aggressors unknown. This damned darkness has brought with it horrors that hunt the shadows, and I have lost troops and war machines by the score to this enemy! And now She stepped to the side and gestured out at the endless gloom of the city. I have risked everything to seek you out. Rampaging Kroot. Hordes of Marines. Machines of war that walk as gods! She cast around and thrust a hand out towards the distant, undulating glare of the lights clearly visible between the towering buildings of the city beyond in order to convey the last part. Guilliman followed her gesture and looked on impassively as the Titans slowly but surely ground their way forward through the packed structures of the Imperial City. Much has occurred that we had not anticipated. Came his cool reply. The Tau commander sneered as she heard this, angered by his seemingly inexpressive response. This war is in danger of overwhelming us, guela! How can you behave as if none of this causes you concern? Guilliman moved faster than anyone present had anticipated. He surged forward and lifted OKorstla effortlessly by the neck. The Tau behind her responded immediately, levelling their weapons at the Primarch. Berolinus dropped onto one knee and thrust his bolter up one-handed, shifting his aim again and again. The psyber-eagle at his shoulder screeched and flapped its wings in agitation, animated by its masters actions. The Tau behind Guilliman surged forward as one, pulse rifles to the fore, intent on guarding the well-being of their commander. Know your place, Tau! Guilliman spat, holding the struggling Shadowblade aloft with effortless ease. Do not seek to question me! Your place is at the walls, and yet you abandon it! Such cowardice is not the lot of a commander of the Unity! He released her then, allowing her to fall to the floor in a heap of flailing limbs. She rolled back and up into a sitting position, her hand around her neck, choking and struggling to breathe. Guilliman levelled his sword at the Tau and stepped forward, so that the tip of the blade hovered an inch from her face. Do not call to question my actions, nor doubt my abilities. Know your place in this, Tau, or I will open your eyes for you and I will show you the error of your ways. I will not suffer the doubt in your heart, for to do so would be to spit upon all that I believe, and I will not see the TauVa defiled by your weakness! OKorstlas expression changed then, her face slackening in disbelief. Upon hearing the Primarchs words, her own warriors faltered, the consideration of Guillimans words confounding and disturbing them. II have never strayed from the path She began. Guilliman rolled his eyes and swung his sword before him, as if to test its weight. Spare me such pathetic responses. To doubt me is to doubt the manifest destiny of the Tau and the Unity, and I will not stand for such weakness. Watched by a throng of hundreds, the Primarch strode forward and thrust his face into Shadowblades own, his dark eyes wide and burning with zeal. Jealousy and personal pride are traits that do not become a disciple of the TauVa. He whispered, loud enough so that only she would hear.

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Never question or cross me again. Do you understand? Yes. She answered coldly, rising to her feet. Though there was a visible fear in her eyes, she continued to radiate an anger at her treatment that no amount of dread or threat would dispel. A small number of her warriors moved hesitantly to assist her. She shrugged off their attentions with defiance. Guilliman inclined his head slowly and gestured out to where the Titans continued to advance, each omnipotent stride bringing with it ominous ruination and destruction. I am aware of our situation, commander. The Titans are the most powerful war machines the Alliance has, and I have been waiting for them. What do you mean? Guilliman merely smiled. He raised a hand up to his neck and pressed the stud set into his gorget. Macharius. It is time. Shadowblades eyes narrowed as she heard this. Guilliman looked to his Astarte companion, and Berolinus rose from his kneeling position, deactivating his bolter as he did so. He turned to the Tau lines behind them and began hollering instructions. Within moments, a small team of Fio caste engineers emerged, accompanied by a good number of varied Drones. Target acquisition. Guilliman said, pointing out to the distant, swaying lights. It is time for the war machines of Macharius to hunt. The Earth caste engineer bowed deeply and turned to his comrades. Moments later one of the Tracker Drones hovered forth from the pack, lights blinking and glowing across its dome-like body. Small thrusters flared to life beneath it and it was gone, rocketed into the dark night skies, a rapidly-shrinking dot of light. Shadowblade watched all this in silence, and only tore her gaze away when Guilliman spoke again. Doubt is caustic, commander. Doubt degrades the integrity of any effort of war. Question if you must, for that is the mark of a competent commander, but believe always. Had the Titans of the Alliance stayed to defend the gates of this city then the siege would have lasted far longer than is desirable. At that, he brought his hands together and then separated them once more, slowly. Divideand conquer.

Chapter One Hundred and Fifty Nine: Angels and Abominations

Codian clambered up the metal steps and stepped out onto the firing step of the wall, Guardsmen scattering in his wake. This was the seventh wall of the defences, and the soldiers beyond him were making good their defence of the line. The noise was horrendous. A howling cacophony of hammering, whining and thunderous booms split the air, so thick that nothing distinct could be heard above the noise. He glimpsed the shadowy shapes of Viskeon here and there, hulking dark masses lunging forth from the gloom, only to be beaten back by the

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sheer concentration of fire. One of the aliens leapt clear of the walls and the defenders and landed in the trench before him, punctured in a dozen places by lasfire but far from done. It swept its terrible pincer-staff out around it and carved the brave soldiers than ran to engage it into pieces. He levelled his bolt pistol and blew its head into a mist of blood and bone, and the surviving Guardsmen nearest it descended upon the corpse with flamers, immolating it even as it fell. The defenders had learned quickly, and they had learned well, he could see that. They had held this wall for the last two hours, and showed no indications of losing it any time soon. An uneasy but strong stability had settled over the defence lines now. The night had brought with it a baptism of fire, and the many varied soldiers and warriors of the Alliance had paid a heavy price, but they had learned well. He was confident that the line would hold here, and that the Viskeon would ultimately be denied. The events of the past hour lingered in his mind still, an unwelcome and disconcerting presence. Only the purity and clamour of battle was enough to sweep away the considerations of the mind. Far beyond the walls, deep within the city beyond, he could see the last vestiges of the light that illuminated the advance of the Titan legions as they faded into the dark depths, and he whispered a prayer of silent protection for the god-machines. Movement caught his eye then in the trench before him, and he found his attention drawn to a small group of curious figures. The obvious head of the group led the others, robed and unarmed adepts, with strident commands and vigorous gesticulations. His curiosity piqued, Codian quickly moved to investigate. He leapt out over the lip of the wall and landed in the trench. Faces turned as one to greet him, and the man who led the adepts stepped back, shock loosening his face. He wore a suit of thick obsidian power armour, edged in gold. A glittering golden sigil of the Inquisition dominated his breastplate. His aged face was pale and lined with scars, and he wore his tight greying curls close to his scalp. II know you. The man said, recognition passing over his face. You are the Chaplain, Codian. My reputation precedes me. Codian answered. Just as sure as my curiosity compels me. The man inclined his head and then swept a hand out to indicate the furore beyond their position. Inquisitor Thanial Huune of the Ordo Xenos. My team and I form a part of the Alliances Augur squads. We were conducting a Forgive me, Inquisitor, but I am afraid that you will have to indulge me. I am somewhat of an amateur in the mechanisms of this Alliance. Codian said, cutting the Inquisitor short. Of course. It is my duty to assess the movements, tactics and configurations of the various enemy factions of the Unity. Only through a better understanding of our enemy can we hope to achieve victory over them. I see. And this is a field study, of sorts? More. The Inquisitor answered, his tone darkening. My psykers have sensed something out there, a shift in the patterns and movements of the Tau. I have come here to the front line in order to gain a better understanding of this. A shift? Yes. They specialise in reading the moods of a battle, and are able to scry the ever-changing tides of war. Something has altered, and recently. A good number of the Tau forces beyond theseferal creatures we know of as the Viskeon, seem to have left this theatre of war. There is a sense of palpable fear amongst the Tau, and I need to know why that is, and if we can use that fear to our own advantage. If you would excuse

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me a moment. Codian observed the scene in silence for a short while, intrigued by the actions and methods of the small group of psykers. He could feel the workings of their mysterious powers as a physical sensation. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and as he breathed, the steam that passed from his mouth glittered with crystallised ice. Hnnhgah! Old, old blood He heard one of the wizened figures whisper, his voice brittle and tortured. Pallid Sons of Death, they stalk the carcass-fields. Lust for life unleashed The Inquisitor had produced an ancient-looking device, some form of hand-held brass cogitation machine. He held it up as if to record the words of the rambling psyker, his face fraught with concentration and concern. The thing rattled and clicked in his hand, shuddering slightly as its archaic mechanisms worked to decipher the dialogue. Codian intended to enquire what this meant, and yet, studying Huune and witnessing the level of concentration he put into his work, he didnt want to disturb the man. As he listened he caught what he could of the psychic collectives largely indecipherable chatter. Little if any of it made sense. What do you know? He finally asked, watching as the psykers withdrew and the Inquisitor ushered them back from the imminent danger. Huumes furrowed brow remained as he considered all he had learned, and it was clear to Codian then that such things were far from an exact science. We know that something is happening out there. There has been a shift in the balance of supremacy. Dark beings of great power stalk the shadows, hunting the Viskeons from the rear. Who or what they are I am unable to divine, save that they descended from the stars. Of their allegiances, I cannot say, for they betray nothing save for hunger. So, you cannot say whether or not they fight for us, then? Huume shook his head. No. The Tau fear them, though. We know that for sure, due to the shift in disposition of their forces. The arrival of this new force has greatly affected the Taus efforts. Then they are an ally, at least for now. Codian replied. +++ Rogal Dorn lowered the magnoculars and allowed himself a sigh of frustrated bewilderment. Standing to his right was the Chapter Master of the Imperial Fists, Tialo the Immortal. Tialo was a legend amongst the Imperial Fists, and was second only to the Primarch himself in the reverence of his Chapter. In short, Tialo was a miracle. He was the only Astarte ever known to have survived wounds terrible enough to kill even a Space Marine. Following the legendary defence of Kasr Vasan during Abaddons Thirteen Black Crusade, his ruined body had been placed into stasis. Against the very laws of nature and physics, it seemed, Tialo has healed. His wounds had closed, slowly over the course of hundreds of years, and no one could explain this. Upon his release from his stasis prison, Tialo had simply stated that he was unwilling to expire. And so it was that Tialo had become the greatest Chapter Master ever to lead the Fists, and he had done so until the rediscovery of Dorn. At Dorns left hand stood ancient Helbrecht, the supreme commander of the Black Templars. Both

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commanders joined Dorn in investigating the dark and distant buildings that surrounded their position. Of the three legendary figures, not one of them was able to provide an explanation to the perplexing questions that troubled them. I cannot explain it. Dorn said with a slow shake of his head. They are like ghosts, these mysterious allies of ours. If they are indeed allies. Tialo uttered, caution heavy in his voice. Dorn heard this and looked to the indomitable Fist commander. Since the first shot, we have suffered not a single casualty. If they were an enemy then we would surely have lost Marines and men to them. No, they seem solely concerned with the Viskeons. Indeed, we have not turned aside a single xenos foe for well over an hour. Who or whatever they are, they fight beside us. High Marshal. He looked to Helbrecht then, and the old warrior stiffened at his gaze. This seemed to coincide with the arrival of your forces. Do you have any clue as to the identity of this apparent ally? It would be hard for me to say, my lord, for the Templars are for from the only force of power to come to this world. Hundreds of years ago, when the Tau first conquered the Eye we learned that, in order to survive, we would have to reassess the very fundamental laws of our crusade. When facing an enemy as powerful and adaptive as the Tau, one cannot hope for victory unless any and all efforts are directed towards the prosecution of that foe. We found that we could no longer be selective in our choice of enemy. Such things have never been a choice. Tialo answered with a growl. The two commanders met one another warily, and Dorn found himself in the midst of a potential situation. Youmisunderstand, brother. Helbrecht finally answered, and the Primarch could sense the careful measure of his words. My brothers and I came to understand the truth of this life, and it was the hardest, most unpalatable truth we have ever had to face. The Unity was a force with the potential to bring about our destruction. Thus the annihilation of the Unity and the Tau became our sole objective. We have saved worlds, systems even, in our fight to drive the Unity back, and we have gained many allies in doing so. Then it stands to reason that you should recognise the traits of this enigmatic ally. Dorn reasoned. At that, Helbrecht leaned forward onto the wall and peered out into the darkness. Perhaps, my Primarch. There is only one race I can think of that would fit this mystery. He looked to both Dorn and Tialo, as if to drive home the conviction of his belief. The Eldar. +++ +++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++ +++AREA: UNKNOWN+++ Here in the unknown depths of the catacombs, the rattle and hammer of gunfire was as thunder. Amplified by the endless halls, the sound was deafening. Bright fire strobed through the gloom, illuminating the slick, ancient walls.

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Back! Pull him back! The Centurions voice rose above the clamour, powerful and sonorous. Golden-armoured bodies darted into the press and emerged moments later, dragging one of their injured comrades with them. Custodes poured into the gap created by the retreating bodies and a sea of guardian spears lunged through the arched doorway, the bolters fixed to their hafts firing on full auto. The Centurion stepped back in order to assess the situation. More squads were advancing upon their position from the west, ready to bolster the desperate defence. Towering amongst their numbers he saw several brothers clad in Terminator armour, so vast that they barely had the room to advance. We need to seal this vault! He called, waving them forth with his flaming sword. This entire sector has been breached! He moved further into the eastern end of the dark corridor as the warriors neared, allowing them access to the contested area. There he took a moment to observe his warriors at work. Centurion Caer Validimus had resided within the walls of the Imperial Palace since the Emperor Himself had been interred within the Golden Throne. He himself had been counted amongst the Companions, the three hundred warriors tasked with the hallowed undertaking of guarding the Emperors mortal remains. Leaving the Emperor had been the hardest thing he had ever been asked to do. He had awaited that day for thousands of years, and yet such an expansive prior knowledge of the event had not made it any easier to deal with. The Emperor was gone now, His vast presence set free into the Immaterium, the fulfilment of His millennial plans realised. Like all members of the Adeptus Custodes, he was privy to the darkest secrets of the Emperor and the Imperium. He knew the full truth of all things, and amongst that truth was the reason why he and his brethren had been instructed to leave the Emperor to His fate when the time came for the prophecy to be fulfilled. That time had come, and the ancient enemy had scoured the Emperors mortal remains from existence. Not a single Custode had met his end when the Star God had come to claim his prize, for in His final hour, he and his brothers had left the side of the Throne and had taken refuge within the depths of the Palace, following plans that had been made millennia before. Plans they fought to realise still. Your will, my lord. Always. He whispered beneath his breath, bowing his head towards the flaming blade in his hands. Even as he spoke, he felt the presence. Ancient and otherworldly, quiet despite the immense depths of its being. He could feel the heat of its ancient heart burning beneath its armoured breast, timeless and unfathomable. He turned to face the darkness behind him. Though shocked by the presence of the apparition, he felt neither fear nor caution at its sudden appearance. Tall and lithe, it moved without a sound. It rose up and loomed from the shadows as he slowly turned to greet it. The deep greens of its organic armour seemed to draw the shadows in around it, and yet its eyes blazed red, windows to the complex and burning collective soul within. We have come. It whispered, tilting its head forward. Thick, bone-like braids whispered and rattled across its shoulders, and the vast, energised claw that encompassed its right hand opened and closed as if in eagerness for use.

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He could feel the weight of the beings age, and the consequences of its existence. This was a creature that was far more than the sum of its parts, an individual many facets, every one of them literally steeped in war. Validimus simply nodded and then lowered his sword. You are the Shadow Hunter. He said, a clear statement of fact rather than a question. The one the Eldar call Karandras. We have come for them, the Lost Ones; those who are empty and corrupt from within. It is time for us to scour them from existence, as is our destiny. The Centurion looked on as other shapes moved from the black gloom and into the light. Others, brothers and sisters of the ancient being, legends amongst the Eldar race. They were the Phoenix Lords, eternal warriors each one, and he had awaited their arrival ever since the death of the Emperor and the return of the Void Champions. Validimus stepped back against the wall and thrust his sword out at the contested entryway. A change of plan! Do not seal that passage! The Phoenix Lords have come! For a split second, all activity ceased. A sea of tall, golden helms turned as one to look upon the assembled figures, and whispered comments rose up from the Custode lines. The day they had waited for this long had finally come. The Phoenix Lords of the Eldar were here. He stood in silent witness as the legendary beings filed past him, their progress as silent and apparent as the breeze. There were four of them, he noted, of the six that he knew existed. Karandras the Scorpion led the way, the teeth of his silent chainblade a hazy blur. As he advanced he did so low to the ground, a true predator in every sense of the word. Next came Jain Zar, the Storm of Silence. As she passed she regarded the Centurion with a swift glance and drew her weapons of war. Both the long spear and the tri-bladed throwing star flared to life at her touch, glowing with living, thirsting iridescence. Asurmen followed, and Validimus recognised the First of the Asurya immediately for who he was. Regal and proud, he swept his long crimson cloak aside as he advanced, the tall crest of his helm near brushing the curved ceiling of the passageway. The crimson blade he wielded radiated a cold and terrible hunger and an unmistakeable sentience, so potent that the Centurion could feel its pull at his very soul. Last came the Burning Lance, Fuegan, the instigator of this gathering. The Phoenix Lords dark armour shimmered with radiant heat, his passing causing beads of sweat to form upon Validimuss brow. Fuegan turned his burning gaze to the Centurion and tilted his head. Guardian of the Emperor, hear me and know the prophecy is fulfilled, at least in promise. Together we must fight to keep the Champions of the Void at bay, for we cannot risk this secret war spilling out into the greater conflict above. His final death has been felt through all the twisting corridors of the Webway, and the Empyrean quakes with his passing. Know that the Eldar have heard His call, and have answered in earnest. This war is joined. At that, Fuegan said no more. He turned to face his destiny, the ancient axe in his hand flaring with white-hot, molten power, and together, the Phoenix Lords of the Eldar slipped into the darkness of the vault. +++

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+++THE LIONS GATE+++ ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon released his anger in a lingering howl of rage and bloodlust, driven into an angered frenzy by the unexpected situation. He lunged forward and swung his pulse staff out to meet the black-armoured Astarte. The warrior turned his weapon aside with a screaming chainblade and countered, the blow intended to decapitate him. OKirla stepped back and twisted at the waist, bringing the staff around with him to strike the Marine from his feet. His opponent fell back hard onto the ground and OKirla pivoted again, this time bringing the staff down with both hands and into the warriors chest. The energised tip plunged through the Marines chest and pinned him to the floor. The Tau commander unleashed a salvo of blasts into the wound for good measure. The Marine convulsed, azure energies bursting from the cracks in his chest plate. OKirla hauled the staff free and stepped back, bringing it up to his chest. He fired out into the Astartes, the energy discharge of the pulse rounds lighting up his face and his armour as he sowed death and pain amongst his enemy. Put them to death, all of them! Make corpses of them all, for the TauVa! He faltered in his murderous task then as he noticed the Marine at his feet begin to come apart. The ruined body began to unravel like smoke before his very eyes, as insubstantial as the wind. What foul trickery is this? He spat, unnerved by the phenomenon. Ahead of him lay the walls of the Lions Gate defence. Hours ago he had driven his forces deep into those defences with no little success, but both the casualties he had sustained in doing so and the encroachment of the night had forced him back. This chafed at OKirla for he was a proud and martial warrior, not given to imparting ground he had won through blood and toil, but the night was the domain of the Viskeons, and even he realised the importance of consolidation. To push himself and his troops too far now would be madness, suicide even. And now this. The strange and ghostly Astartes had come as if from nowhere. They had penetrated deep beyond the Viskeon forces and carved a path through the vanguard of his forces. Many had already died to their guns and blades, and what should have been a strategic withdrawal and consolidation had become a desperate fight for survival and dominance. He depressed the rune set into his vambrace and spoke. OKirla to all squads! Move up and deny this enemy! I want a solid defence across the line! Drones and armour to the fore! All Vespid units, in and behind them! Cut them off and crush them all! Shas Kayon charged past him in squads, pulse staffs blazing. High above he could hear the furious buzz of Vespid wing casings as the creatures flew through the darkness. He would make a ruin of this enemy. Commander! His attention fell upon the ShasEl as she sprinted towards him, her face dark with discontent. She ground to a halt at his feet and bowed her head sharply, her staff laid across her arms in the correct gesture of salutation.

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What is the meaning of this, ElVarshoc? I ordered the advance of the armour My commander The warriors voice was heavy with apprehension, and it was clear to him that she was afraid of angering him. What is it? The armour, commander. We are under attack. Attack, from the rear? How is that possible? ElVarshoc could not answer. For the first time in her life, fear had stolen her voice.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty: The Fall of Gods

Russ! Where are you, brother! Damn your cowardice! Roboute Guilliman lunged forward and drove his fist through the corner of the building in his rage. The blow pulverised brick and rockcrete, turning it to dust. Huge chunks of debris fell, glancing off his armoured form, and yet he ignored them, for his rage was absolute. Guilliman was never usually wrong. He very rarely made an error of judgement. He had come to this place, fully expecting to find his nemesis, Leman Russ of the Space Wolves. He had expected to see revenge exacted upon the feral Russ for the injuries the Wolf had dealt him. He had been wrong. There was no sign of Russ or his Wolves here, or indeed anywhere. Tau bodies littered the ground where the two forces had met in combat hours before, and yet there was no sign of his enemy. Russ had done what Guilliman had never expected him to do. He had fled. Berolinus approached his Primarch hesitantly, his face fraught with caution. My Primarch Any sign? Guilliman asked, wheeling around to face the warrior. Berolinus shook his head. None, Lord Guilliman. A few scattered bands of Kroot have been encountered, skulking within and around the surrounding buildings. Other than that, we have found no trace of the enemy. They have even removed the dead. Then they are gone, Berolinus. Guilliman answered, his displeasure clear. Damn Russ. I was sure that we would face him here. I have never known Russ to fall back. Ever. Perhaps your confrontation tested him far more than he had expected, my lord. He may have retreated in order to lick his own wounds. The Primarch shook his head at this.

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No. I know my brother better than that. There has to be an important reason behind it. Leman Russ was never given to retreat, not even when faced with a situation that could be considered suicidal to pursue. Something is afoot. What should we do now? Berolinus asked then, accepting his Primarchs suspicions without hesitation. Guilliman looked past the large buildings that surrounded the square to where the lights of the Palace blazed in the distance. We continue on, to the Eternity Wall Gate. There we will join the Unity in the prosecution of this siege, and we will bring the will of AunVa to those too blind and ignorant to realise His truth. +++ Gueshio Ur Vior Macharius Shoka. Lord and champion of the Guevesa. The name of Macharius had been legend long before the most brilliant and faithful human allies of the Tau had plundered his tomb on the shrine world of Macharia for the DNA that would see the celebrated former Lord Solar brought to life again. Macharius closed his eyes and enjoyed the sensation of the cool dawn air upon his face, and he remembered. Memories of the life he had lived before this second existence were far from profuse, but they were present, cellular-deep echoes of the life that had passed. He was a conqueror born, and in seven short years his crusade had conquered no less than one thousand worlds. For his Emperor, he had done this. For his Emperor he had brought the dissident and outcast worlds of the lost Imperium to heel, and restored a greatness that had been lost to the ravages of the Heresy. He had conquered outwards to the very Halo Stars themselves, and that burgeoning conquest had been halted only by the weakness of the men under his command. He had met the end of his life ultimately unfulfilled. His restoration had brought with it the miracle of a renaissance that should never have been possible for him, and with it, feelings and considerations that would never have been possible for the man he once was. Macharius had not changed, and yet now he was able to see the truth of things far more clearly. Human weakness had set the limits of his potential, and had brought about the unsatisfactory conclusion of his efforts. The Tau race was unburdened by this same weakness. The Tau were unable to display the same dissidence that had seen his crusade brought to an abrupt end. The Tau would follow their masters to death and beyond, and, as a result, those human who had allied themselves with the Tau cause were of far more compliant stock. They had embraced the Tau ideal and had embraced him as their ultimate commander. They gave of themselves far more fully, and as a result, his dreams of conquest had been thus far realised in this new life. Terra was his goal now, his ultimate aspiration, his Halo Stars. This time there would be no denial, no failure to achieve his dreams. This time he would succeed. He had never once questioned his shift in loyalty. Though he still revered the Emperor, Guilliman was right, the Imperium had become weak and corrupt around him. Besides, who was he to question the judgement of a Primarch, a living son of the Emperor? +Targets coming within sensor range, Gueshio. Hard-locks acquired. Visual confirmed in eleven point five seconds+ He opened his eyes as he heard the voice crackle over the communications net. The dawn was breaking now, the night skies giving way to a cold blue light. The buildings of the city were massive black angles set against the coming dawn. Beyond them, he could just make out the illumination given off by the towering God-Titans.

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He clung to the turret ring of the huge Megalodon as he felt it slow beneath him, its vast armoured bulk shuddering with the effort. The Megalodon was the largest war machine in the Unity, an anti-grav tank of such vast proportions that it literally dwarfed the smaller Hammerhead. Its main armament was the turret-mounted twin-linked heavy railcannon, the very same potent weapons found upon the most powerful of the Unitys spacecraft. The numerous weapons systems bristled across the surface of the Megalodon, such as smaller-calibre railcannons and other powerful guns and missiles, and each machine carried with it a full compliment of heavy gun Drones. The Megalodon was a god-killer. The Nan Rmyr was his own personal war machine, ostensibly modified and decorated in order to accommodate a man of his rank and standing. Like all such machines, a mixture of Tau and human warriors crewed the Nan Rmyr, for in Machariuss eyes, race held no distinction, only skill. Bring her to a crawl. Macharius commanded. I want the squadron suitably dispersed. We will only get one chance at this and we must ensure that we see victory here. Take to the streets and find suitable vantage points, ready for my order to attack. If we get this right the first time, we will annihilate them. Macharius allowed his breath to catch in his throat as the Nan Rmyr crawled towards the end of the street, the underside of its armoured hull scraping across the scattered debris, and slowly rounded the corner. There. Almost a full district away, he saw the first of his targets. A mighty Emperor-class Titan, striding slowly through the city streets, its cannons blazing away as it engaged some unseen target. He smiled, his eyes glistening with anticipation. For the Tauva. He whispered, reaching up to activate the sonic dampers incorporated into his helmet. Acquire your targets, and fire at will. The entire tank shook as the heavy railcannons fired, launching vast hypervelocity shells out at the towering machine. A second later saw a bright flare of energy encompass the Titan, as the bubble of void force surrounding it writhed in its efforts to dispel the twin impacts. Other shots speared free of the surrounding buildings to impact against the Titans protective sheath, and the void shield sparked and fizzed, greatly tested by the power of the blasts. The outcome, however, was inevitable. The sheer weight of fire slamming into the Titan was relentless and concentrated, designed to overwhelm it. even as it turned to engage the insidious attackers, the first shell passed through its inundated void shields and struck home. The resultant blast was tremendous. The shell impacted against the vast crenelated domes of the cathedral structure upon its back with such force that it pulled the nearest spire in on itself. Multiple detonations thundered through the structure of the construct, rapidly escalating into a churning fireball that ripped outwards and blew tank-sized chunks of adamantium and plasteel free. The Imperator swayed, still in the process of traversing its vast upper body. He could hear the thrumming scream of the things void capacitors even from here as they struggled to bring the defensive fields back online. They didnt stand a chance. More railcannon shots punched through the metres-thick armour of the god-machine. One shot speared through the multiple barrels of the hellstorm cannon, enough to puncture and destabilise the munitions held within.

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The cannon exploded in spectacular fashion and with such force that it forced the Titan back, sending it stumbling through one of the surrounding buildings. This was enough to arrest its fall, and to the credit of its veteran crew, it brought its other weapon arm to bear and fired. The city was lit briefly by the blinding flare of a miniaturised sun as the plasma annihilator erupted and sent a massive incandescent bolt out into the gloom of the street level. Its hidden target was obliterated instantly, and Macharius knew then that one of his war machines had ceased to exist. Bring it down! He cried, his entire body shuddering as the vast gun before him unleashed another brace of shells. Bring them all down! Wipe them out, for the glory of the Greater Good! He observed as shells continued to slam into the Titan from various positions around him, each successful shot punching churning holes through the things mighty armour. The Imperators many guns continued to blaze and the city around it suffered greatly. Entire buildings collapsed in huge clouds of rubble, or were simply blasted apart. He looked on as the huge cannon set into the front of the cathedral-like edifice atop the Titans shoulders fired. Seconds later the top of the structure far above him exploded and he flung himself down into the protective gloom of the turret, the hatch sealing automatically after him. Raise shields and shift position! He commanded, leaping to the bottom of the small shaft and then throwing himself into the wide crew compartment. None of the crew argued with him as they followed his orders, lit by the glow of the curved control bank. A heartbeat later he felt the bass thrum of the charging shield capacitors in his breastbone as they came online, and not a moment too soon. Huge chunks of rubble slammed into the Megalodon from above, rocking the craft so violently that its armoured underside glanced off the road. He negotiated his way across the compartment, clinging to whatever he could find for support, and made his way to the flickering viewscreen at the head of the bridge. A rockcrete boulder the size of a Devilfish rolled past, pummelling the road surface as it did so. Up ahead, another of the Tau war machines blazed, gutted by fire. What little was left of its entire prow was no more than a twisted ruin of blackened metal, turned outwards like the petals of a flower. A holomat situated before the viewscreen to his left depicted the current positions of all his units, as well as the Titans themselves. As he looked on the icon of the Imperator flickered several times and then blinked out. The sheer weight of fire had finally taken its toll on the huge machine. We have our first victory! He called across the link, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. Maintain vigilance at all times and stay as mobile as you can. Do not present the enemy with a static target, and under no circumstances allow him to take you by surprise. My lord, we have a contact! One of the bridge crew reported. Closing fast, south-southwest! Im reading a height of fourteen metres Warhound. Macharius answered immediately. Activate all secondary weapons systems and send the general alert! Bring the turret to bear! Pilot, bring us about and ready to slip into cover! Weapons, I want seeker missiles loosed and disruption pods engaged! The buildings quaked as the Warhound rounded the corner, its canine-like head sweeping from left to right. Its sensors were singing and it had the scent of the enemy, and now it was closing for the kill.

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It spied the Megalodon just as the hovering tank slipped out of sight, its rear thrusters powering it behind the cover of the building, its vast turret traversing to bring its guns to bear. Metal groaned as it twisted at the waist and opened fire, its vulcan megabolters sending a hail of death out after the Tau skimmer. The corner of the structure disintegrated beneath the onslaught, ferrocrete and iron shattering into dust. A huge cloud of choking debris puffed out in the Megalodons wake, quickly filling the street, and by the time it had begun to clear, Macharius and his tank were out of sight. The Warhound broke into a swift, loping stride, its hunched body rising and falling as it advanced. It had almost cleared half the distance when a number of shrieking projectiles rounded the corner and twisted towards it. The scout Titan opened fire again, loosing a hail of shots that served to provide a protective screen against the hunting missiles. Three of them fell victim to the onslaught and, caught by the thundering bolter shells, they exploded. Two managed to escape the destruction however and slammed into the Warhound, detonating inches from its thick carapace. Void shields flared and then dissipated as they did their work, repelling the explosive power of the detonations. The energy fields appeared as rapidly flickering force that encased the Titan, and as they were spent, they left behind an acrid, curling residue of charged smoke. The Warhound was far from repelled by the attack. It started forward again, its progress smashing discarded detritus underfoot and felling power lines as it bore down upon its enemy. The attack had not even tested its vaunted armour, but then again, it had never been intended to do so. Another Megalodon lurched free from its cover to the left of the Titan and swung its turret to bear. The air boomed and imploded as the double heavy railcannon fired, and the shots proved true. The Warhound lurched into the building at its side, staggered by the attack. Void shields flared again, screaming as they fought to absorb the powerful impact of the shells. The Warhound righted itself and swung its plasma blastgun around to target the war machine. Blinding energies roared forth from the deadly weapon and slammed into the Megalodons frontal armour. Tau force shields were powerful indeed, but the fearsome bolt of burning plasma blazed with the power of a small sun. It burned right through the shields and the thick armour of the craft in an instant, and literally tore it in two from bow to stern. Hundreds of small explosions flashed through the bisected halves of the Megalodon, detonating in a spectacular staccato display. Armour plating flaked free of the dying tank like ash blowing on the breeze, and in an instant it was destroyed, the crew within atomised by the unstoppable blast. The Nan Rmyr emerged from its hiding place and fired, its guns striking the Titan full in the face. The twin shells struck simultaneously, and even as the Warhounds last remaining void shield flashed, resisting the hit, one shell managed to bypass its effects and drive deep into the snarling, dog-like visage of the crew compartment. There followed a deep, hollow boom and the Warhounds face bowed inwards, a large circular hole appearing at the centre of its snout. The shell carried on and burst free of its thick rear carapace armour, dragging large chunks of debris in its wake. The Titans face literally folded in on itself a second later, the metal twisting in a corkscrew fashion as it did so, as the tremendous force of the shells hypervelocity pulled everything it passed through after it. The ruined bodies of its crew spiralled out of the Titans rear exit wound, little more than a mist of blood and scattered body parts, liquefied as they were by the shells passing. It staggered, its limbs shuddering in empathy at the death of its Princeps, like an animal that had taken a fatal headshot. For good measure, the main cannons of the Nan Rmyr put a brace of shells through the Warhounds left knee joint. The joint shattered into thousands of glittering metal fragments and the Warhound fell face-first

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onto the road, the impact of its fall throwing a cloud of dust and rockcrete up around it. The prow of the Nan Rymr lanced through the choking cloud and drew to a standstill metres away from the downed Titan. Airlocks whined as they were deactivated, and within moments bodies emerged from the many access points across the tank, squads of Fire Warriors and Guevesa. Move swiftly! Machariuss voice called from somewhere within the obscuring gloom. Searchlights roamed across the Titans smouldering shell as the warriors sprinted towards it, several of them hauling large, disc-shaped devices with them. The warriors swarmed over the Warhound, clamping the magnetic devices onto various strategic points across it mass. Within moments their task was done, and one of the warriors, a Shasui marked out by the glistening white of his helmet, turned and called towards the Megalodon. Fusion charges set! With that, the warriors quickly retreated back towards the tank and slipped back inside. The Megalodon retreated at the first of the powerful charges erupted, the immense thermal energies causing the thick armour of the Titan to glow white-hot and liquefy, the effect spreading swiftly across the surface of the machine. One by one, the charges reduced the Warhound to little more than pools of hissing slag, so hot that it ate its way through the road surface. The kill was complete, and enough to ensure that the war machine could never be restored again. +++ Codian stood atop the wall, one hand resting upon his armoured knee, and basked in the growing sunlight. The Viskeons attack had well and truly faltered now, withdrawing like the shadows in the face of the rising sun. His attention, however, was not on the retreat of the alien hordes, but rather the revered war machines of the Titanicus. He had heard intermittent reports that the Titans had engaged an unknown enemy deep within the city, and that several of their number had already been lost to this conflict. This disturbed him greatly, for the Titans of the Mechanicus were the undisputed lords of warfare, with power enough to raze cities to ashes and rubble. He knew of few things that could meet a Titan in battle and survive the encounter, let alone destroy one. You are troubled. He recognised the whispered voice immediately, its very presence warm against the edges of his mind. He cast around slowly to see the dark alien shape of Qah hovering in the air behind him. Qahs fluid form was as dark and shapeless in the dawn sunlight as it ever was in the night, the mysterious properties of his body allowing no light to reflect off its oily surface. Where have you been? Codian asked, looking back towards the distant buildings of the city. Playing my part. There is an insidious evil at the heart of this Palace, and I have ensured to guide the Eldar to its presence. Codian nodded slowly, the words of the Old One sinking in only partially. Qah cocked his head to one side as he observed this, his powerful mind touching the edges of the Chaplains psyche as if to taste his emotions. You are concerned for the armoured giants. I sense this much.

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Of course I am. The Titans are the single most powerful war machines we have. If we lose them, our defence of this Palace will be greatly tested, and we will have suffered a blow that could yet prove fatal. To place such faith in these machines will do little good, Codian. The Titans will take their toll, you must not doubt that. They are however fated to ultimately fall. This is unavoidable. He cast around as he heard this, disbelief widening his face. Fated to fall? What do you mean by this? Have you seen it? It is not what I have seen, but what I know beyond any certainty to be fate. Technology is an great ally to our cause, but ultimately it cannot be relied upon to provide our salvation. These Titans must meet their end in glorious combat, but they will fall, one by one. They must fall. How can you say that? Codian raged, bunching his fists at the aliens detached manner. How can you dismiss them so willingly? If you knew that they would meet deadly resistance then why did you allow them to do so? You could have protected them! I have seen the power of these machines with my own eyes, Codian. I have seen the ruination they are able to sow. My gaze is far-reaching, and I have seen the enemy tremble before them. We cannot allow ourselves to fall foul to the guns of the Titans. When the Dragon comes, and he will come, the Titans would be his, as sure as all the Tau of the Unity. They are ultimately machines, Codian, and machines are as nothing against the will of the Void Dragon. Codians arms fell slowly by his sides as he heard this. He had heard Qahs explanation clearly and yet he struggled to grasp the concept of what he had said. He was under no illusions as to the unmatchable power of the Ctan, but this? Is there nothing we can do? Can we not warn them? We are powerless to prevent their loss, you must be able to understand this. Any warning I could have given the commanders of the Titan legions would have gone unheeded. Do you believe that they would have held back on my word? Even if I had been able to convince them to hold back, the Void Dragon would have taken them as his own, in time. Machines possessed of even the most rudimentary sentience are as dangerous to us as any enemy, Codian, you must understand this. Weapons and other such simple items of technology are beyond the influence of the Dragon, but the mysterious entity your kind call the machine spirit is far darker than you could imagine. I see the evidence all around me. Your revere the awareness within the machine. You seek to satisfy it, and fear to invoke its anger. You cannot trust this presence. The Chaplain regarded his own armour and weapons as he absorbed the Old Ones warning, feeling a sudden discomfort at what he had heard. He considered just how totally the Imperium relied on its weapons of war, now more than ever, and the extent of Qahs chilling warning sent a shiver down his spine. The Old One looked to sense Codians very thoughts and raised a hand, as if to assuage his fears. All is not yet lost. We have a powerful ally in the Eldar. They were a race born to fight the Ctan, and their own technologies are attuned as such that they are impervious to corruption. Soon you will come to learn just how deadly the Eldar can be. For now, I would ask you to cast your concerns aside and accompany me. Codian watched as the ancient being rotated in the air, his incorporeal body swirling like liquid. What do you have planned, Qah? A council of war. The Old one replied. One that will shape the days to come.

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Chapter One Hundred and Sixty One: The Gathering

Codian slowed as he approached the wide stone-flagged expanse directly before the monolithic gates. The Crown of Konor had shifted her position so that she now sat forward of the vast clearing, creating a wide and flat space between her and the Eternity Wall Gate. He eyed the vast mobile fortress warily as he considered Qahs warning. When that inevitable time came, and the Void Dragon descended upon the Palace in person, what would happen to the Leviathan? Would Calgar destroy her, in order to prevent her capture by the enemy, or would the Dragon take control of her systems and run rampage through the beleaguered defenders? He dismissed the thought from his mind, for now was not the time for such contemplations. He had grown to trust Qah, for if any member of this defence knew the answers to these questions, it would be him. Qah drifted towards a small group that Codian soon saw consisted of Calgar and the closest members of his retinue and those few who had accompanied Codian on his quest to reach Terra. Ferrus Manus was present also, and the Primarch towered over all the others as he awaited the presence of the Old One and the Chaplain. Qah reached the gathering first and bowed his head to those present. As Codian reached the gathering and took his place amongst the assemblage of warriors, Qah held back. Grungi greeted the Chaplain with a smile. So, the night has failed to take your life, Codian. I trust you have spilled more than your quota of enemy blood? Codian simply nodded in answer. The Demiurgs skin was coated in a film of dark alien blood and bore many small and fresh wounds, both of which he seemed to delight in displaying. The others all bore the scars of a nights worth of desperate combat, and he could see that none present had managed to escape the conflict. So, we are gathered here at your behest, alien. What now? Manus asked, his silvered face set in a stern frown. This lull in the enemys attacks will be only temporary. We cannot afford to waste this time with inaction. Patience, Primarch. Know that it is time. Manus reaction was surprising, to say the least. He merely straightened his back and accepted Qahs answer. Satisfied at this, the Old One continued. Before I convene this gathering, I must issue each of you a warning. The coming of the Ctan is almost upon us, and when the Star Gods descend, we will be tested. This will be a war unlike any ever experienced in your lives. If we are to find victory here on Terra then we must put aside the differences that have kept us divided for thousands of years, divisions that have shaped the lives of every being present here. Heed this warning. Qah gestured then, no more than a gentle wave of his hand, he lifted his head and spoke a single word into the breeze. Magnus.

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The word echoed over and over, gaining power if not volume as it rolled over the gathered warriors and out into the city. Seconds passed and then the air beside Qah shimmered, distorting outwards like a spreading bubble, and then the lord of the Thousand Sons passed through the anomaly and stepped out into the square, nodding a greeting at the silent alien as he did so. It is time. He said to Qah, more a statement than a question. Nonetheless, Qah inclined his head in confirmation. Very well. Let them come. He held up a fist aglow with inner power. The light spilled from between his bunched fingers, shimmering and bright, and as the others looked on in silent awe he spread his fingers and released the phenomenon. The light parted as it left his grasp, glittering tendrils of luminescence spreading as they passed beyond their source and speared out in all directions, passing over the heads of the warriors there. The enigmatic display was over almost as soon as it had begun. Magnus lowered his hand, ethereal mists curling from the limb, and waited. They came as one, his brothers. Summoned by the unexplainable magicks at his command, like him, they stepped from beneath the veil of reality and into the scene, borne on the winds of Magnus power. The Primarchs were gathered once again, plucked from their positions around the walls and brought before the assembly. Codian witnessed this and held his breath. He had beheld the rage of a Primarch first-hand more than once since his awakening in this dark era, and though Manus reaction had been far more reserved than he had expected, he could only imagine the collective slight of six angered Primarchs being dragged against their will to attend this meeting. After a few moments, however, he soon came to realise that this would not be the case. One by one, the ancient sons of the Emperor slowly took in their surroundings, and though none of them appeared too happy to have been removed from the front line, there was neither surprise nor anger. My brothers. Magnus said, raising his arms in greeting. Do not allow the sunrise of this new day to blind you to the truth. The Long Night swift approaches, and with it, the hour of our greatest trial. The war we were created to fight is nigh, at last, and all the armies of life have come to join the fight for survival. The End Time is come. Magnus looked in to the eyes of each of his brothers as he spoke, and as Codian observed this he saw a deep and ancient exchange of brotherhood in each gaze, a bond that could not be broken by any means of division. He saw it then as a truth, resolute and unquestionable, and at that moment understood the mysteries of the Primarchs more fully than he ever had. He saw beneath the darkness of the Heresy and the countless rumours of internecine division that frequented the lore of the Primarchs, and he saw the complex and hidden truth of their real existence. Then the Great Star Gods approach. The Lion uttered, disdain heavy in his voice. Magnus confirmed this with a nod. Yes. We few are the bearers of the Truth, my brothers. We few know the secret divinations of the Emperors visions, the same visions that saw him leave the crusade and retreat back to this very Palace. Just as he prophesised, the Unity has come to lay ruin to this world. So it is we stand here today, in defiance of that, in fulfilment of his wishes. We stand here ready to meet them, united once more. Then the silvered legions of the Necrontyr are fated to come. The Khan said, his grip around his mighty sword tightening visibly. Yes, Jaghatai. The pieces are set. The Tau hammer at our gates and the legions of life have come to

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answer the call to war. Then it is time for us to stand face to face with the commanders of this galactic alliance. The Khan answered. From this moment on, there shall be no hatred, nor judgement. Now we stand as one, against the perils of the Tau and the coming ancients of the darkness. As one. The other Primarchs intoned, each pledging their support with a raised fist or a salute. Then I shall call them. Qah uttered. At that, he spread his arms wide and the darkness of his form unravelled. Tendrils of shadow unfurled and spread to quickly encompass the scene. Codian felt the darkness envelop him and he instinctively closed his eyes to its touch. It prickled against the skin of his face, cool yet charged, like the pallid touch of a corpse animated by the energies of the Immaterium. He felt his mind swim beneath the living darkness, his senses supernaturally heightened by the loss of his sight. He could feel reality itself being unmade around him, the laws that bound it dissipating, changing. Darkness became light then. There was no transition; the change was immediate and total. Where there had been utter blackness there was light once more. He let out a quiet gasp of surprise. Bodies literally filled the square now, figures of every shape and size. Some were human, Marine or otherwise, whilst others were alien and exotic, totally at odds with their more familiar counterparts. At the centre of the vast gathering, Qah glanced around him slowly and with purpose, his vast black eyes glistening. Around him the Primarchs moved so as to stand together, united in the face of this new and imposing collective. Calgar and his retinue did likewise, joining the Primarchs in their observation of this gathering. Together we now stand, as equals. Qah began, as if to take on the role of patriarch for the entire congregation. Codian could feel the power in Qahs words, as if they were potent and multifaceted, designed to transcend the boundaries of language. Each of you has answered the call to war, and has come to contest the intentions of the enemies of life. There are no differences here, only parallels. We have a common enemy, an enemy that desires nothing more than to see us destroyed. An enemy that would feed upon us to sate its hunger, and that cares nothing for distinction in the face of that hunger. The Ctan. We are cattle to these foul beings, and we exist for nothing more than to be consumed. For millennia, the Ctan have observed your wars, and have delighted in the conflict and hatred they have witnessed. They have seen a galaxy afflicted with eternal war, and this has pleased them. They do not believe that we are able to set aside our differences and stand together, in defiance of their plans. We must show them that they are wrong. What of the Tau? A voice called from the press, and Codian looked on as a vast figure pushed his way through the gathered bodies to stand at their head. Human and alien alike peeled away from the dark creature, fearful at his presence. From somewhere to his left, he heard Calgar utter the name of the abomination. Mephiston. Codians eyes remained transfixed upon the creature that had once been an Astarte like him, and yet was now as far removed from that title as any of the foul chaos renegades that had followed Horus into damnation.

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He was a vast and hulking creature, with grey, pallid skin and eyes that burned with the intensity of hot coals. His armour still bore the markings of a Blood Angel, though those markings were faded and chipped away. As he looked upon this Mephiston, he knew then that this was the commander of the mysterious creatures that had hunted the Viskeons through the darkness before the Eternity Wall Gate. So, the Blood Angels have finally answered the call. Calgar began, his mechanical voice low and thick with anger. We had thought you lost, Mephiston. Why did you abandon the Alliance? Mephistons head snapped around to regard the Ultramarine, his eyes flashing with power. He bared teeth that were long and bestial, like those of some canine predator, and as he spoke, his voice was distorted and menacing. You cannot know the depths of our pain, Calgar, nor the depths of our hunger. All you see is abomination. Our only hope if survival was to embrace the Black Rage, to allow it to consume us. Had I not made the decision to take my Angels from this war then we would be lost! The Blood Angels features glowed as if lit by his anger, and an ethereal wind buffeted the long curls of his lank golden hair. Mephiston was a powerful psyker, Codian could sense that much. Enough. Qah said, and the power behind his voice was such that the burgeoning argument died away almost immediately. Such recriminations are pointless now. Then answer my question, alien. Mephiston hissed, turning his attention to the Old One. When this ancient enemy comes to consume us, what of the Tau? The Tau are pawns in all this, Mephiston. They are nothing but cattle, like us, fodder to be consumed. They know nothing of the existence of the Ctan, and they suspect nothing of the true identity of their supreme commander. Had the Void Dragon simply wished for this world and its inhabitants to be destroyed then Terra would already be gone, blasted into oblivion. No, Terra is the stage upon which this feast is to be set. Then he knows that we have come. All eyes turned to seek out the owner of the new voice. A tall and slender figure stood forth from the gathering, regal and alien. Clearly Eldar, he wore his black hair in a long topknot, and in one hand carried a long spear that looked to crackle with dark and hazy energies. Indeed he knows. That is why he has come here. Terra was always destined to be the crux of this war, the crucible that would ultimately see the forces of life gathered to deny him. The Eldar commander scowled at this. Then we do nought but serve his interests, Old One. We gather to deny those very interests, Yriel of Iyanden. Said another voice. The warrior was the very vision of death, his ancient armour fashioned so as to look like bone. He held a vast cannon at his shoulder, its long barrel ending in a vicious scythe. Like Yriel, he was Eldar, and even as he spoke another of his kind moved to stand beside him. This warrior wore a suit of light blue and grey armour, and his back was almost engulfed by a pair of stylised wings that looked as if they had been crafted from glass and bone. Where his counterparts voice was low and whispered, as cold as the grave, his was light and almost songlike.

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It is not our lot to question destiny, Prince of Corsairs. If one is unable to submit himself to the wisdom of the ancients then what is his true purpose? The Eldar have striven these long eons to preserve their birthright, and to maintain the truth of things for just this purpose. Ours is the blessing of knowledge, and ours the birthright of responsibility. What purpose, then, serves an attitude of personal preservation in the greater scheme of things? What is survival if that survival is hollow? At this Yriel took a single step forward and raised the tip of his spear out at the avian warrior. I do not question destiny, Phoenix Lord, I question only the sanity of this gathering. We are a race teetering on the very cusp of extinction, and we have struggled for millennia to maintain our tenuous hold on existence. Now we are gathered here as one, the last of our kind, in readiness for this final war. We are open to annihilation, gathered like this. You know the lot of our race, Prince. The ancient Maughan Ra uttered. You know the legacy of Ynnead as well as any of us. Yriel snarled at this, and the baleful energies that shimmered behind the device that encompassed his left eye crackled as if in empathy with his anger. The thirst of Ynnead be damned. I am not prepared to become the martyr, not for any cause. A commotion further along the crowd cut through the uneasy atmosphere. Codian joined the others in shifting his attention to the disturbance, and he found himself stunned when a small host of obscure figures shouldered their way through into the space before the Eldar. The largest of the creatures was clearly an Ork, and he was massive indeed. The thick suit of armour he ware served only to increase his size further, and he literally towered over the smaller creatures below him. A brace of even stranger beings stood before the Ork, creatures that Codian was sure he had never seen before. He had fought the Orks in several campaigns, and he had witnessed the various sub-species of this race. They were similar in appearance to the slave-creatures that accompanied the Orks, and though larger, they were still markedly smaller than a human. Their skin was a pale green, almost white, and completely hairless. Like the Eldar, their ears were pointed and oversized, their noses large and avian. Yellowed inhuman eyes regarded the gathering with an almost regal air, and they held their ivory robes about them, robes decorated with a simple but striking pattern of light and dark blocks. Both the Ork and its smaller charges remained silent as they scanned the faces of the gathering, and Codian found himself struck by how calm and measured the creatures appeared to be. Each of the three pairs of eyes contained a glimmer of quiet yet clear intelligence and this served to unnerve him. Several moments passed before he came to another realisation. Though the presence of the Ork seemed to cause no small amount of concern amongst the more basic human members of the congregation, none of the others present seemed more than vaguely disturbed by its presence. Qah bowed in greeting to the creatures, a gesture that was returned by the smaller aliens. The Ork simply grunted, and Codian took this to be its response. Something else happened then, something so unexpected that it almost staggered the Chaplain. We have seen the corruption that these Tau have spread amongst our progeny. One of the small creatures said. This is unacceptable. The other continued. The debasement of the gene-legacy cannot be tolerated. We are poised to strike out against these abominations.

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We have sensed the null that suffocates the collective psyche. The first said. By impeding the will of the collective, it forces the warriors into servitude, an unnatural existence. Of all those present, only Qah seemed to understand any of what the creatures said. Can you alter this? The two small aliens glanced at one another as they heard this. We think so. They said as one, before speaking in turn once again. We may be able to force a purge. We may be able to forcibly alter the will of the collective. That, or we destroy them utterly. The massive Ork growled, its voice deep and bestial. It seemed that there was no end to the surprises of this congregation. When the Ork spoke, it did so with an unnatural coherence that seemed to lend an immediate intelligence to its manner. Outwardly its appearance was that of any other Ork, albeit huge even in comparison with the largest of its kind, but as Codian regarded it once more he found himself drawn by intrigue. He fancied he could feel the flicker of psychic power that seemed to surround the Ork and its smaller companions. Power, and a clear aura of cold intelligence that sat at odds with the trio. It soon became clear that, despite his vast inherited knowledge, there were still many mysteries waiting to be unravelled as far as Daelo Codian was concerned. Ghazghkull. Codian turned as he heard the voice, and watched as Czevak made his way forward through the throng. His voice held a mixture of awe and fear, and his eyes were wide disbelief. The Chaplain shifted his gaze from the Inquisitor to the Ork, and watched as the creatures expression seemed to alter a little, no doubt at what appeared to be the mention of his name. Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka. Czevak continued, coming to rest at the side of the Chaplain. The most infamous Ork in the history of the Imperium. The scourge of Armageddon. He looked to Codian then, a look of quiet pleading in his eyes. This creature has murdered millions, Chaplain, in his rampage across the stars despite the quietness of his voice, one of the smaller Orkoid creatures shifted its gaze so as to look upon Czevak, as if hearing his warning clearly. A simple survival mechanism, unfortunate but necessary. We could not have left the Krork unless we knew that they were capable of surviving the eons without our guidance. The Plague took our minds and our lives from us, and in doing so would have ultimately stolen the Krork from this war. For anything to stand the chance of surviving the ages, it must be preserved. The Krork had to endure. Its counterpart continued. To self-maintain and continue. Our legacy was encoded into their cellular structure, in order to ensure that we would once again rise to meet the return of the Ctan. Like any weapon, only continued use could have ensured that the Krork remained effective. Thus we once again bow to the wisdom of Goarhc and Maukk, the lost fathers of our race. Gork and Mork! Ghazghkull bellowed, thrusting his huge mechanised claw into the air.

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Codians eyes narrowed at this, and he couldnt help but wonder what other ominous surprises the coming war against the Ctan would bring.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Two: Pieces of History

He could see her clearly from here, despite the distance. The Crown of Konor was a magnificent machine, ancient and revered amongst the Ultramarines. From this distance, the bodies milling around her were little more than dots of colour, too far away to distinguish any discernable features. It did not matter. He knew what they were doing and he could tell that they were finished. The charges had been set and they were doubtless ready to be activated at a moments notice. Calgar had protested perhaps more than any other but it had made little difference, and even he knew that. It had to be done. The stasis charges were the only thing that would save her when the Dragon came, and they were her only chance of surviving this war intact. A waste, he thought to himself. So much power, wasted. Still Codian looked away from the scene and turned his attention to the vast no mans land beyond the defence walls. The total retreat of the Viskeons and the seeming reluctance to advance on the Taus part had meant that they had been able to secure three of the lost defence lines, not that he was sure it would make any difference. The tension was palpable now, an electric charge in the air. Everyone knew that something bad was coming, even if the majority of them did not know what. Qahs final warning to the council still sat heavy in his mind, and created a chill within his soul. In the end, darkness will be called to fight darkness. The Necrontyr are a powerful foe, too much so for the majority of the masses to hope to deal with. This will be the domain of the Ork and the Eldar, and other, darker forces. He considered the plans of the Old One once again and found, even now, that he did not understand every aspect of them. He knew he could not realistically hope to, and that perhaps only the Eldar came close to doing so. It did not matter. He had faith in the ancient alien, for he knew the truth of Qahs origins. The things he knew would doubtless have drove others insane, and yet he had come to accept them, no matter the fact that, once, he would have considered even the mention of such things heretical to the extreme. And so too he came to consider Qahs warning once again, of the darkness that would be called upon to fight the Necrontyr when they came to this world. He shuddered at the mere thought of it. Chaplain. The voice drew him from his reverie and he glanced behind him to see a number of figures picking their way through the milling defenders. One by one, the warriors climbed the nearest ladder and moved to stand with him. At their head was Ligur, his familiar gnarled face a somewhat comforting fight. The others were with him. Umbras, Grungi, The Cadian, Gormat, Czevak and Orechiel. The original team that had accompanied him

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across the stars to this hallowed world. The old Librarian smiled as he greeted the Chaplain. The expression sat at odds with his weathered face, and became more of a grimace than a grin. This war quickens, Chaplain. I feel the oppressive force of the coming enemy as they near. Codian couldnt quite understand how such a thing could possibly invoke glee in the Librarian, but he did not question it. Perhaps he longed for the release of this wars conclusion. They all did, to some varying degree. I have felt this for some time now. The Ctan draw near. I can feel their approach. It is like a pressure on reality, a cloud of anti-existence that sends everything it touches scattering before it. Stars roil at their passing, Codian. If Qah is to be believed, then two of these abominations are already here. Codian answered with a sweeping gesture. He kept his voice low as he said this, so as to keep the conversation from the ears of the surrounding Guardsmen. It is said that the one known as the Void Dragon is the controlling force behind the Tau. If Qah is to be believed, our own self-appointed Sigilite is one of these heathen star gods. Ligur shook his head at this, showing that the Chaplain had clearly misunderstood his warning. I know that brother, but this is something altogether different. The immensity of these beings is hidden from us, encapsulated beneath layers of secrecy and intrigue. Whatever it is that approaches us from the beyond makes no secret of its advance. I sense two of them. One is death itself, black and murderous. He is the Reaper, Eater of Life, and his hunger is unmatched. The other is nothing but void, black and cold as the depths of space, perhaps more so. Its very existence scrapes at the edges of my mind. I can make no sense of this one, but something about its presence does not sit well. I feel it is hiding something. All we can do is prepare ourselves as best we can, Ligur, and await the coming of these beings. In the meantime, we have the Unity to worry about. Why are they not renewing their attack? I do not think that they will. A voice said down the line. Codian saw Czevak staring back up at him, the Inquisitors eyes wide with trepidation. Behind him, the Demiurg snorted in disdain. They had better. My axe grows impatient for the blood of the enemy. What do you mean, Inquisitor? Codian asked. At that Czevak pushed his way through the others and made his way to Codians side. Czevak looked away into the distance, his hands laid across the stone top of the wall. His expression was stern and dark, as if his own claims did not sit well with him. Exactly what I say, Chaplain. I do not think that the Tau will attack again. I think theyve played their part now, at least in this war. Codians eyes narrowed as he heard this. The top of the wall before him had been struck by some manner of missile and was missing a good chunk. He placed one foot upon the bottom of the crumbling and rested his elbow upon his knee as he followed the Inquisitors gaze out into the smouldering city. True to his suspicions, there was still no sign of the enemy. We have survived but a single night against the Viskeons and, before that, the preliminary strike of the Unity. They came to this world and landed their forces with little effort. They have carved a bloody path

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through the stars to reach Terra and they have swept aside all opposition. Why would they hold back now? True, we have acquired much strength in the way of reinforcements since this war began, but I dont see why they would hesitate now. There is only one reason the Tau would hesitate. Orechiel said. She and the Tau, Gormat, joined the small gathering centered around the Chaplain. Czevaks assumptions are correct, at least I believe so. The enlightened alien said. As my companion states, the Tau war machine is motivated by one thing only; command. The command structure of the Unity dominates every single action of the warriors. If they have thus far failed to recommence the offensive then they have been ordered to stay back. Why? I cannot say. All I can tell you is that there is a good reason behind this hesitance. It would seem that they are waiting for something. Russ. Umbras said, the Apothecarys deep, gravelled voice taking hold of the attentions of the others. Remember what Russ said? He hurt Guilliman, bad, but he is still coming. The Wolves were keeping an eye on the progress of his forces when Magnus called him to the council. Perhaps they are waiting for Guillimans reinforcements to bolster them? It is a good theory, but ultimately flawed. Czevak answered. With that he looked to the Cadian. Tell them what you have heard. The Guardsman exhaled and nodded, setting his lasrifle against the wall. As he looked to the Chaplain he placed a hand upon the fresh dressing wrapped around his left arm. Ive just come from one of the med-stations clustered around the gate. While I was being patched up, I was talking to Cadian communications officer who lost a leg to the Viskeon attack sometime in the night. He still had his pack with him, the medics couldnt drag it away for the life of them. Anyway, by the sounds of things, the situation is the same across the entire defence network. The Tau are holding back on all fronts. The Grey Orks are still hard at it, and OKirlas Marine hunters seem reluctant to pull back, but otherwise it seems that the entire Unity is holding out for something. But what? Codian asked, pressing the others for any ideas or information they might have. It was Gormat who answered that. For the Great Aun, Codian. He said, pulling his robes tighter around him as if the very mention of Aun Va sent a chill down his spine. He turned his black eyes to the sky and nodded slowly. AunVa makes ready to come to the surface of this world. I can sense the tension in the air, even from this distance. AunVa is coming. AunVa is no Tau, Gormat. Even you know that by now. Orechiel hissed. I do know that, mistress Orechiel, but they do not. He gestured with one hand out towards the distant buildings, and the millions of Tau warriors that waited there beyond sight. They are slaved to his will. What he is matters not. He is their commander, their Prime Ethereal. He is, for want of a more appropriate phrase, their god made flesh. He is everything they are and everything they represent. He is the TauVa incarnate.

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And they shall die for him. Czevak said quietly. In their millions. A brief silence descended over the gathering, as each of those present contemplated the subject of the discussion. Codian himself considered the Taus words, and the more he thought about it, the more he agreed with Gormats theory. Qah had remained tight-lipped on the subject of AunVa, or at least the being that masqueraded as the legendary Ethereal. He knew little in the way of a history regarding the creature he had come to know of as the Void Dragon, but he knew enough. He made a decision to speak with the Tau then, and find out exactly what he knew of the apparent fate of AunVa. Gormat. He began, gesturing for the Tau to join him. The aliens eyes widened as little as he responded, picking his way gently through the press of bodies to stand by the Chaplains side. Tell me, what do you know of AunVas history? What happened to the Tau, Gormat? The alien let out a long, hissing sigh as he considered Codians question, as if he were trying to decide exactly where to start. After a few moments lost in contemplation, he gave his answer. Arthas Moloch. I have reflected upon this many times since my enlightening, Codian. I have pored over the history of my race, and tried as best I could to piece together the events that have brought my people to this. Arthas Moloch. That is where the fate of the Tau became entwined with darkness and murder. That is where he died. He must have died, Chaplain, that is the only explanation I am able to give myself. Perhaps not a physical death, not at that time, but the AunVa we knew and revered was lost to us there. So, you think that the Void Dragon killed him and took his place. Is it possible that AunVa knew of the Dragon? No, I cant see that. You see, AunVa was the greatest of the great Ethereals. The legends state that he undertook a deeply personal and spiritual mission in the years after the Third Expansion. Farsight had gone rogue, and no one knew why. There were those who claimed that the loss of the renegade commander affected him deeply, that he felt the loss was a great failure on his part, and so he undertook a mission deep into the Damocles Gulf, with a view to entreating Farsight to return to breast of the Empire. No one truly knows what happened out there. AunVas return was delayed, and in time the council upon Tau began to grow concerned. They assumed the worst, and the thought of such loss terrified them. Time and again entire expedition fleets were sent out to investigate his disappearance, only to vanish in turn. It was a time of great turmoil for the Tau. I am assuming he returned, of course. Gormat nodded. Yes, he did, but only after the passage of around three taucyrs. Glorious was the day when our long-range frontier orbitals picked up the message. From deep inside the Damocles Gulf, we heard the voice of AunVa once again. A mixture of emotions passed over the Taus face as he recollected this moment in his races history. Of course, Gormat himself was far too young to have lived during this time, but nonetheless he reminisced this as though he himself had been alive and witness to the event. It was a simple message, abrupt and concise. He was to return, and that return would see a great and celebrated rise to power of the Tau. His instructions were clear, and at the time none truly understood the importance of them, but they were not questioned. The Kroot were to attack the guela world of Mars. They were to annihilate it, in preparation for his return. Of course, none amongst the council were given the

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reasons for this, and the Kroot were rightly hesitant in following the order, but the Great Aun was insistent and complicit in his commands. Mars had to fall if the Fourth Expansion was to prosper. As soon as he heard this, Codian realised that things were starting to make sense. The link that bound these mysteries together was beginning to show more clearly now. He knew from the knowledge imparted to him by the ghostly Cypher that Mars had been the tombworld and prison of the Dragon once. Somehow, it seemed the Dragon had managed to influence the Aun into securing his own release. Again, Arthas Moloch was the key, the link. It was an artefact world of incredible age, and he knew that the Eldar had half-mistaken the world for a long-forgotten station of the Slah-haii, the race of beings to which Qah belonged. He also knew that something or someone of a far darker origin had left their mark on that world. It is clear that The Void Dragon killed the Aun and assumed his role at some point. Codian continued. But, from what I can gather, the Dragon was still imprisoned at this point. Fascinating. Codian looked over his shoulder to see Orechiel staring back, her eyes wide with wonder. The Inquisitor had clearly caught hold of the discussion at some point and was by now relishing the exchange. It had been a long while since he had seen the woman this way. The war for Terra had drained away her enthusiasm and appeal, and now he could see a spark of that returning. You are right, of course. I have long studied the links between the Taus rise to power and the awakening of the Ctan, and much of this hidden history has continued to perplex me. We know that the Third Expansion began long before the destruction of Mars. Indeed, we long suspected that the Kroots attack was the initial stage of the period the Tau know of as the Fourth Expansion. You are correct, mistress Orechiel. The Kroot Martyrdom, as we knew it, was heralded as the beginning of the Fourth Expansion. It was during this period when AunVa declared his intentions for the Imperium of the guela. Many such plans were put into action then. Mars was just the beginning. And an efficient solution to the Kroot problem. Orechiel observed coldly. Gormat nodded. I see that now, yes. Orechiel looked to the Chaplain and explained. Again, this ties in with what we know. The Kroot, you see, were the only auxiliary race in service to the Tau that were not susceptible to the influence of the Ethereals. The Vespid were still few in number, and the Auns had devised a way of controlling them. The Nicassar were powerful but ultimately nave, servile enough to never question the actions of the Tau. The Demiurg were still mere allies with the Tau but were far from subsumed into the Empire. The Kroot, however, were a potential threat. The Kroot were always a necessary evil to us. Gormat continued. They filled a niche that the Fire Caste could not, and they were a powerful ally. But they were ultimately uncontrollable. Orechiel said. And the Ethereals knew that they could never hope to bring the Kroot under the same level of control that the Tau suffered. But they managed to do so with the Orks. Codian argued. Orechiel shook her head at this. To understand the answers, you have to know the Kroot, Chaplain. They have a very specialised biology.

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They are able to directly absorb genetic traits from the flesh they eat. More so, they are able to actually filter undesirable genetic data from what they absorb. In short, the Kroot were and still are possessed of an ability that the Tau could never breed out of them. They could never have been brought under genetic control. The Kroot were an incredibly dangerous ally, and they had to be taken care of. And so the Kroot problem was taken care of and the dragon released, all in one fell swoop. Codian said. Both Orechiel and Gormat gestured in confirmation. The female Inquisitor was fired up now by the debate, clearly animated by the subject that she had devoted her life to. A few of the most influential members of the Ordo Xenos were privy to such secrets, but this knowledge came at a high price. Many of my associates were hunted down and assassinated by the agents of the Deceiver, in order to keep the involvement of the Ctan secret. None of us knew exactly when this profane creature came to implant himself within the hierarchy of the Imperium, but we were aware of his presence. We knew that there was little we could outwardly do, except keep watch on his activities, and try to piece together what he had planned for our kind. And what of the Dragon? Codian asked. Were you aware of his escape from Mars? Very few of us, but yes. Oeralistichus, the most powerful member of our cabal, was a potent psyker and he saw the awakening of a being of immense power that he called Drochtyr, the Void Dragon of Eldar legend. It ultimately killed him, such was the horror and power of its release, but before he died, he warned us of the terrible consequences of the death of Mars. Little over ten years passed before the first of our worlds began to fall to the advance of the Fourth Expansion. But what caused AunVa to awaken the Dragon? Codian asked. What happened to him on Arthas Moloch? He found the answer. The answer to the Paradox. Gormat replied quietly. Both pairs of eyes looked to the unassuming Tau. The Paradox of Duality. Gormat continued. Its discovery was legend amongst my kind. No one truly knew what the Paradox was, how it functioned or even where it came from. All we did know was that the wisest and most revered of the Ethereal Caste had long been rumoured to be the bearer of an artefact of unknown power known as the Paradox of Duality. The Paradox was an ancient and legendary device, said to predate even the prehistory of the Tau race, and that it was found by the first ever Ethereal. The Paradox was said to contain a power only an Ethereal could wield, or even understand. With it, the bearer became invincible, unstoppable. Our history conatins many accounts of the Paradox, and states that the bearer and those around him were able to enter the fiercest of wars and emerge without so much as a scratch. It was said that AunVa vowed to unlock the secrets of the Paradox, in order to determine the foundation of our race, for he believed the Paradox to be a legacy, a key that could unlock all the secrets of life and the universe where the correct Ethereal to pursue those answers. He carried the Paradox off to Arthas Moloch with him. Though none know of what he found there, he himself claimed that he had found the answers on that dead world, and when he returned, he had changed beyond all recognition. Yes, I have heard of this legend. Orechiel said. AunVa was the first Ethereal to ascend. The power of this Paradox had changed him utterly. Of course, we now know why these changes occurred. AunVa was no longer the individual he had once been. He was no longer even Tau. She sighed then, playing with the long braids of her hair whilst deep in thought. We knew of the Paradox for a long time, or at least the legend of it. I am old, Chaplain, far older than you would ever guess, and I have fought the onset of that age with a vigour that cannot be matched. I have

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done so because I needed answers to the questions I have dedicated my life to solving. One such question was that of the Paradox of Duality. We long suspected that the Tau were in possession of an incredibly powerful and ancient device. A Necrontyr device. We never learned what it was or why it had been created, but we suspected that it was left by the Void Dragon himself, hidden on the world that he had selected to bear the seed of the Tau. That device would be his conduit to the burgeoning race, and would connect him to them once that seed had grown ripe. Through it he guided the Tau, an extradimensional guidance that continued undisturbed as the warp storms created by the Eldar to shield the race raged around their world. He gave them the secrets of technology and advancement. He nurtured them, and when the time was right, when it was time for the Prime Ethereal to discover the secrets of his races origins, he called AunVa to Arthas Moloch, and there he opened his eyes to the truth. And so AunVa set into motion the events that would ultimately release the Dragon from his prison. Codian reasoned. Yes. Orechiel replied. And once free, he took his place of destiny at the head of the Tau, and became their god. And he is a vengeful god. Gormat warned, his voice filled with a mixture of reverance and fear. Orechiel shook her head as she heard this. Worse than that. He is a hungry god.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Three: Darkening Skies

Roboute Guilliman smiled as he heard the news he had been awaiting. Excellent. The Fire Caste ShasEl bowed deeply and ran back towards the Tau lines, accompanied by his humming DX-4 drone. It would seem that Macharius is performing admirably against the Titans. He said to his companion, the ever-present Berolinus. It shouldnt be too long before the Titans trouble us no longer. Yes, my lord. Berolinus replied. For all his attempts to hide it, his voice was tinged with a noticeable regret. The Primarch picked up on this and arched an eyebrow in his direction. This troubles you? Berolinus looked for all the world as if he was about to deny it, but at the last possible moment he gave Guilliman a nod. There are things that have troubled me since I entered this war, my lord. It is not easy for an Astarte to make war with the very Imperium that gave him life, and made him all he is. I gave you life, Ultramarine, not the Imperium. Remember that. Guilliman replied, his voice edged with

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darkness. Almost as soon as he had made the terse comment, however, his mood softened. I do agree with you, though. None of this is easy. What you have to remember though is that this Imperium is nothing like the one you served, Berolinus. That Imperium has long since died, murdered by heresy and misdirection. The Emperors Imperium is dead, and in its death throes it has killed its lord and master. We are here to avenge that. Are we? The warrior asked him then, and the Primarch found himself genuinely surprised by the question. He took a step back, his face wrinkling in consternation. What do you mean by that? Berolinus eyed his Primarch warily as he replied. The Emperor is dead, lord. The vengeance we exact on those responsible for failing Him is right and just, but I fail to see why this war is being fought as it is. Why lay siege to the Imperial Palace? Is the Unity not powerful enough to simply destroy this entire planet from orbit? If it is true, if the Emperor is really dead, what is there left to save here? We could easily tear the heart out of this world without resorting to this kind of war. Guilliman bobbed his head slowly as he took this in. True, Berolinus. Very true. I myself have considered this, many times. I can of course provide you with a short and simple answer. This is how the Aun commands it. And I know you better than that, my Primarch. Guilliman allowed the beginnings of a smile to creep across his face as he heard this. That you do, Ultramarine. I will confess to you that I know not why AunVa wishes to take the Palace intact when the Emperor has expired. This suits me fine. I want that stronghold, Berolinus. I want to crack it open and sow the seeds of my wrath amongst those within. I want Calgar, traitorous betrayer that he is, to kneel before me and beg for his life before I take it. I want Russ also for what he has done to me, and though I know he would never bend his knee to me, I wish to run the blade that he broke in two through his neck, and watch the life drain from his eyes. I want my vengeance. I want retribution. I want to see the greatest leaders of our enemy die with my own eyes. Only then will I know this war is over, and we have won. Only then will I know that the Emperor has been avenged. Orbital bombardment is such a brutal and indiscriminate thing. I need to see them die. Berolinus bowed deeply to his Primarchs wishes. The eagle sat at his shoulder flapped its wings as the warrior rose once more, his augmetic eye shining with the thirst in his heart. I want Codian. He said, his voice as demanding as one would dare it to be in the presence of a Primarch. Of all of them, I want to take the life of Daelo Codian. That is my mission. Then Codian is yours. Guilliman answered. Just then he hard a call rise up from the forward positions. Both he and Berolinus looked on in silence as a number of speeding shapes hove into view north of their position, heading a speed down the wide boulevard towards them. Transmit-ident confirmed! He heard a Fire Warrior call. Pathfinder team UiCaldoth! The small cluster of grav vehicles came to a sharp stop a short way from the Primarchs position, a brace of

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Tetra skimmers and a Devilfish. The larger of the transports opened up at the rear to disgorge a small team of Pathfinders, non-armoured Fire Warriors dedicated to scouting and support assistance. ShasUi Caldoth himself headed the approaching team, his white helmet glinting in the rising sun. Guilliman watched his approach and stiffened, one hand resting upon the pommel of his sheathed sword. The Tau soon reached him and made to kneel as one, their heads bowed. Honoured Guilliman. The ShasUi began. I have returned with haste from the reconnaissance zones. I bear news that I find both unsettling and confusing. Out with it. Demanded the Primarch. My lord, the forces of OKorstla hold back. We have made no attempt to engage the commander or her armies, as per your instructions. I can however confirm your suspicions. The Eternity Wall Gate siege force hesitates. Guillimans face hardened as he heard this. Berolinus caught the change in his Primarchs expression and felt his own mood darken in turn. Return to your previous duties and inform me of any change in the circumstances. He ordered the Pathfinder team, before turning to Berolinus and gesturing for the warrior to follow him as he began to pace. The Ultramarine fell in beside his Primarch, and together the pair began to stroll down the deserted boulevard away from the waiting Unity forces. They hesitate? Berolinus asked, once he was sure that they were out of earshot. Guilliman let a few moments of silence pass between them before he answered. It would seem so. Do you recall the communication I received shortly after reaching Russs last position? Berolinus nodded. It was an order direct form the Great Aun Himself. The order was clear. Join with OKorstlas forces and await further instruction. Do not attempt to advance. Why would he order that? The Ultramarine asked. In response to this question Guilliman fixed him with an unwavering, steely gaze, and that was when he noticed it for the first time. Berolinus loved his Primarch, so much so that the mere presence of Guilliman at his side still caused his dual pulse to quicken, and the adrenalin in his body to surge through pride. Standing face to face as they were now, Berolinus noticed the subtle changes that had occurred in Guilliman. His eyes were as dark as ever now, coal-black, and had long since ceased to shift in colour in response to the Primarchs mood. They were hard and shining, like those of a Tau. His skin too had begun to change, his once-pink face taking on a stony wash of grey. The diamond-like organ set into his forehead was now far better established too. The puckered scarring around it had faded away and it looked to protrude even further, almost as if it had always been there. The Primarch looked to read his thoughts then, those void-dark eyes widening a fraction. Berolinus felt something shift inside him, in his very cells, if that were a sensation possible to experience. A soft and subtle yet definite spasm ran through him, a tingling, warm sensation. He felt the shift as his mind focused on the Primarchs gaze, as if seized by it, awaiting his next word. I am changing, Berolinus. I know you feel it. I know you feel the power of my voice, my very presence, as an irresistible force. The gift of the Ethereals is within me now and it grows ever stronger.

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Yes, lord. He answered, his voice coming unbidden. He is coming. He is coming to this world and soon, for it is His intent to stand at the fore of these armies when we make the push for the Palace. That is why we hesitate. We await Him. As His will dictates. Berolinus answered with a bow. At that the Primarch turned his steely gaze to the city ahead. We will move to stand with the forces of OKorstla and prepare for His arrival with all haste. I know my enemy and it stands to reason that, if they are ever to make a counter push in this war, then it will be soon. We must be present at the Gate if we are to ensure that this is denied. +++ +++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ Marneus Calgar, Warmaster of the Alliance stood immobile before the stasis-encapsulated bulk of the Crown of Konor, his far-reaching gaze fixed upon the distant city beyond. He could see the enemy in the distance, a horizon of warriors and armour barely visible beneath the closest of the towering ancient structures. The warrior by his side mirrored this stance, his eyes too also fixed upon the far-away forces of the enemy. The Astartes armour, like all those of the Alliance, was a pale blue, a colour close to the original Ultramarine shade, its shoulder guards emblazoned with the symbol of the Imperial eagle. The markings he wore denoted him as holding the rank of captain. He wore a cloak of crimson and his hand rested upon the pommel of a mighty gilded war axe. They are quite insistent. The Astarte said, maintaining his steady gaze. Where he not eternally interred within the armoured shell of his sarcophagus, Calgar might have turned his head as he heard this. As it were he did not, and responded with a voice flavoured by a hint of scorn. I am sure they are. Would that they were as given to action as they are to instruction. The fact remains. The towering warrior continued. I understand how hard it is to trust them. After all this time, I still find it hard, Warmaster. What I can assure you of is the fact that they are wise enough to understand the way of things, and they know the future better than any of us. Believe me, they know. I do believe you, and yes, I too have suffered the pains of fighting back my better instincts in order to trust those I once counted as enemies. I trust this fact is not lost on you? The copper-skinned Astarte looked to the Warmaster as he heard this and allowed a subdued smile to creep across his lips. For what it is worth, my Warmaster, I do not blame you. When all is said and done, though, we do what we do for one reason only. For the Emperor. Calgar said. For the Emperor. The giant warrior echoed. His smile faded then and he glanced around as he heard footsteps approaching. He saw it was Ancient Ventris who approached them, and nodded in greeting to the venerable Ultramarine. Ventris returned the gesture and then knelt before the Warmaster, sweeping his cloak aside as he did so.

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My lord. Captain Dissimulo. He began, greeting both the warriors in turn. At that he rose once more and stood to attention before his commander. We have it confirmed, my lord. All Unity forces are currently holding back. The Viskeons have literally disappeared, and none can say whether they will return with the fall of night. As we suspected. Calgar answered. Good. Perhaps the situation is exactly as you suspected, captain. Ventris looked to the warrior by his Warmasters side. Of all the operatives within the many factions of the Alliance, Dissimulo was perhaps one of the most mysterious. He formed part of the Warmasters elite Alliance Guard, Marines dedicated to the task of hunting out and destroying suspected traitors and Unity sympathisers within the ranks of the Alliance. Many times the Alliance Guard had undertaken missions of secrecy and stealth, often penetrating deep into Tau-held territory. The sheer size of Dissimulo never once failed to take the Ancients breath away. He was a good head taller than Ventris, and indeed most other Astartes. There were those who speculated that he was of the Minotaur Chapter, for the Astartes of the Minotaurs were legend for their vast size. Dissimulo had never once confirmed or disputed this fact, but then again that was the nature of the Alliance Guard. Was there anything else? The warrior asked Ventris. He felt a pang of indignation at this, but before he had time to respond the Warmaster spoke in his place. Such aloofness around Ventris is unnecessary. I trust the Ancient with my life. He has stood in the presence of the Emperor Himself, and was present when the Final Death came. He has earned the right to hear what I hear. Dissimulo scowled at this, but even he could not find fault to protest the presence of one who had stood in the physical presence of the Emperor. With that, he nodded his head. Very well then. I need to relay your decision, Warmaster. Do we act on their advice? The window of opportunity grows ever smaller, and to hesitate now could cause this advantage to be lost. What is your answer? They have seen it? Calgar asked in turn. They are sure? They are sure. A strike now, executed efficiently and without mercy would carve a mortal swathe through the Tau ranks. The position in orbit is currently set at a stalemate, but this is a precarious situation. The presence of the Eldar fleets is all that stands between us and the superiority of the Tau in orbit. Only the ships of the Eldar remain safe against the attentions of the He paused then, eyeing Ventris suspiciously, before continuing. The real enemy. Ventris knows of the existence of the Ctan. Calgar said. I shouldnt need to remind you that he has faced one of these terrible entities before, long ago. The Nightbringer, yes. I have studied the evidence of the account with great interest. My apologies, Ancient. Ventris tilted his head in acceptance, and yet he could sense that Dissimulo was somehow testing him. Very few people were privy to the secret events that had happened on Pavonis so long ago, but it did not surprise him that this individual was aware of those events. We cannot know how long the Eldar will be able to hold. The captain continued. Their ships are proof against the influence of the Dragon, but they will quail before the combined power of the Four. Until the

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events that have been prophesised take place, we will be hard pressed to maintain our defence of the Palace. We need to buy time, Warmaster, if many of these defenders are to survive this war. We need to deplete the power of the Unity as best we can. A decisive strike now will be the best chance we have of doing that. It would seem the Eldar are in agreement, as are most of the others factions. I have taken the liberty of speaking with the key players, and they are all prepared to move. The bulk of the surviving Viskeon armies has been located, and is currently under surveillance. The Viskeons are as ever the thorn ion our side, Warmaster. If they are allowed to recoup and restore their losses then all this may be a moot point. We have the chance to strike now, and ensure that the strike is effective. To delay may cost us this war. What of our allies? Calgar asked. They are in place. All is as it needs to be, Warmaster. Everything is set. It is your decision, my lord Calgar. Very well. Let them know that they have their wish. You play your part, and I will play mine. I will send the order immediately. Dissimulo gestured his confirmation and then made to leave, regarding Ventris once more as he did so. the Alliance Guard captain had taken only a few steps when Calgar spoke again. Captain, one more thing. The towering Astarte slowed and looked back, his eyes narrowing. Send them a message from me. Tell them that I expect an active involvement in this coming war. For too long have they served as the manipulators. Now it is time for them to dirty their own hands. For what it is worth, Dissimulo answered, I agree, Warmaster. Until we meet again. Ventris watched the captain leave and found that his departure left behind many questions. He did not voice these questions though, for he trusted his Warmaster. He trusted Calgar in every decision he made. Are you ready, Uriel? The question startled him enough to cause him to turn his head and, in his surprise he almost expected to see the Warmasters face staring back. This happened to him sometimes. No matter how long Calgar had been entombed within his metal form, he still found it hard to accept. I am, my lord. I am as ready as I ever could be. I ache to see the Tau destroyed and the Unity brought to its knees. No, Ancient, you misunderstand my question. I ask if you are ready to meet your nemesis once again. Calgar replied. The creature unleashed on Pavonis. It almost killed you, Uriel. I know you felt fear that day, and I know that an Astarte is proof against such emotions. I do not censure you for that. I can only imagine what kind of abomination this Nightbringer is. He is death personified. Ventris whispered, trepidation heavy in his voice. Yes, I felt fear that day, but I am also ready. I am ready to avenge the deaths of my brothers on Pavonis and I am ready to face my fears. I will face him once again. It will be a fight that you cannot hope to win, Ancient. Calgar said. I know that, my lord. Came the reply.

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Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Four: Strike Back

Codian spun the bolt pistol in his hands, checked the breach and then, sure that the weapon was in excellent condition, slid it back into its holster. He was ready. Are you sure that you are up to this? Before him, Gormat tilted his head. I am sure, Codian. It has been my lifes nature to lie and to coerce. Lying to my own kind will be no more difficult than any other task. I am ready, at last, to take an active role in this war. At that, Codian looked beyond the Tau to where the other two figures were waiting. The Cadian was already well into his role. He had exchanged, or rather refreshed, his punished Guevesa uniform. The holes, scorch marks and dried blood were gone, painstakingly removed and repaired by the best artificers the Alliance had to offer, leaving no traces of the violent demise of the uniforms former occupant. His gaze shifted to the larger of the two warriors as he spoke. Tell me again. How exactly does thisprocedure work? It is fairly simple. Umbras replied. He reached into a small pouch at his belt and produced a dull metal cylinder. Our research has advanced greatly since we operated on Gormat. This syringe holds a compound that is designed to directly attack the pheromonal receptors of the Tau subject. It breaks these receptors down, effectively destroying them. Its effects are total and they cannot be reversed. And you are sure that it works? As sure as we can be. Umbras replied. The tissue samples we saved from Gormat were invaluable in this instance. Thus, the need for invasive surgery is no longer required. The Tau continued, no small amount of relief in his voice. Although he heard this, the note in the Chaplains voice told the others that he was far from convinced. This is a highly dangerous mission, I shouldnt need to tell any of you that. There is a damn good chance that none of you will make it back alive. I do not want to lose any of you, especially on what could turn out to be a fools errand To you maybe. Gormat answered sharply, his voice cutting the Chaplains own short. But these are my people. If there is any chance of saving my race then I will take it. The Tau are your enemy, Codian, but they are of my race. I have no desire to see that race become extinct. Then you had better hope that this does work, Gormat. We are not enemies, you and I, but the rest of your kind seek only my destruction, along with everyone else here in this Alliance. We will all do what we can to survive, and we will destroy all those who oppose us.

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At hearing this the Cadian picked up the captured pulse rifle he had been provided with and moved to stand between the Chaplain and the alien, his face set in an expression of stony determination. This mission means more to me than a chance to get a few of the Tau onside, Chaplain. There are soldiers out there, ex-Guard, who are caught up in a situation far worse than they could ever have dreamed. Im not talking about the second-gen Guevesas or the indentured soldiery. Im talking about true Guard, men and women like me, soldiers who want no part in this war against us. When I was part of the Unity I spoke to many soldiers who wanted to come back over to this side, but there were simply no routes of return available. There are thousands like me trapped over there, fighting a war they do not want to fight against an Imperium they still love, for better or worse. It is an Imperium that wants to see them dead. No one wants to die, Chaplain. No sane man or woman would gladly give their life unless they need to do so. Ive seen soldiers make a desperate and glorious last stand for their principles and beliefs. Ive seen people go on a rampage through Unity squads, killing human and Tau alike, simply because they cannot stand to serve the Tau any longer and believe that their sacrifice will make a difference. It never does and it never will. Ive seen entire Guevesa squads purged because one of their own has broken down. Ive seen soldiers executed simply for communicating their displeasure to make war against the Imperium. There are thousands upon thousands of Imperials trapped inside a machine from which there is no escape save for death, and what then? The Emperors judgement. Codian replied, a hardness in his voice. The Emperors judgement. A fate worse than physical death. So many of those soldiers are holding on for a chance to redeem themselves and live, to find a way to rejoin the Alliance. How can they do that when Imperial guns constantly quest for their destruction? Most fall before they have realised this goal, denied their chance. I can do something to change that. I can save them. All three of us can save many lives. Umbras said. What are our three lives in contrast to that fact? If we fail then we fail, Chaplain, and the Alliance has lost three of its members. If we succeed, if we even turn but a handful of Tau or Guevesa over to our side, then we will have justified this. It must be done. Codian contemplated the arguments of each of his companions as he withdrew the Dawnblade and ran his armoured fingers over the alien weapon. It shuddered at his touch, sending a warm and familiar sensation through him, as if to assure him that the plan was sound. You all make convincing arguments. He finally said, placing the weapon back in its holster at his hip. Very well. Do what you can, but do not risk your lives unnecessarily. Return to us, no matter the outcome. Just survive this. All three tilted their heads to the Chaplain and then Umbras stepped forward, his hand extended. Codian took the hand in his own and pulled the Marine close into a brothers embrace, hands locked, chests close. You are the last of my brothers, Umbras. You are the last man alive that I truly know. Do not die on me, Apothecary. Umbras smiled, his aged, scarred face wrinkling. I wont, Daelo. I have no intention of meeting my end just yet. Ill die when Im satisfied, and not a moment sooner. Codian slapped a hand across his comrades shoulder and then released his grip, allowing them to part ways. Emperor be with you all. He said. And hurry. The counter attack may have already begun out there.

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He watched in silence as the three figures moved off swiftly into the distance towards their fate, pushing through crowds of milling Guardsmen and striding Sentinel lifters on their way to the secret insertion site. The very act of secreting the three individuals into enemy-held territory held great risks and there were no guarantees that even this would work. He found himself whispering a prayer of safety as they slid out of sight. Chaplain. He cast around to see a female Guard officer weaving her way through the dispersing crowds towards him, one hand held fast around the grip of her holstered plasma pistol. Chaplain Daelo Codian? He nodded. He had never seen the woman before or recognised anything about her that would suggest a previous association. She seemed to recognise this in his expression and smiled a little. I have been trying to locate you for hours, Chaplain. You are a difficult man to find. Do we know one another? She shook her head at this. No. I have an important message for you, Chaplain, one that must be delivered before this counter attack commences. I was beginning to worry that you had already left From who, lieutenant? He asked, noticing the stripes sewn into the sleeve of her fatigues. A warm sensation tugged at the edges of his mind then. He felt his fingers twitch and his arm began to fall to his side, an unbidden physical reaction. Something was wrong and, whatever it was, the Dawnblade seemed to sense it. From the Sigilite The officer began. Codian hand was heartbeat ahead of his mind. It closed around the hilt of the weapon even as he heard the name. As he pulled it free, the womans voice died away. She ripped the bolt pistol free of its holster and fired even as he was still in the process of arming himself. The bolt exploded an inch away from his forehead, impacting against the protective powers projected by both the Dawnblade and his own rosarius. He rocked back as fire and shrapnel rolled over the invisible barrier but the Dawnblade was free now and the weapon writhed in his grasp, eager to taste blood. The woman was fast, faster than he could have anticipated. She fired again and again as she darted forward, each bolt breaking apart an inch from his face, denied the kill. In that instant he could feel the strength of both protective forces fluctuating, punished to their tolerances by the fast and brutal assault. He would not survive for long in he did not take charge of the situation. He lunged forth and swung his weapon out in a wide arc, temporarily blinded by the bursting flame before his face. The Dawnblade struck nothing and he tried again, swinging with all his might. The fire dissipated in time for him to see the blow connect, at least in a fashion. The officer loomed large before him as she ducked under the blow and swung her pistol out to connect with the haft of the Dawnblade, intending to knock it from his grasp. Energies flashed from the point of contact and sent the pistol spiralling away. She cried out in pain and rolled clear of Codians return swing, cradling her injured wrist as she did so. She was on her feet faster than thought and she leapt, slamming both feet one after another into his back.

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The blows connected with inhuman force, enough to cause him to stumble forward. Another kick slammed against the back of his knee and drove him down. A fourth hammered into the back of his neck and he fell forward, rolling away from the heel that drove into the ground in his wake. He knew the woman could not hurt him with the blows, but the force behind them was enough to keep him on the defensive, occupied enough to prevent him from striking back with any coherence. The next occurrence changed all that. The womans good hand erupted in a wash of emerald flame as a blade of pulsing energy slid forth, crackling with deadly potency. He felt the Dawnblades sentience shudder at its presence, a reaction borne of a millennial recognition and, in that very instant he knew that no manner of protection or field in his possession would turn that alien blade aside. The blade drew a blinding arc through the air as its wielder slashed at him. He knew that there was no way he could parry or block this weapon. He leapt back and swung low, only for his opponent to roll back in the air and land lightly on her toes. She swung the blade up over her head and down, almost cutting him in two from head to groin. Codian tore his bolt pistol free and snapped off a succession of fast shots that the woman simply swayed around, her torso snaking from side to side. She twisted and slashed, so close he felt the heat of the unnatural blade and then flung her other arm up. He felt something metallic ring against his armour and then spin away, a sliver of metal, a needle of some sort. It had struck his gorget, missing the flesh of his throat, but only just. The Chaplain had humility enough to realise that he fought against an opponent who could realistically kill him, an opponent who was swifter and better at combat than him. He knew he had to get in close if he was to survive this. Whoever she was, the look upon her face was one of utter hatred. Her eyes burned with a thirst for his death, a thirst that transcended any personal level. He was a target; he saw that, not for this woman but for someone far higher than her. She was a servant of the Ctan, of the creature that had taken the rule of Terra as his own, and now that creature quested for his death. She flung another needle his way and he raised an arm to stop it, the thin spike glancing off his armour and spinning away. The distraction was enough to allow her to dart forward and stab at him with the deadly energy blade. He dipped to the left and tracked her with his pistol, but she was too fast. The bolt hammered free and flashed past her head as she leapt high and then thrust down at his neck. He smashed her arm aside and sent the tip of the blade through the outer layers of his shoulderguard. There was no sound, no resistance. The phase sword simply passed through the layered ceramite as if it were insubstantial, a mere illusion. He felt the heat of it as it passed by his skin, hot yet cold, a curious sensation. He thrust the pistol at her face and she palmed it away, the shot sent wide. He blocked her return with the blade against his arm, keeping the deadly weapon at bay and then shoved her back. The power behind the shove sent her back several metres, putting space between them, enough for another shot. Again, she was faster than he could counter. She leapt into action, sprinting wide of him towards the low wall to his right. The assassin threw herself into a cartwheel that saw her retrieve her fallen pistol and then her feet were against the wall and she was running, her body vertical, as shots chased her. Rockcrete puffed out in her wake as bolts hammered against the wall, each one denied a kill. The assassin gravity-defying sprint ended as she pushed away from the wall and threw herself into an airborne roll, sword arm extended. Codian saw the barrelling shape spinning towards him, the glow of the blade leaving an afterimage of emerald light behind it. He dropped onto the ground and brought the

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Dawnblade up, ready to counter strike. Then he heard what sounded like a whispering hiss and the woman let out a quiet gasp, unfurling as she passed over him. She landed behind him and he hauled himself to his feet, twisting on his heel ready to meet her. She was already up on her feet but staggering, her face contorted in pain. A long black dart protruded from her leg, edged in serrated spines. She pulled it free, blood gouting from the wound, and cast it aside. All the while her eyes were fixed upon him, that same hatred blazing behind them. She raised the pistol at his head Another dart hissed from nowhere and struck her in the neck, causing her to stumble sideways. Bolts whizzed by him as she attempted to sight her mark but the pain coursing through her was so great that she could not focus. She gagged and choked, her face turning blue. Then she died. Assassin or no, her system could not begin to counter the poisons that raged through her body. As her lifeless form crashed to the floor a dark, bubbling liquid spilled from her mouth and ears across the ground, causing the surface to smoulder. Codian outstretched pistol roamed his surroundings as he sought out the killer of his opponent, searching for any signs of life. There were none. Indeed, aside from the short partition wall, there was no cover here in this section of the yard. It was only as something caught the corner of his eye that he turned, searching for it. A movement, a shadow. There was no one there. That was when he noticed the shadow cast by the wall. The section to his right looked to elongate as he watched it, stretching out and taking on a roughly humanoid shape. At the same time the surface of the wall itself above looked to darken and shift, as if something had suddenly taken to standing before it. Then the figure stepped out of the air itself and it was all he could do to stop his finger from tightening upon the trigger. The Dawnblade shivered in his hand and he took this to be a sign. The mass of darkness dissipated then to reveal a figure no less obscure than it had been when cloaked. It was mostly shapeless, roughly human in height and size, but otherwise little more than a mound of mouldering rags draped roughly over who or whatever lay beneath. The only visible features of the thing were its hands, a pair of festering, segmented hands with fingers that were little more than armoured tentacles wrapped around the haft of the glistening black weapon they held. They were so low that they almost touched the ground, giving the impression of vast, elongated arms. The weapon itself was utterly alien to behold, a long slender rifle that looked as if it had been grown rather than constructed, bristling with organic lumps and vein-like protrusions. Who are you? He asked, keeping the pistol level with the black void that was the hood covering the things face. What are you? The creature responded, although the harsh and gurgling whisper that issued forth from its hidden lips was far from anything he was able to comprehend. He felt the presence of the Dawnblade once again, a fuzz at the edges of his mind. Another voice became layered over the sound, his own voice, as if his own mind became the translator to the creatures words with the help of the living blade, at least as best as it was able to do so. Shadows that walk, life beneath feet of human. Hrud, mouths of human tell. Caution, Prophet of Most Ancient. Many eyes hunt for death of Prophet. Where did you come from? Codian asked, recognising the species name of the creature as soon as he heard it from the memories of Cyphers legacy.

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Beneath. Within. No shadow is empty of Hrud. Life-wait is ended. Ctan come. Mirror-devils stir at call of enemy. Time for war now, for Hrud and for all life. Then the Hrud will join this war? Hrud make war long before Tau come to this world. Hrud make war on Tau many years long. Now Hrud time to gather as one. Shadows mouth will open and swallow Tau for all time. Time now. War is come. The alien said nothing more. It simply turned away from him and vaulted the wall, its entire form seeming to glide effortlessly across the low barrier and sink below it, away from sight. Codian heard the scraping of metal and quickly followed, sprinting to the spot where the Hrud had disappeared. It was gone. Below the wall a drain lay open, its cover pulled free and discarded. His eyes narrowed as he looked upon the creatures route of escape. The circular hole was little more than a foot in diameter, smaller than even the smallest child would be able to slip through. He could scarcely believe his eyes. So now the Hrud have joined this war. He whispered to himself, his eyes falling upon the broken body of his would-be assassin. Just then, the link built into the collar of his armour crackled to life. +Codian! Pick up! Answer me, damn you!+ The voice was Grungis and the Demiurg sounded concerned. Codian here. What is it, Grungi? +Bloody treachery, thats what! The angered alien answered. +Weve had an assassin on the rampage over here+ Casualties? Codian snapped, cutting the Demiurg short. +Plenty, Longshank. Thor only knows how long the b-----d had been amongst us, but he managed to blow up a good dozen men and Marines before he was brought down. He was after Calgar, Codian. He was after your Warmaster. He almost succeeded.+ Is Calgar +Alive? Yes. Its going to take your iron priests time to restore him but hes unhurt. Lost a leg to the blasts. Thats no mean feat, to take the leg of one of your tomb-suits.+ You say he almost succeeded. Is he dead? +Hes dead, Codian, believe me. There isnt much left of him. There have been more incidents than just this one. Reports are coming in from across the entire defence line. The attacks are almost always suicidal and they are targeting your commanders, at least thats how it looks. The Eldar have already managed to flush out at least three snipers. I cant tell you whether or not weve lost anyone of importance, but I know that many have died already. Keep a wary eye, bone priest. You may be next.+ You have my gratitude for this warning, Grungi, believe me. I only wish it had come sooner, but the timing is of little consequence. I am ready to move out against the Tau. +Then youd better hold your armoured a--e where it is. Im coming with you.+ Alright, but move swiftly. I cannot wait long.

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Codian severed the link and looked at the body at his feet. Things were definitely starting to accelerate. Now that his kin were moving in force for Terra, the Deceiver had begun to play his hand proper. He held no illusions as to the extent of the Deceivers knowledge of their plans. He knew that they were preparing to move against the Tau and so his timing was perfect to interrupt that campaign. To hesitate here would only serve to invite further such attempts upon his life. He could not allow that to happen. Out amongst the Tau would be the only place where he was truly safe.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Five: Counter

He checked the harness strapped across his chest and was satisfied. Around and about him, two hundred of the Imperiums finest warriors did the same. The weight of the outcome of this assault was as such that he refused to leave anything to chance. A force of two hundred Space Marines was a resource that the Imperium could not afford to lose, or even risk, but risk them they must. Codian peered out over the lip of the wall and noted just how quiet the city was. It had been for some time now, so much so that even he doubted that the Tau were still upon this world at times. He knew they were, of course, for he could see them from here. The distance was such that no discernable features could be made out, but at the feet of the towering buildings in the far distance, he could see them. The forces of the Unity were a living sea, swaying gently on the horizon, a blur of colour and microscopic movement. The sound given off by the distant armies carried softly on the breeze, a constant whisper, a hum of continuous activity. Codian tested the weight of the mobile assault pack fixed to his back, its bulk familiar to him despite the length of time that had passed since he had last wore such a piece of equipment. He ran a hand over the socket at the base of his skull, the feed that would provide him with mental control over the functions of the jump pack in the absence of a helm. His mind felt heavy to him, as if the presence of the link was an added weight his saturated mind could ill afford to take on. He concentrated for a moment, mentally checking the adjustments he had made to the packs operating capacities. They were sound, as optimised as he dare allow them to be. By is side, Grungi fidgeted with impatience. I can smell them, even from here. How long is this going to take? As long as is needed, Grungi. We have to be sure that everyone is ready. This assault must be planned to the letter, or it will turn out to be no more than a suicidal slaughter. Hnn. Live or die, longshank. Such decisions lie within the laps of the gods. It doesnt matter how much planning you undertake. Survival is a combination of will, ability and sheer good luck. Then it is clear that our views differ, Demiurg. Fortune plays no part in my survival. I leave nothing to chance. The Chaplain looked away from Grungi and ran his gaze along the length of the trenches either side of him. Past the gathering of Astartes the crowds continued, stretching away into the distance both left and right. They were ready, he could tell that much. Every one of them. He thought of the other Gates then, of the preparations currently taking place there also. Each of the

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defence forces were undergoing similar measures, preparing to undertake their own counter attack against the waiting Tau. The Khan had made a special request to Codian in lieu of his unexpected summons to the council of the Primarchs days past. This request had been far from easy to answer, what with the Ishyreas current tactical situation, but the spirits of that vessel had nonetheless responded. The Khans package had been transported to him at the Ultimate Gate early this morning. Everyone was set. Everyone was ready, at least as ready as they would ever be. It was time. You are sure of the plan? He asked Grungi. Ever at his side, the Demiurg grinned. Of course. Kill them. Kill them bloody all. As many as you can, for the good of us all. Codian answered, watching as the squat alien continued to occupy himself with the length of thick chain in his possession. Are you ready? I was born ready, Codian. It is not blood that flows through my veins, but retribution. Every moment I exist without Tau blood staining my blade is a moment wasted. Get on with it. Codian nodded his assent and then lowered himself down onto his haunches, allowing the Demiurg to clamber up onto his back. The short alien grinned as he did so. he hoped onto the Chaplains back, swinging the chain past Codians neck and around his chest. He caught the other end with his single remaining hand and then wrapped it around both him and the Chaplain again, securing him in place. You realise the risk we take in doing this. I have had to adjust the fuel injectors in order to compensate for your weight. We may not even reach the enemy lines. Then well run the rest of the way. Ill not miss this, Codian. This is my fight, my war and Im damn well going to be a part of it. Very well. He answered. With that he reached to the link stud at his throat and tapped it once. The Warmaster. There followed a short delay as the faceless operatives of the Alliance communications network received his request, ran multiple authority augurs to confirm his authorisation and then patched the communication through. Moments later, Calgars voice came back at him loud and strong. +Calgar here. It is good to hear that you survived, Chaplain.+ And you my lord. Everything is ready here. We are set to advance. +Excellent news. I can confirm that everything is in place as it should be, Codian. The latest intelligence reports confirm that Guilliman is still a good hours march from joining the Unity forces beyond our position. Use that time well, Chaplain.+ That I will, my lord. The Tau will suffer. What of the Eldar forces? +Yriel assures us that they are ready for your signal. Russs Rune Priests also. The response from Mephiston was a little more obscure, but his intent cannot be doubted. The Blood Angels are ready for this. Navy support units are powering up as we speak. They await your word. We all do.+ Then there is little to justify any further delay. Give the word, Warmaster. Call them in. It is time. +For the Emperor, Codian. See you on the other side.+

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For the Emperor. He replied. A single tap severed the link once more and he rose slowly to look out upon the waiting Tau forces. They know we are coming, Grungi. He said, speaking to the eager alien at his back. Unseen by Codian, Grungi grinned. Good. Let their fear pickle them in their skins. I was born to be feared by my enemies, longshank. I am justified. Codian did not reply. He stared out at the enemy for good long minutes, allowing the image to burn itself into his mind. this was it, he knew that. This would be the last time he stood amongst the men and women of the Alliance, the last true defenders of the dying Imperium. This was far more than a counter attack upon the Tau. This event would mark the beginning of the end of this war. He knew that, and so too did the enemy. The Unity knew that the attack was coming and they were prepared for it. Or so they thought. We go. Said Codian quietly, feeling Grungis grip tighten upon the chain around him. Then he tapped the stud at his neck and repeated his words. We go! Attack! Attack! Attack! Two hundred jump packs flared to life around him, filling the trench with a dull, rising roar. He drew both his bolt pistol and the Dawnblade with one fluid motion and lowered himself into a crouch, feeling the kick of the thrusters at his back. Grungi clambered as high onto the pack as he could, fire chasing at his heels. Get up into the bloody air, Codian! My boots grow hot! Codian did not answer. He gunned the jump pack to maximum and rose sharply into the air, followed by a rising cloud of armoured warriors. The attack had begun. +++ Commander! ShasO Tashvar Korstla Larshivre turned slowly as she heard the call. One of her Pathfinders pointed animatedly out towards the walls of the defence line, lowering his field scanners as he did so. Her eyes widened as she saw the air darken before her very eyes. At first glance she had thought that the Alliance had launched a missile attack, for the skies were filled with many blazing comets of fire. Then she realised that she was wrong and her expression hardened. Arrogant fools. They attack with infantry? They are more desperate to die than I had imagined. So be it. The forces of the Unity came alive around her as a wave of measured alarm spread through the vast army. Skyrays to the fore! Shadowblade called, donning the helmet of her armoured suit. Broadsides and Dominators make ready to repel! All infantry teams prepare to make a counter-push on my command! I want the Vespid airborne, and all the long-range ordinance we have to target and engage as soon as maximum range is acquired! Let us scout this attack from existence! The first missile slammed into the Unity forces a heartbeat later. It descended as if from nowhere, screaming earthwards into one of the advancing Skyray grav tanks. It was followed by a second and a third.

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The vehicle stood no chance of repelling the attack. OKorstla staggered back as the Skyray exploded spectacularly, sending heat and flame rolling over the surrounding troops. What was that? What happened? No one answered her. She turned her gaze to the skies in disbelief and watched as the buildings behind her came alive to rain fire and death down onto the reeling Unity troops within their shadow. +++ This is a glorious day for slaughter! Grungi cried, his voice broken and destabilised by the quaking of the jump pack upon which he rode. Codians gaze remained fixed upon the approaching enemy lines. The Eldar had already started to make their play. He could not begin to guess how the mysterious creatures had managed to insert themselves into the buildings behind the waiting Unity forces, but then again, they were Eldar. Second-guessing such creatures rarely produced answers with any kind of satisfactory results. As planned, the Taus most potent surface-to-air weapons were already in the process of being neutralised, an act which would prolong their survival for those vital seconds needed to gain ground on the enemy. Hulking Dominators mobilised behind the waves of Skyrays, intent on putting to the air, only for the Eldar missiles to greet them as they rose. One of the Dominators caught a brace of rockets in the back and came apart, its shields overloading and failing beneath the powerful double assault. fire and twisted armour rained down upon the milling ground troops beneath, spreading further death in the wake of the pilots demise. Seconds passed before the first Tau munitions were loosed. Seeker missiles came screaming towards them, lancing clear of the destruction and chaos on contrails of burning flame. Eldar rockets began to curl after them, chasing the deadly and intelligent projectiles. While this was happening he could see the Tau infantry as they responded, pushing forward in waves to meet the attacking Marines, the speed and vigour of their advance doubled by the punishing Eldar fire. Seeker missiles began to explode before them, intercepted by the missiles of the Dark Reapers. The air became filled with burning flame and deadly shrapnel, making the way ahead dangerous in the extreme, but at least for now they were relatively safe. +Second wave on the move.+ He heard a voice say in his ear. The attack, for all its speed, was progressing as planned. Losses were inevitable, he knew that, and this was a fact that was confirmed less than fifteen seconds into the charge. One of the seeker missiles penetrated the Eldar missile storm and streaked forth to meet the advancing Marines to his left. Flying bodies parted as the missile speared into the advance, striking and killing the first of them. The resultant explosion was tight and contained but powerful. Seeker missiles were designed to be aircraft killers, fashioned in such a way as to focus their explosive qualities so as to penetrate the thickest armour and disable their target. The Marine disintegrated beneath the impact, pulverised and immolated in an instant. Press on! Codian called across the link. Press on, my brothers! No fear! No hesitance! The enemy awaits us, for we are the death they rightly deserve, come to claim them! Somewhere to his right another seeker claimed a brace of victims, sending a swift and bright flash of conflagration across the edges of his eyesight. This was as nothing compared to the death and ruination scything its way through the Tau.

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Codian felt the growing noise rattle against his breastbone long before he heard it. the sound of the air rushing past his ears drowned out most other noises but this one was deep and yet high-pitched at the same time, the low rumble of sonic downwash overlaid with the scream of high-powered thrusters. The first Lightning passed by them overhead, casting a brief shadow over him and those nearest him. The fast, gunmetal-grey fighter was joined by a number of others as it sped towards the enemy lines, autocannons and lascannons blazing. One by one the fighters peeled away, rolling left and right to disappear between the towering buildings, ready for another attack run. The Thunderbolts were hot on their heels. Heavier and slower than their smaller counterparts the air was swiftly filled with blinding lances of searing light as they assailed the enemy. Beams of awesome and destructive power scythed through whole squads and made burning ruins of battlesuits and skimmers as the fighters exacted their toll. In an instant the Tau found that they were forced to divide their attentions between the approaching assault Marines and the faster flyers of the Imperial Navy. Much of the Tau ordinance had little hope of tracking and engaging the flyers due to their speed and manoeuvrability, but they presented a threat that could not be ignored. The Skyrays now found themselves with far more deadlier and much faster targets for consideration and markerlights stabbed into the skies, hunting for those targets. Codian saw this and knew the plan was thus far progressing as planned. He widened the range of his link and spoke, forcing his voice to rise over the roar of the passing air. Codian here! Approximately ten seconds to enemy engagement! Prepare for deep strike, all available units! He took heed of his own warning then, scanning the waves of advancing warriors and vehicles before them in order to plan the coming attack. The area ahead was littered with the burning wrecks of Tau skimmers, as good a place as any to set down. The wrecks would provide them the essential cover needed to reach the enemy as safely as possible. Once again, he adjusted his link in order to commune with the airborne warriors around him. Set down behind cover if you can! The Tau are expecting us but they are not expecting what is coming! Hold back as long as it is safe to do so! Draw them to us! An altogether different sound chased the arrival of the Imperial navys fighter craft. Although similar in pitch and volume, Codian could easily recognise the difference. The nearest of the ruined Tau vehicles was close enough now and he mentally adjusted the controls of the jump pack, causing his speed and altitude to sharply decrease. Incoming fire whipped past him as his feet skidded across the ground and he came down running. The chains wrapped around him loosened and he felt Grungis weight lift immediately as the short creature threw himself clear. Grungi flipped back as the chains fell away and landed on his feet behind Codian, turning to look to the skies in time to see the Eldar aircraft tear past overhead. The alien flyers were so fast and sleek that their features were obscured by the tremendous speeds at which they advanced. The Nightwing fighters were no more than dark flashes of colour, each flash followed a second later by the supersonic howl of their passing. Each fighter spun and twisted around the enemys attempts to pluck them from the skies as they sent their own hails of fire into the Tau, peppering the densely packed hordes with shuriken cannon fire, missiles and energy blasts. Codian slammed the flat of his fist into the locking mechanism of the harness and the straps flew apart. The magnetic clamps that held the pack in place disengaged and the bulky construct slid free of his armours power pack, leaving him unfettered and ready for battle.

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Movement at his side attracted his attention and it was all he could do to bring his arm up in time to stay the Demiurgs eager advance. No. Not yet, Grungi. Give our allies time to soften them up. Grungi replied with a snarl and a scowl, slowing nonetheless. He peered out beyond the scattering of cover to witness the destruction beyond. It wont last, Codian. All this, its a temporary advantage. The Tau will adapt and they will consolidate. They always do. We have to strike while we can Codian gestured the alien back and risked a glance out at the enemy forces. The Eldar fighters were causing the most damage for the Tau were sorely struggling to match their speed. Larger Eldar craft had joined the fray by now. Codian had seen such flyers before, for they were fighters designed as much for use in space as in the atmosphere of a planet. These larger Void Dragons screamed in low, sending their payloads into the reeling Tau before twisting away out of sight into the depths of the city, doubtless ready to come about and attack again. The Chaplain peered behind him, out over the heads of the alighting Marines. There in the distance he saw the familiar sight he had been waiting for. The horizon before the defence lines seethed. The sight was but a flash, the merest glance, for such was all he could afford. Still, what he saw there lifted his heart and caused his soul to soar. He knew then at that moment that he would never see such a sight again. Brave Astartes, make ready to advance! He called, thrusting the Dawnblade high into the air. For the survival of our Imperium, give the enemy hell! Charge! Codian led the charge from the fore, throwing himself around the burning wreck and into the path of the incoming fire. Shots glanced off his protective fields almost immediately, buffeting his body with the concussive force of impact but otherwise leaving him unharmed. Stuttering pulse fire and hyper-fast rail shells whizzed by him. He heard Marines call out as they were struck but did not dare to look back. Every second counted. He was almost upon the closing enemy lines when the first Land Speeder rocketed past him, so close he could feel the heat of its boosters. Heavy bolter fire thundered into the Tau as the Speeder closed the gap. He watched as the small craft carried on, its pilot unconcerned with his suicidal run. The gunner cast something large and cylindrical out onto the broken ground seconds before the Land Speeder tore through the gathered Fire Warriors and disappeared deep into the enemy lines. Then there was only Tau, and death or glory before him. Emperor shield me! He cried, adrenaline coursing through him. Protect me! Suffuse me! Keep me strong and keep me focused! Every moment I continue to survive, I will reap and that toll will be exacted in your name! Grungi bounded past him and leapt into the Tau, twisting in the air to sweep his axe-hand through the first handful of them. Pulse fire glanced across his naked torso, scoring black grooves across his ruined skin. The Demiurg neither flinched nor faltered as he plunged into the melee, his proximity to the enemy the best protection any situation could afford. Codian met the Tau a moment later. He fired on full auto as he met the Tau lines, felling two or three bodies with each bolt. The power of the pistol and the close range of the enemy meant that each bolt was literally driven through the body of the first victim to explode inside the second. The Dawnblade tasted flesh then,

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its potent energies drawing arcs of glittering power through both the air and the Tau alike. It was now that the ancient Eldar weapon finally came into its own. He lunged forward again and again, sweeping the living crozius before him as if swatting away bothersome insects or flailing cereal crops. Spread out and into them! Do not allow an inch of space to endanger your lives! The mere presence of the Dawnblade was enough to kill many of its victims. Each sweep of its glowing head drew the life energies of those nearest it from their bodies and into the weapon, the stolen life force of each Tau warrior serving only to add to the Dawnblades awesome power. As one the Astartes tore through the first waves of Fire Warriors without mercy, all but unstoppable in their onslaught. The support they continued to receive from the fast mobile units of the Eldar and the Navy were thus far serving to keep the Unity too busy to reinforce their defence against the Marine attack. The noise was deafening. All Codian could hear was the white noise of battle, a suffusion of screams, weapons discharge and clashing and buzzing blades. He advanced with every swing, two, three steps at a time, keeping up the pressure of his attack. Within minutes he reached another burning Skyray shell and stepped around the twisted wreck, his progress pushing several of the Fire Warriors back into the blazing wreck. The vehicle itself had created a metres-wide vacuum devoid of enemy presence and he soon came to realise the danger of this as pulse fire slammed into him, its concentrated force enough to drive him back several paces. A grenade landed on the ground before him and bounced towards his feet. Without a thought he swung his leg and booted the explosive device back into the crowds before him where it exploded seconds later, a dull concussive thud that sent blood and organic shrapnel spraying high into the air. More grenades bounced towards his position, some ringing against the blackened metal of the fallen vehicle. Grenades! He called, warning the Marines around him. For some, that warning came too late. He stepped forward and swept the Dawnblade low to meet one of the tumbling explosive devices. The grenade bounced as it rolled forward and he hit it back into the Tau. Another tumbled by him and he turned in time to see the Marine behind him step forward and tread on the grenade, arresting its progress immediately. The warrior raised his eyes to look upon the Chaplain and waved him back. Fire and noise lifted him from the ground a second later as the grenade exploded, white-hot plasma cascading free to saturate the area around him. Codian picked himself up from the ground, plasma droplets hissing all about him as they ate into the uppermost layers of his armour. His rosarius was powerful but it had little effect against such methods of assault. The power of the Dawnblade however was such that it neutralised the plasma within seconds, causing the substance to evaporate like water. Press on! He commanded those around him, hauling the injured Marine up. The warriors leg had gone, consumed by the blast. He shook himself free of Codians grip and fell back onto the floor with a thud. With that he simply nodded at the Chaplain and then brought his bolter up to fire from a sitting position. Another assault Marine fell right by his side, the warriors head taken from his shoulders by what had to be a railgun shot. Codian felt the pull of the shells passing tug at his shoulder, the vacuum it created literally dragging him back a metre or so. He spied the sniper almost hidden in the crowds before him. He was on his knees behind the unit that afforded him control of the murderous drones hovering over of him. Codian checked his bolt pistol and found he had a single shot left. It would be enough. He aimed and fired, ignoring the pulse fire drawing bright flashes of energy across the field that protected him. The assassin crumpled as the shot blasted through the support leg of the targeting array and exploded inside his chest, killing him instantly. He ejected the clip and reloaded the weapon, laying the Dawnblade across his arm as he did so. It took

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moments for him to complete the task and then he was ready to begin the desperate fight for survival once again. His momentary lapse of concentration had lasted barely any length of time at all, but it had been enough. He saw the shadow as it grew larger, spreading across the ground around him. The morning sun was high in the sky now and he looked up to see a dark shape descending upon him. There was a ripple of power from its centre that his mind recognised as weapons discharge in an instant, but he was not fast enough to respond to the threat. Something large and fast shoved him clear of the path of the beam and he felt himself tumbling, struggling to hold on to his weapons. He rolled across the ground and came up on his feet, fighting to beat his momentary disorientation Ligur stood over the ruined body of the Vespid, his lightning claws crackling as they baked the alien blood that coated them. His eyes glowed with unnatural power as he spoke. I hope that you are ready to share this battlefield, Chaplain. The second wave is about to enter this fight. Almost at the exact same moment as he spoke, the first tear in space opened up a mere six or seven metres to his left. The Wolves of Russ were here.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Six: Crush the Xenos

The air itself peeled away to reveal a growing void beneath it. Everything loose around the wormhole was picked up or dragged towards it, attracted by the conflicting forces unleashed into its vicinity. Fingers of forked lightning stabbed from the anomaly to rake the surrounding Tau, felling bodies with each strike. Both Codian and Ligur dropped back several paces as the warp gate grew to maturity and quickly reached the zenith of its expanse. Fire chattered free of the void immediately, ploughing through the nearby Tau as they turned to flee. An armoured figure clad in the light grey colours of the Space Wolves stepped out into the open air, his bolt pistol sowing death all around him. The aging Rune Priest led other Astartes free of the warp gate he had created, hollering sonorous commands in his native Fenrisian tongue. Several shapes burst free of the emerging Astartes and charged towards the nearest Tau, screaming and howling like feral dogs as they tore through the panicked aliens. They looked to be Astartes but they were far removed from any notion of the Emperors finest that Codian had. They were terrible and feral things, inhuman beasts more akin to animals than Marines. They fought with nothing but the raking claws that had long since replaced their fingers, and teeth like those of daemons of the warp. Thick matted hair covered every inch of exposed flesh and in some cases much of the creatures armour was missing, serving only to add to the overall outlandish appearance of the unholy beasts. The Wulfen. He heard Ligur utter. More and more wormholes were punching through the terrain now, spilling Wulfen and Wolves alike into the Tau. This was exactly the kind of distraction Codian had hoped for, a blessing and an opportunity to keep up the pressure of the initial attack.

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He took a moment to assess his situation as he waited for the Marines that had accompanied him to consolidate their numbers. The Unity forces stretched far into the distance, many hundreds of metres thick. This assault was a bold attempt indeed, and had only seen success thus far through sheer surprise and relentlessness. Codian was no fool. He knew that they were vastly outnumbered and that, no matter how many units they poured into this counter attack, they would remain so. as soon as Shadowblades forces recovered enough to consolidate, this attack would falter and they would start to die in huge numbers. This was a gamble and it was a dangerous one. They had to exact total punishment upon the Tau and their allies and they had to keep up the pace of that punishment or otherwise suffer greatly as a consequence. Their best hope would be to try and force the Tau back, to push them away from the open ground and into the buildings of the city. Only then would the forces of the Alliance truly stand a chance. Out here they were exposed, with nothing but space between the Unity and the walls of the defence lines. That exposure would spell their collective doom if they were unable to push the Tau back in time. The forces of Russ were keeping up that punishment now as they continued to tear through the Unity, their collective lust for blood and battle driving them on. He thought he caught a glance of the Primarch himself moments later as something vast and incredibly fast charged through a warp gate two hundred metres or so to his left. The shape was visible for no more than a moment and then it was lost as it drove deep into the Fire Warrior squads, carving an unstoppable gouge through the packed aliens that saw bodies and body parts cast high into the air, broken and ruined. Speeding shapes flitted past all around him. A small knot of Eldar jetbike riders curved past before him, raking the Tau with shuriken fire. He sprinted forward, ducking and pausing as more Eldar flew by around him. Grungi was hot on his heels and the agile Demiurg negotiated the dangerous situation with an ease that far belied his size and build. He rolled across the ground and cartwheeled again and again with all the comparable grace of an Eldar warrior, unconcerned by the speeding shapes all about him. They wont wait for you, bone-priest! He called, leaping the last metre or two into the enemy. Codian soon passed through the circling Eldar bikes and followed the Demiurg into battle once more. One of the larger two-man jetbikes passed by behind him, raking the Fire Warriors with shuriken fire from the cannon set into its rear as it did so. Razor-sharp shards reaped the Tau in droves, felling lines of bodies in an instant. He charged into the fleeing Tau, seeing an opportunity to kill many of them with relative ease. Codian did not relish slaying a fleeing enemy but he knew he had little choice. Allow any of them to survive and they would return to destroy him. He flung his arm wide and sent many bodies scattering before him, broken and ruined by the blow. One or two managed to conquer their fears enough to turn and face him. Pulse fire pattered across his armour. At this close range a number of the rapid blasts found their way past the layers of protection afforded to him and they slammed into his armour with enough force to leave glowing craters in the wake of their dissipation. He punched one warrior clean off his feet with a shot that burst his torso apart. Another fell, almost bisected down the middle from head to groin by the fearsome power of the Dawnblade. A third was decapitated by the living weapon, his head sent twisting away into the crowds. Codians last surviving opponent soon came to realise that he did not stand a hope of besting the towering Marine. He stumbled back, too terrified to turn and see the bright flash of azure light that erupted from the cylindrical device on the ground behind him. A brief but powerful wind howled across the immediate area as the hulking Terminator stepped clear of the teleport homers area of effect, the warriors vast size dwarfing the Tau before him. The huge fingers of a power fist closed around the Fire Warriors head and crushed it

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without effort. The Chaplain nodded to the warrior and then slowed, realising that to advance past the emerging Astartes would not be a good idea. A wise decision by all accounts, given that the next Terminator to emerge carried with him the assault cannon so rightly feared by the enemies of the Imperium. The multi-barrelled cyclic cannon whined as its rotation gained speed too quickly to follow. Then the shells began to fly. Lines of Tau became blood-mist and armour fragments as hundreds of shells scythed through those nearest the Terminator, most cutting three or four bodies deep before their momentum was expended. The cannon made a horrendous drilling noise as it fired, deafeningly loud, enough so to drown out the sound of bodies bursting and armour and bone shattering into dust. Codian ran along the length of the enemy lines until he found a space safe enough to enter the fight. More and more squads of Terminators were arriving amongst the Tau, guided by the teleport homers that the brave crews of the Land Speeders had scattered amongst them. One of those Land Speeders lay on the ground ahead and to his left. Its hull was blackened and torn by pulse rounds and a good chunk of its rear thruster array was missing, taken by enemy fire. The pilot lay slumped over the controls, the back of his head missing. The gunner was still alive however and far from done. A good section of the ruined engine had been thrust forward and impaled him in his seat. He was dying, that much was made obvious by his horrendous injuries. The heavy bolter in his hands continued to fire, killing Tau with every thunderous blast. Codian charged towards him, intent of helping the stricken Marine despite the fact that he knew he could do nothing but watch him die. He was a Chaplain though, and if he could offer the warrior recognition in death, if he could bless his immortal soul, the Emperor would recognise his sacrifice and receive him unto His side when death finally consumed him. That death came far swifter than even Codian had reckoned upon. A number of Tau had managed to creep beyond the range of the heavy bolter and were even now jogging towards his position. Codian saw the alien warriors and felt his pulse quicken. They were Fire Warriors and yet they did not wear the armour of their brethren, instead wearing only fatigues. He recognised them as the scouts of the Unity, and free of the constrictive weight of the armour they were swift, far too much so for the Marine to be able to respond to them in time. Even despite the Astartes prone situation the alien warriors were cowardly in their attack. A small number of them unclipped grenades from their belts and cast them at the Land Speeder ahead of their advance. The small explosions tore through the trapped Marine and he convulsed, armour and flesh rising up into the air. Codian allowed his rage to overtake him for the first time since the attack began. He charged the position, denouncing the wicked aliens as he did so. Driven by burning rage he was upon them before they knew of his presence, bolt rounds playing herald to his advance. Two of the Pathfinders fell to those bolt rounds, literally pulverised into nothing by the explosive power of the miniature missiles. He leapt clear over the nose of the blackened wreck and almost bisected his third victim with a blow from the Dawnblade that cleft him from head to groin. The fourth met his end on the return swing, his head spinning away through the air and into the chaos of the fight. Pulse fire flashed back at him in defiance, and at this close range it was inevitable that some of those shots would find their way past the layers of protection afforded to Codian by his powerful equipment. Several pulse rounds slammed into his armour, leaving behind glowing craters as their power dissipated. The comrades of the dead Tau soon came to realise that they were no match for the Chaplain. The rest of the squad turned to flee, intent on joining the bulk of the Unity forces once more. Codian was in no mood to allow his enemy to leave the fight and he struck again, shattering a number of the fleeing Tau with a single blow.

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The last remaining survivor back away, stumbling as he did so. Transfixed in terror at the rage of the murderous Chaplain, he did not notice the pulse of azure light that lit up the space behind him, nor the cylindrical device on the ground that shuddered and came to life with the impending display of erupting energy. A vast shape stepped from the dissipating curtain of charged energy and halted the fleeing Tau in his tracks. The fingers of a huge fist closed around the aliens head and squeezed, crushing it without effort. Codian nodded at the hulking Terminator as the warrior cast the body aside and turned towards the battle, pulse fire rattling ineffectually off its unmatchable armour. More and more Terminators shimmered into being behind him, called forth by the teleport homer into the face of the counter attack. He spied something amongst the Terminators that caused his progress towards the nearest section of the conflict to slow. The assault cannon whined as it powered up, its cyclic barrels rotating so fast that they soon became a blur. The Terminator turned towards the fleeing Tau and unleashed hell. Lines of bodies fell before the thunderous cannon. Each powerful shell penetrated three or four layers deep before its momentum was slowed by the sheer weight of Tau flesh. Waves of Tau fell to the murderous cannon in seconds. Codian ran wide of the Terminators, keeping his body low as return fire peppered the indomitable warriors. He knew it would be useless to try and advance near them. He ran towards the nearest piece of smouldering cover and opened his link once again. Codian here! Russ and his Wolves have entered the fight, likewise the Terminators! The support units are keeping the Unity busy but we need the second wave and we need it now if we are to keep up the momentum of this attack! We need to force them back into the city if we are to keep the ground we have gained here and maintain this advantage! Get that second wave mobilised as soon as you can! He severed the link, unconcerned with waiting for an answer. He needed no confirmation, his demands had been clear enough. From his position he could see that more and more Terminators were appearing across the battlefield now, drawn by the guiding presence of the teleport homers seeded by the brave crews of the Land Speeders. The Tau were almost forced into a complete rout at this point but it would take much more force and viciousness of the part of the Alliance forces to make this a certainty. He checked his bolt pistol and then threw himself into the fight once more, rounding the smouldering wreck as he sprinted towards the enemy lines. A number of the assault Marines followed as they spied Codians charge, creating a small but powerful attack force. Every second counted, he knew that. Every second. The first instance of hesitation or retreat would spell the doom of every one of them. Broken bodies lay scattered all around him as he pressed on. His armoured boots crushed ruined alien flesh beneath every stride, so much so that soon he found himself wading through the enemy dead. Something fast and loud screamed by overhead, its passing shaking the ground beneath him. Bright explosions thundered through the Tau seconds after, immolating bodies by the score and throwing waves of searing heat over him. The auto-sensitive filters of his vision slits shifted as they compensated for the sudden change in the light levels but Codian did not allow this to slow him, nor did he react as the buffeting waves of force that pursued the explosions rolled over him, trying as best they could to drag his body back. He vaulted the nose of a Tau skimmer and swept the Dawnblade through the compact viewing port of the pilots compartment as he did so, opening the armoured section up to the sky. As he landed he twisted at the waist and put a single bolt round into the squirming pilot, the shot ending his targets life.

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Tau poured from the vehicle as it dipped low and thudded into the ground, the impact shaking the emerging warriors off their feet. The Astartes with Codian finished the xenos warriors off with short but concentrated bursts of fire. One of the Marines pushed past Codian and skidded to a halt on one knee. He shouldered his launcher and let loose a missile that speared its way over the heads of the countless Fire Warrior squads and into the bulbous chest armour of a nearby Dominator. The towering machine reeled back, bright energies pulsing across its mass as its shields kicked in. Although its protective capabilities saved it from harm it staggered back and fell amongst the fleeing Tau, crushing uncounted bodies beneath its weight. To his left he saw the deaths of another Land Speeder crew. The air was filled with a deep and resonant buzzing as a swarm of Vespid descended upon the small Speeder. A hail of neutron rays washed over the vehicle and brought it down into a violent and rotating skid. The Vespid swarmed all over the two Marines even as the Land Speeder twisted through the milling Fire Warriors and dragged them free of the skimmer. Armoured claws tore the two warriors apart in the air and pieces of flesh and armour fell away. Codian ran as fast as he could towards the grim scene and leapt up onto the Land Speeder. He launched himself high into the air and smashed the first Vespid he found in two. His bolt pistol rocked as he expended its last three shells, tearing another apart. He landed on the ground and cast the empty pistol away. There was no time to reload now, he knew that. Another of the hulking alien monsters descended upon him with blinding speed, the vibration of its wings so deep and close that he felt his vision blur. Hazy neutron radiation blistered the ground by his side and he rolled away, the beam chasing him. The aliens clawed feet were just above head height when he leapt up and snatched at its leg. His fingers closed around its chitinous ankle and he pulled as hard as he could, his inhuman strength bringing the alien down level with him. There was no time for thought, only action. He thrust the Dawnblade through the creatures stomach and pulled to the right, tearing it in two. More of the aliens fell from the skies around him, assailed by the combined fire of the Marines that were with him. The Vespid were everything the Tau were not. They did not fold in close combat. They were possessed of a strength and survivability to rival an Astarte, with claws that could tear through ceramite with ease. Their weapons were near enough designed specifically to ignore the vaunted protective qualities of Astarte armour and were amongst the deadliest assault rifles known to the Imperium. They filled a niche previously occupied by the Kroot and were, in many respects, far more effective in that role. Neutron rays lanced through the air all around him, sowing death amongst the Marines. One beam shimmered past the Chaplain and struck one of the Astartes with him full in the chest. The ray passed through the warrior as if he were as insubstantial as air, carrying on onto the shoulder of another. The first Marine fell, his limbs crumpling, and the second gave out a cry of pain and fell onto one knee, clutching his smouldering shoulder. Codian felt his breath catch in his throat as the protective energies of the Dawnblade flared around him. A neutron blast struck him in the back, shivering as it attempted to pass through the ethereal field of force. His rosarius didnt even register the attack as there was no concussive force behind it, a flaw that would have proved deadly had he not been blessed with the defensive properties of the alien weapon. He twisted at the waist and swung at his attacker with every ounce of his strength. The rifle and the claws that held it shattered beneath the impact, causing the Vespid to reel back in the air. Codian never found the opportunity to finish of his attacker. He caught sight of several small objects plummeting down towards the injured Vespid and a moment later the creature was consumed by a bright and raging ball of fire. Chitin and viscera pattered across the Chaplains armour as the Vespid died. Codian stepped back, blinking charred filth from his eyes.

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Many more small but powerful explosions tore through the hovering aliens, causing them to fall from the skies. Laser bolts sliced through hardened organic armour plates, tearing wings free of bodies and cutting Vespid in two. He craned his neck and looked up into the skies to see hundreds of shapes descending upon the battle. They were Eldar, he could see that. Like the Vespid they wore wings at their back, curved wings that vibrated faster then the eye could follow rather than flap. From what he could see from here, they were similar to the Phoenix Lord that had called himself Baharroth. The warriors seemed spindly and fragile, almost to the point of appearing as if they could snap in two at the slightest contact, but they ease in which they tore through the reeling Vespid left him in no doubt that their appearance far belied their survivability. Slowly but surely they were pushing the Tau back. The Alliance assault thundered on, keeping up the pressure of the charge. Men, aliens and Astartes alike were falling in droves to the Unity guns, but the Tau and their allies were suffering far more. Codian fought his way through another Fire Warrior squad, still leading many of the Marines that had accompanied him in the initial attack. He blazed a trail through the aliens, energy flashing around him again and again as he absorbed most of the squads directed fire. Bolters hammered behind him as his companions took advantage of the situation and executed the Tau with ruthless efficiency. The squad were despatched to a warrior in no time and Codian found himself before the first of many of what appeared to be temporary Tau structures. The structure was some kind of bunker, clearly intended to be impermanent. It was little more than a low dome, an armoured blister covered with several thin view slits. At first he had thought the construct to be some sort of firebase but the slits were glazed with armoured glass and so were unusable as fire points. He ran around the rear of the building in time to catch several Tau figures exiting through the single rear door. He did not hesitate. He did not even think. He simply charged forward and carved through the panicked aliens without pause or mercy, and it was done. He had killed six or seven Tau in a matter of seconds and only then did he pause to examine the dead. Most of the bodies were those of Fire Warriors, no doubt the personal guard of the other two. One of the dead aliens was tall and slender, much like Gormat, and wore clothing similar to that of Gormats on the day of his capture. The other wore an armoured suit fixed with many hardpoints, as if it were designed to be plugged into something. He looked to be some form of commander, possibly a pilot of one of the Dominator suits. The Tau had been in the process of abandoning the bunker when he had set upon them. He ducked into the half-lit gloom and checked the interior. It was clear. A number of the Marines joined him as he exited and he waved them back. Clear. I want every one of these structures checked and neutralised, one after another. This area is ours now and I want it made safe His voice died away as a thunderous noise drowned out everything else. The ground around him and the nearest of his companions fell dark and they looked up as one in time to see a number of large and angular shapes blot out the sun above them. Dominators roared through the skies above their position, guidance jets gouting from many points across their armoured structures. Codian attempted to count the humanoid war machines as they passed over but soon gave up. There were so many of them. Either they had not spotted Codian or his companions or they simply did not care to engage them. Whatever the answer, they were ignored. The Dominators had other targets.

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Codian pushed through the gathered marines and scrambled up onto the low domed roof of the bunker. There he rose, following the progress of the enemys advance with his gaze. The sight before him took his breath away. The second wave was approaching fast now. thousands of Astartes, men and machines poured towards their position across the man-made plain, filling the air with smoke and dust and a roar that sounded for all the world like the end of days. Marines gunned the engines of their bikes as they sped towards the enemy lines. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of horses thundered across the expanse as the cavalry of the Imperial Guard made their play. In amongst the horses Codian could see countless other forms of vehicles and creatures. Many of the Guard rode bikes similar in design to the Astarte model. Others rode xenos mounts of such varying species that his mind could hardly process them all. Huge lizards snapped at horses as they twisted across the rubble-strewn ground, five or six warriors at their backs. Whooping wingless birds galloped forth on huge padded feet, their crested heads bobbing and their feathers flashing as they caught the sun. Behind the cavalry he could see the tanks and the personnel carriers, bulky and angular against the organic mass before them. There was so much to see, so much to take in, Codian could barely process a fraction of what he could see. Warriors! Prepare of the second wave! He called aloud, turning to the Marines below him with a smile. This day will see the Tau come to regret their arrogance! It is time to take our Imperium back!

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Seven: A Hope of Victory

Move! Move! Move! The surrounding buildings echoed with the thunder of footsteps and the rumble of engines as the Tau fell back. The Guevesaui swept her arm before her as she guided the rest of her squad clear of the tide of approaching bodies. Her soldiers fell back past her and into the space between the buildings, the last of them entering the half-lit gloom moments before the fleeing mass passed by. UiJohdell fell back against the dark wall, panting hard. Her eyes were wide with surprise and fear, the situation she and the others now found themselves in spinning through her mind. Whats happening? Why the hell are they falling back? Garret called from behind her. Johdell! Answer me! She didnt answer. After a short pause she risked a glance around the corner to where the buildings of the city opened out into the front lines. There were still so many bodies and vehicles surging from the area that she could see nothing to answer the questions. All she could see was fire and explosions. Now and again she caught sight of shapes speeding past through the air. The aircraft were far too fast to recognise, but more than once she saw what looked to be flying bodies flitting past, and they were not Vespid.

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Johdell! She felt a hand upon her shoulder and she spun around to face the others. She shrugged Garrets hand away and pushed him back with the flat of her carbine. I dont know, damn it! No ones answering the comms! Were under attack and thats as much as I can tell you We have to fight back. Herz snapped, pushing past the squad commander. He shouldered his rail rifle and ran out onto the pavement, leaping up onto the sloping nose of the Devilfish idling at the roadside there. By the Tauva! You should all see this! Were dead. Were dead and done. Dolem whispered his hands starting to shake slightly. Emperor forgive us. Shut up you idiot! Johdell snapped. Do you want Herz to give your arse up to the Tauvakre? It was Cray who answered the question. He moved in closer and, as he did so, Johdell noticed the sheen of sweat that coated his face. This could be it, sarge. This could be our chance. He said, ensuring to keep his voice low. We could make a break for it, join the Alliance Johdells face was in his in a flash, so close that their noses were almost touching. Kill that thought right now! Look at us, Cray. Look what we are, what we represent. We are the enemy and they would kill us without a thought. Were part of a bloody invasion force against Terra! Were done with the Imperium. We were done the moment we were born. The discussion died away as Herz threw himself back into the alley, panting hard. Smoke coiled from the barrel of his railgun. That and the wide smile on his face spoke volumes of his murderous success. I got one. Tauva, but I think he was an Astarte, too! Put a round right through his head, I did. No one answered. Seconds passed before the smile faded from the soldiers face. What the hell is a matter with you all? This is a cause for celebration. It proves that we can kill even the toughest of them. This day might see us all dead, but at least we can take as many of the b----ds with us as we can. They will kill us all without a doubt if we do not move. Johdell answered, peering past the others and into the depths of the alley. We need to move. We need to get as far away from here as we can, try and regroup with the other forces in relative safety. I dont want to die, not here, not today. Garret followed the direction of Johdells gaze and shook his head. Oh no. No way. Theres no way Im going in there. You all heard the rumours about the Viskeons, right? As far as I know they still havent found a single live one yet. No offence, Ui, but if youre thinking about heading into these alleyways then you need to take a moment and consider exactly what is mean enough to hide in the shadows and take out a Viskeon. A Viskeon, damn it! Cray nodded his head in agreement.

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Hes right. I heard they found body parts littered about these alleyways by the hundred. No one has any answers, sarge And if we stay here then we are dead. Johdell answered with a snarl. Then we stand and face the alliance Herz began. Shut up, Herz. Garret, Cray, Im in charge here and I give the orders. What I say, goes. God Emperor Dolems voice was so low that none of the others heard it. He took a step back, stumbling as he did so. Time seemed to slow for Johdell then. As she looked into the terrified face of Dolem her mind seemed to recognise the significance of that expression, triggering the phenomenon. Garret and Cray exploded into time-stretched life, pulse rifles rising sharply. She twisted on her heel to face Herz, his own gaze as yet still fixed on the others. Then she saw the hulking shape beyond him, its dimensions vast enough so that it rose high above the unwary soldier. The all-pervasive noise of the desperate battle seemed to fade from existence as, one by one, all five pairs of eyes turned to look upon the Marine. Herz was the last to turn. He froze, his fingers tightening around the grip of his rifle. Johdell saw a visible shiver run down the mans body as he looked upon the bringer of his death, for his death was assured now. Death was assured for all of them. She actually looked into the face of the marine for a moment, her eyes locking with his. His hair and beard were dark, almost as black as his armour. His eyes were wide and hard, knife blades of utter hatred. Herz tried his best to retaliate anyway. The railgun rose as far as his chest before the hulking black figure lunged forward and took his head from his shoulders with a single swipe. The blow did not merely decapitate him, it literally disintegrated his head, helmet and all. Johdell felt a fine mist of warm blood patter against her face and blinked, the sensation serving to drag her brusquely into the flow of real-time. He was off and running even as the order left her lips, the pitch of her voice high and broken with fear. The others followed her into the gloom, or rather joined her in her flight, four bodies packed in tight as they jostled for the space to advance. Garret was by her side, loosing pulse rounds from the hip. He didnt allow himself time to aim, he didnt dare. He simply ran as fast as he could, his rifle angled back and his finger pressed hard against the trigger. The Astartes footsteps were thunderous, enough so that they shook the ground beneath their feet. Cray stumbled by her side as they came upon a knot of rubble scattered about the alley. She grabbed his arm and hauled him around the corner. No fire! No fire! Dolem called over and over again, struggling to remain on his feet in the slick filth that coated the ground at his feet. I dont think hes following us Get on your feet and move! All of you, move! Johdell commanded, ushering the others away from the junction. The alley narrowed further here and for a good few long minutes they were forced to negotiate rusting metal staircases and other such obstacles. The sounds of the fight were still loud and all-pervasive,

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perhaps more so here where the close buildings filtered the noise. She had no idea where she was leading her men; she simply tried as best she could to mirror the retreat of the Tau. Now and again she caught flashes of the road beyond. Bodies flew past, chased by explosions and fire. Within minutes they had reached another junction and Johdell sent Garret and Cray forward to scout the right-hand turn, where the alley rejoined the road. She took Dolem with her to check out the way forward, a section of passage almost impassable due to the clutter choking it. Caution. She advised the other two over the link, her pacing slowing to a careful crawl. If it is safe then let us know immediately. Otherwise get the hell out of there and regroup. Dolem ensured that anything else she had to say was cut short. The soldier raised his hand slowly, coming to a stop before a mound of obscured rubbish covered by several layers of plastic sheeting. What? What is it, Do He waved his hand frantically in an attempt to silence her. That was when she knew without a doubt that something was wrong. Dolem shifted to one side in order to allow her to stand by his side. She approached the gently flapping edges of the sheeting and peered through the nearest gap. The scene caused her heart to skip a beat. There were several Tau in the small clearing beyond, another junction between the tightly-packed buildings. They were Pathfinders, that much was clear. Several of them were down, probably dead. A human soldier and what appeared to be a Tau envoy were holding another two of them at gunpoint. One of the unfortunate scouts was being restrained by a huge ebony-armoured Astarte. The Marines arm was wrapped around the Pathfinders neck, and the brute appeared to be in the process of inserting something some kind of needle into the warriors neck. The ways clear for now, but we need to haul it if were going to have a chance of joining the redeployment. Johdell was so focused on the scene that Crays voice cut through her mind like a knife, setting every nerve alive. The soldier had to shout to make himself heard over the tumult and, here within the maze of close, high walls, his voice reverberated all around her. The human soldier snapped his head around to look directly at her and Dolem, his eyes widening in alarm. He was fast, his lasrifle rising sharply in his hands. The flash of energy discharge seared her retinas as she jerked her body sideways, feeling the heat of the passing blast burn the skin of her face. Cray cried out behind her, a pained and strangled sound laced with surprise. Dolem answered the attack with his pulse rifle and the soldier and his Tau companion scattered to take cover. The Astarte simply remained where he was, down on one knee. He dropped his Tau captive onto the floor and weathered the hail of rounds, barely swaying beneath the multiple impacts. Cray! Oh st, Cray! Garret was on his knees beside the writhing soldier, trying as best he could to stem the flow of dark blood gouting from the open wound at his throat. The ground around him was already slick with blood. Johdell threw herself around as lasfire chased her and with a glance she saw that Cray was a dead man. He was bleeding out. The shot had opened his jugular vein. Theres nothing we can do for him! She cried, grabbing at Garrets collar as she sprinted past. Come on! We have to retreat! She hauled the soldier up onto his feet and together the three of them threw themselves around the corner

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in the direction of the street. Dolem was in the lead, the fastest runner of them all. His rifle swung from side to side in his hands as he charged down the passage, leaping over every obstacle in his way. He was almost clear of the alley when he ground to a halt and fell back with a crash, his feet sliding out from beneath him. Astarte bikes roared down the wide street, the combined noise of their engines loud enough to drown out all other sounds. Johdell grabbed at Garret and stalled his advance, almost pulling the man off his feet. Were too late! Damn it! We need to find another exit! Dolem flipped over onto his knees and slithered through the loose rubbish as he struggled to find purchase in it. He was up and onto his feet by the time the bikes had passed. He retrieved his rifle and set off towards the others as the first of the horses galloped by. One of the riders hauled his mount to a close opposite the alley. The animal reared up on its hind legs, its front legs flailing, as its rider raised an autopistol in his direction and put a single round through his back. Dolem cried out and came crashing down onto his face. Johdell screamed a curse at the man and blasted him from the saddle with a swift flurry of pulse rounds. The frightened animal shook the Guardsmans body clear and galloped away into the flowing tide of horses and men. They didnt bother to check if the soldier was still alive. Johdell had seen the round punch clear of his chest. This is madness! Garret spat, shaking his head in despair. Were dead. We cant survive this. Were not dead yet, Guevesa. Johdell replied. Come on, we still have a chance. These alleyways lead all over the city. If we stick to them we can survive this. Well live through this, Gar, I promise you. Lets move. Johdell knew they were running out of options and fast. There were only two of them left now and, despite her claims, she knew that every direction open to them presented danger. To head back out onto the street now would be suicide, but the only way available that led deeper onto the warren of alleyways was blocked by the murderous Imperials they had encountered minutes before. We have to look, Gar. We have to see if they have gone. She said. The soldiers eyes widened as he realised what his commander meant by that. But the Astarte, wewe cantwe cant beat We check, nothing more. We have to do this. Come on. Together the two soldiers crept back towards the cluttered passage, guns at the ready and hearts hammering in their chests. Despite her fear Johdells reasoning was sound. If the enemy had intended to pursue them then they would already be dead. Whatever reasons they had for being here between the buildings she couldnt guess, but if they were on a mission to cleanse and secure these spaces then they would have been pursued. It stood to reason that the Astarte and his companions were gone. A quick reconnaissance of the area neither confirmed nor denied this. Where once the small area had been lit with ancient stuttering globes, now they could see only darkness. Total darkness. Even the light of the sun above seemed unable to penetrate the utter void before them What the hell is this? Garret whispered. This isnt right Johdell gritted her teeth and advanced, her fingers tightening around her carbine. She picked her way past the gently flapping plastic sheeting and squeezed through the gap, her shoulder scraping the wall to her left. She dearly wished she had a flashlight or some other form of illumination.

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A few steps more towards the void and she stopped. Garret fell in behind her, ready with his rifle. Johdell racked the grenade launcher slung beneath the barrel of her carbine and pointed it out towards the darkness. Stand back. She fired the grenade and dropped onto one knee, turning her body away from the expected blast. A moment later the grenade exploded deep within the gloom and she glanced through her fingers at the bright explosion. Her breath caught in her throat. Go go go go! She was up and on her feet before Garret had even registered her moving. She pushed past him and ran back the way they had come as something dark and glistening lanced forth from the black wall and into Garrets chest, the impact of the blow bowling him back. Lise Johdell was the last of her squad to die. She never understood what the creatures were, or even knew what they truly looked like. The darkness had enveloped every passage and turn around her now. The shadows moved as if alive, advancing upon her like ravening predators, hungry for her life. She came to a stop at the nearest junction and began to circle around on the spot, firing in every direction. Some shots produced high-pitched, inhuman shrieks and yet she never once saw her victims, as totally ensconced as they were by the all-pervading gloom. In her final moments she fell to her knees, tears streaming down her cheeks. She cried to her Emperor for forgiveness. Then the void came for her, and she was gone.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Eight: Mortals and Gods

The Tau were in full-blown retreat now. Codian waved the other Marines back against the wall as the tide of fast-moving cavalry surged past, so thick that it filled the wide avenue. He looked back the way they had come. This street was one of the main arteries leading to the outer square of the Eternity Wall Gate. A huge gothic stone arch, many hundreds of metres high, marked the point where it exited the city. Though he could not see them from this distance, he could just make out the pinprick pop-flashes of light that told him of the presence of the Dark Reapers. The deadly long-range support warriors of the Eldar continued to pour fire into the retreating Tau, even from this extreme distance. Each missile travelled hundreds of metres through the air to slam into Tau squads and tanks. He shifted his gaze to the retreating mass and could see that further missiles were spearing down from the buildings either side of the road and into the enemy forces. It was as though the mysterious Dark Reapers were scattered throughout this section of the city. How many of them there were, he could not begin to guess. The Marines with him had fought well, and as a consequence they had suffered great losses. Still, together the forces involved in the counter-attack had achieved what they had set out to do. They had beaten the Unity back. The battle has overtaken us, brothers, but we have found victory! He called, gathering those nearest him together with waves of his hands.

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We cannot keep pace with the faster elements of our forces but our task is far from over yet. We need to ensure that our dominance of this area is total. Gather into five man squads and take to these alleyways. Clear them out. Kill every enemy soldier you find. Remember, we have many allies now and I need to be sure that you all are able to tell the difference between a hostile and an ally. If it wears the symbol of the Unity, destroy it! The Astartes followed his orders without question. Sergeants called out across the gathered hordes, swiftly forming squads to command. Codian knew that the warriors were more than capable of undertaking the task and so he left them to it. He stepped out into the road, negotiating the scattered bodies at his feet as he did so. Something large descended upon him from above. He saw the shadow at his feet grow larger by the second and he threw himself around, lifting the Dawnblade in readiness, to see what was happening. The blood-red, armour clad figure descended on wings of crimson flame and for a second he was presented with a vision of some infernal daemon of the warp. Then his instincts kicked in and he lowered his weapon, stepping back to allow the newcomer to land. Lord Mephiston touched down on the road before him with force enough to crack its surface. The wings that had borne him aloft flared brightly and then simply dissipated, fading into nothing save for sulphurous, curling smoke. He shook himself, his lank golden hair flicking about his angular head and face, and then looked at Codian. Mephistons eyes blazed in their sockets, as bright and crimson as his armour and made doubly so by the pallid grey of his flesh. He took a step forward and as he did so his Angels charged past him, howling and snarling like feral animals driven to near madness by the scent of their prey. On! On to the feast! He roared, his voice deep and hoarse. Leave none alive! Open the veins of the enemy and let their blood stain this hallowed ground! For Baal! For Sanguinius! Hah! He smiled with the sheer thrill of the hunt, exposing fangs more akin to daggers than teeth. Codian of the Ultramarines. I have heard much about you, Chaplain. Lord Mephiston. Codian answered, tilting his head in greeting. He was made uncomfortable in the presence of such a physically mutated creature as Mephiston and he made no show of hiding this. If the lord of the Blood Angels saw this in him, he did not speak of it. Do you have business with me, my lord? No. Mephiston replied. I merely wished to look upon you with my own eyes, to see the Astarte behind the tales. I am not inspired. Codian did not answer. A frown crept across his face and his fingers tightened around the haft of his weapon. He did not tolerate such scorn from anyone, not even a lord commander. Perhaps you could wait until this war is over to insult me, Blood Angel. There are enemies to kill and you are in danger of missing your chance to participate in this fight. They went that way. He pointed out into the city with the Dawnblade. As he did so the living weapon shuddered, its surface expanding as it responded to Codians answer. The skull of the crozius grew to two or three times its original size. The eyes of the skull erupted in burning flame and the entire face of the golden carving looked to alter, snarling its rage at the scornful warrior. Mephiston hissed a challenge at the Chaplain but his eyes were fixed upon the Dawnblade. Whatever he

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sensed was enough to break the threat of a confrontation. Mephistons burning wings erupted across his back once more and the lord of the Blood Angels took to the skies without a further word. He shook his head and turned back towards the centre of the road. All the faster elements of the attack force had passed now, and much of the slower armour and infantry. Tanks and APCs were passing by, choking the avenue with their emissions. He stepped back away from the road and pressed a finger to the stud on his throat. This is Codian. Put me through to the Warmaster. +Calgar here.+ A voice said moments later. +It is good to hear that you survive still, Codian.+ My thanks, lord Calgar. I can confirm that the initial attack has found success. The Tau are routed. Their forces scatter deeper into the city as we speak. +Our intelligence is strong and constant, Codian. I can confirm this. Shadowblades forces are dispersing as we speak.+ We are ready for the next phase of the offensive. Codian continued. We have gained a victory here but we must strive to use this victory to further our success. I have concerns, my lord, but I am loathe to discuss them over the link. No matter how secure we may think our communications network, it is ever in danger of being compromised. +I understand. I+ There was a pause. At first Codian suspected that the link had failed. Then Calgar spoke again. +Qah seems to suspect that your reservations are founded. He will come to you immediately.+ Understood. Codian out. He severed the link and waited. He did not have to wait for long. Moments later a familiar wall of darkness formed before him, an explosion of whispering shadows that drew together, swirling over and over as they compacted into a perfect sphere of solid blackness. The sphere stretched, flowing like liquid as if formed a humanoid shape. The shape took on definition as it became Qah. Greetings, Daelo Codian. The ancient alien uttered. Codian tilted his head in greeting and then stepped forward, lowering his weapons as he did so. We have come this far, Qah. We have done what we set out to do. The Tau have been expelled from this position. Yes. We are fortunate that these brave warriors do not suspect the real reason behind this attack. I am able to read that you have commanded those beneath you to kill every Tau you encounter. This is good. We must destroy as many of them as we can. We cannot allow the Ctan to feast. You understand that there are agents in the field tasked with attempting to achieve exactly the opposite? Codian asked, a note of caution in his voice. Umbras and the others are trying to save Tau. I need to know if you think that this will affect our greater plan. It will not. Your colleagues undertake a noble effort, Codian, but it is an effort that will produce few results.

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They may save a few hundred but this will ultimately make little difference. When the Dragon comes the Tau will give themselves willingly to their god. Freed from the influence of the Ctan, these liberated Tau will not. This refusal will not save them. If the Dragon finds them, he will consume them nonetheless. You did not wish an audience with me to discuss the fate of the Tau, Codian. I sense that much. You are right, Qah. I have a number of concerns. The first is the communications net, especially now. It is compromised, of course. There is little any of us can do to prevent this. Both Mephetran and Drochtyr are following the progress of this latest effort. We are in the midst of a great victory but that victory will come at a price, Codian. Time grows short in the wake of the approach of the others. Both Gia and Kaelis Ra are close. Mephetran knows this and he will use this to his advantage. He will guide his army of assassins in sowing havoc and discord through our ranks. We have foiled many of his plans to date, but his darkest and most insidious scheme is yet to be revealed. He knows of his brothers plan to consume the Tau. He intends to usurp that plan for his own gain. If he is successful then we may see him became the most powerful amongst the Ctan. Cant we oppose him? Qah shook his head slowly at this. Not easily. He is ever watchful, Codian. He plans to wait until the other Ctan descend upon this world and in the confusion he will act. I have seen it in the skeins of fate, and it is a future event that has a high probability of occurrence. What does he intend to do? Codian asked, his eyes narrowing with concern. Corrupt the seat of your Emperor, Codian. There is a truth you need to know about the Golden Throne, a truth that has been hidden beneath the veil of time for an age. A dark secret that dates back to its very construction. Qahs dark face creased slightly as he reacted empathically to Codians mounting dread. The Throne is tainted, Chaplain. Like much of your technology, its was built by those whose loyalties were hidden from the eyes of the masses. They were unable to free the Dragon from his chains despite their best efforts. Your Emperors power and knowledge of technology was far greater than even they had suspected. When the archenemy Horus almost slew him, the traitors saw their chance. The Throne was designed to kill him, Codian, slowly and with such subtlety that those loyal to the Emperor would never suspect foul play. He was the most powerful creature clad in mortal flesh in all the galaxy at that time. His body was a ruin but that mattered little, his mind was strong and his soul, unmatchable. In time, he would have restored himself. The machinations of the Throne ensured that this would not be. Thisthis cannot be. Codian whispered, his eyes widening My Emperor It is so. The Throne was designed to drain him, to kill him slowly over many years. It was a trap, a cage from which he could not escape. But they underestimated him. He was able to communicate this treachery to those faithful to his cause. That is the truth behind his insatiable appetite for the souls of others, Codian. Untold millions have give their lives to the Emperor not to fuel the Astronomicon, as they believed, but to literally sustain him, to keep at bay a death from which he could never escape. Now, at last, that death has come. The Emperor has left his mortal shell and the Throne is empty. But how does this help the Deceiver, Qah? What does he intend to do with it? He intends to use it to become the most powerful Ctan that ever existed, Codian. The Throne was designed to sustain the Emperor, to infuse his body with the energies of life. When its insidious workings were uncovered, those faithful to the Emperor modified it so that it could absorb the life energies of others.

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This is exactly how the Ctan feed. The Deceiver was never able to utilise this ability because of the sheer psychic strength of the Emperor and his ever-present guardians. Now the Emperor is gone, and the Custodes have been forced to abandon the chamber in order to join the fight to keep the agents of the Dragon at bay. Everything is proceeding exactly as he intended. The Throne is open to him now, and we are near powerless to prevent him taking it as his own. Imagine it, Codian. Imagine what would come to pass if the Deceiver was able to use the Throne for his own ends. He would consume us. Codian answered. Qah shook his head slowly at this. No, Chaplain, you are mistaken. Mephetran does not intend to use the Throne to devour such paltry essences as yours. He seeks to use it to do what he cannot on his own. He seeks to devour the other Ctan. If he succeeds in this, we will never have the strength to beat him. Nothing in existence will stop him. Then we must stop him before this happens, Qah. We must do whatever we can... Only I or Cegorach have anything close to the strength needed to do so, Codian. He is more powerful than either of us. If we move against him when he strikes we may stand a chance of success, but we will most probably die in the process. This course of action may yet be the only one open to us. Codian drew in a deep breath and exhaled as he heard this. Once again, just when he thouight he knew all the Imperiums most darkest and ancient secrets, Qah had surprised him with yet another. He was beginning to understand all too well why such things had been omitted from the history of his race. The barriers of his belief system were frayed enough. He wasnt sure just how much more they could take before they were brought crashing down. We cannot afford to lose you, Qah, not when the Ctan are close to converging. We need your power and your knowledge now more than ever. I understand that, Codian. My own mortality matters little to me. I have suffered death and worse in my time. I do however recognise that I am needed here if we are to win this war. Let us hope that I am not forced to face him, not until there are no other options left to us. When the Ctan come this world will suffer as it never has before. You need to know that. You need to be prepared to face the darkness. I will be. So, where do we go from here? We let current events run their course. Your forces are currently meeting with great success but they must be wary. Guilliman fast approaches from within the city and he and his forces are on a direct path to this very point. You must choose. Stay and face him, or retreat and consolidate your collective strength. Either way, I sense that Guilliman knows little of what is to come. He does not know the full truth behind the Dragons secret identity. Even I cannot say how he will react when that truth is soon to be revealed. Codian considered this for a moment. Roboute Guilliman was his Primarch, his gene-father and the gene-father of all the Ultramarines. To hope against hope that he could yet resist the influence of the Void Dragon caused a surge of anticipation to course through his veins. If Qah was confident that Guilliman knew nothing of his commanders true identity then he believed this to be the case. This would mean that Guilliman could not be trusted to share that secret. Perhaps there was the slightest of chances yet. Our forces are powerful here, Qah. I believe powerful enough to stay and face him. The forces of the Alliance have retreated again and again in the face of the Unity. They shall retreat no more. A brave and noble sentiment, Codian, but you must know this. The Ctan are closing fast and the Dragon will doubtless wish to make his play before they arrive. He must know that Guilliman will not give his life willingly to feed the hunger of a god. He will attack when your two forces are locked in combat. That is when your war against the Tau will end, and the war against the Ctan and the Necrontyr will begin.

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The Necrons. Codian answered. I have heard the names of these beings spoken in dread though I have never encountered them. It is said that most who encounter the Necrons do not live to tell the tale of it. The Necrontyr are a deadly foe indeed. For all their numbers and ingenuity, the Tau are as nothing compared to them. The one thing you must understand Codian is that this world is destrined to see a scale of death unlike any it has ever known. Even I cannot say how many will die, but I would put the atrrition rate at around eighty per cent, at least. Even victory and survival must come with a cost so great that there can be no true victors in this war. The Eldar have accepted their fate as one. They are already a dying race. This war will finish them. And what of my race, Qah, my people? Are we destined to fade into extinction? Only time will tell. Qah answered quietly. With that he turned his gaze to the skies, to where the constant pin-prick flashes of the warring fleets above still popped across the skies, visible even in daylight. Do you see, Codian? The heavens are clear. Your Emperor no longer watches over you. He is gone, into the warp where it is safe. Safe? Codian asked, following the ancient creatures gaze. Yes. HnnnI feel it, even now, even from this distance. Cold as the grave, ice in my mind. I feel him too, the Lord of Death. I feel the hate and the chasm, bitter and black. His coming is like a dagger through my soul, but it pales withwith her. She is loosed now from her prison. The Great Plan of the Star Gods is finally to be put into motion. It comes, the Cold Sphere, the Bringer of Isolation, and she follows. She is so lost, Codian, so utterly lost and alone. Her mind is ruined. The Ctan did that to her, even as she did it to herself. Codians brow furrowed as he listened to the Old Ones pensive and incomprehensible words. Although he understood nothing of what Qah spoke of, he could not help but feel a shiver run through him. Who, Qah? I dont understand. The alien looked to him and Codian could see that his eyes were wide and shining with fear. She gave everything for us, Codian, and that sacrifice changed her forever. It made a monster of her. She? The Outsider. Gia. Her name was Gia. That makes no sense. I though the Ctan were beings of energy. We refer to them as he, but th Once again you fail to understand the truth, Chaplain. Gia is our greatest, most secret shame. Our worst ever mistake. Our greatest regret. Gia is not of the Ctan. She is one of us.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixty Nine: Madness

One of you? As in of your species? She is of the Slah-haii, yes.

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Codian was genuinely dumbfounded to learn this. He drew his head back as the information sank into his brain, his mouth gaping. How? How can that be? You said that there were four Ctan, Qah. You said that there were four of them. How can this Gia be one of your own kind? Qah shook his head slowly in response to the chaplains question. It was clear by his manner that he had not recalled the events running through his mind for a long, long time. He could almost taste the anguish and regret emanating from the creature. She is of the Ctan now, Codian. Perhaps the understanding of this is too complex for you to comprehend, but I will endeavour to try and explain. You see, the war against the Ctan was protracted and horrifying. You could not imagine it. For untold eons we fought them for domination of the stars. We even used the stars themselves against them, such was our desperation. We killed them, Codian. As powerful as the Ctan are, we killed many of them. The problem was that the Ctan are not limited to the constraints of mortal flesh. A physical death is as nothing to one of the Star Gods, it is merely a destruction of the necrodermis, a respite for us and nothing more. We could not kill them for all time, but you see, we knew that they could die. We knew that it was possible for a Ctan to cease to exist, for in time we saw that. Then you did manage to find a way to destroy them utterly. Codian answered, the anticipation in his voice unhidden. We did not. It was the Ctan, you see. They began to kill one another. When the life-legions of the galaxy began to grow scarce, the Ctan began to turn upon one another. Faltoroch was the first to turn his attentions to his own kin, for he is indeed the manifestaion of death, the Bringer of the End. The Ctan are energy and energy cannot be destroyed, but it can be consumed. Faltoroch discovered that it was possible to convert the energies of other Ctan and thus envigor his own. The Nightbringer began the slaughter that raged across the heavens. When that slaughter finally subsided, only four of the enemy remained. How does this relate to Gia, Qah? What happened to her? Gia was one of the greatest of all of us. In the culture of the Slah-haii, it was customary for each of us to assume an aspect, one that would set us apart in the eyes of those we created. Gia was the Strength of Life, the Vigour of Existence. She was the will to survive and to grow, for she was the Mother of Ascension, our own guide to the continued development of the Slah-haii. It was she who pushed the boundaries of our race more than any other, and it was she who first came to recognise the possibility of our greatest victory against the Ctan. Qah swept a hand before him then, causing swirling energies to coalesce before the Chaplain. Codian fancied he could make out images and scenes amongst the unnatural stuff, half-glimpsed flashes of dreamlike histories and events. Though his eyes struggled to process all he thought he saw, it was as if his mind was able to understand them, albeit on some instinctive and rudimentary level. It was Gia who first dared to speak of the possibility of emulating the boundless hunger of Faltoroch. The most powerful amongst us had at that time met with some success. Asuryan realised the potential in harnessing the power of the stars themselves as a weapon against the enemy. He had succeeded in destroying Drochtyr, but only at the cost of a star system, and the Dragons death was but a temporary one. Mighty Khaine bested the rampaging Faltoroch in battle, but again this victory was fleeting and came at a cost that Khaine could ill afford to pay. Vauls Engines too became powerful weapons in our fight, and they did slay a number of the lesser Star Gods.

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Despite these victories, we were hard-pressed to find a method of destroying the Ctan utterly, ensuring that they were unable to reform within the vast depths of the hidden Necrontyr tombs. Then Gia presented her idea to Asuryan and the council of war, and what she proposed horrified us all. A visible shiver ran through the night-skinned alien as he spoke. She believed that we had the power to mirror the Ctans ability to consume and convert life energies. She reasoned that the immense matter of the Star Gods could be broken down and absorbed, and used to reinforce our own power. There were none amongst us powerful enough to attempt this, save for perhaps Asuryan or Khaine, but she could not be dissuaded. The enemy were killing us, had all but driven us to extinction. Gia acted in desperation, Codian. Driven by her desire to see the Ctan defeated, and doubly so to prove her theories to us, she gathered every last vestige or her strength and will, and she acted. Did she succeed? She did, but the cost was too terrible for her to bear. Her first victim was one of the weakest of the enemy, but even still the effort of consuming it broke her. It shattered her mind, the sheer volume of energy that she consumed testing the very limits of her abilities to absorb. It drove her insane, Codian, insane with power. The stuff of the Ctan proved to be the greatest addiction our kind had ever faced, and it was an addiction she could never recover from. Then she became addicted to the energies of the Ctan. Of all the ways I am able to communicate with the species of this galaxy, Chaplain, there is no single sufficient way I am able to communicate just how totally the energy mass of a Ctan corrupted her. She became the recipient of power unlike that which not even the greatest if us had experienced. Her intoxication was total. There was nothing we could do to save her. She was lost to us then. Codian began to pace as he considered all Qah had told him, his hands linked behind his back. To learn of these long-past events shocked him in no uncertain terms. To think that one as powerful as Qah could be turned, corrupted to follow the murderous creed of the Ctan, was truly horrifying. Still, there were further questions in his mind that needed answers. I do not understand this addiction, Qah. Surely, no matter how terrible the loss of thisSlah-haii was to you, the need she felt to devour the Star Gods would surely be viewed as an advantage, forgive my abruptness? Here you have a weapon, one of your kind capable of beating the Ctan at their own game. You say that killing the enemy in this way reinforces one of your kind with the energies they steal. Surely this means that the more Gia killed, the stronger she became? That is true Codian, yes, but the act of such murder took its toll upon her. You see, the combination of power and sentience a Ctan experiences is a combination no being should ever know. Before the Necrontyr made the Ctan what they were, the Star Gods were animals, our existence far beneath them. When they achieved awareness they became corrupted by the sensations this combination gave them. Every Star God is insane, Codian, as you or I understand the phrase. When Gia absorbed the essence of her first victim, she began to change. She became the enemy, and we could not stop her. Then what happened to her? You must have stopped her eventually, Qah. The alien replied to Codians question with a look of sadness, his large eyes seeming to grow further as if they could envelop the rest of his face. We could not. Gia would have killed us all, in time, just as she would have put the light from the stars themselves, had Cegorach not acted. As insane and altered as Gia was, she was still one of us, essentially. Thus we were still able to influence her to some degree. Cegorach wove his greatest ever illusion upon her. To the other Ctan Gia became a weapon and they

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loosed her upon us. She killed many of our kind and we were powerless to halt that murder until Cegorach intervened. He summoned all his strength and placed a veil over her eyes, albeit briefly, but it was enough. He made the Ctan with her appear as if they were of the Slah-haii and she took the bait. One by one she consumed her newfound brothers, each time realising her mistake only after the act had been committed. Through illusion, Gia became our greatest weapon and, though brief, her rampage saw many of the lesser Ctan destroyed for all time. She swiftly became more powerful than all but the greatest of the Star Gods, so much so that even they would never have been able to stop her. In desperation they turned to the one thing they knew had the chance of ending her rampage, and in doing so they effectively prevented themselves from winning the war. So you are saying that they would have won this ancient war in time? Undoubtedly, Chaplain. Their plans to seal the warp off from the material universe were all but completed. The Necrontyr had devised a means of nullifying the energies of the warp, of suffocating them from within the exterior universe. The greatest of these devices was known as the Bringer of Isolation. It was a sphere capable of generating the power to smother the influence of the warp for light years around it. They were ready to advance upon our few remaining strongholds when Gias rampage began. During this desperate time my people set in motion plans of their own. We knew of the weakness the Ctan had in facing the energies of the warp and so we set about augmenting those races we created to better harness this power. Had we paused to realise the ramifications of our actions then we could well have ended our efforts, but we did not. The warp and its denizens soon came to mirror the Ctan in irony. The gods of the warp. Codian spat, the very mention of those foul and terrible entities causing his lip to curl. Yes. Just as the attentions of the Necrontyr gave sentience to the Ctan, so too did our own attentions effectively create these gods. As I have said, such a combination of power and sentience was never meant to be. You see, Codian, we are as guilty of creating monsters as the Necrontyr. So, the victory was a hollow one. Codian answered, finally starting to understand the true darkness behind the very continued existence of all life. Indeed. The Ctan used the sphere to imprison Gia instead, for they knew that they would not be able to destroy her. For all her power she was still of the Slah-haii essentially, and thus she was able to manipulate the power of the warp. This was how she was able to became so strong and the Ctan could not defeat her. Thus she has spent untold millennia, bound in agony and torment, cut off from existence by the suffocating potency of her prison. It is whispered that the Deceiver has always regarded Gia with enmity for her part in bringing the war to an abrupt end, and continued to torment her throughout her long imprisonment. Many times he visited her in her prison, sometimes taking along captives to tempt her with, only to deny her and further unravel her lingering sanity. He has ensured that she remain utterly mindless with hatred and rage, so that when she finally descends upon this world, nothing with stop her. Nothing. That includes the other Ctan? Qah nodded in confirmation. His plans rely on distraction, Codian. This way he will ensure that he is able to progress undisturbed. Then what can we do? How can we stop him? How do we put an end to this, Qah? The alien lingered with his answer, enough so that Codian began to grow suspicious. Qah looked to peer into the distance, as if he could see or sense something that Codian could not. As if in empathy with the ancient creatures thoughts, the Dawnblade quivered.

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Existence. It is one of the fundamental desires of all sentient things. To continue to exist. We can only win this war by fighting it together, Codian. All of us, no matter our origins. The Ctan and the Necrontyr will stop at nothing to win this war. We must come together if we are to deny them. I know that, Qah. We all know that. All the races of this galaxy have come together here to see that goal realised. I d No, Codian. In time you will understand what I mean, but for now I fear I cannot reveal more. You have a destiny that transcends all others here on Terra and in time you will realise that destiny, but first you must listen to all I say. You are a honourable man and a great warrior, and you hold values that cannot be questioned. Those values are soon to be tested, Codian, and tested far beyond anything you have thus far experienced. Remember my words, no matter how dark things will become. We must do anything we can to survive this. Once again Qah looked to the distance. Codian followed his gaze and found only the walls of the surrounding buildings in view. What is it? What do you sense? I sense destiny unfolding. Qah answered. As we speak. The coming of the Bringer of Isolation has been sensed by those who fear its existence the most. They have started to bleed into this reality already. The Lions Gate will tremble at their coming, and the Tau there will be annihilated. Codian heard this and felt every fibre of his being quake at the consideration of what Qah meant. He felt his thirst for answers drain away, for there were some answers even he did not desire to hear. Qah finally looked away and found Codian. Do not concern yourself with events over which you have no control yet, Chaplain. We have found a victory here and that victory must be reinforced. Guilliman is soon to reach this place and we must be ready for him. The Tau here must be culled. Guilliman. The mention of his Primarchs name scoured all other thoughts from his mind then. He had all but forgot that Guilliman and his forces were fast approaching this position. They had to be ready to face him. The Primarch is powerful, Qah, perhaps more so than any of us here. If we cannot save him then he must behe must be destroyed. You may be the only one amongst us with the power to achieve this. In response to that Qah raised a finger and pointed slowly up at the skies. I agree, Codian. That is exactly what he is waiting for. As soon as Guilliman reaches us, he will come. He is watching and he is waiting for me to act. If I meet Guillimans advance now I will kill him, I have no doubt about that, but the Primarch is ready for me. He is nothing if not intelligent, and the Dragon has ensured that he knows of my existence. I have seen his plans in the flows and eddies of the future skeins. How can Guilliman hurt you, Qah? I have seen what you are capable of. My capabilities feed upon the power of the warp, Codian, and Guilliman is equipped to counter that. he possesses devices similar to those that have caused the warp itself to shrink back from the area you call the Eye of Terror, and he will use these devices to imprison me, or at least that is his intent. I am too powerful to be contained in this way for long, but his efforts will last long enough for the Dragon to descend and finish me. At this, Qahs expression changed. Though the reconfiguration of his alien face bore an expression he did

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not recognise, a part of Codian felt that the ancient being intended to display mirth. He could not help but find this curious. That is the lot of this war, Codian. Everything has been planned for, everything considered. Every thought, every situation. Very few occurrences happen randomly and unexpected. That is the irony of my existence here. I am fated to face one of the Ctan, yet torn between two of them. Whether my destiny is to carry me before the Deceiver or the Void Dragon, even I cannot say. I am beginning to appreciate that. Codian answered. So what now? As we were, Codian. The numbers of the Tau must be thinned, and we must prepare for Guillimans arrival. Stay safe, Codian, and steel your heart in readiness for the darkness yet to come. With that Qah literally unravelled, his body stretching into tendrils of twisting black mist. Claws and gaping maws formed at the outermost edges of these extremities as they snaked towards the buildings of the city and into the myriad alleyways between them. Codian watched the Old One disappear before his eyes and he knew that Qah yet held many secrets still. In time, those secrets would be revealed to him, he knew that also, but he could not shake the dark feeling that he had yet to learn of the truest horrors of this war, and that even Qah himself dare not reveal those horrors to him yet. He found his own attention wandering over to where Qah had indicated that the Lions Gate could be found and his mind began to run through the possibilities of what was occurring there. He had spoken of a darkness, one so ominous that he dared not divulge more than his warning to the Chaplain. They have started to bleed into this reality Qahs words echoed through his mind once again and, as they did so, he could feel the presence of the Dawnblade resonate through his mind at the recollection of the warning. Whatever it was that Qahs warning meant, the living weapon seemed to fear it. This fact alone did not sit well with him. The Lions Gate will tremble at their coming He shook the thoughts from his mind and turned his attention to the wide roadway upon which he stood. The battle was distant now, almost lost from view. His audience with Qah had proved to be distraction enough and he did not want to miss the rest of this bold counter attack. Alone, his mind filled with the weight of what was yet to come to pass, Codian set off into the city, towards the destiny he knew he could not avoid.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy: The Price of Failure

My lord! Incoming! Roboute Guilliman tensed instinctively as he heard the call. He had become aware of the sound of approaching thrusters moments earlier. He looked to Berolinus in time to see the warrior swing his hammer free of his shoulder and activate its power field, his face taut with expectation. The eagle at his other shoulder cried out and flapped its wings, its linked senses detecting the warriors caution. They are Tau. Guilliman said, raising a hand to calm his ward. I recognise the pitch of the approaching

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engines. Battlesuits, and many of them. Guilliman was right, of course. Minutes later the approaching machines appeared, high amongst the surrounding buildings, their assembled thrusters bright in the shaded heights. What sunlight filtered into these manmade canyons glinted off the mass of white armour plate. Even from here, the Primarch could see that the approaching squadron contained a mixture of Dominators and the smaller XV-88 suits. Amongst the closely-packed machines, he spied one individual he recognised immediately. Shadowblade. Why has she left the siege lines? Berolinus asked, voicing the question foremost on the Primarchs mind. That is exactly what I intend to find out. Guilliman answered. With that he swept his cloak aside and stepped forward as the new arrivals neared. The next few minutes were given over to the arrival of the fleeing Eternity Wall Gate forces. Battelsuits came to land amongst Guillimans scattering forces. The buildings caught and amplified the collected whine of the screaming thrusters as Shadowblades forces came in to land. Guilliman communicated his intent to those Tau around him with waves and hand signals as he advanced, the swirling air catching his cloak and whipping it about his vast armoured form. Commander! He called, his powerful voice rising over the deafening tumult. He did not need to voice the question on his mind, for the anger in his voice spoke volumes. Berolinus remained ever behind him, his hammer held across both arms in readiness. Shadowblade made for a pathetic sight. Her armour was scorched and encrusted in filth. It was clear that she had seen much action prior to her arrival here, for as she began the walk towards the Primarch her every step was laboured, her exoskeletal limbs shuddering and sometimes seizing in place for brief periods as her suits systems struggled to maintain their integrity. Lord Guilliman! We are assailed! The enemy Her mechanical voice lost its integrity then, its generated tones degrading into a strangled, tinny growl. She paused and disengaged the seals of her helmet before casting it aside. The face beneath was bruised and bloodied, tortured both in physicality and emotion. The enemy have attacked us! We were ill-prepared for this insidious assault, Primarch. We could not have known the strength of what we faced. Guilliman held up a hand to silence the commander as they met, his expression impassive. Berolinus came to a stop a few paces behind him, his own face a mask of undisguised contempt. Take a moment to compose yourself, commander. I would have an explanation I am able to comprehend. The Alliance, Primarch, and more! They came at us in numbers we could not have anticipated. Not just the Alliance, but more. The Eldar are here Shadowblades voice faded to a stifled gasp as Guilliman drew Agiselus, the swift motion of his arm and the shrill ring of the metal blade causing her voice to die in her throat. Eldar! Idiocy, Korstla! Why would Eldar find themselves upon this world! Would you dare to suggest that these arrogant aliens have actually allied themselves with the Alliance? I speak the truth, Primarch! Shadowblade cried, holding up her hand in supplication. Eldar, and more! We were overwhelmed and in huge numbers. Even the Viskeons have suffered the attentions of this combined

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enemy force. Something haunts the shadows between these structures Enough. Guilliman commanded. I will hear no more. I cannot conceive how the Alliance could manage to organise and execute such an effective attack. Each siege line was a perfect and unbeatable design. We had the city surrounded so totally that any such attack should have been impossible to perform. You have failed in your duties, commander, and you have allowed the enemy to break the siege. No! Shadowblade answered, a little of her defiant nature pushing through the fear and pain. I did not fail, Guilliman. I performed exactly as I was instructed I Her voice died away once again, but this time there was no signal or visible response from the Primarch, save for a slight widening of his dark and terrible eyes. Do not question me, Tau. Speak no further. Shadowblades mouth worked silently as she felt Guillimans influence seize every fibre of her being. A visible terror passed over her face then as she noticed the small, diamond-shaped organ set into the Primarchs head for the first time. What remains of your forces are now under my direct command. ShasO Tashvar Korstla Larshivre, you are denounced. Your cowardice and weakness of will has allowed the enemy to gain a victory here. I hold you directly responsible for that. You have failed us, Korstla. You have failed the Tauva. There can be no greater crime than that. Shadowblade did not answer, for she could not, her voice held in check by the sheer influence of the altered Primarch. She found herself unable to tear her gaze away from the twin voids of Guillimans eyes. Failure of this magnitude cannot be ignored. Step back twelve paces. She did as she was commanded, her limbs moving as if imbued with a sentience of their own. As she followed the irresistible command she noticed that every warrior under Guillimans command seemed to be moving further away from her, as if motivated by some direct opposing force. Her pulse increased as she realised then exactly what Guilliman intended. I cannot allow myself to mirror your own failure of duty, Korstla, for I am above such failures. It is only right and fitting that you atone for your own lack of competence. I can only imagine the disappointment the word of your failure will bring to Aunva. Let that shame be foremost on your mind as I ask you to do what must be done. Shadowblade, through sheer strength of will, managed to shake her shivering head slowly, forcing the muscles there to motivate the action. Guilliman ignored this attempted protest as he raised the tip of his sword out at her and made his judgement. In death, I give you this one last chance to atone, to provide you with the opportunity to express your devotion to the Greater Good one last time. Activate your failsafe detonator. The dishonoured commander was able to offer no visible resistance as she hammered the flat of her armoured fist into the raised rune set into the chest of her suit. The rune was made of some manner of brittle, glassy material and it broke easily beneath the blow. Shadowblade depressed the crimson button that had been hidden beneath it and held it down for exactly three silent counts. Then she released it and staggered back, her eyes wide with mounting terror. You may speak now. Guilliman said with a wave of his hand. I will grant you this last favour in recognition of your achievements prior to this disgrace. Let it not be said that I will deny any warrior the chance to renounce their failures and regain some measure of dignity in the eyes of those who once served beneath

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them. Kitamuort! She spat, the Primarchs hold on her released. She thrust an accusing finger out at Guilliman. Guela filth! You and your kind should have been exterminated, scoured from existence! You have brought shame and ruin to the Tau! You are a disease, a cancer that blights our race! You are nothing, Primarchkre, and I wish for nothing more for you save for the Montau! Her voice rose to a scream as she leapt forward, powering her legs clear of the ground. The thrusters of her suit shrilled as they flared to life, propelling the raging warrior towards the Primarch with blinding speed. Then she exploded. Guilliman raised an arm, utterly calm in the face of such danger, and weathered the rolling fireball as it washed over him. Armour fragments and body matter pattered across his armoured form as Shadowblade came apart in the air, her death sending those closest to it scattering for cover. Only Guilliman and the ever-present Berolinus stood their ground, unconcerned by the fearsome detonation. As fierce as it was, the blast was over as soon as it had begun. The Primarch swept aside the fragments that had collected upon his vast chest plate and turned his attention to the horrified Tau of Shadowblades escort. You are mine to command now! Should any one of you reject this, speak and I will end this war for you here and now! In the wake of the explosion, his demand was met with nothing but absolute silence. One or two of the suited Tau shifted uneasily beneath the Primarchs implacable stare and yet not one of them dared to voice a protest. Satisfied, he tilted his head. Very well. Know this then, all of you. There will be no more retreat. There will be no more hesitation, nor mercy. In their arrogance the enemy have managed to break free of the siege lines that were placed around the Emperors Palace. They have sowed havoc and discord throughout the ranks of the Unity and, in doing so, they have dishonoured Aunva by their actions, as we have by our failures. This will be rectified. I will personally see to it that our honour is restored and that the defiance of the enemy be punished with absolute force. I will not have warriors of the Alliance rampaging through these city streets when the Light of the Unity Himself is poised to descend upon this world. We advance, and we meet these arrogant fools. With that he raised his sword out at the waiting battlesuits, his dark eyes shining with intent. Go forth and spread the word to those who still flee before the enemy. Tell them that Guilliman is coming. Warn them of my demands, and ensure that they understand them. Any who still insist on flight shall be put to death without hesitation. I expect you all to see to this ahead of me. A coward is an enemy to the Unity and shall be treated as such. Go. None dared to hesitate. Dominators and Crisis suits took to the skies at the Primarchs command, turning to head back towards the front lines. Guilliman watched this happen for long moments and, only when he was sure that his orders were to be absolutely followed did he raise a hand up to his neck and speak. I need an audience of ShasO, now. Within minutes his order elicited the desired response. A small number of Tau moved to gather around him, a collective of Crisis commanders and unaugmented warriors and their personal bodyguards. Guilliman

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made sure to run his gaze across each of them as he spoke. We need to reorganize our forces accordingly to meet this new change in tactics and we have little time to do so. You. The tip of his sword found the first of the commanders. Establish a link with Macharius and inform him of these changes. If we are to crush this counter-attack then we cannot delay. I need him to redeploy every Megalodon he can afford and second them to our position. The Titans of the Alliance do not concern me at this point, they will be dealt with in time. Request that he join us here with these forces, and that I will ensure that his Titan hunters are compensated with elements of my own forces. See it done. My lord. The Tau replied, bowing briefly before departing the gathering. With that, the Primarch looked to another. You will organise this. I want three detachments of Dominators despatched to join Macharius war machines immediately. Bolster these detachments with Manta Ray support and as many Broadsides as you can muster and fit into the craft. I want to keep the surviving Titans harried for as long as I can. You. Organise scouting units to follow Shadowblades former suits. Keep a close eye on them. If you suspect that they are lacking whatsoever in following my orders then you will let me know immediately. Everyone else, ready your troops and prepare to advance, double time. We carry as much of the infantry as we can, all transport units double capacity. The enemy will soon come to learn what foolishness it is to challenge Roboute Guilliman. +++ The tide thundered down the alley, for that was what it was. A tide. A deluge consisting of the very stuff of nightmares, formed from the memory of a madness barely driven away by the light of his reformation. The intangible mass of Qah surged forth, twisting limbs of shadow roving ahead to lash and snap at the air. Huge, screaming mouths yawned open across the undulating mass, maws filled with jagged fangs and snaking, forked tongues. Daemonic faces gibbered and screeched as they formed briefly and then were lost once more amongst the formless deluge-cloud. What sparse lighting was dotted throughout the endless passages flickered and died as their energies were drawn into the tide and suffocated. Tau scattered before the coming monstrosity. Fire Warriors and Pathfinders cried out as they spied the approaching danger, only to be consumed by it moments later. Flailing bodies were lifted high into the air and tossed into mouths or dashed against the walls, for there were no routes of escape here. Pulse fire flashed through the tight spaces and passed into the rolling nightmare but found no purchase. Each blast was simply absorbed, its brightness suffocated as it passed into oblivion. Screams of Montau! Montau! filled the air, rising above the squeals and echoed sobs of the entity. There was no stopping Qah, not by any conventional means. Here in the lost depths of the endless labyrinth the connecting alleys opened up into a small square, flanked on all four sides by sheer, grey-bricked walls. Each wall was featureless save for a small alcove, in which was set a crumbling bust of the Emperors likeness. Each sculpted face was encrusted with lichen and most scoured of all features by the winds that howled down these lost corridors and the rain that filtered down from high above. Every such small intersection housed shrines like these. Constructed by the Ecclesiarchy, they were intended to provide the homeless and the itinerant with a place to perform obeisance to the Emperor, for these rarely travelled passages were known to be the haunt of such individuals in earlier times.

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Each of the four busts had been defaced. It was the very act of this that caused the rampaging Qah to draw to a halt at the centre of the intersection. The dark stuff of his unravelled form slowed, the outermost extremities rolling in on themselves as they were reined in by the ancient beings will. Spiralling tendrils swirled about the central mass, shrinking and tightening around the impenetrable shadow until the humanoid shape of Qah began to take shape. Within moments he was restored, the last vestiges of his unleashed amoebic shadow-self sliding back into the tall, slender shape. His features defined themselves and then Qah simply was, once more. He regarded the defacements around him, his large eyes narrowing. Each bust had been scarred and ruined by human hands, daubed with dark sigils that toyed with the very stuff of the reality around them. The air surrounding them looked to shimmer, as if hot, but Qah recognised the familiar taint of the warp in that phenomenon, for it was that the energies of that realm were leaking through, drawn and attracted by the blasphemous runes and augmented by the disfigurement of the humans Emperor-god. It was the work of the agents of chaos, designed exactly for this purpose, to weaken the primeval barriers. It was a trap. He could feel the pull of the phenomenon, both in his mind and in every fibre of his being. This had been intended for him. Powerful sorcery was at play here and yet, for all its potency, it meant little to him. Childs play, admirable in its intent but nonetheless insufficient. He recognised the handiwork behind the attempt, not that of the creators but rather that of the guide, of the elemental driving force behind it. Crude. He said aloud both with his voice and his mind, speaking in the most ancient tongue of the universe. I would have expected much better from one such as you, but I digress. The arrogance and aspiration of the young go hand in hand. You forget your place, and you forget mine. You will show yourself. He could feel the reality around him shift and squirm at his demand. Soft and distant voices gibbered at the edges of his hearing. Every visible shade and colour visible around him altered briefly. Some part of him found a measure of amusement in this, as a parent would in the attempts of a child. That amusement soon faded as Qah extended a hand, the outstretched fingers here growing fat with the crackling energies of the warp. Enough of this. He closed the fingers and drew his hand back sharply. Something screeched and squabbled as it thundered through the veil and crashed down onto the floor of the alley, a riot of flashing colours and undulating shapes. Ethereal lighting struck out from it in all directions, striking the walls and snaking across the ground. The shape writhed as it formed, its cries melting the air. Qah took a step back in order for the thing to bring itself together before him, calm and absolutely unconcerned. Explain this. He demanded. The thing was an abomination. Easily many times larger than Qah, it was a monstrous jumble of flashing cerulean feathers and raking claws. It wore an ivory coloured robe beneath highly-polished plates of electric-blue armour. Its head was distinctly avian, its burning eyes terrible to behold, and an impressive quill of multi-hued feathers splayed out from the rear of its skull. The daemon twisted and squirmed as it rose, its disjointed body snapping together. It was akin to watching some poor unfortunate being physically crushed in reverse, but Qah felt no pity for this being.

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The towering beast unleashed a guttural screech and raised the staff in its hands towards the Old One. Blinding power erupted from the leering head there, a combination of jagged electrical forks and glittering balls of searing light. This assault slammed into Qah and yet he did not so much as flinch. The dark matter of his form writhed and stretched, mutations running rampant across him. Faces and limbs stabbed from him, changing over and over again as if unable to establish any permanent form. Qah shrugged his shoulders and the magical power of the assault was thrown away from him. Thousands of miniature explosions burst across the walls, blinding to any mortal being. The warp creature staggered back beneath the force of Qahs defence, its inhuman eyes widening. Kwzuuyrkvechtzzlgh. The Old One uttered, his voice thick with power and volume. He had spoken the secret name of the Lord of Change, a name none could know save for one as ancient and knowledgeable as he. The daemons name was the source of its power and its greatest weakness. Servant of He Whom Changes, Weaver of Fates. Do not presume to challenge me! Qah let fly with a lunge and the fingers of his hand elongated as they speared forth. Dark extremities twisted over and over themselves as they lanced towards the bewildered daemon, first sweeping past it to destroy the desecrated busts and then furling themselves around the entitys warp-spawned form. The Lord of Change gave out a strangled cry as the living shadows wrapped around its form and flung it into the nearest wall, the impact shaking mortar and bricks loose and leaving behind a distinct impression of the things shape. It countered the attack, sweeping a clawed hand out to dispel Qahs influence, the energies of the warp crackling as they built around its fingertips. A blinding violet fire spread from its grasp and raged along the elongated darkness. Qah gave out an echoed sigh of pain and dissipated like smoke, the low, rumbling pressure of the transformation snuffing the flames out in an instant. The smoky matter created a vortex as it swirled both around the intersection and around the daemon, ruffling feathers and tugging at robes. Kwzuuyrkvechtzzlgh, Qah had called it. It was a name so unutterable by mortal means that to speak it loud shivered the barrier between realities. At the mention of its secret name the Lord of Change had begun to leak the very matter that bound it to this realm. Molten energies and glittering smoke poured from its body as it swept its staff through the black smog again and again, screeching its rage at the intangible Old One. Qahs rotation did nothing but increase. Soon the daemon found itself caught in the vortex and dashed against each wall in turn, drawing great lines through them as it raked bricks free by the hundred. It rose up and up, its vast wings flapping in an attempt to escape, and then Qah brought it crashing down in to the ground, the impact lifting every ancient flag free. The blackness descended then, curling in on itself to form the humanoid shape of the ancient being. Qah came to be once more before the tortured daemon, his eyes wide and radiant with contempt. Enough! Enough! The Master of Schemes will not have this! I am beloved of him Qah took a step forward, and it was as if that single step bore all the weight of his presence. The daemon fell silent and shrank back before him, its clawed fingers flexing. You know what I am, warp-thing. No not presume to threaten me. Here in this reality your master has no power over me. I am able to unravel the most powerful sorcery with a thought. The daemons wings fluttered and its eyes blinked rapidly. It warbled to itself softly beneath its breath, as if caught constantly on the edge between madness and sanity. He watches your soul, Slah-haii. He watches your light from within and he covets it. He would peel away its

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armour in time, layer by layer, scrap by scrap, a thousand thousand ways to shell you. You would do well to respect him and respect me, for I am beloved Silence. Qah demanded, a blistering miasma flaring about his head. The daemon folded in on itself and then came to be once more at the Old Ones word. I care nothing for the schemes of your master. If the Yaam-khoh succeed in their plans then your master will be sealed within the warp and imprisoned for all time, with only the vastness of the human God-Emperor to sport with. Is this a desirable fate for Lord Tzeentch? The thing did not answer, nor did it need to. Its outline blurred briefly, a reaction of fear at hearing Qahs words. As I thought. Why was this done? I know I was meant to find this hidden place. I taste the bitter manipulations behind my being here. What does your master want with me? The daemon chuckled quietly as it heard the questions. A brightness came to its eyes once again, its glee fuelled by Qahs inability to understand the subtle manipulations of its master. Ah! It answered, waggling its clawed fingers. See you then the greatness of His Ever-Changing Majesty! Your sight is long and yet you saw nothing of this in the imminence! That is the way of the Manipulator! What does he want of me? I will not ask again. Perhaps I could bind you and send you forth to where the ships of Drochtyr orbit this world That would not be desirable! The daemons screamed, cowering before him in fear at the very mention of such a fate. Then answer me. They come! Yes, they come! I am messenger, no more than that! They come, Slah-haii, just as fate promised! The Yaam-khoh will know war! And when this is done? Qah asked. What then? To the victor, the spoils. Came the daemons reply.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy One: Plans and Omnipresence

Codian lowered the hand that he had been using to shield his eyes from the sun and turned away from the scene. The Tau dead littered the streets in their hundreds, and that was only what he could see with his own eyes. He knew the scene to be the same throughout this sector of the city. Many of OKorstlas Tau had broken clear of the attack and fled deeper into the city, including the commander herself if the reports were to be believed. It seemed that no one yet knew of the extent of the enemy casualties here, but it was his guess that perhaps a third had managed to flee to the relative safety of Guillimans lines. Guilliman is near. He said to the two figures by his side. Both Grungi and Ligur looked to him as they heard this. Grungi merely gave a gruff snort at the mention of the Primarchs name. The Librarian spoke

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softly into his link and then replied. It would seem that we have lost a good few elements to the Primarchs forces already. A number of the Navy fighter craft ran into the scouting forces of Guillimans armies. No one has heard from them since. By the sounds of things the chase is over. Our units are starting to pull back in readiness. Codian nodded at this. Good. We must not risk our strengths by pushing beyond our bounds of capability. We need to decide for absolutely what we intend to do here, before our options are taken away by Guillimans arrival. If we are to stand and fight, then we must consolidate and prepare for that. There is still time to draw back Fall back? We must not fall back! Grungi snapped. When a warrior commits himself to an attack he must see it through! Ground is ground and we have gained here, but territory is not our primary goal. You said yourself how important it is to kill as many of these grey b-----ds as we can! I will not hide behind another wall And I will not see every man, woman and Astarte here put to death needlessly. Codian answered, cutting the squat aliens rant short. We were successful here because we utilised the element of surprise to full effect. Roboute Guilliman knows we are here, Grungi. He will already have a good idea what he is to face. All three started then as a number of shapes swooped in low from between the buildings and descended upon them. Codian saw the quick-tempered Demiurg turn and begin to raise his axe-hand. No, Grungi. He uttered, recognising the newcomers for what they were almost immediately. There are on our side. The five Eldar landed lightly on the parapet before them, the wings at their back ceasing to vibrate with absolute abruptness as they touched down. The warrior at their centre wore a plume of feathers far larger than his companions, marking him as the commander of the small group. Daelo Codian. The Eldar began, hopping from the bulwark to stand before the Chaplain. I come seeking you at the behest of my lord Baharroth, the Cry of the Wind, He Who Soars. He sends word of warning. Powerful machines move to bolster the forces of your Lost Prince, Daelo Codian. He warns of vast machines, done now with beleaguering your War Giants. Patterns of deployment thus far observed suggest that they intend to encircle us. My thanks for your warning Codian began. Grungi started forward and raised his weapon at the Exarch. I have seen how the Eldar make war. Your kind has machines that could counter this threat. What good is this warning to us, Eldar? You have the power to meet them. The Exarch turned his gaze upon Grungi, cocking his head slightly as he looked upon the short warrior. You speak of Vauls Engines. Such weapons have a destiny here, a destiny that does not involve an encounter with the machines of the Tau. We could not dare risk but one. Such folly could well unmake the careful strategies of this war. Is that a jest? Grungi asked, his voice sliding into a low growl. Once again the Eldar tilted his head, as if mystified by the Demiurgs response. I fear I am unable to comprehend the nature of that which you would claim to be amusement.

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What? Codian silenced Grungi with a show of his palm. Vauls Engines. What are these and why can you not risk them? The Exarch looked to his companions at this. Although he could see nothing of the faces of the gathered Eldar, Codian could well imagine the expressions of contempt writ across those faces. To his credit, he maintained his anger. The Engines of Vaul are keyed to the destruction of the Necrontyr and their Yngir masters, Daelo Codian. They are his legacy to us. The Yngir fear them because they cannot control them and they have no power over the potency of the Engines. They will carve great swathes through the enemy when the time is right to do so. If they are presented now then the Yngir will strive to neutralise them before they are able to fulfil their destiny. We cannot risk that. Codian nodded in assent and ended the audience with the Swooping Hawks with a wave of his hand. Extend my thanks to your lord Baharroth for this warning. I will see to it that this threat is monitored and measures are taken to counter it. The Exarch crossed his arms and bowed deeply. With that he signalled to the others and the alien warriors took to the skies once more. Within moments, they were out of sight. Ligur looked to Codian, his eyes hooded and troubled. The Chaplain met his gaze and could not help but notice that the Librarians eyes were shining, his irises an almost electric blue. Ligur himself seemed to only half-notice this. He opened his mouth to speak. As he did so, the shining colours intensified. This does not bode well The last word to leave his mouth literally froze. Codian took a step back as the sound became a deep and continuous drone, maintaining its pitch perfectly. He shook his head, for a moment imagining that this occurrence was somehow a personal flaw, but it was not. Ligur was frozen to the spot just as his voice was frozen in mid-sentence. Grungi too. Both warriors were as immobile as statues, caught in a permanent moment. Everything around him was fast in this unexpected phenomenon. Codian. The voice startled him simply by the fact that it existed in this stationary world. Qah swept from beneath the air, his living shadows twisting around him, forming feet that touched the ground and maintained his pace. Forgive this intrusion Codian, but there have been further occurrences. Codian could taste the anxiety radiating from the ancient being as he spoke. Not for the first time, it was as if the Dawnblade was somehow working to augment his senses, its unknown powers somehow working to sharpen his perceptions of the physical universe and attune them with an almost warp-born sensitivity. Chaos. Qah whispered, the very mention of that blasphemous pantheon causing the Chaplains features to tighten. One of the final few uncontrollable variables has been defined, Codian. The gods of the warp have responded, at last

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Every muscle in Codians body grew rigid as he heard this. His mind felt as if it exploded at the consideration of Qahs announcement. What the hell do you mean by that, Qah? Remain calm, Codian, and listen to me. This is to be the final test of your faith. Know that the inclusion of the chaos gods in this war was always fated to be. I despise this fact as much as you, but we need them. We cannot win this without them. Disbelief hit Codian like a wave then, but even as it did so he did not argue. Too many unbelievable occurrences had happened already for his ability to question to maintain itself. Some deep and hidden part of soul had programmed itself to accept everything he learned, no matter what he thought he knew. The Ruinous Pantheon has acted, Codian. They have sent forth their champions to face the Necrontyr and their gods, for they fear that the Ctan will close the veil and forever seal the warp away from this universe. If that happens, they will die. Die? Is it possible for them to do so? Codian asked incredulously. A thrill of hope coursed through him unbidden at hearing this, for to imagine that the foul gods of the warp could meet an end was a revelation he could scarcely have dared to dream of. They can cease to be, yes. Without the countless souls of the living they would dwindle and die, Codian. They cannot exist without the acknowledgement of worship, for such things feed them. The gods would become as nothing without this realm, for what is a king if he has no kingdom? He is merely a man without his status to set him apart. Then they are far from allies. How can we trust them, Qah? They would slaughter us as surely as they would the enemy. That would not be in their best interests, Chaplain, I can assure you of this. The dark gods are self-serving and capricious, yes, and this situation vexes them greatly. They will ally with us, if only to serve their own ends. They have already declared a truce of sorts between them, for it is in the interests of all four to do so. They know that they cannot win this alone, just as we do. Every living creature here can be of service to them, simply by the fact that they oppose the Ctan. We cannot pause to consider their goals, or what they intend for us following the conclusion of this war. Your Emperor saw this, Codian. There are many who would lay claim to being responsible for the events of your races past. The Eldar. The gods of chaos. But know that your Emperor saw this as plainly as I, for we were more akin to one another than even you could know. His gaze was far-reaching, and every major event in your history following his emergence, your Emperor had foreseen. If you cannot trust my word, or even your own heart, then trust in the judgement of your Emperor, and have faith in his vision. I trust your word, Qah, for it has yet to fail me. He admitted, for as much was true. Much had happened to convince him that the age-old beings knowledge of most events past, present and future was uncannily accurate, and that he had an ability to know the truth of things that far transcended any other. So, we are to suffer the aid of heretics now. What would you have me do, Qah? I cannot promise anything in the way of compliance There is little for your forces to do, save for endure them, and know of our shared goals. They have chosen the Lions Gate as the sight for their primary incursion. They attack even now. The Lions Gate? Magnus. Qah inclined his head.

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No coincidence. Magnus the Red should be able to maintain some form of armistice between the disparate forces. Make no mistake, Codian, there is little love shared between Magnus and the agents of chaos. He and his warriors are seen by the god Tzeentch to be traitors of the highest order, and the lord Tzeentch is a wrathful god. Codians mood darkened as he heard this. So the Red Ones allegiance to us is far removed from what we should expect from these coming traitors? Correct. Expect hell to descend upon this city, Codian, for hell is exactly what has come. But remember, all this has been foreseen. That hardly serves to settle my concerns. Codian replied, eyeing the skies warily. There was no mistaking it. The heavy and ominous miasma that had stained the sky at the coming of the Emperor had returned, in a fashion. The ambience was far different. He could feel it, almost taste it, greasy on his tongue. There was an odour to the air that could not be placed, almost as if it was a scent far removed from any tangible sensation. Something had begun to change, and it felt inherentlywrong. Come now. Qah said eventually, hauling him from his reverie. Guillimans approach continues unabated. He will neither cease or even slow for our benefit. Preparations must be made. I feel it now. Codian looked to the ancient one as he heard this. Qahs eyes were hooded and heavy. He grows impatient with this war now that his kin are close. He wishes to consolidate his power here, to ensure that he will retain dominance over the others. The arrival of the forces of chaos has set him ill at ease, so much so that he intends to accelerate his plans. I Qahs voice died away then, its power and authority fading to a whisper. He shuddered, not some physical motion but rather a shiver in the substance of the reality that bound him to this plane. Gnnnh, I see it! I see the changesThis does not bode well, Codian. The dragons plans have altered and this was an unforeseen event. I sense the manipulations of the Deceiver at work here. A curse on that capricious being. Codian tensed as he heard this. Whatever the events to come, if they were disturbing enough to cause this kind of reaction in Qah then he knew that they had to be bad. Caution, Codian The Chaplain did not have time to question his companion. The Dawnblade writhed in his hand, the skulls mouth stretching in a silent scream. Qah came apart before his very eyes, unravelling into a thick, greasy smog that swirled about him, enveloping him. Codian reacted instinctively, shutting off his breathing as if some subconscious part of him was concerned about choking on the ethereal vapours of the alien creature. The Dawnblade folded in on itself again and again, quickly shrinking to such a size that it was able to fit in the palm of his hand. He folded his fingers around it unbidden. A cloud of glittering golden light unfolded out of the air itself and came to be before the two beings. Molten gold flowed from its centre and formed in the air, swiftly taking a hovering humanoid form. Little things. The Deceiver uttered, a wide smile spreading across his malevolent face. Codian could feel the weight of Qahs presence surrounding him, protecting him. At the same time his mind reeled as a reed before some elemental maelstrom, buffeted by the sheer force of Qahs psychic might. He

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could feel the aliens thoughts as they extended far and wide, a shockwave of power calling out into the city and beyond. Mephetrans expression faltered for a moment as he too sensed the Old Ones call, its might a grating annoyance to him. A warning? A plea for aid? I can feel your fear, Qah, and it pleases me. I had long lamented the destruction of your kind in my absence, Slah-haii. I had felt cheated by it. You can only imagine my elation to learn that a few of you still existed, Im sure. The taste of your kind is bitter-sweet, but delectable in its implications. I long to savour it once again. Qah did not answer this. Codian was not even sure if he could in this form. This did not seem to matter to the Deceiver, for it was as if he took this silence as fear on Qahs part, and the consideration of this seemed to thrill him all the more. The denizens of that Infernal Realm pour into this reality in sickening waves as we speak, though I am sure in need not inform you of this. I must confess that this was unforeseen, Qah. You have my congratulations. Needless to say, I have taken steps to ensure that this new threat is promptly dealt with. The glowing being hovered forward slightly, his naked form borne forth on unnatural winds. Codian felt the psychic pressure around him intensify at this. Qah was summoning all his power to protect him, that much he could feel. The Deceiver paused in his advance then, glee shining upon his monstrous face. It was clear that he was enjoying every moment of the Old Ones fear and discomfort at his presence. Did you really think that you would be able to counter my plans, Qah? Did you really think I would quail before the appearance of warp-spawn, that I would unravel and unmake in despair at the sudden inclusion of the Unpalatable Hordes? This is nought but a dying breath, Slah-haii, the final, feeble thrashings of some dying animal. How dare you seek to undermine me? The Deceiver tilted his head then, as if aware of the occurrence of some distant event. His smile seemed only to broaden at what he perceived. You have angered him with this and he will make you suffer for it. He is coming now, Qah, and his rage is boundless. You have served only to accelerate the inevitable with this foolishness. He will come ahead of time, and what then? I will take the Throne as he tears your little armies apart, and who will stop me? You? Perhaps your brother, the cowardly Laughing One. Tell me, Qah, for all your myriad plans, for all the foresight you possess, do you have a plan to counter this? I doubt this very much, and I intend to put that doubt to the test. Oppose me if you dare. With that the Deceiver waved a hand and pulled the air itself around him. With the blink of an eye he was gone. Qahs shadow-form flowed together and came to stand before the Chaplain. Almost at the same instant he felt a pushing at the centre of his hand. He opened his fingers and the Dawnblade extended once more, taking on its form as the crozius Codian had lost. This does not bode well, Chaplain. Mephetrans threat is real and I must take steps to counter it. I fear that all other options have been taken away from us. A direct confrontation may be all that is possible now. Then he goes after the Throne. Codian replied. Can you stop him, Qah? Is it even possible? The alien took time to reply. His thoughts were hidden from Codian as he considered his next move. He closed his eyes then, and the Chaplain could feel his presence stretching away from the scene, reaching out to who or whatever was foremost on his mind. Ever empathic to the occurrence of psychic activity, the

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Dawnblade reacted to this. It grew dark and began to smoulder, within moments becoming so hot that molten metal began to drip from its leering skull, despite the fact that Codian could feel no physical heat radiating from it. There is a possibility. Qah answered after a short while. He said no more than that. With a simple nod the Master of the Shadows folded in on himself, and was gone. Codian dared not consider what manner of plan the Old One had on his mind now. Events were truly escalating and he knew that he would have to make haste towards the battle lines if he was to meet the Primarch and his forces. And so it was that the lone Chaplain moved off into the depths of the city, towards where perhaps the greatest battle he had ever taken part in awaited him. Many thoughts and considerations weighed heavy in his mind, but there was one that vied for dominance more than any other. It was not of the coming fight, nor of the Deceivers dark plans or the terrible events that would follow should he succeed. No, it was something else, something that gnawed at his mind despite its seemingly apparent insignificance. The Dawnblade. The Dawnblade had sought to hide itself from the attentions of Mephetran, almost as if afraid of him. More so, as the moments passed by he couldnt help but consider that perhaps Qah had not sought to shield him from the predations of the Deceiver. No, the more he thought about this, the more convinced he became. Qah had been guarding the Dawnblade, hiding its presence with his own vast psychic presence. The question, of course, was why?

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Two: The Lion's Gate

ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon twisted faster than his opponent was able to counter and brought the head of his pulse staff down in a glittering arc. The black armoured Marine shuddered as the energised head of the staff tore him in two from skull to groin. Ceramite parted without effort in the wake of the fearsome weapon and the ghostly warrior died, his bisected body unravelling into dust and greasy smoke even as it fell away. The hulking Tau commander swung the rear of his staff forward and fired as he advanced, sending waves of pulse fire into the undaunted, deathly Marines. All Shas Kayon, form up and press the advance! Ignore all casualties, retrieve the weapons and ammunition of the fallen and press on! Retrieve gene-seed where you can, but be advised, do not attempt to harvest these abominations! They are unclean! He did not pause to confirm whether or not his orders were carried out, for the fight did not present an opportunity to do so. Many of his Shas Kayon had fallen to these strange Astartes yet there were many more still alive and willing to meet them. These Marines were as bizarre as they were unpalatable. He had killed so many of them already that he had lost count and yet when they died, they did not fall as other Marines did but simply came apart. Death unmade their bodies, armour and all, in a way he had never before seen.

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Pulse fire exploded all around him as he led his warriors up to the breach, his own weapon reaping the enemy from his path with utter ruthlessness. Soon the breach was clear and he waved a number of the Shas Kayon up in order to secure it. He had won these trenches through sheer determination and strength, and he was not about to give ground back to the Imperials, not an inch. Defend this breach with your lives. He ordered those around him. Sure that the warriors would obey, he moved aside and activated his link with a thought. All available Fire Warrior teams move to support the Shas Kayon lines. I want Vespid and battlesuit support, as much as can be spared. All broadside and Hammerhead units, move up. Wherever there is a breach in our lines, I want it obliterated. Even as he gave the order, OKirla could not help but find himself disturbed by the events of the past hour or so. Things had indeed taken a sinister turn in the wake of the Viskeons retreat. All contact had been lost with those creatures that had moved into the depths of the city away from the incapacitating effects of the rising sun. This had not been part of the plan. It was always the intentions of the Ethereals that the Viskeons return to the war at nightfall. Though the alien warriors were made sluggish by the warmth of the sun they were far from harmed by it, and yet all attempts to maintain contact with either them or the Tau that served as their retainers had thus far proved unsuccessful. He had even sent several Pathfinder squads out into the shadows in order to uncover the truth. Like the Viskeons, these teams had not been heard of since. What had long been seen as an absolute dominance of the siege had begun to unravel with the arrival of what appeared to be external enemy reinforcements. He knew little if nothing about these mysterious Marines, where they had come from or how they had managed to break the Unitys powerful orbital cordon. Reports had been steadily filing in that a huge enemy fleet had engaged the ships of the Unity shortly before the counter-attack, but, as with the fate of the Viskeons, he had as yet been unable to establish much of the truth behind this. All communications with the other siege forces, or indeed the fleet and the chain of Ethereal commanders that directed this war had long since ceased. This did not bode well with him. Constant communications were essential to the prosecution of this war and without them he felt as if he and his army were alone in this. Without the guidance of the Ethereals he had no idea what was happening both far above and elsewhere across these walls. And now this. He looked to the skies far beyond, to where the buildings of the city and much of his forces awaited. Most of those buildings were now no longer visible despite the systems only sun being high in the sky. A pall of rolling darkness had descended upon the area at the rear of the siege lines less than a dec ago, a darkness that was as unexplainable in its origins as it was ominous. Though its advance had thus far been slow, it nonetheless continued to approach the siege lines. It was a terrible thing, OKirla knew this without a doubt, though he did not understand it. It rolled in over itself with a slowness that was inexplicable, unnatural even. Even the term darkness barely served to describe it, for it was , to all intents and purposes, an indescribable thing. To look upon it caused the eyes to haze and grow watery and the sight of it grated inside him, almost as if his spirit roiled in alarm. In truth it was less actual darkness and more an absence of existence, as if the world had peeled away to reveal something else beneath, something inimitable to all he thought he knew of

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existence. This is OKirla to all available forces. Respond. I need to know if my orders have been received and understood. One or more of his Shas Kayon paused close to him as they detected the note of concern in their commanders voice. OKirla saw this and snarled, waving them away. Secure this area and ensure that the enemy are not able to push through! I will inform you if anything of concern needs to be brought to your attention! OKirlas wrath was enough to send the warriors scattering away from him, for every Shas Kayon knew of their commanders vicious intolerance. The enraged warrior shoved several of the more hesitant Tau forward with the back of his forearm and then negotiated the rubble underfoot as he moved to get a better look at the approaching phenomenon. For the first time since this war had begun, OKirla found himself troubled at what was coming. It came as no small relief when moments later a number of Vespid warriors surged through the nearest breach, wings folded behind them, blasters sweeping the terrain for signs of enemy activity. It pleased him that the Vespid had sense enough to advance on foot here in this dangerous place, for the further they advanced through the maze of walls and trenches, the more unforgiving the guns of the enemy became. He bounded towards the insectoid aliens, ignoring the questing enemy fire that erupted all around him. He soon spied the Strain Leader, the creature made prominent by her size and the smooth ivory curves of her interface helm. Fortify this line! Call as many Stingwing squads up as you can and spread your numbers out across this sector! He commanded, reinforcing his orders with a series of curt hand gestures. The Strain Leader tilted her head in assent and let out a series of high-pitched, rattling chirrups. OKirla pushed through the tire of Vespid bodies and made his way back towards the breach in which they had come. Railcannon blasts screamed through the air above and around him, invisible due to the sheer speed of their progress and yet easily traceable by the extreme damage they caused. A section of wall puffed outwards to his left, the trench there filling with choking, spiralling dust as the shell atomised the thick rockcrete. The shell carried on through the opposing wall and onwards towards the enemy lines, each penetration sending out a low, dull thud and another blossom of dust. The sickening darkness was growing closer still, rolling in over where he imagined the rear of the Tau lines to be now. A number of Shas Kayon had noticed his apparent retreat seconds earlier and had moved to join him. More than one pair of eyes widened as they regarded the coming maelstrom as if for the first time. OKirla glanced behind him and sneered at the gathered warriors, the contempt etched upon his face a stark contrast to the growing trepidation of those around him. Damn this enemy and their tricks. I will not allow them to bring the Montau down on our heads, not when we are so close to victory. With a thought, his link came alive once again. OKirla to all available Fio support. I want all obtainable support Drones activated with immediate effect. Whatever this strange phenomenon is it must be the product of the enemys mind trickery and we cannot allow this illusion to confound us. Organise all Korvesa squads to include a complement of null, shield and

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heavy gun units and upgrade their status to full alert sentience Tau. The single word literally shivered the air around him, causing his senses to momentarily dull. OKirla was a warrior of such honed instinct and reaction that he twisted around at the waist and fired back towards the enemy lines a heartbeat before his mind was even able to process what he had heard. Two, three, four blasts in quick succession, all driving into the exact same target area with consummate skill. The enemy Marine had been there in his sights for less than a fraction of a second and, even as he had but glanced the dark, towering form before him, azure pulse energies erupted across its chest and brought it down onto its knees, its torso a smoking ruin. He brought the rest of his body around in alignment with his chest and lowered his staff, almost used to witnessing the curious phenomenon that would surely follow the lethal force with which had despatched his opponent. This time, the Astarte did not dissipate into thick, dark smoke. This time, the Astarte did not dissipate at all. This one was different, he could see that immediately. Unlike all the other spirit-like Marines he had fought here, this one wore no helm. His features were that of a human corpse, skin pallid, lined and grey, shrunken and desiccated around the eyes and other facial features. Within his eyes burned fires that sent a cold chill though him, almost as if daggers of ice had pierced him. Tau The undying Marine uttered once again, raising his arm. OKirla saw the object he held in his grasp then. It looked to be a human skull, though the thing blazed with pulsing, cold power. A terrible light emanated from its dead eye sockets and even as he looked upon this he felt a pull at the centre of his being, a sensation that caused his to stagger slightly. The damage done to the Astarte began to knit back together before his very eyes. The same blinding energies writhed at the heart of the warriors chest, flickering balefires that closed the gaping, bloodless hole around it. The warrior next to OKirla gave out a quiet gasp and fell to her knees, her body quivering. Strands of ectoplasmic light bled from her face and torso, spiralling like weightless water towards the terrible skull. Even as this happened her face and arms began to shrivel, desiccated with frightening rapidity by the things vile influence. Within moments she was dead. Other Shas Kayon fell around him as the skull drained them of all vigour. At the same time the Marines wounds closed completely, leaving no trace of the damage that had made a ruin of him such a short time ago. This is over. The ghost said, rising slowly to his feet. OKirla started, taking a step back as he came to realise that all immediately around him were dead, killed by this immortal warrior. OKirla was no coward or slave to fear. His expression tightened, as did his fingers around the haft of his staff. He brought the weapon up in a gesture of defence and placed his feet apart, ready for the fight to come. It had been long since he had tasted gene-seed and, though his body was beginning to tire, his resolve and will to survive were far from spent. You will fall, Astarte. You will meet your end at the head of my staff. No warrior of the Emperor has ever bested me.

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The Marine paused as he heard this. His dead eyes shifted from the Shas Kayon to look beyond him, out to where the ever-encroaching miasma continued to grow. Your life is not mine to take Tau, though, come the end, you will wish it was so. I would drag your essence screaming from your mortal shell were it my wish to do so, but I will not. They come for you now. They come for all of your kind. I see that you do not fear death, but there are far worse things than the end of mortal life. You will come to see that. With that the entity said no more. He simply raised his hand and faded from existence, his dark form sinking into the air like the dissipation of some otherworldly mirage. OKirla took a single step forward, his face alight with the displeasure of being denied the chance to put an end to his enemy. Commander! The call came from behind him and he spun around in time to see several Shas Kayon sprinting through the nearest breach, firing behind them as they emerged. Enemy hostiles have engaged us from the rear! They advance beneath the cover of the dark storm! One of the warriors called, a young but capable commander he knew named ElVias. ElVias thrust a finger out at the mass as yet more Tau warriors poured through the breach behind him. The darkness hides such creatures as we have never before encountered, commander. Terrible, misshapen things, as if the Montau itself has been made real and has come to assail us. OKirla shouldered his staff and moved to meet them, his single eye wide with alarm. He clasped the warrior by his shoulder and craned his neck to peer out past him at the sobering scene beyond. Much of our rear guard has already been shattered, Shaso. The Fire Warriors and especially the support elements have suffered greatly already. They caught the brunt of the attack. The had nowhere to run We Tau do not run. OKirla snapped, shoving the younger warrior away. These are my forces, and I know them well enough. We have more than enough strength to meet any foe, no matter even if we are caught from the rear. There is no excuse for failure here. It was clear by his expression that ElVias feared to anger his commander. Still, like OKirla himself the Shas Kayon was a warrior of fierce honour, and that honour would not allow him to keep silent the concerns within him. My commander, I pray that you do not make the mistake of underestimating this new enemy. You cannot know the full truth of them until you have experienced them as I have. Those Tau caught by the initial wave were far from lacking in either fortitude or resistance. Hundreds of Fire warriors stood firm in the face of the beasts that swept from the unnatural night. I have seen entire squads swept away by what is coming. I have seen Devilfish carriers and Hammerheads engulfed by monstrosities I cannot describe. I have seen Broadsides brought down by tooth and claw even as they pound this enemy into viscera. Our guns have taken a fearsome toll on these attackers and yet they do not slow. They know no fear or hesitance. Commander, I urge you to see for yourself what is advancing through these trenches, before it is too late. OKirla growled beneath his breath and shoved the warrior aside, angered by what he had been told. He stepped up to the breach and brought his staff to bear, ready to meet whatever unknown adversary found itself unlucky enough to be in his path. Monstrosities. Pah! I refuse to entertain such nonsense! Gather your wits about you and tell me what you

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can of this enemy, ElVias. What are they and how do we kill them? The younger commander and those accompanying him joined OKirla at the breach, and together they peered out towards the ruined trenches and towards the unsettling maelstrom beyond. I saw Astartes, Shaso. They were twisted things, far removed from those we are tasked to hunt. They were of chaos, like the warriors we fought on Caris Estarus. This is chaos we fight, there is no doubt in my mind. How could that be possible? OKirla sneered. We destroyed the forces of Abaddon on Caris Estarus and put an end to the defiance of Chaos. The Eye of Terror is all but closed through the might of the Tau. How could they be here? We have them trapped I have seen this enemy with my own eyes, commander. I know chaos all too well. I say again, this is chaos we fight. OKirla felt his gorge rise at the defiant tone of his subordinate and yet at the same time he quietly admired the warriors bravery. He had taught this one well. I trust your eyes, ElVias, but what you claim makes little sense. The forces of Chaos and the Alliance are enemies. They would never work in concert OKirlas voice died away then as the world turned upside down. Bodies surged through the nearest breach before them, a mixture of Shas Kayon and other Unity forces. The larger warriors fired out behind them as the others flowed around their towering forms and an aura of fear flooded through the surrounding area. Shas Kayon, to me! OKirla shouted, driving forward at the head of his warriors. He forged his way through the mass of opposing bodies, his pulse staff held high above his head as if he was wading through water. The hazy edges of the ominous miasma were creeping over the walls and through the gaps now, like a cancer advancing through the very air. Screams rose up from all around him, uttered from the throats of those yet hidden from sight behind the many walls of the defence lines. They were the screams of human, Tau and even Vespid, screams of pain and, in many cases, fear. OKirla had never known that. Humans were fundamentally weak, that was true, but his kind was not given to fear the way humans were. They did not cry out in terror, nor flee as that terror seized them. The Tau were simply not made that way. Abaddons hordes had not caused such a reaction, so why now? He fought against the flow, even smashing bodies aside where those who were too insensible with fear to respond to his presence found themselves in his way. Turn and fight! In the name of the Tauva, meet this enemy! He raged, swinging his arms before him to cast the unworthy form his path. Here in this trench the nearest hole through the wall was to his right, some forty or so paces distant. Unity soldiers were streaming through the wide gap, most Fire Warriors. OKirla was pleased to see that even now the majority of them still moved and fought in squads. As each squad threw themselves through the space they turned and fired as one, unleashing salvo after salvo out into the unseen spaces beyond before dispersing in order to allow the next wave through. He had taken only a few long strides towards the area when something large and fast hurled itself through the breach and into the closest squad. He caught sight of something elongated and bestial, a surge of deep crimson that drove itself into the Fire Warriors with enough ferocity to bowl many of them off their feet. We have a foe! He cried, accelerating as fast as his body would allow him to. He raised his staff like a spear and plunged through the scattering Tau to meet the enemy, and when he did, he could not have been prepared for what awaited him.

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The thing was unlike any creature he had ever seen before. It was some manner of beast, many times longer than a Tau was tall. It walked on four legs, its dimensions that of a clear predator. Its hide was hairless and covered with thick, scaly clusters of natural bone armour. As it tore the Tau apart with its oversized fangs it shook its head, flexing the leathery fan of skin beneath its throat. It pinned its next victim beneath one massive paw and tore his torso from his legs with a casual flick of its head, the act bathing it in blood. OKirla did not allow fear or hesitance to stay his hand. He charged at the thing and bounded the last few strides to meet it, his staff ready before him. The creature only had time to fix him with a piercing, bestial stare before the commander drove the charged head of his staff through its forehead with force enough to push it clear of the back of his foes skull. The beast shuddered and fell to the ground with a heavy thud, further crushing the broken bodies beneath it. OKirla wrenched his weapon free and turned to the gap in time to see more of the things loping swiftly towards him. Despite himself, he met the challenge with a malevolent smile, and a challenge. Face me if you dare! The first daemon curled its body tight against the ground and then sprang at him, its talons outstretched. OKirla fell to one knee and swung an arm back as the thing soared over him, the blow accelerating its flight and driving it into the wall behind. He rose once again in time to meet the next of them with his staff and smashed its head from its shoulders with a single swing. The body bounced away across the ground, unravelling as its hold on the material universe was broken. Despite the danger of the situation OKirla allowed the thrill of the clash to envelop him. He gave out a curt laugh as he met his next opponent, firing on full auto as the unnatural beast leapt at him. Pulse rounds carved through its torso and face, and even as it died the Tau warrior dashed its face apart, hopping back to allow its body to roll by him. Shas Kayon! Pulse staffs forward! Make a ruin of this enemy! Another beast threw itself through the gap and OKirla twisted around it to drive the head of his staff down and through its back. He withdrew the weapon and swung it around to blast another to death at close range. More of the monstrosities had thrown themselves past him to engage the Shas Kayon beyond. OKirla spun on his heel and struck one of the beasts away, sending it spinning out of sight. He advanced as the warriors under his command engaged the enemy, meeting the daemons with the same vigour as their commander. One of the Shas Kayon impaled a beast through its torso and brought it crashing to the ground. She withdrew her staff and blasted the thing to pieces with concentrated blasts, shredding the daemonic thing into smouldering, quickly-disintegrating chunks. Her victory lasted but a moment and then she was gone. Another of the unnatural hounds bounded from the darkness and snapped its jaws shut around her head. The momentum of the creature brought both of them crashing down and hunter and hunted rolled end over end, bowling others off their feet as they did so. OKirla led a small band towards the hound and together they quickly despatched it, hacking it to pieces with precision strikes to its torso. We must contain this. The commander said, running his gaze across the surrounding walls. The same was happening everywhere he could see. In the distance to his left, he caught sight of what

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appeared to be several multi-hued, undulating shapes roughly the size of a Fire Warrior. The things seemed to literally step from the wall, pouring like leaking oil out into the trench, their writhing bodies changing shape over and over again. A small group of Guevesa met the beings with cries of alarm and a hail of las and pulse fire. One or two of the daemons fell, thrashing and gibbering as they liquefied. Unnatural gouts of flame boiled from the entities and the entire squad were consumed, rendered down to their bones in an instant. He lost sight of them then as the world seemed to break apart. Everything shook as the wall before him was turned into dust and fragments. The floor quaked beneath his feet, almost throwing him to the ground. One of the warriors disappeared beneath something huge, a slab of crimson armour and creaking, hissing hydraulics. He swung his staff around and fired on instinct, only to look on as the blast rang against metal of the machine-things body and left behind nothing save for a glowing crater. It was another beast, a mount of some kind, angular and hulking. Hot steam billowed from its maw and its eyes were small coals of hatred smouldering in its metal skull. It tossed its head and impaled another Shas Kayon on its bladed horn. The daemon on its back unleashed a guttural roar of bloodlust and swept its sword through the neck of a warrior, its terrible features glowing with malevolent delight. He leapt forward, first firing a salvo of rounds into the rider and then ramming the head of the staff as hard as he could into eye of the daemonic mount. OKirla let out a cry of effort as he held on to the staff, his muscles bulging with the effort. The thing fell onto its chest and began to thrash, bellowing in rage and pain, but he did not let go. Finally the monstrosity crashed down onto its side, its rider already dead and banished. The commander hauled his staff free and stabbed down again and again, making a swift ruin of his opponents armoured head. A terrific buzzing rose above the clamour of battle and he stepped back, scouring his surroundings for the source of the noise. A number of Vespid rose up from behind the wall, locked in battle with yet another breed of enemy. Like the Vespid these creatures were winged though they were covered in matted fur. They raked at the insectoid warriors with hooked claws and snapped at them with serrated fangs. The Vespid were fighting for their lives, sweeping neutron beams through the enemy while they slashed at them with the talons at their feet. A writhing tangle of Vespid and daemon fell from the air and crashed into the ground by his side. To me! To me! He called, turning away from the desperate conflict. A rising sense of desperation seized him as he realised that more and more of these enemy beasts and warriors were steadily pouring into the Tau lines. He knew he would never give up but he aloes knew he couldnt be everywhere at once, and he could not fight them all. ShasO Viorla Kirla Montre Kayon was no fool. At that moment, he knew in his heart then and there that he was unlikely to survive this conflict. In truth, even as he considered this, he realised how little this fact truly mattered to him. All that did matter was the unending quest to realise the Tauva, a quest he shared with all his kind. A life given in service to the Tauva was a life far from wasted. He would ensure that he did not waste his. This is OKirla to all Shas Kayon! Lock onto my transmission source and join me! There is slaughter to be had and war to make with this new and vile enemy! As he spoke, the thrill in his voice was undisguised. His teeth-plates were bared unbidden as the exhilaration of the glorious combat flooded through him, for that was the way of the Shas Kayon. War was glorious, and death, exquisite.

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Bodies flooded around him within moments as his warriors answered the call. Shas Kayon charged from breaches or vaulted walls to join their commander, for to stand side by side with OKirla in battle was an honour unmatched by any other. OKirla took in the warriors around him with arms spread wide, pride writ clear across his scarred face. Our brothers and sisters fall to these nameless abominations, my warriors, but they will give of themselves in death! Drink deep of the seed that they carry, so that you may fight on, and honour them for that gift! He lowered himself down onto one knee and followed his own command, driving his extractor spine deep into the neck of the dead Shas Kayon at his feet. Gene-seed flooded into his system as if was liquefied and processed by the spine, rendered into the elixir that all Shas Kayon needed to continue to function. The hit caused his limbs to shudder as the rush consumed him. He hissed out a long, drawn breath and rose, taking the fallen warriors staff as he did so. He hooked a staff beneath either arm; pulse generators turned outwards, and scanned the writhing sea of bodies for his next victim. The thing that found him was an utter nightmare. His single eye blazed with surprise as the air around him darkened, as if some huge shadow passed by overhead. As heightened as his senses were the experience still hit him like the blast of some immense detonation. For a moment OKirla could not be sure if anything he was experiencing was real or some terrible illusion, as everything he thought he knew changed before his very eyes. The entity stepped from between the walls, so large that its head towered clean over the lip of the walls. Rockcrete flaked and crumbled at its very presence, first growing dull and then black with corruption, until finally it collapsed, utterly deteriorated. The walls and the ground shook around it as if in fear, and at this the Shas Kayon could tell that this creaturesimply should not be. He blinked again and again in an attempt to clear his vision but he could not, for the miasma that leaked from the monster distorted the air and caused his eye to weep. Its stench was unbelievable in its foulness, acrid and unbearable. It burned in his throat and caused him to gag but he fought back the urge to vomit and advanced, his grip around his brace of weapons tightening. See the abomination! With me, my warriors! Tear the foul thing apart! Abomination, he had called it. Even this was a word far insufficient to describe the horror of its existence. Try as he might OKirla could not get his eyes to focus on the hulking entity, for it was as if they simply refused to allow its corrupt visage to be made sharp. He caught sight of rusting, pox-laden armour wrapped in mouldy rags soaked with the putrescence of decay. Vast black wings like those of some long-dead carrion bird were spread about its back, extremities of bone and sinew that shed feathers like huge flakes of ash with every movement. In its hands it carried a massive scythe, its oxidised blade half as long again as OKirla was tall. The blade smouldered with the heat given off by the process of decay, its warped surface literally bubbling with putrescence. A vast cloud of fat black flies swarmed around the monsters head, shifting and swirling as a single entity. They passed through the many gaping holes in the warriors armour and emerged through different points of his body, millions of wings glistening with the stuff of his innards. OKirla gave a grimace of pained effort as he felt the very presence of the foul being begin to punish his enhanced biology. Waves of nausea caused through him, the corruption of the being striving to bring him low as if possessed of a sentience of its own. He fought to bring his senses under control with a fresh determination to see victory against this monstrous

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opponent. For the Tauva, I honour you. He said to the warrior at his side. The Shas Kayon threw his commander a bewildered glance and then gasped as OKirlas extractor plunged through his neck. The warrior fell without a further sound, for the extraction of gene-seed from the body of a Shas Kayon was an immediate death. OKirla took his prize and drunk deep of its restorative powers, instantly invigorated by it. The effects of gene-seed were numerous and powerful on one such as him, for the biological functions of the Shas Kayon had been created by the greatest minds of the Unity to be both hyper-sensitive and incredibly receptive to the Astarte gene-seed. In this way the Shas Kayon were able to utilise the effects of the seed far greater than any human recipient, though those effects were quickly absorbed by the Shas Kayons metabolism, and so it was that fresh gene-seed was a must in order for a warrior to continue to function. OKirla did not take the unwilling sacrifice of one of his own easily, but the benefits of this on him would nonetheless outweigh the loss of a warriors life. He repeated the process on another of his hunters. The Tau cried out and fell as OKirla ended her life, placing the blow at her neck with enough precision to ensure an immediate kill. His muscles visibly bulged as he absorbed the material. A superhuman strength coursed through his body, almost a near match for the sheer will to see this abomination dead. Do not suffer the weakness of the flesh, for it is as nothing beside the fulfilment of the manifest destiny! Do not allow fear or disgust to give you cause to falter! This enemy must die! For the honour of Aunva! The spectre of rotting death turned his gaze upon OKirla as the commander charged to meet him, twin pulse staffs charged and ready to deal death. A heartbeat later they came alive in his hands, erupting with bright, searing power. Flashing pulses speared into the thing, a vertical rain that hammered into his seeping armour and sent clouds of glistening black feathers twisting into the air. For all the damage his opponent sustained, OKirla could not fail to notice that he barely acknowledged the assault. His vast body rocked and swayed beneath the assault, fairly punished but far from made a ruin. Despite the sheer bulk of the daemons armour most shots drove easily into the putrescent stuff of his body and there they became as glowing embers, smouldering deep within the craters they had made. The impacts continued up the daemons monolithic body and into his helmed head. Despite catching several shots in the face the rotting hulk bore on, bringing his massive scythe to bear as he readied himself to meet the charging Shas Kayon. OKirla held his breath as he flung himself at his opponent, both staffs twirling in his hands in readiness. He ducked beneath the swing and thrust the head of each deep into the daemons chest, feeling the double impact of both blows shudder down his arms. A huge boot came up at him and smashed him away though his grip held. His weapons gave out a horrible sucking sound as they came free, trailing black, glistening slime and smouldering filth. He stumbled back and fell, rolling over and up onto his feet. His warriors charged past and launched themselves at the oversized horror, incited by the slight done to their commander. The scythe swung again and parted flesh and armour rolled away, sloughing and degrading beneath the weapons terrible effects. OKirla righted himself and watched as the daemon snatched one of his warriors of his feet and hefted him into the air, pestilent fingers wrapped around the Shas Kayons head. The Tau screamed as the touch

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shredded his flesh, a chain reaction that began at his head and travelled down the length of his body. Even armour dulled and disintegrated, as if the natural process of degradation of millennia had been speeded up and given immediate effect. Null-drones on me! He called, recognising the being as heavily influenced by the powers of that unknown place known as the Vashaunan. The warriors ravaged body fell apart and the beast cast his blackened skull aside as more of the Shas Kayon joined the combat. He took a single step forward and swept the scythe through them as if they were less than nothing. OKirla slipped through the falling bodies and launched himself through the air to land a powerful kick in his opponents midriff. He felt his boot sink into armour with an almost sponge-like quality but the daemon staggered back, allowing him time to land and swing one staff across his enemys chest and then follow with another. The scythe hunted for him and he twisted around its questing blade, his reaction time greater than that of his opponent. The move brought him around the beast and he drove one staff forward, biting deep into his enemys neck. The monster gave out a cry of angered pain and shrugged one vast shoulder. This was easily enough to snap the haft of the staff and OKirla staggered back, leaving the charged head of the weapon embedded in the side of the daemons neck. He circled around the back of the rotting fiend and unleashed another salvo of blasts into his back, shredding feathers and armour. The flies that surrounded the daemon reacted angrily to this, as if they existed only to guard their masters rear. Millions of insects spiralled through the air to harass OKirla, yet more pouring from the craters made by his weapon. He hacked and coughed, choking on the living miasma, and even then he could feel his body weakening at the plagues and poxes carried by the swarm. He felt the wall rush to meet his back even as he realised he was stumbling, falling. The blow served to shake him to his senses. He could not beat this thing. He knew that. Part of him had known that the moment he had set eyes on it. What madness is this? He said over the link, though in truth he knew that he spoke to himself. Aunva, hear me! We cannot win this, my lord! We cannot beat this evil! Aunva! In desperation he rolled aside as the terrible scythe smashed into the wall, carving a huge section of it free. The slab fell backwards and crashed into the trench beyond. OKirla acted then in a way he had never done before. Shame and desperation coursed through him as he rose, ignoring the cries of his warriors as they were torn apart by the vile, decomposing monstrosity. He turned and ran, leaping through the breach and out beyond the reach of the huge weapon. Somewhere to his left, something monstrous bellowed its bloodlust out into the trenches as it charged through wall after wall, reaping its quota of skulls for its infernal master. Far of to the right another warrior-god drew screams of terror from human and Tau alike as it slashed its way through the darkness wrapped around it, its inhuman howl driving warriors mad with terror. Something else roared far beyond his position, its sonorous voice giving praise to dark gods beyond OKirlas understanding with words that sent spasms of pain through his muscles and waves of black oblivion through his mind.

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The Montau had come.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Three: A Clash of Brothers

Today will be a day of unmatchable glory. Roboute Guilliman said to the figure by his side. That it will, my lord. Bile answered with a smile, his age-old features wrinkling beneath the expression. The Apothecary shot a narrow-eyed glance at the warrior at the Primarchs side, the smile still lingering upon his lips. Berolinus answered only with a scowl, his face set in stone. The Orca continued to glide smoothly through the streets of the city, hovering just above the ground so as to keep in line with rest of the advancing forces. Guilliman rode the gentle rocking of the craft, one hand tight around the handrail before him, the other resting on the pommel of his sheathed sword. Bile passed beyond him and removed his rubberised smock, casting it into the gloom of the crafts interior. He proceeded to pull his surgeons gloves off and did the same with them. A number of his Tau retainers were waiting nearby, laden with separated segments of armour and other various pieces of equipment. They said nothing to their superior and nor did Bile communicate with them as he stepped forward and began to carefully select piece after piece, starting with the large breastplate. I trust my commander feels himself in full control of his enhancements? He asked, sliding the two-part piece in place over his head and then activating the seal clasps beneath each arm with his thumbs. The plates hissed tight together around his torso, humming softly as the inbuilt shield generator came online. Of course. You have done well, Bile. I am greatly pleased by your work. The Apothecary tilted his head in gratitude at the Primarchs praise. Then I am satisfied. I hear the forces we approach at this time are rumoured to include the Space Wolves amongst them. It would be good to see the Wolf himself at their head. It would please me to see my lord take his revenge against Leman Russ for his earlier offence. Offence? Both Guilliman and Bile turned their attention towards Berolinus, who had until now remained silent. The warriors face was aglow with anger, an anger that he had thus far managed to keep below the surface until this latest comment. Such an affront to my Primarchs dignity can barely be called an offence, Bile. The Wolf took his arm and broke his blessed blade. Russ cannot suffer enough for what he has done! Guilliman held up a hand to quiet his companions rage. Suffer he shall, Berolinus. I will break him slowly for what he did to me, make no mistake. Do not concern yourself with Russ, my son. Your nemesis is to be the Chaplain. The Astartes face slackened as he heard this. When he replied it was as if he dared not utter the name out loud, for to speak it so brought a red flush of shame to his cheeks.

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Codian Yes. I have heard much of this warrior through the eyes and ears of my intelligence network. A Chaplain, an Ultramarine Chaplain. A brother of yours, no less. Yes, my lord. I know that you are hesitant to speak of this Codian and I understand that, Berolinus. As the father of the Ultramarines, your shame is mine. Our Chapter stood firm in the face of the Heresy, when so many others fell from the light of truth. It was always my proudest claim that the Ultramarines were above such concepts as betrayal and sin. You yourself are a living testament to that fact. You cannot concern yourself with such failures, my lord. Bile said, sliding an armoured vambrace over his thickly-muscled arm. You could hardly influence the passage of millennia, caught and incapacitated as you were. Guillimans face tightened as he heard this and he raised a finger at the Apothecary. Hardly the point, Bile. I moulded my Chapter so as to withstand such things in my absence. Never once did I fear the ending of my own life, for I was confident in the knowledge that the Ultramarines would be able to function perfectly without me. I see now just how wrong I was to place my trust in my Chapter. I am betrayed. I do not believe that, my lord. Berolinus stepped between Bile and Guilliman, his scarred face set in stone. I cannot be unique. I refuse to believe that. I believe that there are others like me within the Alliance. True Ultramarines, brothers incensed by Calgars betrayal. True, most were probably too weak of will to question his decision to leave you behind, warriors like Codian, but there has to many who did question this Guilliman snapped a hand up to silence the Astarte, and Berolinus was stunned to see anger in his expression. I will not hear this, Berolinus. I concur that there must have been those who did not agree with Calgars decision but, at the end of it all, it was his decision to make. As Chapter Master, his will was to be obeyed above all else. The chain of command is all, as written in the Codex. I respect your decision to leave those you knew as brothers behind and seek me out, Berolinus, but had I not been restored, I would have expected you to ally yourself with Calgar. I dont understand Rules, Berolinus. The rules of the Codex. That the Ultramarines complied with Calgars decision to abandon Macragge, to abandon me, does not dishonour me. The fault lies only with Calgar and his ability to lead my Chapter. It matters not whether there are those still beneath him who would gladly join our forces, given the chance. Calgar has set the path that has led them to damnation and ruin. They will die with him. As you wish. Berolinus answered, bowing his head in acquiescence. Seeing this exchange, Bile could not prevent a muted smile from spreading across his lips. He locked the last of his armour in place and then inspected the suit, pleased by what he saw. The endgame fast approaches, my lord. Aunva can only be angered by the continued arrival of these new allied forces. I have heard that even the Eldar have made a reappearance, as well as the Orks

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Indeed, Bile. Orks, as you say. The very species that you promised had been brought to heel. When this is over, you will be made to answer for that. For the first time since the conversation had begun, Biles almost constant smile faded. The Tau around him sank away, fearful of even the hint of the Primarchs wrath. It was the intervention of one of the Old Kind that saw the Orks restored, Primarch, I am sure of it. The Hrud too. I found an artefact of Hrud design onboard the ship, within by laboratory, no less. Soon afterSoon after I discovered that the Ork Primus specimen had been taken. Guillimans face flushed with anger as he heard this, his dark eyes widening. Taken! Damn you, Bile, you did not think to inform me of this? I did not see it as important in the greater scheme of things, my lord. I informed the security forces, of course, but the Hrud are as devious as they are vile. You know yourself that their kind has plagued our ships for years. Did not see it as important? What else have these damned xenos uncovered, Bile? What other secrets have they compromised? Bile did not answer. He shot a wide-eyed glance at Berolinus, as if he dared not speak in the warriors presence. Leave us! Guilliman ordered, casting around to face the Astarte. I would speak with the Apothecary alone! Go now! Berolinus responded immediately with a bow, bewildered by his Primarchs sudden outburst. He exited the hold, followed closely by Biles retainers. The bulkhead sealed behind the exiting figures with a hiss, and Guilliman and Bile were left alone. Is he secure? The Primarch asked, his voice a low growl. For your sake, Bile, he had better be. He is, my lord, you have my word on that. It was my first act upon discovering this breach to ensure that his containment had not been tampered with. The stasis locks were and still are utterly secure. As a precaution I even installed several more. I can assure you that he is exactly where he should be. Guillimans anger visibly subsided as he heard this, the colour in his face fading. As he spoke next, the confusion displayed by his face was matched with that in his voice. Good, good. For so long he has been my greatest prize and my darkest secret. It was but for the grace of the Emperor that the Tau did not discover him when they found me. The disappearance of the Alpha Legion has long troubled me, Bile, and when I heard this, I thought perhaps that they had somehow discovered him. You may rest easy, Primarch. Whatever the reasons behind the evaporation of the Legion, it has nothing to do with him. He is still with us, locked away where none may find him. Guilliman gave out a long sigh of relief and lowered himself onto the seating bench, the metal groaning beneath his bulk. He ran a hand through his tight, golden hair, his fingers hovering as they found the diamond-shaped growth set into his forehead. The Tau, Bile. You were with the Tau when they found me on Macragge. That is true, lord. Bile answered, taking a seat beside the Primarch and causing the bench to protest

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further. So too were the warriors of the Alpha Legion. It took no small amount of faith for me to finally accept both you and the Alpha legion as allies, given your shared past. Where it not for the purity of Aunvas vision, for the greatness of the Tauva itself, we may yet have continued to be mortal enemies. Aunvas light banishes the shadows of doubt and hostility from the hearts of all. Bile answered. His wisdom teaches us that even the greatest of enemies can be united under one banner if the cause is just. Indeed. There is something that I must know, though. Something that troubles me greatly. Do you think they knew? Is that why the Alpha Legion joined the Unity? To seek him out? They did not know, Primarch. No one did. He would have remained hidden away, far beneath the surface of Macragge for all time, had you yourself not revealed the secret of his existence. Guilliman nodded slowly, taking a measure of comfort in the Apothecarys answer. Then I will dwell on it no further, Bile, and trust your knowledge. The knowledge of his existence was so sensitive that only myself and a handful of my most loyal warriors knew of the truth. When the last of those warriors died, that secret was mine alone to bear. And now we share it, Primarch, and for that I am humbled. Again, I give you this solemn vow. No one beyond this room knows that Alpharius did not die on Eskrador. And they must never learn of it. Guilliman answered quietly. Now do you see! Secrets within secrets. Lies within lies. This is your Primarch! This is the duplicitous filth you serve! Berolinus inhaled sharply through his teeth and shivered, the act so sudden and unexpected that the surrounding Tau reeled away from him. None of them had heard this, save for him. Despite the soundproof seal of the bulkhead he alone had been witness to this revelation, thanks in no small part to the mysterious influence of the voice. His first reaction was to dismiss what he had heard as lies, generated by the damned voice, but even as he thought this, at the very core of his being, he did not believe it. I hear those thoughts, Berolinus, and I understand that some truths are almost impossible to accept, but accept them you must. Do you see now how little your loyalty means to him? I know that you could be trusted to hold such information and never reveal it, should your Primarch request it. why does he distrust you so? You have done nothing to cause him to doubt your loyalty. Shut up! Berolinus hissed beneath his breath. The Tau around him jumped again. the eagle on his shoulder flapped its wings, disturbed by its masters agitation. I cannot, Lurom, for I need you to see and accept the truth. This Bile, this companion your Primarch holds in such esteem. Did you know that he was once a traitor, a servant of the chaos gods? You heard yourself what Guilliman said. Such a dark, profane past this Bile has, and yet your Primarch, your own gene-father, chooses to confide his greatest secrets with Bile, whilst at the same time keeping one of his own in the dark. I am different, Lurom. I trust you. I reveal things to you that no other can. You and I share a special bond, and were it not for the corruption that Bile put into you then I could make you great, greater even than this thing that calls itself a Primarch, this diluted lie of a being. Dont you see what Bile has done, Lurom? Let down your walls of faith and let me show you the truth of Roboute Guilliman. Let me show you the lie.

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Never. Berolinus replied, focusing every last vestige of mental will in order to quell the incessant voice. He felt the presence squirming as it was forced deep into the darkest abysses of his mind, far enough away so that its mocking tones could not be heard. You cannot suppress me forever, Lurom! The voice called as it faded away. Sooner or later I will open your eyes, and when I do, you will see the truth! You will see the tru Berolinus shook himself and ran a hand across his face, shaking with the effort of quieting his own personal daemon. Roboute Guilliman was his Primarch, now and always. He would not allow this damned voice to change that. Nothing would change that. +++ Not long now, he told himself. He turned away from the activities of the surrounding defenders and slipped into the shadows of a nearby doorway. Soon Guilliman and his forces would arrive here and then he would find himself involved in the greatest battle of his life to date. The prospect of this chilled Codian to the bone. Of all the dangers he had thus far faced, and of all the incredible things he had seen and done since his awakening in this dark time, facing the Primarch of his Chapter was by far the most daunting of them all. Without the presence of Qah, he could not help but feel somewhat lost, especially considering the fact that he may never see the ancient being again. The Dawnblade quaked gently in his grasp, as ever empathic to his feelings. He took a seat on the stone step and regarded the archaic weapon that had come to be in his possession. At this moment in time it looked no different to any other crozius arcanum and he found a measure of comfort in this familiarity, for he knew that its current appearance was for his benefit alone. Are you still in there? He said softly, checking his surroundings in order to ensure that no one was aware of his speaking. Who or whatever you are, I would speak with you. For a short while there was no response, and Codian was almost convinced that the presence within the blade had indeed abandoned it and abandoned him. I am. It has been a while since last we spoke. Despite himself he felt some relief at hearing the voice. A soft and iridescent shimmer of colour passed over the winged golden skull as the voice buzzed through his mind. Now that he had called upon the presence, Codian wasnt exactly sure why. He could not think of what to say. This mattered little. The voice was able to read his thoughts. You are troubled. I sense that this is because you have grown used to guidance and instruction. With Qah gone, you seek that from me. He opened his mouth to deny this, only to find that he could not. The voice was right, in a way. So many were the secrets and mysteries of this galaxy-spanning war that he found himself unsure of what to do next. He told the voice this much.

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I feel overwhelmed by fate. It is almost as if I am so encumbered by it that I fear making my own decisions. Does that make sense? It does. Do not concern yourself, Codian. Have faith in your own abilities, they have got you this far. I disagree. I have got this far only through the guidance of other, greater minds. I feel little more than an instrument, a tool with which those far beyond and above me work to drive the events of this war. I no longer feel in control of my own destiny. Then you are mistaken. You would be surprised to learn just how much of all this is through your own doing. You have a powerful mind, Codian. Why do you think that you were chosen for this role? You have been shown so much and yet there are things you have yet to learn. It is of no small coincidence that you were the one to free the knowledge from the mind of Luther. That knowledge has been both a blessing and a curse on me. I feel its weight every waking hour. Luthers legacy has threatened to overwhelm my mind more than once. Luthers legacy? Oh no, Codian, you mistake his gift. The knowledge was never Luthers to give. You cannot understand at this time what I mean by that, but Luther was merely the vessel for that knowledge, or rather, his death was the key that unlocked it. Codian gave a short, humourless laugh as he heard this. He shook his head, confounded once more by the sheer enigma of the myriad mysteries that surrounded his role, whatever that role was. Luthers legacy was something different, a gift that as yet cannot be revealed. You will learn of it, in time In time, yes. Always in time. Is my psyche so fragile that I cannot be trusted to know these secrets ahead of schedule? In short, yes. There are myriad reasons why this is so, but foremost amongst them is your own ability to process this information. The human mind is a fragile thing, Codian. I cannot risk fracturing it. I? You have still yet to reveal who or what you are, entity. For all I know you could be some daemon of the warp, slowly corrupting me to the cause of your foul gods. Or perhaps you are me, perhaps my mind has indeed shattered beneath the weight of this cursed knowledge, and I speak but to myself. You are closer to the truth than you think Then reveal that truth to me, damn it! Codian raged, rising sharply to his feet. I cannot. Then what good are you to me? At first, the voice was silent. Then it replied, and when it did so Codian found the answer to far from anything he had expected. I can show you something that will affect the outcome of this war. I can show you something that you did not know you were capable of. I can show you what I am capable of. Then do it! Very well. where would you like to go, Codian? What?

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The question was a simple one. Where would you like to go? Picture it in your mind and it will be so. Codians eyes narrowed as he heard this. Another riddle. Another mystery. Devoid of imagination in the face of this strange instruction, he peered out across the square, fixing his gaze upon the opposing pavement. Very well. There. Take me The void opened up all around him and swallowed him whole. He felt the icy fingers of darkness engulf him, passing through him as if he were insubstantial. For an instant, all was darkness, and it was a darkness so vast and endless that it was as if he had been vomited out into the depths of desolate space, a place where the light of the stars did not shine, where nothing existed. And then there. He rocked on his feet, a sudden feeling of motion pulling at his body. He had moved. He had moved without moving. Just as the voice had said, he had pictured this spot in his mind and now he was here. Blessed Emperor He breathed. Did IDid I just do that? We did. The voice replied.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Four: The Spirit Within

Leman Russ froze. To the casual observer this would have been a reaction they could barely have noticed. To the Wolves around him it was as obvious as if he had howled at the top of his voice. As one they froze with him, their collective senses catching the change in their Primarch. Most of them readied their weapons as if to counter some unseen threat. Russ turned slowly, sniffing the air as he did so. He raised a hand to stay his men. A point in the air before him imploded, turning black with swirling shadows. The anomaly swirled in on itself and then vomited forth a figure. Chaplain. Russ uttered, even as the Astarte emerged. Codian stepped out into the road, his bolt pistol and combat weapon held at the ready. If he felt any surprise at Russs apparent lack of surprise, he did not show it. Primarch. It is good to see you unharmed and victorious. He said, bowing deeply to the towering figure. A slow, curious smile spread across the Primarchs bristled face, exposing glinting fangs. Codian. How did you...?

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His eyes fell upon the Dawnblade as he spoke, and what he saw there caused his voice to fade. In fact no, dont tell me. That weapon you hold, the thing that pretends to be Imperial. It reeks of the warp. Of the Eldar, too. How did you manage to get it to do that? I know that you are no psyker. I am not utterly sure myself. The Chaplain replied. I couldnt tell you how it works, only that it does. One of Russs warriors stepped forward to interject, suspicion writ large across his ancient, craggy face. The Wolf was old, his braided hair and beard ice-white. His punished armour was covered in what Codian took to be runes of the Fenrisian language, worked in bone into his archaic armour. To unfold a passage through the warp takes years of practice, and even then is only those possessed of psychic power are capable of such a feat. You are no psyker, as my Primarch says. I see your soul is dim, chained within your flesh, and yet the Empyrean saturates your form. Such a combination is impossible. What do you hide? I hide nothing! Codian answered, audibly offended by the Rune Priests accusation. You lie, Ultramarine. There is much shielded about you. There is only darkness where there should be light. I see the souls of men as clear as men see their own reflection. Yours is hidden to me, and by powers that even I cannot identify. In reply, Codian held up the alien weapon, allowing its golden head to glint beneath the sun. This is the Dawnblade. It protects me, armours me both body and soul. I am pleased to see that it is effective against intrusions that I could not deny through physical force alone. To his surprise, a twisted smile crept slowly across the Rune Priests wizened face. Hah! Do not take offence at my words, Chaplain. I am of the Thirteenth Company. I have probably spent longer in the presence of the warps influence than your bloodline has existed. I know that you are no psyker and I know that no mere man or Astarte is able to call upon the tides of the warp without much influence, practice or discipline. We learned our skills from the Eldar, and it was knowledge that came at a high price. You are fortunate in that it would seem that these skills have been gifted to you voluntarily. Perhaps the rumours that surround you do have a basis in truth after all. In response to this Codian turned the Dawnblade over in his hand in order to present it for the Priests examination. This weapon may be alien in design, true, but it serves our cause. It is far more powerful than you may realise. The Rune Priest looked to Russ then, an almost mischievous twinkle in his eye. It would surprise you to learn just how much we of the Thirteenth Company know of the secrets of this galaxy and the realm beyond it. For almost eleven millennia we were abroad in the vastness of the Empyrean. Do you really think that we spent so long searching for our Primarch? Do Enough, Grojldo. Russ growled, the mere presence of his voice staying the Rune Priests tongue. Now is not the time. Grojldo snarled and bowed his head to his Primarchs wishes. With that he swept his furred cloak aside and left the discussion, barking orders to the warriors around him as he did so. Russ watched him leave and then looked to Codian. Guillimans forces grow near, Chaplain. This will be a hard fight. It will test us all, and many of us may not

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survive it. Even I may not survive it. Even as he made this ominous claim, there was a smile upon the Wolfs lips, and this made it clear to Codian that Leman Russ did not fear death. We are warriors, Primarch, all of us. Death in battle is the fate that awaits all our kind. Well said, Chaplain, but neither of us can afford to ignore the truth of what is to come. Roboute Guilliman is your Primarch, no matter how far he has fallen. Who and what he is represents the very foundation of all that you are, Codian. Tell me, are you truly ready to face him as an enemy? Can you assure me that you are prepared for this? As prepared as ever I can be. Codian answered. Without the concealment of his helm, the Chaplain was unable to hide the discomfort that such considerations brought to him. That aside, the conviction in his voice was unmistakeable. Guilliman is the enemy now. This fact must take precedence above all else. He is my Primarch but the Emperor is my master, dead or otherwise. There can be no greater allegiance than that. Spoken like a true son of the Imperium. Guilliman may be your Primarch, Codian, but you must understand that the thing we are set to face is not your Primarch. I know my brothers scent, I know all that he is, and what the Tau have created is something that is as far removed from Roboute Guilliman as any living thing. It is a puppet, a creature that has no place in this existence of ours. Whoever it was has long been lost to us. We must show it no compassion. It must be destroyed. I understand No, Chaplain, you do not. But you will. I see that now. For now, it is enough for me to know that you have faith enough to see this through. The conversation between Russ and Codian came to an end then, interrupted by the reverberating, hypersonic crack of weapons discharge. Both warriors spun around in time to see a column of dust rising from one of the buildings at the head of the defence lines. Russs eyes widened and his lips drew back over his teeth, his face a mixture of surprise and battle lust. He is here. The traitor is here. Yet more high-pitched screams and dull explosions echoed through the air as Codian and Russ responded to the threat. Codians link came alive unbidden, all at once filled with the alarm of hundreds of Alliance defenders responding to the attacking forces of the enemy. Russ and his Wolves exploded into action as one, falling into squads that quickly headed out to where the action was. The feral Wulfen howled in bloodlust and loped ahead of the others, raking the ground with their clawed hands as they used them for additional locomotive effect. No other Space Wolf was able to match the supernatural speed of the Wulfen, not even the mounted bike riders. As one the Chapter flowed like water draining from some burst dam towards the conflict, bound by some collective and potent bloodlust to seek out and slay the enemies of the Emperor. Russ himself drove his heels into the ground and accelerated beyond the realms of Codians ability to follow his progress, becoming a blur of motion as he thundered across the wide square towards the legions of the Unity. The impact of his feet against the flags was tremendous, the only thing that gave even a clue as to the fact that the Primarchs form did not glide across the ground. Codian threw himself around and sprinted after the departing Primarch, the Dawnblade shuddering in his

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grasp as if unable to contain its vigour at meeting the enemy. Units from all over the area responded at the same time to the as-yet unseen challenge. Winged Eldar swooped in from the tops of the buildings, descending in great flocks to meet the enemy. Mounted Astartes roared past him, their bikes drowning out all other noise as they tore across the square. Whirlwind tanks cycled their launchers in readiness, sentinel systems hunting for targets amongst the buildings. What are you doing? The voice took him by surprise as it cut through the clamour of battle to reach his ears clearly. He slowed, his eyes narrowing, and looked to the Dawnblade. I am joining this battle Why do you run, Chaplain? Have I taught you nothing? Codian was about to argue when he realised that the voice was right. His response had been an instinctive one. The voice was right. He would never catch Russ and his warriors, not on foot. Nor did he need to. He held the Dawnblade up and concentrated. At first he was not sure what to visualise, for he knew where he wanted to be but he did not know the look of the area. Again, the voice sensed his thoughts. This is far from an exact science, Chaplain. Let your desires take you where you need to be. You dont have to focus on the blade. It is merely a tool, a vessel for the power. This is not easy for me. I am an Astarte. I am not used to sucharcane activities. Then you must grow used to them. Your fate depends on it. Think of Russ and you will find him. Many more questions formed in the Chaplains mind but he swept them aside. Now was not the time to dwell or hesitate. Codian closed his eyes and thought of the Primarch. And was gone. The passage of time was instantaneous. He felt a pull at the core of his being and felt the terrible, endless cold envelop him once again. Then the sensation was gone and he opened his eyes, the sounds of battle at once intensifying all around him. The enemy filled his gaze. Tau warriors and machines were everywhere to be seen, as far as the eye could see. The Unity forces filled the wide road ahead, a vast tide that surged towards him. He felt his dual pulses quicken as he regarded the scene, his lust for battle growing in tandem with them. The Unity forces advanced in their thousands. Missiles and energy flashes swept past him into the oncoming enemy, scything down squads and blowing huge gaps in the tide. The efforts of the Tau mirrored those of the defenders as pulse fire and heavier munitions exploded from the Unity lines to rake the gathered defenders. Buildings exploded behind him, huge fireballs tearing chunks the size of Rhino APCs free. Vast sections of rockcrete wall slammed into the ground, throwing up clouds of choking dust. Alliance soldiers cried out as they were crushed or engulfed. Armour squealed as it was flattened by these falling man-made boulders. Some way to his left a Predator felt the bite of the Unitys guns. The impact of the hit gave off a resounding ring and the tank lurched back, spinning around almost ninety degrees under the force of the impact. Its front armour imploded, giving out a pained groan as the thick plates bent inwards after the shell. The tank

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did not suffer for long. A second later the tank exploded in spectacular fashion as its magazines detonated. The turret shot straight up into the air like a rocket, spinning crazily, guns and all. The entire vehicle visibly bulged and then came apart beneath a huge explosion that send armour plating scything into the surrounding walls. Codian fell to the ground instinctively as a huge chunk of shrapnel twisted by overhead. Yet more railcannon shells screamed by him, drawing glowing circles through the air in their wake as they shed the magnetic charge of their super acceleration. A shadow fell over him and he rolled, rising as he did so. Chaplain? Damn, but Ill have to get one of those things for myself! Russ towered over him even as he rose to his full height. Tiny particles of stone pattered across the Chaplains armoured legs, literally stripped from the ground by the force of the Primarchs deceleration. Russ slid his spear free of its place at his back and twisted it around in readiness to meet the enemy. It was then that Codian realised that only he and Russ stood at the fore of the defence lines, caught between the vast and deadly exchange of fire. Codian could hardly disguise the look that passed over his face at this. As Russ noticed, he grinned. Trust me, Codian, now is not the time for you to die. Let that knowledge empower you. At this moment, in this fight, you are immortal. He assumed that the Primarch referred to his destiny, though the consideration of this fact did little to appease the inherent sense of danger. Russ displayed no signs of concern at their current situation. His eyes were wide, ablaze with excitement. He leapt to one side as a railcannon shell flashed by him, the force of its passage almost pulling Codian off his feet. Today will be a glorious day! He bellowed, thrusting the spear above his head. Today will be a day of legend! Codian braced himself, his weapons at the ready. Do not forget what we can do. The voice said to him. Remember, Codian. Remember all we have done and all we have yet to do. You will survive this, and only then will your true work begin. I know who you are. Codian whispered beneath his breath then, raising his bolt pistol up level with his eye. In response to this, the Dawnblade shifted in his grasp. I know now, though I understand little of how you came to be here with me, trapped in this blade. I should have known that I had not seen the last of you, Cypher. The pistol rocked in his hand as it fired. The bolt shell covered the gap in seconds, the Chaplains aim immaculate. The small vision slit of the Hammerhead shattered beneath the impact and thick glass blew inwards. The hovering tank slewed to one side, its nose scraping against the ground. The combination of impact and speed caused the tank to lip over onto its back and into a violent roll. Armour squealed and flew apart as the Hammerhead turned end over end, shedding its engines and crushing many of the smaller advancing vehicles.

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A fine shot! Russ cried, lowering himself into a crouch. But far too impersonal a kill! With that he launched himself forward and sprinted towards the enemy, his spear swinging in his hand. A host of Tau armour advanced ahead of the infantry forces, fast and lithe, spitting out deadly fire into the Alliance positions. Russ found his first target within moments of charging. He raised his arms up to cover his face, lowered his head, and literally ran into the Hammerhead. The entire frontal hull of the tank squealed as it curled around the Primarchs implacable form, the impact causing the nose of the craft to crumple and compress. The Hammerhead came to an abrupt stop, its rear end rising sharply as momentum fought to counter its sudden arrest. Russ could not be moved more than a few paces back, his armoured boots shattering the surface of the ground as they dug in. The Hammerhead crashed back down, its engines still whining. Russ gave out a cry of joy as he hauled the ruined front end of the tank up and flipped the Hammerhead onto its back, crushing the turret and the railcannon mounted there. Other craft smashed into the upturned Hammerhead, their pilots unable to respond in time to avoid the obstacle. Russ stepped to the side and thrust his spear out to catch another tank as it sped by. The tip raked a deep gouge through the side-mounted engine, almost bisecting it. The resultant explosion consumed what was left and sent the Hammerhead lurching away into several other craft, causing yet another pile-up. Codian set off in a sprint after the fearless Primarch, his progress bringing him face to face with one of the Taus troop carriers. The cannons set into the frontal fins of the craft spun out a screen of bright pulse fire his way and yet he managed to avoid most of it, those shots that did find their mark ringing off the layers of powerful protection that shielded him. His earlier success urged him to repeat his bold efforts and so he fired at the pilots compartment, hoping to slow the skimmers progress. The shot detonated against the smooth armoured hull, missing its intended target. Come now, Chaplain. We can do better than that... Codian hissed his displeasure through bared teeth and tried again, aiming as steadily as his progress would allow. He fired off another salvo of rounds that raked across the vision slit and finally punctured the glass. The Devilfish slowed, falling sharply to bounce across the ground. The Chaplain increased his pace to its maximum and leapt into the air as the craft skidded towards him. He landed on the sloping nose and ran up onto the top of the hull. He turned the Dawnblade around in his hand and then drove it deep into the closed turret with seconds to spare. The Devilfish bounced again, almost throwing him off. His feet slid away from him and he hung on for dear life, fighting to climb back onto the carrier amid the bone-jarring impacts. After what seemed an age he managed to haul himself back up onto the stricken vehicle. Whatever damage he had caused with the bolt was starting to affect its performance now as its progress began to slow. He steadied himself and then worked the thrumming crozius free. As he had hoped, the hole it had left behind was sizeable enough. He wedged his pistol beneath his arm and then pulled a frag grenade from his belt, one of only two that he had left. He primed it and dropped it through the hole and then rose, turning sharply to face the next oncoming vehicle. The resultant explosion blossomed out of the punished turret as he leapt through the air and landed on the

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Devilfish behind, the craft slowed in turn by the plight of its companion before it. He hit the hull running, fighting to keep his balance, as the turret before him sprang open and a figure emerged. This one was human, Guevesa, and an officer by the looks of his markings and weapon. The soldiers eyes widened as he looked upon the hulking Marine standing before him. The plasma pistol in his hand whined as it powered up, ready for a shot. Codian lunged forward and crushed the man with the flat of his armoured boot, pulverising bone to jelly. The body lurched back and the pistol spun up into the air Take it. The voice hit him with a strength that far exceeded any other incident of communication. He felt compelled to obey, almost helpless to resist. As if to urge him on further the Dawnblade leapt from his grasp and twisted away out of sight. Codian snatched the pistol from the air and brought it towards him. Almost at the same time he felt something tug gently at the scabbard at his side, and was unsurprised despite the strangeness of the event to see the Dawnblade nestled in its leather casing once more. Codian did not think as he acted. He thrust both pistols into the turret ring and fired again and again, sending a hail of death into the belly of the craft. He saw bodies fall and break apart in between the bright discharges. Within seconds, the entire squad within were little more than a pulverised mess of scorched flesh, armour and bone. Much better, Chaplain. The steadfast purity of the bolt shell, tempered by the unpredictable fire of plasma. Darkness and light. Do you remember those words? I do, and I give you this one warning. Do not attempt to remake me in your own image, Cypher. I am Daelo Codian, Chaplain of the Ultramarines, not the spirit of some ancient corrupted Dark Angel given form. I am not you. You are mistaken, Codian. You are far more than the original sum of your parts. You will come to see that, given time. For now, embrace the weapons you hold. Become one with them. Know them as you would your own flesh, and let my spirit merge with yours. Why, ghost? We have an enemy to lay waste to, Chaplain. Let me show you just how deadly we can be. Codian rose, both pistols smouldering his hands, and looked out upon the endless tide of war machines still surging towards the Alliance lines. Despite his reservations there was a part of him that knew, deep down, that he could trust the word of the spectre, a part of him that was able to imagine the power that Cypher could invest in him if their spirits were joined, if only temporarily. Very well. Even as he spoke he felt Cyphers influence flood into his body and mind. It was a sensation that defied explanation. His entire body ached as it fought to understand the forces coursing through it and his mind reeled. Although he trusted the ghost he could not help but feel tainted by what was happening to him. He felt the distinct change that Cyphers influence brought to him immediately. He felt his body change, his strength grow and his perception alter. Hnngh. So this is what itit feels like. To be possessed.

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I am no daemon of the warp, Codian, you know that. I am no malign enemy force, come to swallow your soul. I am the strength that will guide your hand, the power that will forge your destiny. I amI am Nothing. The Chaplain replied, lowering his body in readiness to leap from the hull of the Devilfish. You are nothing now. I am Codian. I am the Prophet. My message, only death. With that he launched himself into the air, pistols at the ready, and was gone.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Five: Punishment

If itz grey, make it pay! Ghazghkull roared, sweeping one huge claw over his head and out towards the enemy. The cry caused a deafening maelstrom of guttural roars to rise up from the surrounding Orks. The green tide flooded past him, so thick that it almost swept the warlord up and carried him forth. Crude bladed weapons rang as they clashed against one another. Simple but fearsome shootas thundered unbidden, releasing shells into the air as the fingers of their owners tightened in uncontained excitement. The power of the Waaagh! flowed through the Ork hordes, unrestrained and all encompassing. Ghazghkull threw back his head and let out a bellow of absolute release, feeling the collective power pour through him and out into the Orks around him. He lowered his gaze then and, eyes blazing with power, looked out towards the enemy. To him these things were weak and brazen, diluted copies of all they should have been. They were shells, impervious to the Waaagh!, their corrupt bodies and minds dulled to withstand its effects. They were an affront to him and to all his kind, for they were made in his image and yet they were not Orks. Whatever they were was unclear, but they were not Orks. Kill em all! Rip em ta shreds! He cried, lumbering forward. The mega armour he wore squealed in protest as he advanced, hissing great gouts of steam from the pressure release valves set into points across its bulk. Unfettered energies coursed across the thick plates, coruscating from point to point. The Meks had done well. Through mere presence alone he had succeeded in unlocking all their greatest secrets and they had rewarded him justly for his gift. The thrill of the coming battle seized him, sending shudders of anticipation through his slab-like muscles. Da Leada is mine! Any a yooz so much as looks iz way gets iz ead snipped clean off! Yoo ere me! Da leada ov dis rabble iz mine! +++ OMogdrak shuddered, unable to explain the strange and sudden reaction. He heaved his armoured bulk up onto the pile of corpses at his feet and peered out over the heads of his boyz and above the walls of the trenches, struggling to see into the distance. He did not even know why he did this, only that the unexplained sensation compelled him to do so. One of his boyz noticed this and frowned, his black eyes narrowing. He swept the horsetail scalp lock stapled to the side of his head aside and followed his commanders gaze, though standing on the trench floor as he was, he could see little.

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Wot iz it, boss? OMogdrak grumbled beneath his breath, the sound deep and seismic, and shook his head. Hgggn. Nuffin. Sumfin. I dunno. Sumfins got my bonez rattlin. Yoo feel it? The Nob shrugged his oversized shoulders, clearly bewildered by his commanders claims. I got me an urge ta smash eadz, dats all. We only got a few more wallz an we froo to em, boss. Da boyz are keen OMogdrak snarled and booted the Nob in the head, sending him tumbling across the rubble-strewn floor of the trench. Den letz get to it! He bellowed, shaking his arms above his head. All thoughts of the mysterious sensation were swept away as the lust for battle drove itself to the fore of his mind, compelled by the mention of battle. Ooz wiv me? Come on, boyz, for da Greata Good! Da Greata Good! Came the reply, issued from uncountable Ork voices. OMogdrak turned, leapt clear of the steaming pile of corpses and charged headlong into the wall, the resultant impact drawing huge cracks along its surface and sending a pall of loosened rockcrete dust out into the trench. Cries of glee rose up from the Orks about him and OMogdrak stumbled back, shaking the dust loose from his head. The blow had weakened the trench wall and, although he had almost dashed his brains loose in the process, he could see that it would not take much to bring it down. Wot ya all waitin for? A ruddy invitashun? Eads down an charge! all across the trench, the Orks came alive at OMogdraks command. A line of heads lowered and the walls resonated first with the thunder of feet and second with the dull, seismic rumble of heads striking the thick barrier. Many Orks died within seconds of the assault, skulls shattered. Despite this the wall shivered, huge cracks snaking across its length. Such was the force of the collective impact that huge chunks began to fall away, a process further agitated by the victorious stamping of feet along the line. Lets ave it! OMogdrak cried, raising the thick, multi-barrelled kustom pulse blaster riveted to his right arm. The weapons multiple barrels cycled, the noise shrill and high-pitched. A hail of pulse fire hammered into the weakened surface before him and the wall exploded inwards, showering the Warboss with a cloud of debris. Charge! The entire wall fell back as far as the eye could see as Orks charged through it, surging into the trench beyond. Hundreds of Alliance defenders were waiting for them. Guns erupted along the line. Fire scythed into grey armoured bodies and cut hundreds down mid-charge. The trenches were wide but far from wide enough to keep the Orks at a relatively safe distance. The majority of men and women here were of the Guard, with a scattering of Arbites, militia and even poorly-armed civilians. Squad sergeants drew their combat weapons and gave the order to meet the attackers face to face but their efforts were little more than useless. The Orks descended upon the hapless soldiers and butchered them

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without mercy, ending hundreds of lives in seconds. We own dese ruddy trenches! One of the exultant Nobs hollered, gleefully hacking a small group of Guard soldiers into pieces. OMogdrak snarled as he heard this. He stomped over to the Nob, ignoring the bite of lasgun fire as it raked across his armour, and planted a head butt on the Nob that was violent enough to drive the Ork to his knees, his ruined face gouting blood. No we dont! Da Ferealz own it! Da Ferealz own everyfin we see! We take wot we take fer Aunva, da master of everyfin! Dont you ferget it! Ork! The voice drove its way into OMogdraks simple mind with a force that caused the Orks black eyes to widen. A glimmer of recognition ignited in his brain, for it was a voice he had heard before. A voice he knew, uttered by a being whose death he thirsted for above all others. You! The huge warrior leapt from the wall before him and landed in the trench, his weight quaking the ground. The mighty hammer in his hands was easily the size of a well-developed Ork, its thick head shimmering with threatening power. Ork. Vulkan said again, his voice as deep as the rumble of a distant artillery report. I spared you once, if only to show you the futility of this war. I will not do so again. Glee writ large across his face, OMogdrak dismissed the threat with utter nonchalance and shifted his bulk around, ready to meet the towering Primarch. We got a score ta settle, yoo an me. Vulkan snorted and swung his hammer before him, drawing a shimmering arc of energy in the air between them, a clear challenge to the Ork. Your kind truly are stupid. You do not realise just how totally overwhelmed you are about to become. +++ Codian landed on the sloping nose of the two-man Tetra, his weight causing the fast skimmer to sink sharply. Its underside scraped the ground and he rolled over off its back, firing with both pistols as he did so. The shots tore through the two Tau warriors in the vehicle and sent it spinning away, out of control. He landed on the road running, barely breaking his stride. His bolt pistol was empty, he knew that by the number of shots he had used up. He skidded to a halt and fell to one knee, placing the plasma pistol on the ground, and ejected the clip whilst using his free hand to find another. More of the light craft were sliding towards him. Underslung pulse rifles spat bright death his way and he slid the clip home just in time to retrieve his other sidearm and rolled sideways, clear of the energized explosions stitching a path towards him. The roll brought him up onto one knee and he fired, swiftly moving his guns in a line before him. Shots exploded across the smooth noses of three of the Tetras and send two of them into a forward roll. The third exploded, its violent death pushing the others away to the side as they tumbled on. He rose sharply and crossed his arms before his face as the fireball bore down upon him. In that instant he realised that there was nothing he could do, no way to get clear of the imminent death heading towards

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him. He didnt know if even the dual protection of his rosarius and the Dawnblade would be able to save him from this Not your time, Prophet. Not yet. Cyphers disembodied voice thundered through his thoughts, dispelling all other noise as it did so. he felt a pull and opened his eyes, his arms slowly falling. Nothing. Nothing but darkness. No sight. No sound. No sensation. What is this? He said, realising even as he spoke that he heard his own voice only in his mind, for this oblivion he found himself in allowed no instance of sound. Is this death? Am I dead? No, Prophet. This is salvation. There can be no death for you while ever you have a destiny to realise. Then where am I, ghost? Nowhere. You are simply gone. I cant let you die, Codian. I cant allow you a final death, not until this is over. Why do you think I came to you after my own demise? I could not die until my own work was complete I will say again. I am not you, Cypher. It is all relative, Prophet. Do you even know who you are any more? Enough. Take me back or let me die Of course. You were never gone, Codian, not in the eyes of those who seek to kill you. Let them see what you have become, and only then will they begin to understand how futile it is to seek your death. Stay vigilant Codian gasped as his senses were returned to him. Light and noise poured into his mind and he staggered, feeling heat wash over him. He turned and watched as the fireball rolled on. Its path had taken it directly through him, or rather taken it over the spot upon which he stood. He was unharmed. Chaplain! Russ hurtled by him and swung an arm forward. The spear left his grasp and flew through the air to embed itself deep within the right-hand thruster of another Hammerhead. The rear of the engine exploded outwards in a wash of flame but the spear remained, embedded in the tortured metal grille. The Wolf sprinted towards the stricken skimmer and leapt the last few feet, landing both his fists hard upon the tip of its nose. The craft dipped sharply and then bounced back up, the impact ringing against the ground. Russ punched the buckled nose again and again, each blow tearing thick plated armour free. A punch sent the forward scanning array spinning through the air. He leapt up onto the hull and brought a foot down into the pilots compartment, the blow causing the metal to cave inwards. Far from finished with his target he rolled along the top of the craft as it began to turn to the right, grabbed hold of one of the turret mounted fusion cannons and swung up onto the left engine. He grabbed the large

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cannon with both hands and pulled back, tearing it free of its moorings with what appeared to be little effort. Sparks flew from the exposed joint as he flung the cannon aside and looked to Codian, his face alight with the thrill of the hunt. What are you waiting for, Codian? Dont waste time waiting for Guillliman, not when there are so many of his lapdogs to make a merry ruin of! A good number of the Alliance warriors had joined the fight by now. Bikes roared past him, their riders firing upon the passing skimmers. Eldar missiles rained down from the surrounding buildings. He set off running to his left, both pistols raised. Targets were so thick here that he barely had time to choose where to aim. He simply fired before him as he headed sidelong towards the edge of the road, landing shot after shot upon the mercifully light-armoured war machines. There was no doubt about it, he thought as he reached the pavement and ducked down behind a thick stone bench. Cyphers influence had brought him a greatly improved eye for accuracy. He himself had never been a slouch with either the bolter or its smaller translation, the bolt pistol, but he could already tell that his ability to seek out and hit the best part of any given target had vastly increased. Cypher had provided him with an ability to put down most targets, whether infantry or armour, armed with little more than a brace of pistols. He reloaded the bolt pistol once again and quickly checked the plasma weapon. There was still a good amount of energy in the ammunition canister. With that he rose and ran back out into the street, guns blazing. There were plenty of targets still to choose. A host of smaller skimmers literally swarmed around the larger tanks and troop carriers now. he sighted several small gunships, larger than the sleek two-man Tetras but markedly smaller than the tanks. He recognised their design from his mission on Vanphilos. They were Piranha, the dedicated hunter scout craft of the Unity. He almost felt their bite a heartbeat later as a railgun shell cracked into the wall behind him and dragged him back towards it, the ancient brickwork there shattering beneath the impact. He sighted the offending craft and fired the plasma pistol, his arm moving faster than he himself had ever thought possible. White-hot plasma sheared through the side of the crafts semi-open canopy and scoured the Tau pilots head and torso from existence. The death of the pilot sent the craft into a rapid acceleration that drove it into the rear of a Devilfish, a violent contact that shunted both craft away down the road and out of his immediate attention. He saw Russ again then as the Primarch leapt into the road and snatched at another of the speeding craft. He caught the curved stabiliser support that connected the vehicles frontal fin to its rear fuselage and hauled it around, his sheer inhuman strength sending it spinning across the road and into the walls of another of the citys edifices. By the teeth of the Kraken! The living legend exclaimed stridently. How in the Emperors name did these scrawny aliens and their flimsy war machines manage to swamp this galaxy so? Primarch! Codians warning came too late even for the celebrated reactions of the father of the Space Wolves. Russ turned in time to see the vast shape bearing down upon him, casting a huge shadow over his armoured form with its great bulk.

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Russ eyes widened and his lips slid back over his teeth as the Megalodon bore down upon him, moving with a speed that far belied its overwhelming size. He let the spear clatter to the floor and slammed his palms into the war machines hull, attempting to stop its progress through sheer strength alone. His feet skidded across the road surface, sending fragments of armoured stone spinning away. The nose of the Megalodon groaned beneath his arms, the thick plates buckling. Codian ran out into the road towards the Primarch, fearing that the mighty machine would crush Russ. Such was the size of the Megalodon that its primary weapons, a brace of huge turret-mounted railcannons, were simply too long to turn and track him, even if the hovering tanks gunners had desired to do so. Unfortunately, the things cannons were far from the only weapons it possessed. Its angular sides bristled with all manner of sponsons and turrets, each of which held guns and launchers of seemingly infinite variety. Missiles puffed free and twisted towards him. Pulse fire blazed a path ahead of them, bright and searing and fast, too fast He leapt clear of the chasing fire as it stitched across the road and panged against his armour, drawing flares of energy from his rosarius field. He sprinted towards the Megalodon, taking a wide path that saw the small but intelligent missiles veer towards him. His pistols sang as he plucked them from the air, one by one, turning each one into explosive puffs of fire and shrapnel. One of the missiles slid beneath his valiant defence and slammed into his shoulder. The explosion blew him clean off his feet and sent him twisting through the air. He was vaguely aware of the sensation of incredible pain, of fire and agony and blindness, of the floor rising to meet his back with violent force. Dont let go, Prophet. Fight it. Never let go His eyes sprang open to look upon the skies. The passage of time since the hit escaped him, and he found he could not tell how long he had been laid prone on the surface of the road, aching from head to toe. He raised his arms first and was surprised to see that not only were they still intact but he had managed to hold on to the pistols, despite the power of the blast. Never let go. Steel and fire, Prophet. Steel and fire. My body is steel, and my vengeance, fire. Codian uttered, rising to his feet. Acrid smoke curled from his armour, a by-product of the tremendous discharge of power from his rosarius, power that had saved him yet again. it was only as he cycled his left arm and felt the dull pulse of pain that still lingered there that he noticed his shoulder guard. The Ultramarine symbol painted there had been partially scoured away by the detonation of the missile. The guard itself sported a large dent, and at its centre he could see that the ceramite had actually been pierced. A thick trickle of congealed blood ran from beneath the plate down his arm. He realised then that he had come closer to death than he had been thus far. The hit had almost killed him. I never said you were indestructible, Codian. The voice said in his ear. The layers of protection afforded to you can only last so long and take so much before they fail. Your ability to survive this depends wholly upon your ability to fight, to best your opponent. Codian did not reply. He thrust his weapons out before him and set off towards the Megalodon, soon picking up a swift pace. Whatever unseen intelligence lay behind the many weapons systems must have assumed that they had despatched their target. Now that he was back on his feet, launchers and guns swivelled to track him, whining as they powered up.

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Before any of them found the chance to fire the Megalodon lurched, its sudden deceleration sending a metallic groan of complaint through the superstructure of the craft. Shots that had been locked into place speared by him, their trajectories interrupted by the abrupt occurrence. A fusion blast hissed by his head, close enough to scald his skin and singe the dark hair of his beard. He put a plasma round through the cannon and bore on, firing his bolt pistol at the rotating guns fighting to pursue him. Many of the smaller weapons were heavy drone-mounted, each unit slaved specifically to the operation of the system under its charge. Encouraged by the Chaplains approach many of these drones began to swivel detach from their mounts. Clusters of the hovering domes came away from the Megalodon like the seed pods of some vast, ripe metallic plant. Markerlights speared through the air at him, questing for his running form. He reached the shadow of the craft as the drones filled the air above him. It had come to a total standstill now, its curved underside hovering inches above the road. Another groan shuddered through its bulk as Codian pressed his back against it and fired out and up, picking drones from the air. The tank trembled, a violent and sudden movement, as if it had been struck by some silent but powerful artillery hit. Codian fired again and again, hitting a target with every shot and sending drones tumbling from the air, but his efforts were set to be overwhelmed within seconds. Red beams stabbed through the hail of fire and struck his armour. Shadows fell upon him as the drones descended. Weapons were trained on him He threw himself forward and leapt up onto the dome of the nearest one, his weight causing the thing to drop sharply. Its motors whined as it fought to rise in defiance, but this had been his intent. He jumped onto another, using the first as a springboard, and continued to rise, firing downwards as he did so. Soon he was level with the hull of the Megalodon and he hurled himself onto the tank, his boots ringing against the smooth metal. Codian fought to maintain his balance as he landed before one of the many thruster intakes set into the hull here. Though the tank had ceased in its progress the engines were still working, drawing air into the thruster cavities, and he fought against the pull of the rushing air. Without though he fired a brace of plasma rounds into the grille. The glowing blasts slid between the thick slats of metal and disappeared. Fire erupted from within a moment later as he ran across the gently curving hull, avoiding the searing wash of flame by a hairs breadth. Burst cannons rotated after him, spitting energy rounds at his sprinting form. He threw himself into a forward roll and came up firing, his aim proving true once again. There was no mistaking the fact that his ballistic skills were improving swiftly with the passage of time, and he knew that this was far more than a simple improvement through practice. It was as if some part of him could sense where to position his hands for greatest effect even before his eyes were able to assess the target. Up ahead was the main turret of the tank, the huge twin cannons stretching all the way from that point and continuing on over his head. He had never before seen weapons so mighty mounted on anything less than a Titan or a starship and he could well imagine their power. The turret itself was large enough to house its own curved viewslit and he fired off a swift combination of bolt and plasma that soon saw it shattered and laid to ruin. He knew then that this was where he was headed. Fire chased him as he ran towards his destination but he was fast, too fast to track. He ran beneath the cannons and around it, finding the metal access steps worked into the back of the large, circular construct. The Chaplain threw holstered his bolt pistol for the first time since his alteration and threw himself up the steps, realising that any moment could see the guns of the war machine find him. He reached the crest and

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drew the Dawnblade, feeling the familiar weight and shape of the weapon almost as a comfort in his hand. The weapon came alive at his touch, its winged head pulsing with deadly energies. He drew back his arm and smashed it again and again into the thick dome, buckling the metal. The hatch seals soon came away beneath the assault, unable to withstand the punishment for long, and then next blow saw the tortured metal bounce clear of the turret ring and slide away. Codian did not hesitate. He thrust his arm into the hot gloom and fired several blasts of plasma into the bunker-sized control space. He heard clear screams of agony as those inside the space died, human screams. There was no part of him that felt even a shred of remorse at the deaths of those traitors within. If nothing else, this craft had now lost the use of its most powerful armament. And he was far from done yet. He sheathed the Dawnblade once more and leapt down into the hidden space as Eldar missiles began to rain down upon the smaller guns around him, slowly but surely stripping away the machines offensive capabilities. +++ What the hell is happening out there? Macharius slammed his fists down hard on the thick armrests of his control chair, his eyes wide with burning anger. Human and Tau crew members scurried past his vision. It was clear that none of them were willing to attract the commanders attention, for no one had the answers he craved. The Megalodon before them had stalled minutes earlier, the arrest of its advance an abrupt and undesired occurrence. The Nan Rymrs prow had almost scudded into the rear of the Kais Kirqath. This was not how Macharius ran his war machines. He looked on as explosions blossomed along the length of the Megalodon before him, quaking the stricken craft. Why does ElMerco not respond? The idiot is allowing his machine to be taken apart, piece by piece! Try to raise him again! No response, Gueshio. The communications officer answered a moment later. I cant seem to raise the Kais Kirqaths array. It may have been destroyed Unacceptable. This part of the street is not wide enough for us to pass. Raise the master of munitions and relay this order. Target the Kais Kirqath. I want her out of my path. We have a damn war to win. Commander The communications officer began, his voice unsteady with disbelief. Do it! Macharius spat in reply. For the Greater Good!

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Six: The Knowledge of the Ignorant.
+++ THE ZIGGURAT IMPERIALIS +++ +++ THE IMPERIAL PALACE +++

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+++AREA: UNKNOWN+++ He knew. Centurion Caer Validimus knew all the secrets of this benighted hidden world. He had known of the Vaults for centuries, for he was of the Companions. Only those closest to the Emperor were honoured with the truth of things, the truth of everything, for that was their privilege and their burden in equal measure. He had known of the existence of these Vaults, of what they contained and why they were here. He had known why the Emperor had hidden them from the eyes of all others, and had intended beyond his physical death to keep the knowledge of their existence from even the High Lords. He had known everything. He had known of the inevitability of this terrible war. He had known of the existence of the Void Champions and of the Phoenix Lords. He had known that the Emperor would die, and that death would be brought about by one of the most evil and secret beings that had ever existed. Truly, there was nothing that he had not learned following his induction into the Companions, for the very purpose of that inner circle was to safeguard that knowledge. Yes, he knew, if one could truly make such a claim, to know all that there was to know. He knew the darkest, most secret truth of the Emperor. He even knew the truth of his own fate. Caer Validimus was fated to die here within the Palace, far away from the eyes of the warring forces outside. He knew that, and yet he was not afraid. He jogged towards the nearest gap he could find and ground to a halt, his bronzed skin glistening with perspiration. He deactivated his burning sword and ejected the spent clip of the bolter, letting it fall away to his feet. He fixed a fresh clip in its place and then turned to look down the half-lit passage to where the sounds of battle and the constant strobe of weapons fire could be found. Custodes threw themselves around the corner into the tunnel. Some retreated in order to rearm and reload. Others fell back through injury, limping or staggering beneath the weight of their terrible injuries. All were battered and bloodied through their exertions, their golden armour rent, buckled and scorched by the attentions of the evil enemy. Other Custodes filled the passage either side of the arch, ready to throw themselves into the battle and replace those who had fallen back. They would never give up, he knew that. Not one of them would even falter, not until they had achieved what they fought for or death claimed them. A part of him felt guilt at witnessing this indomitable determination. A part of him longed to cry out to these warriors, to tell them everything, but he knew he could not. Destiny was destiny, and the destiny of every Custode here was already set in stone, as per the wishes of his Eternal Master. Such was the burden placed upon him that almost felt as if his mighty heart would break. How could he tell these warriors, these brothers, that they did not fight for victory against this ancient and terrible enemy? How could he tell them that all they fought for here, was time? How could he possibly reveal that they were fated to give their lives only to delay the champions of the enemy and their legions enough so that the millennial plans of the Emperor could be realised? He could not. None could know. A powerful explosion tore through the space beyond, throwing dust and Custodes into the passage. The enemy were relentless, indomitable even in the face of the Emperors mightiest warriors. He could not guess at how many of his brothers had just perished beyond his sight, but he felt the collective psychic weight of those deaths as a dark ache in his soul.

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Custodes cried out for revenge as they picked themselves up from the floor and retrieved their weapons, the fires of their rage flickering as ethereal manifestations about their heads. More warriors surged past him to join the fray, eager to avenge their lost companions. He dusted off his grime-caked armour and activated his sword once again, a fresh look of determination crossing over his face. Keep your minds sharp, brothers! I need augurs at every junction within twenty metres of that chamber! We cant rely on the walls to keep them in, we have learned that much to our cost! A number of the warriors moved to stand before him at this request and he greeted them with a grateful nod of the head. Stay vigilant, but do not overstretch yourselves. I dont need to tell you that the Void Champions will burn your minds out if you leave your senses unguarded. At the first sign of trouble, signal me. The warriors dispersed, beating their fists against their chests in salute. Validimus pushed through those that ran by him towards the contested area, his sword at the ready. He could feel them, even from this distance. He could feel the toxic void of their existence as a dark and hollow ache at the centre of his mind. He and his brothers were counted amongst the most potent psykers within the Imperium, and yet it was only through the sheer weight of their combined psychic presence that any of them could even stand to face the Void Champions. He had witnessed many of his brothers suffer horrific deaths at the hands of these abominations. Singled out, their minds had been scoured from their bodies, cut free by the nullifying effects of the enemy commanders and crushed into nothing, into absolute oblivion. It was a fate worse than death and a fate that transcended the end of physical life, for to suffer it was as to have never existed at all, to have ones immortal soul unwritten from existence. Validimus shuddered at the very thought of such a fate, the consideration of it enough to cause trepidation to any psychic being. As you will, my Emperor. He whispered beneath his breath. So I obey. So we all obey. +++ The chamber was in utter darkness now that the guardians of the Emperor had abandoned it. the only light source present came from the softly-pulsing glow of the being that drifted delicately through its vast, empty space, a glow that caused the drifting dust to sparkle like particles of gold. Mephetran passed a taloned hand through the swirling motes, his touch causing the eddies to spiral and drift around it as if alive. He chuckled softly to himself, the sound reverberating around the seemingly endless cavern again and again despite its muted volume. Up ahead, it awaited him, empty and inviting. Clothed in darkness as it was, the Golden Throne shone as it caught the glow of the approaching god, its ancient, flawless surface reflecting the unnatural light. His prize. His destiny. After so long, it was to be his. A little further along he paused, drifting to a halt, his long feet hanging above the polished floor. For a moment he was utterly still, and then he turned his head slightly to peer out into the black void behind him, his one visible eye ablaze with malice despite the smile upon his lips.

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This is getting tedious, Slah-haii. You continue to hound me and yet you endlessly fail to act. Almost lost amid the wall of blackness, the shadows seethed. It galls me to admit as much, but you and I are more alike than you realise, Mephetran. Our actions are rarely seen to have consequence, when in fact we work beyond the sight of mortal life to realise our goals. How can you be so sure that I have thus far failed to act? Words. Mephetran answered, looking back towards the Throne. Suggestion. Implied threat. I do not doubt that you, your kind and your children have many plans and schemes in motion at this present time. In fact, I fully expect this to be the case. It is not that I do not suspect, Qah. I simply do not care. You are nothing to me, not now, not ever. You sound so sure of yourself. So confident. All you see is your prize before you and you assume that you have succeeded. You underestimate me, Yaam-Khoh. You underestimate us all. Perhaps, perhaps. But it is as I said before, Qah. I simply do not care. Ultimate power is destined to be mine and I will take it. I stand to gain everything and I will risk everything I am to take it. Stop me, Qah, if you think you can. That is why you are here, after all, is it not? To stop me? You really think that you have the power to do so, dont you? The shadows bulged outwards, taking on a humanoid form. Huge black eyes glistened beneath the Deceivers glow. We have had this conversation before. Gia Gia is one of us now! Mephetran spat, his aura of luminescence flaring in empathy with his rising tone. Yes, she managed to find the strength and the means to destroy us. Look what it did to her, Qah. Look what it made her become. Dont you see the irony in that? That which she took from us, she herself replaced. You cannot unmake my kind, we who found existence at the very birth of these stars. Even in death we find a way to reinvent our existence. Gia is not Slah-haii. She is broken, her mind lost forever, but she is not of your ilk. For all her power she is broken, a fragment of all she was. Just like you. Just like all your kind. Khaine. Isha. Vaul. Even Cegorach. So long flitting from shadow to warp-tainted shadow, so long cowering in the webway. Such isolation plays tricks on the mind, Qah. We shattered your kind. We broke your collective back across our knee and left you ravaged, bleeding in the dust. Broken, disjointed, done. And therein lies the irony of your own words, Yaam-khoh. Qah replied, the emotion in his voice taking on a strange and unidentifiable tone. Fragments, my brothers and sisters have become. It will be but a fragment that seals your own doom for all time. I promise you this, Mephetran. Long ago we learned that power and strength are not enough to destroy your kind. You will be scoured from this existence for all time with but a sliver of hope. Just as Khaine was tainted by the insidious corruption of Faltoroch, so too will you suffer a similar fate Mephetran snorted in derision as he heard this. Beyond the vast space between the two ancient beings, Qahs eyes narrowed. What is this, Slah-haii? What manner of multi-layered threatAh, I see it now. All I am required to do is doubt, yes? To ponder, to reassess. He spread an arm as if to present the Throne to Qah, a dazzling smile splitting his features wide open.

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What terrible, ingenious design lies in wait to pounce, to lay me low even now, on the very eve of my ascension? What millennial scheme is set to seal my doom? You havent come here to fight me. No, you are here to warn me, to reveal that brilliant and unexpected fate I am unable to avoid. He clasped his hands together and began to drift towards the Old One, an expression of mock excitement and false glee dominating his liquid face. Please Qah, say it. Utter that ominous warning, burning with an inner satisfaction as you do so. Revel in that revelation, goad me, arrogant, ignorant megalomaniac that I am, into taking the bait. Say it. Demand it of me. Call my bluff. Qah did not respond. He simply continued to stare at his primordial nemesis, the hatred in his eyes beyond palpable. Do it, Yaam-Khoh. The Deceiver uttered, his voice altered so as to be an exact, tone-perfect match to Qahs own. Take the Throne, I dare you. Take the Throne, close the trap and seal your fate. Again, his voice altered back to its original form. I gave birth to the concept of deceit, Qah. I am the father of misdirection. The master of illusion. I am all these concepts and more, for such concepts came into being at my own creation, and that creation was formed from the very birth of the universe. I am the alpha and the omega, to quote one long lost human term. I am the first, Qah. There are none superior to me. Such arrogance will prove to be your downfall. The Old One replied. Mephetran gave a curt laugh and swept his palms open slowly before him. Do not debase yourself, my old enemy. Accept your fate. The stars themselves are my eyes. The solar winds bear the whispers of all to my ears. There is no plan, singular or multifaceted, that could ever have escaped me. My claims scream arrogance, yes, but it is a justified arrogance. I speak not with the voice of one utterly deluded so as to be rendered insensible by my own delusions of grandeur. I speak the truth. You know that as well as I. This device He swept around to present the Throne to Qah once more. This Golden Throne, seat of the Emperor. It cannot harm me. I know it as sure as I know my own thoughts. I see it laid bare before me and there is nothing about it that can possibly do me harm. My knowledge is omnipresent. Tainted by the power of the warp as you are, I see that of you also. You can hurt me, Qah, but you will not. You would not lower yourself to this for you know that I cannot be stopped, not by you. Not by any force or individual or sentience in or beyond this chamber. In a universe of such infinite diversity, my kind has no equal. There are none to even compare to us. Qah remained motionless where he was as the egotistical being began to drift slowly backwards, his arms still outstretched, towards the Throne. Towards his manifest destiny. I know of Ynnead, Qah. I know Khaine stirs as we speak, ready to rise from the burning ashes of oblivion. I know of the coming of the scions of the chaos gods, and of the long-lost prize they bring. I even know that, despite my best efforts, the Talismans of Vaul, those powerful weapons I fought so long and hard to see destroyed, lie in wait far beyond my sphere of influence, ready to be called upon once again. I know, my age-old enemy. I know. Do you not see where all this is going? I care for none of it. All your efforts thus far have ultimately been wasted, as valiant as they were. Let go, Yaam-Khoh. Accept the inevitable conclusion of this war. Enough.

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For long moments Qah did not speak. He simply looked as Mephetran drifted towards the Throne and gently lowered himself into a seated position. Arcs of crackling energy sprang from the device as he took his place. Mephetran merely chuckled at the apparent assault, as if the fingers of force were almost pleasurable to him. Only then did the Old One reveal that it was his turn to smile. I came here neither to stop you nor to persuade you to desist, Yaam-Khoh. It was never our intent to prevent this moment. I simply needed to be here to see with my own eyes the destiny that we had mapped out for you manifest itself. Take the Throne. Use it, become all you desire. None of it matters. There are no schemes, no designs on your existence to be realised. That which needed to be done to you has already been done. The past hides secrets well, Mephetran. Your fate was sealed long, long ago, and you dont even realise it yet. Despite himself, a look of anger fought to assert itself upon the Ctans malevolent face. He curled his talons around the armrests of the Throne as if to assert his ownership upon his captured trophy. Pathetic. Desperate and pathetic. I have heard enough. Do not presume Enjoy your absolute dominance. Qah replied, cutting the shimmering beings rant short. Try not to let the inevitability of your fate spoil the moment. We will face one another again before this is over. The dark being did not allow Mephetran time to answer. He turned towards the endless darkness and simply disappeared. +++ He disappeared! Centurion, he is gone! Validimus clapped a hand against the pauldron of the alarmed Custode and pushed past him, his gaze running across the glistening walls. He was a powerful psyker, one of the best amongst the Custodes, and yet despite his abilities he could not see with his mind beyond the physical barrier of the wall. He did try several times to do so, but his mind clouded at each attempt. To attempt to use mind-sight to hunt a Void Champion was a useless endeavour, at least if used directly. Validimus knew exactly what his warrior had experienced. A lessening of that black cloud, an alleviation of pain and pressure. The target, or at least one of them, had moved. He quickly gathered a number of his warriors around him and set off towards the nearest arch, intent on investigating this ominous change. He had advanced only a few paces when the wall behind him exploded out into the corridor, dousing lights and throwing choking dust into the confined space. He threw himself around in time to see the huge shape loom from the obscuring cloud. Emerald light flared and a Custode was cleaved in two, his armour offering no resistance whatsoever. The dead warriors brothers lunged at the colossus, Guardian Spears to the fore. Bolter fire hammered into the thing and drove it back. Then they were upon it. Keep your distance! Drive it back into the chamber where we can better meet it with our blades Even as he issued the order Validimus knew it would do little good. Powerful blades were driven deep into its armoured body and yet it advanced still, ignoring the power coursing through it. One blow smashed a Custode to the ground. Another drove a victim clean through the wall. The Centurion did not pause to consider his own fate as he charged, his blazing sword held ready, to exact revenge.

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The Void Champion met him, blade against blade, and the Centurions sword fell in two. He stepped back and flung the remainder of the weapon at his foe. His eyes shone with power and, though the use of his abilities caused him to shudder in agony, the force he added to the throw drove what was left of his sword deep into the Void Champions chest. He unleashed another surge of will, his hands outstretched, and the Void Champion fell onto its knees. Its armour groaned and buckled beneath the immense pressure. The walls around it cracked, the ancient stone blocks shifting back as if pushed outwards. The Pariah lord shook beneath the assault but managed to push one foot forward. Its heel pressed firmly against the ground, it began to rise, tremors passing through its armoured bulk. The warscythes energised blade sputtered and fizzed like some malfunctioning strip light. The floor itself sank beneath its struggling form, dust and mortar flakes puffing into the air as the stone surface was pushed down. Blood ran freely from Validimus eyes and nose as he fought with every last ounce of his mental strength to assert his will upon the Champion. Within moments the whites of his eyes had become crimson, awash with ruptured vessels. His armoured fingers grew blackened and scorched. Cassus Magog fixed him with a stare of calculating, emotionless emerald steel and rose. Validimus gasped, the crux of his powers reached. Dispelled by the soulless void of the Champions existence his influence was shattered. The blast tore stones from the walls and blew the limp bodies of the dead Custodes clear down the corridor. Validimus himself was hurled back by the force of the backlash, and this at least saved his life. Magog stepped forward and carved a flawless line through the floor upon which the Centurion had stood a second before. He advanced, drawing slashes through the ceiling, floor and walls around him, chasing the Custodes tumbling form. The Centurion came down hard on his back and rolled up onto his feet into the crowding Custodes that had gathered in horror to witness the fight. As one, brothers! He shouted, focusing his mind once again. Those around him needed no explanation as they made to obey. The Void Champions advance accelerated into a bounding run as he charged the Custode lines, his warscythe swinging before him. Raw psychic energy exploded from the Custode collective and slammed into Magog. This time however it seemed as if the abomination had anticipated the attack. He drove his heels into the floor and stood firm against the assault. The deluge of power tore at him, quaking his mighty form. Armour plate flaked away, and the air around him shimmered like desert heat, but he stood firm. All must die. The terrible Champion uttered, taking a laboured step forward. Life must be made to kneel before Him. Life must end, or be consumed. Defiance is senseless. He lunged forward and Custodes reeled in his presence. Validimus cried out with the pain that Magogs presence brought him and felt many hands dragging him back away from danger. Before he had even the chance to protest he found himself pulled through the archway and into the vast space of the chamber beyond. Custode bodies closed the gap behind him, warriors he knew would die within moments for their unshakeable bravery. Centurion! He cast around to see that more of the warriors all around him, filling the subterranean hall as far as the sparse light would allow him to see. And at the centre of it all We have him, Centurion! We have him!

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Exosus Gog writhed and thrashed at the heart of the chamber like an enraged beast. His warscythe drew whorls of energy through the darkness as he fought to connect with the tumbling, darting shapes all around him. The Phoenix Lords of the Eldar slid around the towering monster like mist, twisting and slashing as they dodged blow after blow. The sight of it took the Centurions breath away, if only for a moment. Despite the danger of the situation, Validimus stood transfixed. Asurmen was the coldest and most calculating of all of them, though his efforts were not without passion. Rod-straight he stood in the face of the enemy, his lithe body shifting in short flashes of movement as he evaded the blows of his quarry. His pulsing sword flashed out again and again to parry Gogs huge scythe, not at the blade but at the base of it, where the unconquerable influence of its field was unable to eat through the living Eldar blade. Both Jain Zar and Karandras were far more aggressive and animated in their attacks. Both circled the Void Champion like hunting predators, fast and low, each strike delivered to perfection. Fuegan stood at the outer edges of the conflict, firing burst after burst of lethal superheated fire at the enraged monster. The bone-white mass of Gog bore several blackened craters where even the unknown but powerful properties of his Necrontyr-forged armour had almost failed. Validimus saw all this and dared to dream of the defeat of the encumbered Void Champion. Close this combat down! Seal this chamber as best you can and move in! We cannot allow him to escape! As the Custodes around him mobilised to follow his orders he nodded to himself, adding expectation to his voice and hope to his expression. He was satisfied that the lie was passable. His brothers had no reason to doubt him. He caught sight of Xerlios then, there eyes meeting across the dim space of the cavern. Like him, Xerlios was of the Companions. Like him, Xerlios knew the truth. We have it! His brother Centurion cried, breaking eye contact as he started forward. The beast is ours! This is a glorious day Validimus waited until the forces within the chamber had wholly turned their attention to the fight and only then did he allow the radiant determination to drain away. He let out a long breath, pain creasing his visage. Like Xerlios, he knew that victory was not within their grasp. He knew that Gog would not fall. Not yet, not here. They were coming. A quick glance beyond the conflict to one of the many arches that lined the chamber served only to ensure this fact beyond all doubt. They were already here.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Seven: Beginnings.

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Codian blew the bulkhead door into a smoking ruin and kicked aside what little twisted metal remained. He stepped through the breach, sweeping his bolt pistol from left to right as he fired. Bodies thrashed as they fell, a victim falling to every well-placed shot. He put a round of plasma into the back of the last man to die as the traitor attempted to escape through an adjoining door. The mans body erupted in flame as he was torn apart, his flight cut murderously short. This was the bridge of the mighty tank, he could see that straight away. The chamber was set into a raised blister beneath the vast guns and the wide viewscreen afforded the crew here a commanding view of the road ahead. The tanks crew were dead to a man now. He suspected that the many spaces within this leviathan contained many more but he knew he did not have time to hunt them all down. He did not need to. He regarded the sprawling control bank before him for no more than a few moment s before setting his guns to work on its many switches and levers. Sparks and debris flew as he methodically tore the bank apart, sowing ruin all about him. The entire Megalodon rocked then and at first he thought that this shift had something to do with his attack. He stepped back, feeling the chamber move around him. The war machine was still active, somehow. It was still moving. Another lurch, this time accompanied by a long, mournful groan of shifting metal. The chamber lifted and then fell once again, the impact resonating throughout the superstructure of the tank. Although the controls were so much scrap now the many screens and readouts arranged around the bridge still continued to function. One of these screens in particular caught his eye. At the top right-hand corner of the screen the readout displayed what looked to him to be a representation of a Tau Drone, its designation no doubt marked by the unreadable symbols cycling beneath it. The view was of the foremost section of the tank. Red symbols pulsed at the bottom of the screen as the unit shifted its view from left to right, hunting for whatever target it had detected. Russ loomed large before him then and the symbols grew a deep crimson, their intermittent flashing ceasing. The Primarch was covered from head to foot in dust and grime. His hair was matted and what skin Codian could see sported lesions and abrasions. Despite himself, Codian could not help but smile. The Primarch was still alive and, as far as he could see, unharmed. He had been crushed by one of the largest land war machines the Chaplain had ever encountered and survived. He had actually lifted the damn thing off him Codian! Beware, Prophet! Death is coming! Codian started as he heard the warning. The caution in Cyphers voice was genuine and evident, so much so that he did not pause to question it. The Megalodon rocked once again but this time it was an altogether more violent shift. The noise was tremendous, indescribable. A haze of energy washed over the thick glass screen before him and dissipated, leaving behind a charged mist in its wake, like steam rising from the hull of a trans-orbital lander. Alarm systems raged all across the chamber in the wake of the hit. Many of the screens were now filled with nothing but static snow and flickering lines. The shields have fallen, Codian. This craft will not survive another hit. Go. Leave now.

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Codian exhaled hard and closed his eyes. A part of him had known that this kind of situation would present itself soon enough and yet he had tried his best to avoid it. The power. The ability. He did not even know what to call it. Whatever it was, it was a gift that he did not want. He wasnt even sure whether or not it was Cyphers spirit or the Dawnblade itself that gave him the ability to leap through the warp from point to point. All he did know was that it was an unnatural ability, sorcery even. His greatest fear of all was that this war and the destiny that bound him to it was beginning to corrupt him one cell at a time. He also knew that he would never make it out of this machine and find his way to safety in time. The enemy prepares to fire again, Codian. You are fast running out of time The Chaplain swept the voice from his mind and concentrated, fighting to envisage the street beyond the metres of armoured shell around him. Darkness. Utter, soul-numbing cold. Light. His feet hit the ground running even as he opened his eyes. He was on the street, just as he had wished, the Megalodon a good hundred metres or so behind him. Another craft almost identical to the one he had just exited loomed large before him, its gigantic prow filling his gaze. The twin cannons above it erupted with a scream that rose in an instant to an inaudible pain in his ears. Both barrels erupted with a bright, whickering energy that warped the air around it, the sheer force they released as such that the cannons looked almost to vibrate themselves apart for a fleeting second. A hundred metres would not be enough. He had witnessed first-hand the devastation these alien cannons could cause and it was a miracle that the shields of the crafts hull had withstood the first attack. The hit had overloaded them, and the Megalodon would not survive another. He knew what he had to do then, and for the first time he did not pause to consider his actions. Darkness. Light. He gasped, the air that he drew into his lungs dry and stale. Particles skittered across his face and stung his eyes. He blinked and held an arm up to his face, instinct driving him to protect himself from the howling dust storm. Utter confusion threatened to overwhelm him. He had no idea where the damned sorcery had taken him, only that he was far from Terra. He had not envisaged this or any destination when he had jumped. The dust storm raged about him, obscuring almost every feature of this mysterious place. He looked into the skies and could see the glow from some nearby sun, large in the sky, but pale in comparison with Terras own. Indescribably monolithic structures rose all about him, their dark vastness made hazy by the abrasive gale. This is wrong, Codian. You are not meant to be here. Leave now, Chaplain. This is not your time. He could not breathe. The air was thin and choking. He was suffocating Darkness.

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Light. He fell to his knees, retching. Sand flaked away from his armour and hissed across the cold grille beneath him. For long moments he fought to force air into his lungs, just as his eyes fought to weather the transition from the almost blinding light of the alien sun to the cool darkness of this new place. He blinked the sand from his eyes and rose, his pistols at the ready. His feet rang against the metal beneath them as he stumbled around and, as his vision began to return he could make out shapes, man-made shapes. Consoles. Monitors. Bulkheads. The Tau war machine. He was inside the Megalodon. The thought exploded through his mind and dispelled whatever confusion still remained. He dropped sharply onto one knee and spread his arms wide, turning slowly at the waist so as to cover every angle. There was no crew to be found, reeling in surprise. Only silence. Silence, and This cannot be He had been mistaken. This wasnt the interior of the Megalodon. This wasnt even Terra. What is happening to me, Cypher? He whispered, the spark of recognition growing ever larger in his mind with each passing moment. I am here. Why am I here? I cannot answer that, Chaplain. This is your doing. I have no control over your actions, instinctive or otherwise. He was back where it had all begun. He deactivated his pistols and placed them at his sides. It was only as he came to holster the plasma pistol that he realised he could not. It had no holster. He placed the weapon down on the nearest console and moved towards the control bank. A short search revealed the activation rune for the interior lights and he pressed it. Dormant glow globes set into the curved ceiling flickered and came online, revealing his surroundings in greater detail. What he saw there drove him to his knees. I am dead. He whispered, pain stealing the weight from his voice. Emperor, I am dead. This cannot be real. Ten armoured bodies lay still within the restraints of the sus-an benches arranged in a circle at the centre of the small hold. Ten Astartes, Ultramarines all, immobile and unconscious. Alive. He was back in the lifepod of the Guillimans Wrath. Cypher, tell me what is happening to me? Howhow can this be possible? He uttered, brushing the floor and the surrounding machines with his fingertips as if to convince himself of their existence. Holy Terra, this isthis is the end. My mind has finally broken. There can be no other explanation.

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No Chaplain, this is real Impossible! Codian roared, rising to his feet. He crossed the distance in a second and stood at the centre of the sleeping Astartes, his arms spread wide. How can this be real? How can this possibly be? He extended a quivering finger towards one of the dormant figures. The cold, emotionless visage of the skull helm stared back up at him, its gleaming bone covered with a fine layer of glittering, crystalline dust. That is me. Daelo Codian, Chaplain of the Ultramarines. Survivor of the death of the Guillimans Wrath. How can I be here in the same space twice, Cypher? How is that possible? Your instincts have brought you here, Chaplain. Something inside you, some part of the knowledge you hold, as urged you to this place. Some part of the knowledge? This was your legacy, Cypher! How can you not know the answers? You fail to fully understand the gift you were given. The weight of knowledge you were given is vast and far from linear. Your questions are your own, Codian, as are the answers you seek. Some part of your subconscious knew to guide you here. Through both space and time, it would seem. You never warned me of this, Cypher. You never said I could do this. When one uses the power of the warp, there are no physical barriers that cannot be breached. The warp does not obey temporal laws. The warp obeys no law. Buy why? Codian cried, shaking his fists in frustration. Why here? Why now? Look within yourself for the answers. You are the Prophet The Prophet. Codian echoed, spitting the word from his mouth like venom. How that damned title plagues me. Why, Cypher? What sermon do I have to give? What message do I carry? I am no prophet. I do not know what I am any more. You are the Prophet, Codian. Do you not see the truth of it yet? One must know, Chaplain. One must carry the truth of all things. One must teach. One must act. You are that man, Daelo Codian. How else can you prepare this the galaxy for the coming of the Ctan? One must act, Cypher had said. Questions rampaged through his mind at this, at the situation he found himself in. Why would his own instincts have brought him here? It was as he was considering all this that the realisation finally broke through the storm of confusion in his tortured mind and shone the light of truth. He had crossed not only space but time. He had broken what both sanity and reality told him were the most irrefutable laws of existence to be here. I am here to save them. He said, moving back towards the control bank. One must act, you said. Why else would I have come here, if not to save my brothers from this ignoble fate? You said yourself that I alone am responsible for my being here. You cannot help them. This craft drifts through the warp still, Chaplain, lost deep within its vastness. Revive them now and they will suffer a long and agonising death, you included. This simple craft does not have the ability to enter and exit the warp of its own accord. You cannot know this, but it is only through the sacrifice of one of your brothers that any of you still live.

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Codian withdrew from the console as he heard this and turned to the ten sleeping figures. He walked back over to them, still unable to believe what his eyes told him. The slightest shimmer of ghostly energy at the corner of his eye attracted his attention. He looked to the still form of the Astarte laid at his side. Kreusus. The old Librarians lined face twitched as Codian whispered his name. The hazy light shimmered about his face once again and then faded. The tiny runes of power set into the metal hood that surrounded his head pulsed, and the intricate crystalline circuitry there glittered. Your Librarian brother fights to keep the presence of you all from the predators of this terrible sea of souls and daemons. He has done so ever since this craft was caught in the migrating currents of the warpstream. The effort is killing him, Chaplain. His mind is being stripped away, layer by layer. Codian felt a darkness cloud his mind and his heart as he thought back to the attempt to revive the brave Librarian. He could not have known that it was Kreusus that had saved them all, and that he had given his life and his soul to see them carried safely through the warp. You have my thanks, Epistolary Kreusus. He whispered, laying a hand upon the golden eagle set into the Librarians chest. I pray that your soul finds its way to the Emperors side. With that Codian turned his attention to the others, his own alter ego included. What can I do, Cypher? How can I stand here and know that most of these Marines will not survive this journey? I cannot stand by and let my brothers die, not even His eyes fell upon one individual and his voice died away. Berolinus. Traitor to the Emperor. He hissed through bared teeth and moved to stand above the young warrior. To imagine what this Marine would do, what he would become He drew the Dawnblade from his belt and the weapon came alive in his hand. I may not be able to save the others, brother, but I can save you. I can ensure that you never gain the opportunity to forfeit your soul No. You must not kill him. I cannot let him live! Codian spat. I wont let him betray us! We cannot interfere with the strands of fate that have been woven to bring us to this point and beyond. You must understand that. Do you not see? Everything that you know of the future beyond this point has already happened, Codian. It may seem plausible to you now but it cannot be. Berolinus survives, you know that. If you were fated to kill him now then he would have already been dead the moment you opened your eyes. You cannot kill him. You did not kill him. But why? Why would I let him live when I know what fate has in store for him? Why should I let him live when the others are fated to die? I have to leave Kreusus to suffer so that we may live. I have to do nothing and allow my Captain and my brothers to die, and yet I cannot end the life of a traitor. What sense is there in any of this?

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You are the Prophet. You must teach. You must act. Then let me act! Codian raged, bringing the Dawnblade level with Berolinuss face. The blade quivered and shrunk away from the Marine, as if unwilling to do him harm. Codian gave a curt, humourless laugh, as if this far from surprised him. What surprised him even more was when the living weapon pulled at his grasp, attracted towards the dormant Ultramarine Captain. What is this? He whispered. Fate. Cypher replied. As you teach, Prophet, so must you learn. The truth is yours to reveal. At first Codian made to speak, to probe and to question the phantom once again, but the pull of the weapon was strong enough so stay his tongue. He allowed the Dawnblade to pull him towards Artemon, the glowing head almost brushing his armoured gauntlet. This warrior, Chaplain. His name was Artemon. He never made it out of here alive, did he? No. Five of them were dead long before I opened my eyes. How did you know that? I never mentioned any of this to you. I am in your head, Chaplain. Some memories linger long after others have faded. Tell me, how well did you know him? He was my battle brother, ghost. We fought side by side for many years I dont doubt that, but I will ask again. How well did you know him? This is absurd! I have answered your question, Cypher. We were part of the same company for over three decades. Then tell me of your history together. We need to know why Artemon and these others had to die, Chaplain. Dont you see that? Something killed them during your time in the warp. That same something drove your brother Kreusus to fight above and beyond his abilities to ensure that you were delivered from this fate. Codian, this is the past. This has already happened. So I will ask you one more time, and then together, we will work to uncover the truth. The truth of what? Why you killed him, Codian. Why you killed them all. Codian fought for a long time to find the words to answer the accusing spirit. They would not come. After a while he cast the Dawnblade onto the floor and strode over to the crafts single control chair. He spun the chair around and sat down in silence, his eyes wide. There was no situation imaginable that could bring about the conclusion offered by Cypher. Why would he kill his own brothers? Why would he kill Ultramarines utterly loyal to their Chapter, Imperium and Emperor? Why would he end their lives and allow Berolinus to live? Could it really be that even this, his salvation from certain death at the hands of the Eldar and the subsequent six-century exile within the warp, was part of the millennial plan? I fear that I may have exceeded the limits of my imagination. He admitted, running his hands through his hair. A part of me knows the answer, I feel that much. A part of me believes you. Artemon. Panus. Laecho.

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Verdiem and Maximus. All of them were brothers, all of them loyal and true. I never questioned their deaths, Cypher, but something inside has never allowed me to forget them. There has to be clues here. Something that would explain what has to happen. What of your Epistolary, Chaplain? It is clear that he survived this, or else you would not be standing here. Did he wake? Did he speak to you? All is lost. That is as much as he managed to say before he died. There was nothing more. Then the clue must lie elsewhere. Anaris seemed to sense something Anaris. That word. Codians eyes narrowed as he repeated it again, over and over in his mind. as he did so he fancied he could feel something shift within his mind, and it wasnt until he felt the presence of Cypher recoil in self-chastisement that he remembered he had heard it before. Anaris. That is the name of the Dawnblade. I remember know. I remember the vision of the falcon, the whispers of the Eldar ghosts if the Ishyrea. The clash of alien gods. In my dream the Dawnblade was the greatest weapon ever created by the Eldar Smith-God. Yes, I know the legend. Could you imagine if such a legend held truth? That you held in your hand a blade once wielded by a god? Perhaps a measure of that gods power yet remains within the blade, enough to give it life. Ah, I see it now. At that moment it changed, became something else. It took the form of its bearers allegiances. What was once alien is now a mighty symbol of the Imperium. Such irony Once again, I find myself suspicious of what you truly know, Cypher. First the ghost of the Farseer, Eldrad, and now you. This blade is more than a powerful and ancient alien weapon, isnt it? This blade is the key. The key to all this. You are correct, but this is not the time for such discussions. We must The blade is the key. Codian said again. He moved to retrieve it from the floor once again and found himself surprised when it slid towards him and then leapt into his grasp. He held it up to his face in order to examine it, as if he expected to find his answers etched into its flawless surface. The blade knows. It was trying to tell us something. Something about Artemon. Whatever it was, you spoke of five names. Five dead Astartes, killed to prevent something. Why these five, Chaplain? Show them to me. Codian stepped between the sleeping warriors, naming those he knew were fated to die here as he passed. Well, you know Artemon. Umbras, Laenar He paused and let out a sigh as he gestured at the next Astarte laid beside him. Myself. I assume that you know enough about this one. More than you realise. Verdiem. Laecho. Solid and dependable Marines, both of them. They joined Artemons honour guard together following the losses incurred during the Anchellan Schism two years earlier. Panus was the companys standard-bearer, a role he had maintained for the last eight years prior to the attack on the Guillimans Wrath. Berolinus you know, of course. He was the only Marine present that was not a part of Artemons personal squad.

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And the final Astarte? Maximus. He was, is, perhaps the most seasoned veteran amongst Artemons squad. He was Artemons champion, and one of the greatest warriors I have ever had the privilege to fight beside. What of his history? I oversaw the inclusion of Maximus into Artemons squad myself. He was by that time already a celebrated warrior. He was the lone survivor of the command squad of one Captain Lueso of the Fourth Company. He came to be reassigned to Artemon. In time, he would have made the rank of Captain, I am sure. There followed a pause of silence for several moments. How old was this warrior? He was old. It was said that he had obtained the status of Company Champion during the Wars of the Scarus Cleansing almost two centuries before. This campaign saw the Ultramarines undertake a purge of the Vraks system and its colonies following the rebellion of Vraks Prime. Incidentally, the original Vraks campaign was undertaken by the Dark Angels, who subsequently disappeared from the system following the conclusion of the war for Vraks Prime. What relevance has this? It would seem that the link is to be found in the histories of the Marines in question. You say that one of them, this Panus, was the Companys standard-bearer. Yes. Where is the Company standard? Codian glanced around the small hold of the craft and then shrugged. There was no sign of it. From what I recall he did not carry it with him. What relevance is this? He is the standard-bearer, Chaplain. Cypher, these warriors and I escaped from the Wrath with minutes to spare. I found them as I moved through the ship in my search for Artemon. They were searching for me. We barely made it to the pod in time before the ship began to come apart around us. Again I will say it. He is the standard-bearer. Is that not one of the greatest honours a Marine can hold? I myself have seen Astartes give their lives to save banners fallen in battle. Would he really have abandoned it, even in the face of impending doom? Is that the way of an Ultramarine? Codians eyes narrowed at this. As much as he was loathe to admit it, the ghost was right. This was the first time he had ever seen Panus without the standard by his side. A feeling of deep unease began to settle over him. This champion, Maximus. You say that he was a survivor, a lone survivor of some campaign that originally involved the Dark Angels. What enemy forces were present during this original war? It was a war against the traitors of chaos. I do not remember specific details His voice trailed away then and he moved towards the sleeping champion. Maximuss hands were folded across his chest, his mighty sword and his ancient plasma pistol ever in his grasp. The Dawnblade pulled in his hand as he neared.

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No. II cannot believe such things to be possible. Trust your instincts, Codian. They have yet to fail you. As with Artemon, the blade hovered near the champions armoured right gauntlet. Codian reached down and gently removed the exquisite pistol. He could tell from its artifice that it was incredibly old, thousands of years old. He placed it on the seat at the champions side and then unfastened the gauntlet and removed it, revealing the warriors hand. There was nothing immediate to be seen. The Dawnblade pulled his hand down, a soft light emanating from it as it descended. As it neared the exposed skin, something was revealed in the hazy ethereal glow. A mark, a symbol, tattooed into the flesh of the champions hand. Emperor, no Visible only by the strange light given off by the Dawnblade, the mark could clearly be seen. A threeheaded reptilian beast. The mark of the Hydra. The mark of the Alpha Legion. Codian withdrew, almost stumbling as he did so. Maximus was not an Ultramarine. He never had been. No matter the myriad arguments that his own sense of logic fired through his brain, the truth was clear. This is madness, Cypher. Do you realise what is must have taken to place thesethese traitors amongst us? If they are all truly of the Alpha Legion then some of them would have been amongst us for hundreds of years. How is that possible? Only the Legion themselves could answer that. I have to know. Codian whispered. I have to be sure. It took only a few minutes for him to investigate the others. He had to uncover the truth. One by one he removed the right gauntlet of each Marine, himself included. His findings were exactly as he had feared. Artemon. Panus. Laecho. Maximus. Verdiem. All bore the exact same mark, branded by some invisible means into their skin. The others were clear of the mark of the Legion, and for this he gave thanks. Even Berolinus. He had fully expected the warrior to be one of the insidious traitors but was not unduly surprised when he discovered that not to be the case. Berolinus was a true Ultramarine, and this fact at least explained to him why he had abandoned them to seek out the Primarch. The evidence was clear to him now. He knew what he had to do, and he knew why these warriors had to die. One by one, in complete silence, he moved amongst the traitors, the Dawnblade in his hand. One by one they died, in peace and in silence, their life force drawn into the blade. They were never to complete whatever foul plan they had long worked to realise. Codian slid the Dawnblade back into its holster and shook his head slowly, feeling no better for what he had done. Truth be told, he wasnt sure what he felt about this. He pondered upon his emotions as he picked up the false champions ornate pistol and made to remove its still-full ammunition canister. Take it. It is a fine weapon, far better quality than the Guard-issue piece. Take the spare canisters and the weapons holster, too. Better that you gain something, anything, from this experience. This made sense. He set about retrieving the items, though his mind was still on what he had discovered here.

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There is much of this that still makes little sense. Why the Alpha Legion? The more I consider all the facts, the deeper this seems to go. Perhaps the Eldar attacked the Wrath of Guilliman because of me. I could be the one responsible for the destruction of the ship. It is possible. Perhaps the Alpha legion spies were the ones responsible for your ships destruction, Codian. The plan may have been to manufacture a situation that would allow them to remove you. The Eldar may have been the ones fighting to extract you. They may have even foreseen all of this, and known that their actions would see you thrown into the tides of the warp and placed far from the attentions of those who were aware of your destiny. We must accept that there are some things we will never know. We are done here. He answered, fastening the pistols strap around his waist. I have had enough of this place. We leave. Take heart in the knowledge of the fact that you have maintained your destiny, even if that destiny makes little sense. You are the Prophet, Daelo Codian, a role that cannot be explained. I fear that you will only fully understand all that you are destined to be once this war is over and your task complete. I told you that it was your role to act. Here, you have acted. The future will be the better for it. To act, yes. And to teach. Codian replied. That was what you said. With that he walked over to Berolinus and lingered there for a long moment, his eyes fixed upon the slumbering warrior. Cyphers words were wise, his guidance true. It was as the phantom said. His role, the role of the Prophet, was so complex that no one man could ever fully explain it. His was a role fabricated by beings so old and ancient that they were beyond comprehension. To try and understand it was a futile task. The role was his and his alone. He could not be told what he was expected to achieve or how to achieve it. Those decisions were his alone to make. Little by little, he began to understand that. After a while he leaned close to the Marines ear, and whispered. Roboute Guilliman. Guilliman is your Primarch, Berolinus. Guilliman is the light of your existence. You must find him. You must strive to seek him out no matter what you have to do. I cannot tell you why this is so, for even I do not know the answer. All I know is that it must be done, and you are the one to do it. Find him. With that he rose and nodded. I am done here, Cypher. I have a war to win. The shadows tore him from the hold of the lifepod, and he was gone.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Eight: Recall.

Armoured boots rang against solid metal as the darkness peeled away. He felt the impact and fell forward, the surface bearing enough of an inclination to throw his balance. Codian rolled head over heels and came up onto his feet in time to see the Megalodon before him meet its annihilation. Twin supersonic thunderclaps burst across the surrounding buildings, shattering hundreds of windows simultaneously.

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The entire rear end of the Megalodon shattered, almost like glass, as the full force of the shells assailed it. The passage of the shells created a series of chain reactions that tore the whole craft apart, inch-by-inch, metal shredding and squealing from stern to bow. Metal squealed and groaned as the twisted remains were pulled in after the shells, the forces created by their passing so great that the largest pieces buckled and folded in on themselves. A mighty vortex of swirling debris spiralled after the powerful shells, growing as it sucked every particle of loose wreckage after it. Russ! He cried, scouring the scene for any sign of the Primarch. He could see nothing. Had Russ survived the first attack, only to be killed by this? He drew both his pistols and investigated the surrounding hull for the nearest access point. As his new acquisition whined to life he felt the rising power vibrate through his armoured fingers with some satisfaction. Cypher had been right; this was indeed a far superior example. He had briefly considered using his new ability to throw himself beyond the thick hull and into the craft but he chose not to do so. The power was still a great mystery to him and he did not want to risk leaping into such a confined space, only to emerge half inside some interior bulkhead There. The hatch was small, not initially designed for a Marines power-armoured bulk, but it looked large enough to accommodate him. A single plasma shot blasted the hatch in. Metal rang and energy flared beneath the blast, washing over his feet and sending an uncomfortable charge through his armour. The Megalodons protective field. Fortunately for him the field seemed to be geared more towards repelling far more powerful attacks and less to preventing close-quarter harassment. His entry was not a smooth one. The edges of the hole rang against his armour as he passed. He landed and almost lost his footing as the warped and smouldering hatch slid beneath his feet. He found himself in some kind of short and narrow corridor, featureless save for the few bulkhead doors set into its length. He moved to the first of them and banged the back of his fist against the hatch button. The metal slid aside and he pushed through into the space beyond. Bodies rose before him and he put them to death with a series of swift shots from his bolt pistol. Blood sprayed and sparks flew as the human crew were put to death. Codian waited for the smoke to clear and then investigated the cramped space. The cabin was only a few feet wide but looked to stretch a good way along the length of the tank. He peered down the console-filled passage and saw others rising from their seats, gunners, he guessed, throwing aside headsets and reaching for secreted weapons. He cut them down without mercy and with a speed none could match. Here in this confined space there was no escape from the bit of his guns. In no time at all, the only thing left alive in the gunnery corridor was him. The rest of this tanks crew had to be aware of his presence now, he knew that. Every moment counted. He ran down the corridor, his guns to the fore, covering every niche and hatch as he passed. He knew nothing of the layout of the hold and had no idea where this would lead him, he just kept on running until he reached the end of the space. Another hatch. He hammered an elbow into the button and passed through into an intersection that saw access ladders leading above and below the deck he stood on. He heard shouts filtering up and down from all over the craft, fearful and confused.

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The crew of the Megalodon knew that they had an enemy in their midst now. +++ Impossible! Macharius spat, rising to his feet. Tau and human crewmembers scattered about him, animated by the shrill cries of a dozen alarms. Worried faces filled his vision as he swept his cloak aside and drew his pulse pistol, his pale features alight with indignation. The intruders have passed through the left side gunnery station, lord! We are attempting to track their progress now! Sound the general alert! All crew to arms! This ends now! Macharius raged. The Nan Rmyr is mine and I will not suffer this! Hunt them down like dogs! Bring me their damned heads! Bodies filtered through the hatch of the bridge and he followed, pushing aside those who were not fast enough to exit before him. As he passed through the opening he slowed, feeling the press of bodies surge back into him. Gunfire thundered through the hold ahead, each burst deafening in his ears. Bright weapons discharge flashed through the confined space. He could not see what was happening ahead but it was obvious that the enemy were fighting their way to the bridge. Bring them down! He commanded, fighting to get a glimpse of the insolent attackers. The bright flash of pulse fire flashed through the gloom, rendering his ability to see beyond the immediate bodies useless. The spaces of the Megalodon were near useless for this kind of close-quarter fighting. No matter how undesirable the option was, he knew that they had little choice. Draw them back this way! We will make our stand on the bridge! He turned and ran back through the hatch into the chamber beyond. From here there was no way to run but that did not matter. There was only one way to enter and exit the bridge, and the attackers would have to pass through here if they wanted to take the Nan Rymr. The bridge crew were the first to filter back into the space and as they did so Macharius ordered them into their positions. Open communications with the rest of the craft! I want every surviving crewmember to respond to this attack! Activate and release all defence drones! Varso, bring the interior surveillance online and show us who were dealing with! Everyone else move back! Move back! Keep that hatch covered, damn it! Bodies jostled for room as they poured through onto the bridge and spread through the space. Macharius braced himself and raised his pistol, ready to meet the threat. No sooner had he levelled the weapon with his eye than a bright ball of plasma punched through the hatch and cut a host of fleeing Guevesa to pieces. The shot carried on into the bridge and exploded against the bulkhead wall, causing Macharius to throw himself to the side in order to avoid the white-hot backlash. He landed hard and rolled up onto his knees as shots hammered through the hatch, cutting more of his crew down. Others reeled before the assault, bolt shells exploding all about them. Press forward and counter them! I wont stand for this intrusion! I am Macharius! I am The dark shape thundered through the hatch and into the defending soldiers and crew, gunfire exploding before his blurred outline. Shells scythed through Machariuss men, and the pulse fire that met the murderous attacker broke against his armoured form in miniature starbursts, unable to penetrate it.

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Macharius rose and fired, each shot an extension of his own burning anger. At the same time he twisted the rune at his belt and the wreathed helm fastened there fell into his grasp. He swung the helm onto his head. A brief film of shimmering energy washed over his outline like glass catching sunlight, fingers of electric charge crackling about the golden artefact. In those next passing seconds he caught his first true glimpse of the intruder. He was an Astarte, clothed in the armour of a Chaplain, his bare face twisted in absolute rage. Their eyes met then and the warrior closed in one him, swatting aside those that did not fall to his guns. You have made a mistake, Imperial traitor! Macharius uttered, casting the useless pistol aside and drawing the golden staff from his back. He flicked the clasp at his neck and his crimson cloak fluttered to the floor, just as the rampaging attacker brought his hands together and put a storm of bolt and plasma through the torso of the last remaining member of his crew. The Chaplain did not answer him. He fixed his hateful eyes on the Gueshio and made his intentions perfectly clear. Bolt pistol raised in readiness, he took a step forwards and fired. Macharius was already advancing upon him as the bolt shell slammed into his chest and exploded. Light and flame flared across his charging form as the ancient Helm of Macharius devoured the explosive and concussive forces assailing him. The shot did not even slow him down. The foul traitor had not expected this to happen, he could tell that. Nor had he expected the sheer ferocity of his charge. Macharius was upon his foe within the space of a heartbeat and he swept his staff down into the armour at the Marines shoulder, the blow a solid connection. Opposing energies burst across the point of impact and threw both combatants back several paces. Macharius drove his heels into the floor and arrested his momentum as the Chaplain lurched back into the bulkhead, his weight crushing several control panels and throwing sparks across the tight space. Astartes! Arrogant fools who think themselves above those who carry nought but the flesh and blood they were born with to battle! He shouted, advancing upon his opponent once again. He spied the pistol as it levelled on him and brought the head of the staff down to drive the shot into the floor. A swift kick connected with the Chaplains face and another with his opposing arm, far from enough to injure the Marine but sufficient enough to keep the fearsome plasma pistol at bay. The Chaplains legs scissored beneath him and Macharius was thrown over onto his back. He landed hard and rolled instinctively, avoiding the descending heel and the deep dent it left behind. He was on his feet just as the Chaplain rose and, unwilling to allow the traitor even a moments opportunity he rained a punishing series of blows down upon him. The Marine countered each one with the armour of his vambraces. Despite his strength and skill, Macharius could see that the Chaplain was also protected by far more than armour. A vast arm swept out and punched his staff aside, the blow powerful enough to almost dislocate the limb. He cried out and staggered to the left as the Chaplain followed withy an elbow that sent him sprawling across the bridge and into his command chair. There was no time to hesitate, no time to allow disorientation and distraction to better him. He threw himself away as plasma tore the chair apart, rolled over and came up onto his feet once again. Bolt shells smashed him into the main control bank and he felt the breath surge from his lungs. Then the Chaplain was upon him, his dark visage filling his gaze, those hateful eyes blazing with the desire to bring about his doom. Macharius drove both feet into the Marines stomach but the b-----d did not even flinch. He tried again; hammering blows into the most vulnerable point available to him but still his opponent did not show any

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signs of discomfort. Then the pistols found him, their dual barrels hovering inches from his face. He thrust the staff forward like a spear and caught the Chaplain full in the face. The armoured brute pitched back as Macharius slid under and around him. He wrapped both hands around the staff and bludgeoned the fiend across the back three times. His fourth attempt rang against the chaplains arm and he realised too late that he had left his guard open. White-hot plasma scoured the detail of everything before him from his eyes and sent pain lancing through him, total and overwhelming. He was only barely aware of the brief sensation of weightlessness that preceded the impact of his body hitting the floor. He remained there for what seemed an age, caught fast in the suffocating embrace of utter agony, his every nerve afire. Then he was airborne once again, armoured fingers wrapped around his neck and then released. Another impact, jarring and pregnant with agony. +++ Codian plucked the enemy commander from the floor and flung him across the bridge into the main viewscreen. The golden-armoured warrior hit the glass with a bone-wrenching thud and slid down onto the ruined console, hazy smoke curling from his punished form. The man was strong for a human, and fast, though to look upon his unnaturally pale, almost grey skin betrayed the fact that he was something more than human. He had no idea who this warrior was or what manner of standing he held within the Unity. Truth be told, he did not care. He was the enemy, just another pawn of the Unity. Just another obstacle to overcome, another life to end. He was nothing. He drew the bolt pistol from its holster once again and rearmed it. The man was well-protected, almost as well as himself, but sooner or later that protection had to fail. It could not keep him safe forever. The commanders eyes were open and he was starting to stir, although it was clear that he was in great pain. He had managed to push himself up onto his hands when the light beyond the viewscreen faded and a ringing impact jarred the Megalodon around him. The thick glass shattered and huge fingers wrapped around the mans neck as Codian looked on. He was pulled from the bridge like a rag doll, out into the hull of the war machine. Pulled into the presence of Leman Russ. The Primarch lifted the Gueshio up to his scowling face and gave a low, rumbling grunt of contempt. Little thing. He growled, inspecting the resurrected Lord Solar as if he were some intriguing curiosity. False flesh wrapped in the pomp of the Guard and the sterile trappings of the Tau. You reek of plundered cells and dust-laden tombs. Faded and diluted. Is this what the Unity is reduced to? Macharius did not answer, nor could he have if he had desired it. He spat in the Primarchs face, his last, defiant act. Russ flicked his wrist and snapped the mans neck with ease, ignoring the counteractive energies that snaked across his hand and arm. With that he cast the broken body aside, and Gueshio Ur Vior Macharius Shoka was no more. Codian climbed out through the shattered viewscreen and nodded to the Primarch, the expression on his face making no secret of the fact that he was glad to see Russ alive.

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I had thought you lost when the guns of this monster destroyed its sister craft. It is good to see that the celebrated Leman Russ continues to live up to his legend. Russ smiled and bowed his head. Forgive my interference in your hunt, Chaplain, but the destruction of that craft was an uncomfortable experience and I had to exact my revenge in some form. I assumed that the fool is just killed was the commander of this gunship. That he was, and I can barely fail to forgive the intrusion of a Primarch. Well said. Back to the hunt then. Russ raised his spear and leapt from the hull of the Megalodon, Codian close behind. They landed on the road and into the frenetic chaos of the fight. Bikes roared past them, bolters blazing. Drone fighters soared by overhead, spinning trails of searing pulse fire into the Alliance ranks. He landed before the broken body of the Gueshio and rose, his ascension slow and deliberate. Animalistic senses attuned above and beyond any possible human level drew his attention up and out into the carnage. Recognition flashed across his feral eyes. Animal. Roboute Guilliman uttered, raising the point of Agiselus out at the tensed Primarch. Macharius will be the last brother of the Unity ever to fall to your hand. A wide smile split the Wolfs lips as he heard this. He mirrored Guillimans threat as he thrust the head of his spear out at the creature he had once called brother. I bested you once before and left you teetering on the brink of death, my sibling. I took your arm as a warning, Guilliman. I knew your chaos-tainted lapdog would give it back to you. That which I will take from you here and now shall never be regained. You are a lie, something that should never have been. I will rectify that mistake. Codian rose slowly as he took in both the exchange and the sight of his Primarch, his hearts pounding in his chest. He had always known that this confrontation would occur, for such an incident was the stuff of fate, but nothing could have prepared him for the sheer weight of it. Guillimans black eyes flicked towards him, their movement visible only by the glint of light shifting across their surface. Chaplain. He uttered. The transformation on his face from smile to sneer was so subtle as to be hardly noticeable. I am by no means a vindictive man but I will enjoy watching you die, traitor. You are a Chaplain, a champion of the Imperial Creed. You could have brought the light of truth to so many, you could have saved the soul of the Imperium, but you have not. All you have done is play herald to its annihilation. Codian shook his head slowly as he heard this. He holstered his bolt pistol and drew Anaris, ready to see his destiny through to the end. As he did so his final fears were confirmed before his eyes. The hovering craft behind the Primarch bore another figure from the gaping hatch set into its side. His brother, the traitor. Berolinus. The warrior he himself had betrayed. Berolinus said nothing. His eyes never once left Codian as he raised the head of the mighty thunder hammer up and pointed it out at the Chaplain, the challenge clear.

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The stuff of legend, eh? Russ uttered in his ear, his voice rich with a barely disguised thirst for combat. That is our lot, Chaplain, you see. To fight the fights that are remembered across the ages. Our Imperium has survived to this day only through the preservation of such legends and the inspiration they generate. Inspiration is strength, a strength and a desire to continue, to persist. To survive. The future is built on the foundation of legend, for these are the only such foundations strong enough to support it. There was something in the way that Russ spoke that gave him pause to consider the Primarchs words. He realised then that the Wolf had intended to impart something of great import, something he himself had to remember. Russ saw this consideration on the Chaplains face and nodded slowly. You are the Prophet, Codian. One who has so much to teach can only be taught himself by a pantheon of all. You are the book, the account. The witness to destiny. You are the message. The message for who, Russ? For all of us. Came the Primarchs enigmatic reply. Codian heard this and froze. That was it. That was the moment. I know. He whispered to himself. I know my purpose. I see now what I have to do.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy Nine: To Face a Destiny.

A profound realisation flooded through Codian as he came to understand all that was expected of him now. It was a realisation that swept through him, blasting aside the shadows of doubt and confusion from his mind with the light of comprehension and truth. Many were the varied and complex facts that tumbled together to form avenues of destiny in his mind. It was as if that one core realisation, the discovery of the truth behind his own existence, had been the key. The discovery of his true identity had unlocked something unprecedented deep within him. He was the Prophet. He was the message. He had not carried on the tides of fate here to this future nightmare time in order to teach. He had been brought here to learn. To witness. He could not die here, just as Cypher had said, because it was not his lot to die before the conclusion of this war. It was his lot to bear witness to all that had passed and all that was yet fated to pass, from the moment he opened his eyes to the death of the final Ctan. This last consideration swirled around his head as a mental echo, the sheer absurdity of its implications barely comprehensible. To dare to even dream, at long last, of an end to these god-like beings, was a consideration that almost caused him to feel foolish despite himself. It was possible now. He could see that for truly the first time. Up until this point he had allowed himself to be led in both thought and action, content enough to trust the fate that hung around his neck like a leash to guide him ever on his path. Only now did he see the full truth of things. Only now did he realise that this was not how it had to be. His was not a destiny of obeying the choices of other powerful, aloof and more enigmatic entities. His destiny was his own. It always had been.

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There was a way. There was a way for all this to end. Each and every one of the four Ctan could be destroyed and for all time. The imminent threat of the battle around him faded away like the dispersal of smoke into the open air. Sights and sounds faded into oblivion, leaving only him and his thoughts behind. Codian realised that this was of his own doing. He could feel his mind reeling, synapses flaring and parting as his entire brain fought to reconfigure itself to better accommodate the boundless information coursing through it. The myriad strands of destiny that were ever bound to him remained, yes, but they were forever changed now. Now he could see them, stretched out like stands of spider-silk in his minds eye. He could see now that there was no mysteries to his fate, to where his existence intended him to go and what it intended him to do. He could see the many points far in the past that he had played his part in shaping this final war. One particular vision flashed by him faster than the mortal mind was able to process. Even Codian caught only the merest glimpse of what the thought contained, but it was enough. It was enough. The Deceiver, the ancient creature known as Mephetran. He had just witnessed his end. Codian saw then that even gods could fall victim to the vipers strike. The blade he had come to know as Anaris shivered in his hand as he saw this and so he dismissed the thought. It was at this point that Codian fought to understand exactly what it was he had become. He was no longer human, and far even from Astarte. He was no longer strictly mortal and yet he knew that it was possible for him to die. He was still a living, breathing being and yet his soul had become something much more than the sum of its parts, he began to understand this. Everything he was witnessing, all these illusory scenes of past, present and future, they were actual memories. His memories. How this could be possible he did not know, but he could not doubt that this was the truth. Somehow his mind was able to show him much of the life he had yet to lead, as if his psyche and his physical self were somehow connected only by the faintest of tethers. All these were memories of events that had already happened in various points along the timeline of his existence, most of which his physical self had yet to experience. At the centre of it all, the voice. That ubiquitous, ever-changing presence. It was no accident that this Anaris had long seemed to be the vessel fated to deliver the voice and all its wisdom to him. Anaris was that vessel, in a far more literal sense. The last, coveted treasure of a dead god. He was the Prophet. Who or whatever he had once been was long gone now. He had been Daelo Codian, once. No longer. And so at last, you understand. Said the voice in his head. I do. And I see all that must yet be done. You may go now, ghost, back into that vast abyss beyond, to where your final fate awaits you. Cypher did not answer. He did not need to. Codian took his next breath and knew then that the phantom was simplygone.

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What witchery is this? Russ growled by his side. The Primarch raised his head slightly as if in response to some sudden and quite unpleasant odour. The crackle of mind-speak singes my nasal hairs, Chaplain. Witchcraft has a smell all of its own. Destiny, Primarch. It is time to take the reins of destiny in hand. Many more of the huge Megalodon war machines had choked the highway beyond, unable to advance due to the demise of the Nan Rmyr. The death of Macharius had robbed them of their commander. Each of the lesser commanders of the crafts milled about in confusion, fighting to decide their next move. The rain of Eldar missiles continued to descend from their hidden positions high above, sowing ruin and panic amongst the trapped war machines. There was a commotion behind them and Codian turned in time to see a short but bulky shape pushing its way through the assembled Space Wolves. Grungi shoved his squat frame out onto the road amid a flurry of unintelligible curses. Bruised and caked in grime, he wiped the back of his hand across his face and grinned at Codian. Now this should be a bloody fight! Not one to miss, thats for sure. Ah, and here we have him Codian followed the Demiurgs gaze and looked on to see a brace of figures exit the hovering Orca behind the Primarch, shouting orders into the confusion. He recognised Berolinus immediately, though the other towering warrior was not as easily identified. There was something familiar with the strange many-armed device hardwired into his back, something that set his memories tingling. None of this situation mattered at all to the opposing Primarchs, it seemed. Russ and Guilliman were, at that very moment, the only two warriors upon the battlefield. Codian knew that the coming fight would be made legend in the days and years to come. He watched as his former brother moved to stand behind his Primarch, hate radiating from his scarred features. The thirst upon his face was clear to see and to read. Codian understood that hate now, where before its manifestation had been utterly unfathomable to him. Berolinus hated him with all his heart because he had abandoned his Primarch to this fate. He hated him for his inability to find courage enough to fight to recover his Primarch from the clutches of his xenos captors. Most of all though, and he saw the truth of it only now, was that he hated Codian for what he had done to him. Somewhere, locked deep within the core of his being, he knew. He knew that it had been the Chaplains voice whispered in his ear, the one voice he knew that he would be honour-bound to obey. Codian had put him in this position, and Berolinus would be sure to make him pay for that. Towering above him, Russ could not help but take delight in the current situation. He spread his arms wide as if to present both the city and the situation to his erstwhile brother. You honour me with your continued self-defilement, brother. I sense the new strength that courses through you. That you would allow what little of yourself that remained to be scourged by the genetic filth of the Tau just to better face me in glorious combat is humbling. Your sacrifice is not lost on me, my brother. Enough of your prattle, Russ! This ends here and now! Guilliman answered, the anger inside him as such that he looked to grow before the eyes of the others. Guilliman smiled then and turned, raising his blade up and out to where the buildings continued to rain down their fiery death upon the retreating Megalodons. You and your inequitable hordes have done well here, Russ. Many of the Unitys commanders have fallen to brutal and surprisingly well-placed attacks. You see yourself upon the cusp of victory now, a victory that

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must be assured. You have defeated my masters plans, have you not? Look around you! See the destruction your Eldar allies rain down upon us! Russ let out a low growl at this, almost too quiet for Codian to catch. He was surprised to find himself responding in such a likewise feral manner. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, agitated by the Wolfs own reaction. It was a reaction that bore no link with what Guilliman had said. Russ had sensed something. Berolinus twitched at his lords side, visibly eager to exact his long-awaited revenge. Guilliman placed the flat of his blade across the warriors chest, a clear order for him to stay his hand. I can forgive you, brother. He said, flashing a look at Codian after he had spoken. I can forgive you also, my wayward son. You have fought long and fought well in this war, but you are far from veterans of it. You really do not see the truth of it, do you? Shut up and face me, false one. Russ snapped, readying his weapon to strike. Guilliman merely smiled and shook his head slowly. Behind him the spider-limbed warrior clad in hulking Tau armour mirrored his expression and turned his gaze to the skies, as if searching for something. Or rather, searching for the lack of it. Guilliman raised his free hand up and then slowly closed his fist, ensuring that both those present caught the gesture. Behind Russ, the gathered Wolves shifted in agitation. Silenced. As simple as that. Codian realised what Guilliman had meant moments later. He took a step back and began to scan the surrounding buildings. The Eldar. The Eldar launchers had fallen silent, every last one of them. As he continued to search for any signs of the hidden warriors he caught sight of something falling towards the ground, so tiny at first that it could barely be seen. Within moments it had become a black speck, growing by the second. Guilliman, Russ, Bile and Codian all followed the things descent until it finally crashed into the ground before them, the ringing impact throwing the twisted object high into the air before it came down once again and settled into a spinning rotation. Codian had never seen its like before but he knew what it was. It had been a helm, clearly Eldar in design. Someone or something had found the Dark Reapers. Guilliman proudly regarded the thing for a moment and then looked back to Russ, his dark eyes shining with menace and glee. Can you feel that, Russ? I know you can. You are an animal, after all, with an animals senses. I know you can taste the panic in the air. We are the Unity, brother. We are the conquerors of the stars. It does not matter how many guns you turn upon us, how many blades are raised in defiance. Let all the corners of this galaxy pour their tides of defiant filth from the shadows and turn them upon us. None of it matters. None of it. System by system, world by world, we have stripped away all defiance. Even Terra herself trembles beneath our might, its every last bastion scoured of rebellion. We are the Unity, Russ, and we cannot be beaten. And yet we have continued to best you. Codian spat in answer. At this, Guilliman turned his gaze to the Chaplain and gave a curt laugh. Chaplain, you are so out of your depth here that you are barely able to comprehend it. For close to a

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thousand years the Tau have infiltrated the cities of the Imperium in order to train for this day. Do you really think this galaxy was conquered by the armies of the Fire Caste, or by the Kroot or the Vespid? Ah bloody hell Codian heard Grungi whisper. The Demiurgs face widened as he heard this, a look of mounting elation passing over his face. Theyre here. Codian, theyre here, at last. Thors beard, we finally have a real bloody fight on our hands. Who? Whos here, Grungi? Codian answered, every muscle in his body tightening. The Mon Korstla. I should have known. The b-----d has brought them here to Terra. Codian did not have the time to pursue his current line of questioning. He looked on as Guilliman raised his sword and brought it down in a chopping motion, signalling the attack. Russ let out a howl of release and charged, his passing so swift and violent that Codians body rocked in his wake. Guilliman advanced immediately and the two met to trade their first blows before any other warrior present had even time to react. Codian caught sight of Grungi as he launched himself past, animated by the coming fight. A thousand thoughts rampaged through his mind as he responded to the sudden activity. The trap had been set. Despite everything, despite the best efforts of the Alliance and the bravery and sacrifice of those who had given their lives to see this defiant counter attack realised, Guillimans plan had never once been affected. The more he considered this the more he understood, the facts unravelling in his mind at a dizzying rate. The Unitys pause in hostilities had been designed to serve a single purpose. Russs Wolves surged by him, a tide of charging bodies borne upon a burning tide of bloodlust and hatred. He fought to keep himself from being carried along by the irresistible hordes but seconds later he knew he stood little chance of success. He had to get clear of here. He had to Darkness. Light. He launched himself from the darkness and back out onto the street, guns questing for targets. Russs Wolves had pushed far beyond Guillimans front lines and were even now surging around the still-retreating Megalodons in order to reach the as-yet unseen attackers. Guilliman and Russ were still locked in vicious combat at the other end of the urban arena, a fight so brutal and inhuman that the two warriors were little more than a single compact blur of arms, legs and flashing weapons. The epiphany had been the key, he realised that now, and had triggered some vast and fundamental change in his mind. The knowledge was his now following the retreat of Cyphers spirit. He was the Prophet, the key itself, master of past, present and future. He saw it all, saw everything he needed to see. Now he saw the truth of this, and only now did he begin to truly understand just how the Tau had managed to conquer the galaxy so totally. They had been doing so long before even the infamous Damocles Gulf Crusade. The Tau hadnt conquered world after world through military might or even the promise of unified peace, not at first. They had conquered from within, from the deepest shadows, working upwards like a cancer until that world was theirs. They had conquered in ways that had ensured no possibility of resistance. They had subdued

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entire populations a city at a time through a combination of terror, murder, analysis and might, and all this had occurred far from the gaze of the Imperium. They had come to know the ways of the Imperial Machine better than the Imperials themselves. When ones every secret is exposed to the enemy, when there are no advantages left, then you are totally at the mercy of that enemy. The Tau military machine, for all its strength and power and proficiency, was merely a veneer. The Tau he had thought he had known in his time were far from the true race he faced now. The Imperium had fallen for this faade, a fatal mistake. Everything about the Tau was a lie. Only now was he witnessing the truth for the first time. The fight for the defence of the Imperial Palace had been one of the greatest and most intense campaigns he had ever taken part in and yet, for all its scale and desperation, he had not once paused to consider the bigger picture. Terra was a planet under siege, the last surviving bastion of the Imperium, and yet the invasion had been centred upon this one strategic point. The Palace was the seat of the Emperor and the ultimate goal of the Unity, but it was not the only goal. Far beyond the eyes of any of those millions of brave defenders, of the Alliance and the Eldar and the countless other forces that had come to try and prevent this cataclysm, the rest of the world had suffered the same fate. Terra was a world of billions, literally teeming with human life. The Tau had come and they had conquered these scattered bastions one by one. No matter the numbers of the Unity here in the assault on the Imperial City, they had been but the tip of the iceberg. A world had been subdued in days by sheer weight of numbers. The truth behind the delay had become apparent now. The Unity had never intended to breach the defences of the Palace with their initial push. The defence of the Emperor had been the prime concern of every member of the Alliance and the commanders of the Unity knew that. The greatest and most powerful elements of the Alliance had converged here in order to ensure that the Palace would not fall, despite the fact that the Emperor Himself no longer existed here in any physical form. The enemy had known that this would happen. They had known all along that the might of the Alliance would be applied to the defence of this city. Now the rest of the world had fallen, and the true might of the Unity was here to finish the job. Now the true war for survival would begin. Codian scoured his surroundings for any sign of the enemy, fighting to see beyond the crush of Wolf bodies. Grungi was lost once again amidst the carnage, and Russ and Guilliman were still locked in mortal combat. He knew he had to help the Wolf, he had to ensure that Guilliman did not make good on his promise of revenge, and yet there was one thought foremost in his mind as he struggled to plan his next move. Berolinus. His lost brother. He knew now that he was responsible for Berolinuss betrayal, at least in part. What still escaped him was why he had instigated this, and now was hardly the time to try and uncover the truth. The scream of rage preceded the growing blur of blue armour before him and he turned to meet the threat, guns held at the ready. Traitor b-----d! Berolinus cried, swinging his hammer in a long, sweeping arc towards his foe. Codian threw himself away from the blow and fired a salvo of bolts at the charging warrior. Explosions impacted against the shield fastened to the Ultramarines arm and he twisted around, bringing the hammer around for another strike. Codian mirrored the move, twisting around the blow so close that the head of the hammer skimmed his

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back. He came about and fired again, driving a bolt into the warriors shoulder plate. Berolinus staggered back and raised the shield up to guard his face and torso as more bolt rounds hammered into him. Codian pressed forward, recognising the advantage. Despite the danger of the situation he was still unable to fully commit himself to the fight. Berolinus was his brother and his comrade, the aggression and hatred in his heart fuelled by Codians actions. As such the Chaplain could not fully justify the hostility required to see this fight through to the end. He paused, a mere momentary lapse of concentration but one that allowed his opponent to recover. Berolinus charged forward and shouldered the Chaplain back, the blow almost throwing Codian off his feet. He recovered and replied with a furious salvo of bolt and plasma as he fought his momentum. Berolinuss shield hazed beneath the assault but held firm, its artifice clearly hard to match. A shrill cry assailed his ears and he felt the sting of razor-sharp claws slice across the back of his head. His opponents avian familiar flashed by overhead as Berolinus recovered and came at him again, twirling his crackling hammer about him. Codians eyes widened as the deadly head grew closer by the second, its energies leaving afterimages seared into his retinas. Berolinus had grown so strong, so fast He closed his eyes and threw himself through the warp.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty: Temporal Glimpses.

He knew the place even as he felt his feet hit the parched dust. The familiar heat blasted against his bare face and caused the coolant systems built within his armour to increase their output. He felt his trachea close against the thick, dusty atmosphere as his multi-lung fought to keep him from choking. His instincts had brought him back here, to this unknown planet far from Terra. The dust storms continued to rage still, yet this time they did not seem to be half as violent. Damn it. Cypher, it has happened again. Why? Cypher There came no answer. He had feared that this would happen ever since he had felt the phantoms presence slip away on Terra. Here and now he felt that he needed Cyphers guidance more than ever, and yet a part of him knew that this guidance had become a thing of the past. The past. As he rolled the words around in his mind he felt the significance of them. Something inside him told him that this was the past, a time long before he or any of those he knew had existed. Still, the question remained. Why here? What did this place mean to him? What did destiny have in store for him here? The mysterious edifices that surrounded the rocky valley here were far more visible now. They were truly immense, possessed of a scale the likes of which he had never seen before. They looked as if they were each carved from a single block of obsidian stone, although he knew that this defied all laws of possibility. He could also tell that they were incredibly ancient, primeval even. But why? What was their significance? Why did he keep finding himself drawn back to this long-dead world?

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Something beyond the roving dust clouds caused him to start. He cast around in time to see some vast column of crackling emerald energy spear upwards from the tip of one of the obelisks and lance up through the clouds. Who are you? The voice came from behind him. At first his mind refused to allow him to believe of its existence but he threw himself around anyway, both pistols ready to bring down a target he did not believe existed. The figure was standing a good ten metres away from him, partially obscured by the swirling dust. Codian saw immediately that he was a Marine, clad in armour as dark as his, and wearing tattered ivory robes that whipped about his tall form. Cypher..? No. He soon saw that this warrior was not the long-dead Cypher, though he did bear many similarities to him. The warrior wore a helm that covered his face, its eyes pulsing with a soft yellow light. He held a bolter across his chest, and Codian could see the hilt of a power sword at his waist. A quick check of his immediate surroundings suggested to the Chaplain that the warrior was alone. Who are you? The Marine asked again. You are not one of us. You should not be here. The Marines voice held a gaunt, ghostly tone, not quite natural. Codian could not quite recognise the pattern of his armour and could see no markings of allegiance. My name is Codian, and you are correct, stranger. I should not be here. I do not know this place. The lone Marine considered Codians answer for a time, standing silent like a statue as he weathered the dust storm. You should leave, Codian. I know you now. You are the one they call the Prophet. You should leave this place now and not return until it is time. Time for what, stranger? What significance does this place have? Even as he asked the question, Codian considered the strangeness of it. Even as he spoke he could feel the answer boiling through the compacted mass of information in his mind. The answer came to him then, as clear as if he had always known it. Despite himself, he allowed a muted smile of realisation to pass over his lips and he lowered his gaze to where the blade Anaris lay dormant at his side. I am the Prophet. The dark armoured Marine started as he heard this, the glow of his vision slits intensifying. I know who you are, guardian of this lost place. You are Astelan, the one who will call all those of your kind here when it is time to secure the destiny of the enemy. The Marine nodded at this, clearly accepting Codians introduction as the Prophet without argument. Then you have come from the End Time, Prophet. When that war is over, when destiny has been realised, you will return here to complete the cycle and sow the seed of that same destiny. Codian tilted his head.

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Until that time, Astelan. Remain vigilant. The Marine saluted Codian with his bolter and then looked on as the Chaplain turned into the storm, the first dark fingers of energy curling about his body. Prophet! Codian looked back as the darkness came to envelop him. At first, the warrior named Astelan paused, as if trying to find the words to say. Tell him, Prophet. Tell him of what we are to do here, if you can. We were his truest sons, once. Tell him why this had to be. You have my word. Codian answered, and was gone. +++ The tremendous noise of the battle hit him like a sledgehammer as he poured back out onto the street, fighting to maintain his balance. Charging bodies hurtled by him, connecting with his armour and throwing him from side to side. Every transition brought with it a period of intense disorientation, a sensation he could not avoid. He shoved his way through the fighting bodies and headed towards the nearest building with a renewed desperation, for he knew that he had to get his bearings here or suffer the consequences of his situation. These things were consummate killers, each and every last one of them. He ducked low as a bladed arm slashed for his face and countered with a bolt to the warriors midriff. The shot was enough to send it rolling away, blood and other fluids spinning away into the press, the blades of its segmented armour slashing at all those it passed. He saw a break in the throng and concentrated on the wall ahead, imagining the abandoned spaces beyond. He had little choice but to act. Utter blackness gave way to a half-lit gloom and he allowed himself a sigh of relief upon finding that his jump had been successful. He steadied himself and came to a stop against a nearby wall, the weight of his arrest sending spidery cracks up the plaster. From in here he could hear the sounds of battle still, though they were muted by the thickness of the ancient walls. The room had long since been deserted, its inhabitants no doubt driven towards the relative safety of the Palace defences. Here, at least, he had time to gather his thoughts. Once again his inherited powers had taken him to a place not of his bidding. He had not thought of where he intended to go and as a result he had been taken back to that strange and ancient dead world. He understood the significance of that place now. He understood its link to him and what he was destined to do there. What had seemed as a random event at the time now made sense. Some nameless presence deep within him was trying to tell him something, trying to prepare him for what lay ahead. The more he considered all this, the more the protective layers of his mind continued to peel back, to reveal the millennial truths of his existence as the Prophet. His was a fight that was far from rooted in the present, even now. No longer was his fate a linear thing, the passage of time his guide to the events that would shape the outcome of this war. No, he was master of his

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own destiny now. His was the ability to choose when to fight the battles he needed to fight. Right now, beyond these walls, Russ and Guilliman were fighting to the death. His brother Berolinus was even now hunting through the warring hordes, intent on exacting revenge upon him for a crime he was barely aware of. Right now, the true armies of the Tau were sowing death and destruction through the beleaguered Alliance ranks. Once the Codian of old would have questioned why no one had thought to inform him of the truth behind the Taus real power. Someone or something had ensured that this induced ignorance had endured, despite all that he had seen and done since his arrival in this time. He rose from the wall, his eyes narrowing. Such deceptions were beyond him now. There were no answers hidden from him. All he had to do was recognise the questions. You b-----d. He whispered, hissing the curse through bared teeth. It is time we had words. The dull implosion of his jump rang through the empty room, the action of it casting the hazy darkness out like the spreading petals of some cancerous flower. The sound faded away into a soft silence, a silence that existed for no longer than a few, fleeting seconds. Another explosion of shadow and deep noise and the figures tumbled through the room, knocking aside tables and chairs as they did so. The mass of limbs crashed into the wall and Codian was up on his feet in an instant, guns ready. His companion was faster. Thurgals iron-clad arse! What the hell is this? Grungi spat, bringing his axe-hand to a stop inches from Codians chest. I almost put a bloody ventilation shaft through your bloody ribs, longshank! What the hell was that, snatching me up from the middle of a battle! The last thing you do to a Tau Slayer is try and pull him clear of a fight when he has the Red Veil over his eyes Shut up. Codians answer held such cold menace that even Grungi found he could not resist the urge to fall silent. His scarred face creased, his augmetic shining as his brow furrowed. Though he was still panting hard from his exertions, his breathing began to shallow. What is this, Codian? I know, Grungi. I know who you are. The Demiurg emitted a nasal hiss and shook his head, his single eye ever darting from side to side at each muffled explosion or war cry beyond the walls. I should think you do. Weve been through bloody enough. Im serious, Codian, get me back out there The Mon Korstla, Demiurg. That is what you called them. Do you remember that? Do you remember that slip of the tongue? Yes! Theyre here, theythey are here. All traces of his anger died away, literally draining from his arms and face. He looked back towards the Chaplain, his expression suddenly neutral.

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A slip of the tongue, you say. Hggn. Codian The Chaplain stepped forward and shook his head slowly. No. No more lies, Grungi. No more deceit. I have called you a brother for so long now and I would have the truth from you. I have long since learned that coincidence does not exist here. It is time for you to talk. Grungi eyed the Chaplain coolly. Every last trace of his former desperation had melted away. His body language had changed. To Codians eyes, it was as if another entity possessed the body of his battle brother. For the first time, Codian did not recognise the being behind the Demiurgs gaze. It is worth even opening my mouth, Codian? You are the Prophet. You know the truth of things, I see that now. I do, Grungi. I know something was done to me to prevent me being made aware of what you call the Mon Korstla. These warriors have conquered worlds and systems for the Unity and yet I have never once even heard of them before this day. They are the true power behind the Unity and the deadliest warriors the enemy have at their disposal. Not once have I heard mention of them since my arrival here. Not once have I seen them or even witnessed anything to suggest their existence, and yet they are responsible for almost every victory the Tau have gained these past centuries. How absurd is that, Grungi? How is such a thing even possible? Misdirection. Grungi answered, his gruff voice strangely quiet. Misinformation. Manipulation. Codian gave a short, humourless laugh and began to pace before the short alien. Yes, and no. I am beginning to understand things so much better than before, Demiurg, and I am learning fast. This is more than simple coincidence, Grungi, so much more. This secret army, it was blocked from my mind. The truth has been staring me in the face all along, only I was unable to see it. Misdirection be damned, Grungi. You did this to me, you b-----d. You did this to me. At first the Demiurg seemed as if he would attempt to deny the Chaplains accusations. He opened his mouth to speak, lowered his gaze and then emitted a long, surrendering sigh. They called it mnemonic cell layering. I wont pretend to understand the exact mechanics of it, Codian. It isnt my place to know the reasons behind everything. They told me where to find you, where the warp would spit you out. I found you and I used the device they gave me to bring you to consciousness. The thing put theI dont knowthe block inside your mind. Codian did not reply as the Demiurg walked over to the wall and slid down it, every last trace of the ubiquitous fire in his soul extinguished now. The Chaplain looked upon Thurgus Grungi then and realised that he recognised nothing of the warrior he thought he had known. What are you, Grungi? Tell me the truth. I am the last of my kind, Codian. I did not lie about that. My hatred for the Tau is no falsehood either. I was dead once, Chaplain, can you believe that? I am no survivor. The Tau exterminated me just as they exterminated all my kind. I was dead and gone and they brought me back to life, just like that. He hissed through his teeth and rose, though his head remained lowered in shame, a shame hidden by the twisted braids of red hair hanging loose across his face and shoulders. I asked them time and time again why they could not restore my lost people, Chaplain, they who hold the power to restore life. Do you know what they told me? It would upset the balance. They could not risk doing harm to the balance of the universe. They told me this as if I would find it a comfort.

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So, you are an agent of the Cabal. Grungi lifted his gaze as he heard this and met the Chaplain with an expression of genuine surprise. You know? Hggn, of course you know. You are the Prophet, are you not? Yes, I am an agent of the Cabal. They remade me, Codian. They made me faster, stronger, better than anything I ever was before. They are a collective of b-----ds who care nothing for the fates of those they manipulate to serve their own ends. They would have seen your precious Imperium wiped from existence if they had succeeded in doing things all their own way, do you know that? Prophet or no, I doubt you know the full truth of the Cabal, Codian. Everything you thought you knew of chaos is a lie. Ever Codian held up a hand to silence the Demiurg. Grungi did not resist. I tire of these endless intrigues, Grungi. There is still so much for me to uncover and yet I am not interested in the machinations of beings that will always be far beyond my comprehension. I have fought and fought to uncover all the pieces of this puzzle I was created to solve. The puzzle is all that matters to me at this time. I know what I have to do now; I know almost everything I need to know. There is only one piece of this puzzle left to solve, the final piece of the key that will unlock the gates of destinys path and open the way for me. Grungi heard this and his brow furrowed. I am the Prophet. Codian answered. To teach, I must learn. I cannot be told. I must strive to learn. I must earn the answers, not simply be given them, and only then can I use the knowledge given to me to make the choices I must make. I dont expect you to fully understand that, but this is how it has to be for me. You are the last piece of that puzzle, Grungi. You hold the answers I seek. With you lies the foundation stone of all this, of all the knowledge I possess. I need you to tell me what you know and that knowledge will be complete. Destinys circle will be completed, and I will bring this war to an end. Grungi shrugged. What do you need to know? I will tell you all I can. Tell me of the Mon Korstla. Tell me why you were made to scour them from my mind. Tell me the real truth behind the destruction of the Guillimans Wrath, of the Alpha Legion and the Eldar. Connect all those pieces for me, and let me end this damned war. Very well. Grungi answered. Tell me, what do you remember of the events that led to the destruction of your ship? Codian thought back to that long lost time, back to that far gone past. As he did so he could feel a dull pressure in his mind, a fleeting sensation that seemed to pass almost as soon as it had occurred. We were part of a force formed to respond to a threat on the edges of the Eastern Fringe Stop there. Grungi said, so abruptly that the Chaplains voice died in his throat. The Demiurg shook his head slowly. What I am about to tell you is information that was given to me by the Cabal, prior to my finding you. This is all I know. There was a world, Codian, that your kind called Necromunda. A hive world, teeming with billions of your kind. It was discovered by your Inquisition that the ruling nobles of every single hive were trading in what your kind called xenos technologies. These hunting rigs were a combination of powerful armour and weapons systems, far more technologically advanced than anything the Imperium possessed at the time. These nobles were using them to hunt other humans for sport, and the suits were even able to record these brutal hunts.

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What they didnt realise was that these hunting rigs were actually of Tau design, a creation known as the XV-0, and that the Tau were using them to spy on the human populaces of these hives. So you see, even as the human race thought that they were coming to understand this new and dynamic race better, they were already underestimating the Tau. Within a matter of a few decades, the planet of Necromunda was saturated with these suits, and Necromunda was to be but the first planet of the Imperium to be placed under total Tau scrutiny. As intriguing as this tale is, where does it lead, Grungi? You were on your way to pacify this world, Codian. You were part of a massive invasion force formed by one Inquisitor Czevak in response to the uncovered threat. Czevak? The utter disbelief in Codians voice was genuine. Yes. You were fated to raze that world and scour every last trace of Tau corruption from it, Chaplain. but, as you know, this was not to be. You see, these suits were the Dragons primary weapon in the war against humanity. The Tau you all thought you knew were an illusion. An outward chimera of the real threat. The Imperium waged its wars of territory with the Tau, contesting system after system, world after world. All the while the insidious threat was continuing to grow beneath the spires of the Imperiums most populous hives. You see, the XV-0 suits were far more dangerous than any one of your kind could have imagined. They were designed to corrupt the wearer from within. Every kill the wearer made changed him or her. The wearer became stronger, faster, enhanced by the alien elixirs contained with the suits. Elixirs that contained Tau DNA. Codian blinked as he heard this, his dual pulses quickening. So, these Mon Korstla. They arewhat? Hybrids? Grungi nodded. Slowly but surely, millions of human beings were altered. That is one of the fundamental truths that you must understand of the Tau, Codian. The Tau is not by any means a specific species. Dont you see that now? All the clues are there. They were created from the genetic stuff of many lifeforms. The Tau never had a basic genetic identity. The Tau are a collective. A unity. They are the Unity. At last, Codian understood the final piece of the puzzle. He understood how the Tau had come to conquer a galaxy. Just like the Tyranids, that primeval race that consumed all other life, rendered it down and remade it as its own, so too the Tau had done so. They had spread like a disease through the stars, not conquering, but becoming. Just as billions of humans had joined the ranks of the Unity willingly, so trillions more had literally become part of the Tau race. Conquered, from within and without. Why was this not allowed to be stopped? Codian whispered, his voice all but stolen by disbelief. The destruction of Necromunda would have saved so many lives. Why, Grungi? Why was this allowed to happen? Because there could have been no other way, Codian. The Cabal understands these things far better than you or I ever could. If the invasion had been allowed to happen, if you and your forces had razed the world and uncovered the truth behind the XV-0, the entire balance of the Cabals plans would have been altered. The Tau were a race created to aggressively adapt to any circumstance. Instead of conquering through subtley in those first few centuries, their advancements would have been overwhelming and aggressive, resulting in untold lost Imperial lives. Thus the Taus development was controlled, and maintained at a steady rate. The Imperium would have burned itself out fighting an enemy that was forced to super-adapt. They would not have survived to fight this war. Your race would have been extinct long before now. And the Alpha Legion? What part did they play in all this?

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They were working with the Cabal. They were the ones who disabled your ship, Codian. The Eldar attacked, creating the diversion. The Alpha Legion agents used the incident to smuggle you to safety. The rest is history. So why, Grungi, did I kill them? And why was I made to forget all details of this phantom mission? At this Grungi allowed himself an ironic grin. Again, Codian, the ways of the Cabal are beyond either of us. They know the future of things. Do you remember our first encounter with the Nicassar? Remember how they saw something in you? It was something that they could not explain. Had your memories of that campaign not been locked away, they would have peeled the truth from you mind in an instant. They would have seen the truth and from that moment on the Dragon would have brought the entire weight of the Unity down on your head. You would not have survived to see this day. And so that is why the agents of the Alpha legion had to die? Yes. The Alpha legion have been key players in this war for longer than you could imagine, Codian. They knew, like me, of what would come to pass, and so they knew that they could not be allowed to survive the journey. And what about you, Demiurg? If you knew all this Grungi raised his hand and tapped a finger against his forehead. Me? Im just a crazy old Demiurg. Trying to read anything in here is like sifting through broken glass with your bare hands. Hnng, all they get from me is hate, longshank. The Cabal didnt have to do much up here, this is all my own work. Its all about what you know, see, and how you can hide that from those who would read you. The mnemonic layering, Codian. What I am trying to say is that everything is always something more than it is. There are facets and layers to everything. Hes no psyker but you cant hide things from him, Codian. He knows your thoughts and your fears as well as you know them yourself. You cant let him see what is inside your head, not yet Grungi sighed again, as if frustrated with his inability to explain the utmost complexities of the situation. Your mind is the machine, you see. All of it, everything, its all in your head. They made you question everything, every explanation, every revelation. You were conditioned to disbelieve. This way, as you learned the truth, your mind was made stronger. Impregnable, even to him. Him. Codian said. The Deceiver. Yes. Forget this war, Chaplain. Forget the other Ctan. The key to victory here is the Deceiver. They told me to give you a message when we finally had this conversation. An important message. They said you would understand what it meant only once you had realised my true role in this. Then speak, Grungi. Twice more you will face him. You will use your heart and your instincts to determine these meetings. Both these encounters are to take place in the past, and will set in stone the events that will bring about the downfall of the Ctan. I cannot tell you of the specifics of these events, but I can give you guidance on where to go from here. Then do so, Grungi The Throne of the Emperor, Codian. The Throne is the key to Mephetrans downfall. Find the one called

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Ventris, and ask him of the fate of the Throne of the Emperor. Find Ventris..? You will understand. I promise you. Codian did not linger another moment within the empty space.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty One: Set it Off.

+++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ Uriel Ventris hauled the thick pole of the banner upright using the strength in his shoulder and pulled at the gilded tieback tassels. The thick and ancient cloth unfurled in the breeze, snapping like a hungry predator in readiness for the fight to come. He jammed the hilt of the pole down deep into the rubble at his feet and bore the weight of the leaning pole with unhidden pride. He was the Ancient, and his charge was more precious and worthy than any other. The Banner of the Alliance. The symbol of mankinds unchallengeable unity. The banner shimmered above him as its rode the ripples of the winds, proud and displayed for all to see, ally and enemy alike. It was an undeniably beautiful thing, the Banner of Alliance. Resplendent at its centre was the Imperial Aquila, exquisitely embroidered so as to appear as if it had been hewn from stone. Sat atop the Eagles twin heads was a single wreath of shimmering gold, bright and alive, that seemed to shed glittering particles of dust at the every movement of the standard. Ventris bathed in the beauty and power of the artefact, for truly it was a wonder of creation, a marvel constructed of the most secret technological methods the Imperium still possessed. He felt more alive and invigorated than he had done so in a long time. The lines of his face seemed softer, his hair thicker and streaked with the colour he had once lost. Pride alone had begun to regenerate him. Even now the heaviest elements of the Eternity Wall Gate defences forces were spreading out around him, ready to meet the coming of Guillimans forces. Contact between the armies involved in the counter attack and the defence command had become broken and intermittent, and yet Calgar was satisfied that everything was thus far going according to plan. More concerning were the lack of communications between the other Bastion-Cities of Terra. Some continents had lost all communications, and those still able to send scattered reports via the Astropathic web spoke of terrible loss. All the signs were clear. The vast, bulbous shapes of the Lamprey-Class Carriers had been spotted on the horizon hours before, heading in south from the Mountain Hives of the Shambahl Spires. The Reapers were heading for the Imperial City. In all likelihood, they were already here. A line of Predators rumbled past, quaking the ground with their passage. The skies beyond were ominously dark, filled with palls of rising smoke from the unseen battle being played out ahead, a battle that he had no doubt was heading for them once again.

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What happened next would have brought a lesser man than the Ancient to his knees through shock or sheer fright. Ventris stood his ground, instinct causing his body to tense like a rock, as a pall of darkness unfurled before him and vomited forth a dark, armour-clad figure. Codian! God-Emperor Uriel. There is no time. Codian replied, sliding his pistols into their holsters so as to allow him to take the Ancient by his arms. Listen to me very carefully. I need to know something, and apparently you are the man to ask. Whatever I can do, brother, but Listen! The Throne, Ventris. The Golden Throne. You were there when the Emperor died, I know that. What happened to the Throne? Iit wasCodian, what is happening? Let me What happened to the Throne! Codian shouted, his grip intensifying. Uriels eyes widened at his brothers agitation. It was destroyed, my brother. Obliterated. I saw it happen from the shadows, from beyond the veil of reality. The Eldars Laughing God came and he warned us that the Ctan were coming to destroy the Emperor. No lives were lost save for that of the Emperor, but the Throne was destroyed Codian released his grip and stepped back, his face tight with concentration. The Throne had been destroyed? How could this be feasible? Qahs greatest fear was that Mephetran would take the Throne as his own and use its powers to ascend beyond the other Ctan. How could this be, if the Throne itself was gone? As ever, he had come across yet another enigma, a problem that made no sense to him. A problem he had to solve. Codian? He looked up at the ancient through eyes hooded with confusion. Ventris clung to the pole of the standard still. He drew back his head and spoke. The being, Qah, told me something shortly after the death of the Emperor. He gave me a warning then, told me of a time when you would come to me, seeking my aid. He will need you, Uriel Ventris, he said. Do not fail him. Qah. Codian whispered in answer, the veil of confusion lifting from his face. Of course. This has something to do with Qah. With that he took a step back and closed his eyes. Codian was no ignorant fool. He knew that he possessed no psychic powers of any measurable volume, and the knowledge inside him told him that he never would. No, he was no psyker, he was so much more than that. He had powers that transcended such abilities, and he shared a link with the Old One that was strong enough to pierce his own mortal limitations. That, and he had the power of Anaris at his disposal. Use your instincts, Grungi had told him. He understood now what that meant. The powers he held were multi-faceted, far beyond his abilities to understand. His instincts unlocked perhaps the most potent facet of those powers. He did not have to understand his every action. He just had to have faith. He closed his eyes, and whispered.

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Qah. He said. And was gone. +++ This time when the darkness peeled away, it did not completely leave. The air was cool here, dusty and stale and endlessly recycled. Some part of him knew he had slipped beyond the veil of time once again, led by his instincts. His goal here was to find Qah, but most other details escaped him at this point. He did not know where or indeed when he was, but he had his suspicions. Fortunately, it did not take long for him to uncover the truth. Codian? Stay where you are. Do not move or make a sound. He recognised the ancient ones voice in his head and slowed. The sense of space around him was a palpable thing. He was on what appeared to be a raised dais of ancient stone spread across the top of some immense ziggurat. The edifice was inside what appeared to be a chamber so utterly cavernous that the curved walls beyond were visible only by the millions of tiny, twinkling lights spread across their surface. There were stairs before him leading down into the abyss, stairs wide enough to accommodate maybe a hundred bodies standing side by side. Banners and standards flanked these stairs in their thousands, ancient beyond reckoning. Codian had never once stood where he was before, but he knew this place almost immediately. He could feel its significance in all that he was. This was the Throne Room, and before him stood the mighty gates of that most holy sanctum. Those gates were open. The more Codian investigated his surroundings, the more ominous the situation seemed to become. Sight and sound attracted his attention almost simultaneously as he stared at the towering gates. From this position he was unable to see beyond them into the Emperors most holy sanctum, but he could see the intermittent pluses of light that stabbed through the gap, accompanied by the sounds of what could only be described as conflict. Just as he had suspected, there was war within the Throne Room of the Emperor. That thought sent hot lances of panic coursing through him, motivating his legs and driving him forward. Where were the Custodes, those legendary guardians of the Emperors mortal remains? There was no sign of them, not even a hint that they had ever been here. Codian, wait! Trust me, you must approach no further. Qahs voice once again. He slowed, just as he was ordered, for despite the panic surging through him he trusted the ancient being above all others. He slowed and moved towards the wall of the Inner Sanctum, the clamour of the fight beyond still strident and ominous. No sooner had he reached the dank ancient stone when the air grew black and Qah twisted his way into being before him, his long alien fingers spread in a plea of hesitation. You came, Prophet, just as I knew you would. The change, I see it in you. You are of the future now. That is good. What is happening, Qah? Amam I here? Is this the death of the Emperor? It is. Codian, this is an event that must come to pass, you understand that.

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Codian nodded, though it was clear by his expression that he was far from comfortable with the fact that his Emperor was about to die his final death. So, Mephetran is here. What of the Custodes, Qah? Are they willing sacrifices in all this, or are they unaware of this plan? The Custodes are safe, Codian. They are far from here, for they are fated to take part in a different element of this war. No, Mephetran vents his rage upon nothing but shadows and phantoms. He will learn his folly soon enough. Ah Qah extended a hand to touch Codians chest and closed his eyes, his dark aura spreading about him. You will not find victory here, Mephetran. Codian stepped back at the sheer psychic power of Qahs words. He heard them clear enough but felt them a hundred times stronger in his mind, a telltale sign that the warning had passed far beyond the walls and deep into the Throne Room. He waited in silence as the exchange continued. Though Qah remained locked in his psychic stasis, his aura continued to shift and swirl, as if animated by the beings powerful thoughts. No, but we can hurt you. We will breach your shining skin and send your essence back to the tomb, Mephetran. You will not consume him, and this war will play out without you. We do not need to kill you, evil one. All we have to do is remove you. Qah blinked then and the miasma about him died away. Codian felt a pressure ease inside his skull and he knew that the Old One had broken contact. There. We have successfully angered him. Now that anger will cloud his mind and banish the reason from him. Is it wise to anger him so? Codian asked. Your threats were bold, Qah, but you have told me yourself that it is unlikely you would ever be able to hurt him. I have seen the future, remember. This is not the last time you will visit Mephetran here. He must be forced to destroy the Emperors body, Codian, in order to truly release him I know the story, Qah. He destroys the Throne, the very same Throne that he intends to use to give him the power to ascend Qah shook his head slowly as he heard this, his dark eyes flashing with an enigmatic cunning. That he does, Prophet. Brace yourself No sooner had Qah spoke than a blinding burst of light poured from the chamber. The ancient walls shook beneath the power that was unleashed within, throwing dust and stone fragments over both of them. It is done. Qah said. The Emperors mortal remains are no more. The Thrones final hold upon your Emperor is gone. He is free now. Codians eyes widened as he heard this. Of course. The corruption within the Throne Its hold is broken now. Mephetran is denied his prize. Now all that remains is for us to convince him that

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his myriad plans can yet turn the situation in his favour. Once again the living darkness around Qah extended and he spoke with his mind. Fool. You know not what you have unleashed. You should have consumed him, Mephetran, as you had intended. Have you learned nothing since last we made war? You should have ended his existence. Instead, you have set him free. Codian looked on as Qah fell silent. Somewhere beyond the wall, the Deceiver continued to vent his rage at being denied. Yes, you have. At last, his legacy is complete. Let the Army of Life come. Qah said and then withdrew his mind. He opened his eyes and looked to Codian. Now we make the bargain, Prophet. I will ask that you give Anaris to me. Codian did as he was asked with question. He produced the weapon and handed it to Qah. To his amazement the Old One pressed it to his breast and the living weapon slid into the dark stuff of Qahs body. To protect the future. He whispered, folding his cloak of living darkness around himself. This will be my last great scheme, Codian. You have thus far learned well, in that you have come to me here and now. You must continue to trust your instincts, and follow them wherever they choose to lead you. What happens to me now, Qah? What do I have to do? Nothing. The alien replied. Your presence here alone is enough to seal this bargain. You will understand when this is over, I promise you. Codian shifted uneasily then as he felt something shift behind him. The pressure in the air changed, causing the hairs at the base of his neck to stand on end. He turned to look out into the darkness and there he saw another figure, its outline dancing at the very edges of his vision. The being was surrounded by light and yet he found he could not focus on any colour or pattern its phantom form exuded, as if his mind was unable to hold on to the memory of what he was seeing for more than a passing moment. Cegorach. Do not fear him, Chaplain. Together, the three of us will face Mephetran. Steel your heart and do not let him see fear in you. Remember, this is destiny. The huge doors of the chamber rocked before the three figures, causing Codian to snap around. Blazing white light poured from within, a seething and angered radiance that bore the hovering figure of the Deceiver forth like a storm surge, out onto the wide landing. Qah! The single word thundered through the cavernous space, resounding again and again within the endless darkness with thunderous resonance. The golden nightmare turned his blazing eyes upon the waiting trio and he raised a finger in accusation. Damn you, Slah-haii! You may think that your little game has given you the upper hand but you are wrong! This changes nothing! Nothing! Despite himself, Codian could not help but withdraw before the Deceivers monstrous anger. Qah stood firm, displaying no outward signs of concern. The fact remains that you have destroyed his mortal remains and forever set him free from the insidious shackles of the Throne, Mephetran. His final link to this existence is now severed. He is free, and beyond

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your abilities to reach him. You would do well to contemplate that. You pathetic fools! You really think that I am concerned that he is free? He is nothing to me. I no longer need him, Qah. All I need is the Throne The Throne that you destroyed in anger. Your emotions have undone far more of your work than we ever could. Emotions. The Deceiver uttered, the anger draining slowly from his face. Ah yes. You are correct, Qah. Emotions have the power to bring the greatest of schemes crashing down. Emotions have the power to turn absolute victory into utter defeat in the blink of an eye. Who do we have here? Codian felt the world around him shrinking away as the Deceiver turned his attention upon him, his terrible gaze enough to strip reality away. He gasped, feeling the ice-cold fingers of some vast invisible hand wrap themselves around him and hoist him into the air, ensnared and helpless. I know this one. You have great expectations of him, Qah. Do not harm him! I warn you Ah. Anger. Fear. Mephetran said, a wicked smile spreading across his face. Those fatal emotions bubbling to the surface. It has been long since I evoked such emotions in you, Qah. I am pleased to see that I am able to do so again. Harming him will not change these circumstances. You know that. I do not believe you, Slah-haii. I see how precious this creature is to you and your brother. Perhaps I could snuff him out like a candle here and now. Tell me, Qah, would your own myriad schemes allow for this? Do I really hold such an ace in my hand? Ahhh, yes, I see it. This is where the bargain is offered, old enemy, is it not? A deal, in exchange for the life of this insect. Please, do not let me hold back your tongue. There can be no deals. What is done, is done. Mephetrans shining eyes flashed towards the ever-changing form of Cegorach. No deals? Bravo, lord of the Webway, bravo! Such convincing steadfastness. You play an impressive part. The Star God sighed and flicked his fingers open, an action that sent Codian tumbling to Qahs feet. Come now, we have had our fun and played our games. You have my compliments, human. You play the part of the bargaining chip so very well, but my patience has reached its tolerances. The Throne is destroyed and I commend you on that, both of you. One single facet of my plans has been removed, and so I must adapt them accordingly. This changes nothing. Of course, you are here to offer me an alternative, that, or attempt to stop me. I think we all know that the latter is the more absurd of the two. Remember the Talismans of Vaul, Yaam-khoh, and you may yet understand my offer. Qah replied. Hearing this clearly piqued the Star Gods interest. I remember. I orchestrated a war just to rid myself of those troublesome baubles, Qah. I couldnt have them lying in wait amongst the stars, ready for the return of your kind. They are gone now Gone, yes. But far from destroyed Mephetran sighed again at this, as if frustrated by the simplicities of the conversation.

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I know that the Talismans cannot be destroyed, Qah. Vaul may have been amongst the weakest of your kind but his weapons of war wereimpressive in their design, it pains me to admit. You see, I knew that I even I could not destroy them. Time and again, I tried, to no avail. Time and again I have obliterated them, only to look on helplessly as their remains are dragged back beyond the Gates of Varl, to that place far beyond all the laws of time and space. I know that they are whole again, and awaiting your call. None of this concerns me. Then you know the secrets of the Throne. Qah whispered, his voice dark. Of course. Like all of Vauls creations, it can never truly be destroyed. Do you not see it now, Qah? All I did when I destroyed the Throne was rid it of my brothers malign influence. I feel even now, knitting back together, shard by glittering shard. There is nothing you or I or anyone in existence can do to stop it from restoring itself. Do you not see the ironic beauty in that? It will take time, of course, but this war grinds on at a pace steady enough to accommodate that. I will have my prize in time for the coming of my brethren to this feast, and I will take ultimate power as my own. What bargain have you to present to me, Qah? All I need, I will simply take. You are wrong. Qah answered, moving to stand between Codian and the shining abomination. I can offer more than you realise. A truce. Mephetran laughed as he heard this, displaying both delight and a genuine surprise. A truce? Is this desperation, Qah? I must admit, I fail to recognise the motivations behind this latest twist. What manner of truce could you possibly offer me? You know my desires as well as I know them myself. There can be no fate except annihilation for any of you. We are enemies that share a common problem, Yaam-khoh. You are the weakest of the Star Gods and you know that. The Throne will reconstruct itself in time but you will be forced to weather that time, Mephetran. There are many factors that can yet affect your claim to this prize during that period. Drochtyrs legions stir even now, ready to burst forth from the heart of this Palace and lay ruin to all within. They will come for the Throne. A sneer crept over the Ctans face, the glow of his eyes flooding with a rich crimson anger. You know this is no idle threat. Qah continued. The Phoenix Lords of the Eldar have risen. Khaine stirs in the moletn hearts of the Avatars, ready to call his anger together and bring war to this galaxy once again. I could bring this war here to you, Mephetran, if I wished it so. Do not doubt my words. The Star God shrugged, displaying an indifference to Qahs threat. Then do so. You speak of deals and truces and yet I see no possible motivation for this. I am set on the destruction of every life here on this miserable world. I will share my dominance with no one. Do not mistake my intentions, Mephetran. We are at war and that will never change. All I see is an opportunity to rid ourselves of our mutual enemies. I will humour you as far as to hear what you have to say then, Qah. Convince me, and you may even live to leave this place. We will not oppose your plans to take the Throne Codian started forward as he heard this, his mouth falling open. Even as absolute disbelief hit him like a wave he faltered, an explosion of thoughts and information flooding through his mind. The last piece of the puzzle fell into place. As it did so, his mind opened like the petals of a flower, revealing all the wonders and secrets of the knowledge inside him.

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He knew. He understood now, more totally than he could have ever imagined possible. He saw it all, from beginning to end, and he understood. His growth was complete, Qahs intentions providing the final key to his development and his ultimate destiny as the Prophet of the Emperor. So total was this final revelation that Codian fell to his knees. Neither Qah nor Cegorach so much as looked his way, for they had known all along that this moment would see his transformation complete. Mephettans eyes flashed as they fell upon him and he smiled, clearly relishing what he took to be the Chaplains utter despair at Qahs apparent betrayal. We will not oppose you. Qah continued. Because you are our best chance of destroying the other Yaam-khoh. I will ensure that you are left to take the Throne unhindered because I know that you need it to destroy the others, Mephetran. Only you have the power to do so. Yes. I will destroy them Qah and I will consume you all when I have done so And we will oppose you. Whatever the outcome of that final conflict, the other Star Gods will be dead and done forever, a fate that none of us can achieve alone. So you see, for now it makes sense that we work towards a mutual goal, for neother of us have any alternative. I am mystified. Mephetran admitted. You really do think that there is a chance you will defeat me when this is over, dont you? There will be a reckoning, Mephetran. Leave this place now, and when you return you will do so unhindered. The Phoenix Lords and the Custodes will fight to keep Drochtyrs legions from this chamber. We will speak again one more time, when the Throne is restored. For now, we are done. Still smiling, the Deceiver swept a hand before him and his shining body exploded into a mist of glittering dust, leaving behind an afterimage of hazy white light. The deception was complete. He is gone. Codian heard Cegorach utter in his mind, confirming that they were alone. The Chaplain turned to Qah, a muted smile on his lips. He cannot comprehend our motives. I felt him then, only briefly. He tried to read us, didnt he? He tried to see what we had planned. He saw nothing. Qah replied. With that he reached a hand inside the fluid shadow of his chest and produced Anaris. Codian took the living weapon gently and placed it back into its strap at his side. He saw nothing in the future to suggest any outcome save for his own victory. Mephetran is a master of logic, the consummate lord of assessment and planning. He has considered the cause and effect of every possible scenario that can lead to the outcome of this war, and he can see only ultimate success. He cannot comprehend that which we have planned for him simply because the event that is to lead to his defeat has already taken place. You have already doomed him, Codian. Therein lies the enigma of temporal causality. Codian placed a hand on the Dawnblade as he heard this. His path was clear now. There were no more questions in his mind, no more secrets to be uncovered. He knew exactly what he had to do, in the end. For now, there were plenty more enemies to slay.

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Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Two: The Mighty.

Leman Russ laughed out loud as he turned the blow aside and countered with the haft of his spear, driving the solid metal into Guillimans face. His brother Primarch visibly shook beneath the power of the blow and yet he displayed no pain, weathering the punishment as if it were no more than the most gentle breeze. Guilliman took a step back and slashed at Russ again, striking the head of the legendary spear. Another three blows rang against the ancient metal and sparks cascaded before the two combatants. The father of the Ultramarines swept his free hand out and batted the spear aside before stabbing with Agiselus, the strike driving deep into Russs chest plate at his ribs. The Wolf swatted the sword away and elbowed his opponent in the nose, using the distraction to throw himself into a twisting spin. He kicked out and sent Guilliman reeling with a foot to the chest. Ever one to utilise the advantage Russ followed and jabbed the spear into Guillimans stomach, driving the blade inches into the flexible armour-weave there. Guilliman countered with a vicious swing that almost took Russs head from his shoulders. The Wolf threw himself to the side as the blade swept past his head, cleaving a good inch of hair from the top of his head. He pulled the spear free and rolled across the ground as Guilliman followed, swinging his sword again and again as he hunted for the life of his brother. You have grown so fast, Roboute! Russ called, leaping back up onto his feet. This is more like it! Keep it up, brother! You have no idea, brother. Guilliman replied, spitting the last word from his mouth with venomous gusto. Not even Russ could have expected the speed at which his opponent surged forward then, his vast armoured bulk becoming a blur of inhuman motion. Guilliman swung his elbow out and caught Russ with a blow powerful enough to throw him through the air and clear across the street. The Wolf crashed into the thick wall of the towering building, the impact sending huge cracks snaking across the ancient stonework. Russ bounced off the thick surface and fell forward, striking the railings there and crushing them beneath his weight. This second impact threw him back and he fell from sight into the recess at the base of the structure, dust and rubble falling about him. Guilliman turned to look upon Berolinus, his black eyes shining with undisguised bloodlust. He struck the back of his hand across the blade of Agiselus, causing the metal to sing. Russs head will make a fine and worthy trophy for our Aun, my ward, and you will stand at my side when I present it to him. Revel in this day, Berolinus. You will understand true glory before it is over. Berolinus fell to one knee at the word of his lord. He bowed his head and brought the haft of his hammer down hard against the ground in reverence. Destroy the animal, my Primarch! He called, his own desire to see the Wolf destroyed mirrored in the shrill cries of his avian familiar. All around him, the myriad and inhuman warriors of the Mon Korstla surged forth to meet the Alliance. Berolinus rose, his attention fixed fully on his Primarchs hunt. These creatures were as nothing to him. Half-glimpsed armoured shapes threw themselves past him and yet he paid them no heed. Like all the inhuman warriors that served the Unity, they were less than nothing to him. He held faith that Guilliman felt the same deep inside, that these beasts were as nothing to him. He shared the same cause

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as his Primarch, the same ideals. Whatever fate awaited this myriad xenos filth when the Unity found victory here, he could not guess. Delusion, Berolinus. Is your mind so corrupted by the alien cells that rampage through your body that you truly cannot see the lie of your own actions? Mankind will emerge triumphant. He spat, his face twisting in disgust at hearing the insidious voice once again. My lord Guilliman is no true slave to xenos influence. He fights this war on his own terms, and with his own agenda. He is a Primarch. He is beyond such things as true corruption. You will see. I will see nothing save for his death and yours, Berolinus. He is lost to the cause you think you still serve, just as you are. When you finally see that, when you see him fall, you too will be lost. Despair will break your will and you will become mine. Berolinus answered with a cry of rage and swung his hammer out to catch one of the passing warriors. The creature was a spindly, almost insectile thing, clad in spined and segmented armour plating. It cried out as the hammer smashed it from its feet and sent it spinning away amid a cloud of hissing blood-mist. Never! I will never let you in! He started forward, eager to see his Primarch finish the feral lord of the Space Wolves. Guilliman had reached the crushed railings and, his sword at the ready, peered down into the recess. He leapt down after Russ, his huge bulk disappearing only briefly. There followed a thunderous impact and his body rocketed up into the air, the sight of which caused Berolinus to skid to a halt. Russ leapt up from the hole and landed on the pavement, his canine eyes following the trajectory of his brothers flight. The Ultramarine readied himself to meet Russ then, to continue his Primarchs fight, but the Wolf did not even spare him a glance. He drove his heels into the ground and sprinted away, chasing the falling Guilliman, his attention fixed firmly on his brothers destruction. Little traitor. A voice uttered, low and powerful enough to cut through the clamour of the battle. Berolinus cast around and tensed. The Space Wolf smiled as he looked upon the lone warrior, his single eye shining with anticipation of the fight to come. He raised his rune-etched frostfang in challenge and activated the blade, sending its teeth into a screaming blur of movement. Test me, and I promise you I will make your end swift. Ragnar Blackmane said. Berolinus answered the challenge with a slowly spreading smile of his own, a smile that split his features a little too wide to be considered natural. Test you? Wolf, I will annihilate you. +++ Russ charged across the broken street, weaving his way past burning tanks and heaped bodies. Packs of his Wolves roamed past, crying out his name with elation as he bounded by. The warriors of the enemy were thick on the ground here, advancing in irregular squads. He accelerated through them, smashing bodies aside with casual abandon in his eagerness to reach Guilliman. A hunter clad in thick armour turned to look back at him, the eyes almost hidden behind its visor widening. It raised an oversized gauntlet and levelled the bolt launchers clustered there at him.

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Russ punched the Orrus aside and bore on, the things blood pattering gently across his face. He could not place these creatures. They were neither Tau nor human, their scent irregular, unnatural. In truth he cared nothing for what they had once been or indeed what they had become. They were nothing to him. No, that much was untrue. They were the enemy. Lasfire studded into his back, barely enough for him to even sense. A dark shape swooped by overhead, borne on shining wings of edged steel. He leapt up into the air, feeling the power of the warp flow through him at his unconscious behest. It energised him, lifting him higher than any mortal creature of his dimensions had any right to propel itself through natural law. He caught the Yelds leg and brought the warrior down with him to dash it across the surface of the road, dashing its body like driftwood. Its silvered pinions shattered and whickered away, flashing like mirrors in the sun. Ahead of him Guilliman rose from the rubble-strewn crater in the road, shrugging aside chunks of rockcrete in his annoyance. Russ cast the remains of the warrior at his fellow Primarch and caught him with a glancing blow that sent blood and viscera cascading across his armour. Filthy degenerate animal. Guilliman snarled, Agiselus flashing in his hand as he brought the weapon to bear. Primarch met Primarch in a ferocious clash of colliding mass and ringing steel. Russ thrust the spear forth and Guilliman turned it aside with his blade before landing a vicious punch to the Wolfs face. Russ staggered back and swept the spear out, drawing a red line across Guillimans cheek. This did nothing to slow Guilliman. He leapt clear of the crater and brought Agiselus down hard, so fast that Russ only had time to raise his arm in defence. The blade bit deep into the armour there and Russ snarled in pain, much to his brothers delight. Too long in the warp, Russ. Guilliman spat, driving his heel into his opponents knee. The Wolf fell and Guilliman pressed home his weight against his sword, the metal keening against bone. Too long have you spent honing your skills against the daemonic and the unnatural. You fight like a beast, Russ, because that is what you are. Russ grunted with effort as he jabbed the spear at his siblings head. Guilliman ducked right, easily avoiding the blow. He snatched at the haft of the spear and held firm, the metal creaking beneath his inhuman grip. You were always so. Victory after victory you won for our father and yet he never fully accepted you because of what you are. Uncivilised, coarse and feral. Did you truly never see this? Russs face quivered with effort as he forced Guilliman back, inch by tortuous inch. Dark blood ran from the cleft in his arm, bubbling beneath the powerful energy sheath of the blade. Keep stoking the fires of my wrath, brother. It only makes me stronger. Guilliman smiled, his black eyes widening with fervour. Stronger? You will never be stronger than I. I no longer draw my strength from the warp, Russ. The miracle of Aunvas wisdom has made me faster, stronger and better than I ever was. Better than you ever could be. Russ let out a cry of rage and let go of the spear. He hammered his fist into Guillimans stomach, a blow powerful enough to lift the larger warrior clear off his feet. He thrust his palm into Guillimans sword arm and pushed the blade free before snatching the handle of his spear once again and using it as a lever to

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throw Guilliman over him and into the road. He threw himself around and brought his foot down to stamp on Guillimans back, driving him further into the rockcrete. You spit on the Emperors memory, Roboute! You have abandoned all that you are and all that he made you! Guilliman rolled and rose, avoiding the descending boot a second time. Russ stepped back, his spear once more in his possession. Wrong. I have seen myself improved, my fathers work enhanced. The science of the Tau has seen to that. The science of the Tau has corrupted you utterly, brother. Russ replied, scorn heavy in his voice. So totally that you do not even know who you truly are anymore. Your existence makes as little sense as your motivations. This time it was Guillimans turn to ignite with rage. He launched at Russ, a whirlwind of powerful strikes ringing against the Wolfs defences. For all their haughtiness, Guillimans claims were true. His already phenomenal strength and speed had been further augmented by the attentions of Bile and this showed as he pushed his opponent back, step by step, each blow quaking Russs armoured body. The Wolfs spear twirled in his hands as he countered each strike but it was clear that he was pressed to do so, for every blow was a hairs breadth from besting him. Russ would not give up, even in the face of such a near-overwhelming assault. Slowly but surely Guilliman drove him back towards a towering and magnificent white marble edifice decorated with immense golden statues. Russs back was almost touching the colossal plinth of the nearest sculpture when Guilliman saw his chance and made one final thrust, forcing all his power through his arm and into the sword. Agiselus stabbed forward with such power and speed that it passed by Russs defences and sunk deep into his chest, stopping only when the golden hilt rang against his armour. Russ lurched back into the plinth with such violence that the massive pedestal rocked, the sword pinning him to the solid block of marble. His eyes widened in disbelief. I believe that we have been here before. Guilliman uttered, a malevolent smile splitting his lips. +++ Codian spilled out into the city amid an explosion of shadow, his pistols ever drawn in readiness. He was growing more and more used to the transition; his senses affected less with each jump. His first task was to assess where his powers had brought him. Sure enough, he was back in the city and his initial observations told him that he had successfully returned to his version of the present. Bodies were strewn all about him, a collection of Tau, human and other xenos creatures. He recognised immediately that he had been brought to a different place. He stood on the edge of a sprawling plaza, paved in such a way as to suggest that this was a pedestrian area. A number of monolithic fountains ringed the square, so large that the thundering rumble of cascading water was a low and constant sound heard beneath the clamour of the war. It was clear that the bulk of the Unity forces had passed by here in there rush to meet the Alliance. Hundreds of Tau landers were scattered throughout the square and visible in the streets beyond. Most were ruined and burning, attacked and crippled where they had landed in order to disgorge their living cargo. Many were little more than lumpen, angular wrecks, lain awkwardly against the architecture of the scene or half-buried in the rockcrete. They had been plucked from the skies by Alliance fire, though who or what had met the descent of these craft was not apparently clear.

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He set off towards the centre of the plaza as he noticed a commotion amongst the ruination. Bright power fizzed and crackled out from the conflict to strike the detritus, powerful and hazy. He could feel the pressure of the discharges even from here, pushing against the centre of his mind and quickening his breathing. Warp magicks. The Dawnblade clattered against his thigh armour as if to confirm this, responding to the awesome power being unleashed. Immediately he tensed, suspicious of those responsible for this, for despite all he had become he was neither a denizen of nor friend to the Empyrean and its influence. With some albeit begrudging relief he realised moments later that the figures gathered there were Eldar, tall robed creatures whose outlines almost looked to shimmer. A number of them wore elaborate, crested helms, the bejewelled runes set into them blazing with energy. Others wore similar helms but of a more stunted design, and all were literally alight with the force of the warp. For a moment he considered accelerating his progress with his own inherited powers and yet he dismissed this almost immediately. The Eldar were still an enigma to him despite their forced alliance, and the last thing he wanted to achieve was surprise on their part. He had no idea just how powerful these psychic individuals were and images of his emerging form being torn apart by the sorcery of the startled aliens did not appeal to him. From what he was able to surmise, these Eldar were the ones responsible for the contiguous destruction here. Although there were no more of the Unity craft to be seen in the skies they continued still, raking the downed landers with bolts of ethereal lightning, shimmering blue flame and bursts of blinding energy. As he neared, one of the orbital ships imploded spectacularly, folding in on itself amid a dazzling display of flames and detonations. The air about it hazed, thinning beneath the barrage, as if the barriers between the realms themselves were being diluted by the assault. Enemy figures darted between the punished craft still, flitting figures backlit by the surrounding fires and caught in the staccato flare of the Eldar councils attacks. The gathering of alien witches stood firm, flicking tongues of blinding light out at the enemy warriors. As Codian neared he caught sight of one of these creatures scuttling across the blackened hull of a craft, its edged armour plating and immense wristmounted claws scraping against the metal. He levelled his plasma pistol and fired off a round of plasma that cut through the thing. Its head vaporised and the glowing orb of energy continued down its body, parting it from neck to groin. The bisected pieces fell away as Codian ran past. He had taken no more than three or four strides past the remains of his latest victim when something threw itself out from its hiding place and attacked him. He twisted mid-sprint, the flashing blade passing by his neck so close that it filled his vision for a fleeting moment. He swung the bolt pistol out instinctively and fired. At this range he could not fail to miss and the shot struck home, exploding against the attackers arm-mounted shield. He caught sight of the bulbous jewels set into the buckler as they flared, igniting with a surge of power. Then the air around the curious barrel extremity at its tip distorted and he felt a violent punch of concussive force strike him in the chest. He was protected enough not to sustain any injury and yet the force of the blow pitched him back off his feet and onto the ground. He hit the flags and rolled back as the warriors sword descended and he was back up on his feet in time for the blade to hunt for him again, its ultra-keen edge raking across his chest armour. The field of his rosarius fizzed, flaring as it countered the sharp metal. His attackers arm lurched back in opposition to this and he leapt away as he rode the remainder of his momentum, landing with feline grace a good few metres away.

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For a moment Codian saw that the discharge had damaged his opponents blade, but the grey-skinned hybrid merely smiled, unperturbed by this. The sword vibrated softly in his hands, shedding a fine dust of glittering metal. As he looked on the blade literally repaired itself, its edge growing sharp once again. Codian knew nothing of these creatures, save for the scantest details of their origins. What he did know was that the technologies they wielded were far more advanced than anything he had experienced within the more standardised armies of the Unity. Although he had faced this opponent for what had to be a matter of seconds, he could tell that his potency far exceeded the artifice and advancement of his equipment and weaponry. He was fast, faster than either Tau or human. His every motion seemed accelerated somehow, as if pushed beyond any natural limitations by whatever enhanced him. None of this truly mattered to him, of course. He would still kill this thing. He started forward at the very same time as the warrior, bringing his guns to bear in an instant. This time he unleashed a salvo of bolt and plasma shot, filling the space between them with blinding light and burning death. The warriors shield arm rose faster than even the projectiles could cross the gap and the fusillade slammed into the shield, sending a bright burst of radiance out. Despite the power of the ballistic assault the hunter barely showed any physical response. The discharge of energy cascaded back off the shield and over him, and then seemed to be sucked back into the device. Codian threw himself to the side as a distortion wave of pure concussive force burst from the shield and shimmered past him, its mere presence rocking him back on his heels. He turned, throwing himself into a swift spin and brought his arm up, firing even as he levelled the pistol with his target. The bolt screamed free of the gun and struck his opponent square in the face. The bolt detonated inside the Jakaras skull and his head came apart amid a miniature explosion of blood and bone. His body continued on for several paces, his sword still raised in readiness to strike. After a second the dead warriors legs buckled and he fell forward and crashed into the ground, limp and done. Codian did not give the hunter another thought as he leapt over his body and continued on towards the Eldar. As he neared the group one of the aliens turned slowly to look upon him, the energies playing about his head thickening. The Chaplain immediately lowered his guns, not wanting to appear threatening to the powerful alien witches. He soon came to realise that he neednt have concerned himself with such things. Daelo Codian Prophet. The tall being uttered, his soft yet powerful voice drawing the attentions of the others to Codians arrival with all the potency of a stellar vacuum. We know who you are, Prophet. Your caution is not needed. A dozen robed bodies twisted gracefully to look upon him as he slowed to a halt before the Farseer. Each of the xenos psykers wore robes of obsidian shadow decorated with bone coloured symbols and patterns. A host of hidden eyes fell briefly as one to the weapon at his side before rising once more to look upon the Chaplain. What is happening here? Codian asked, taking in the destruction and ruination about him. Though the answer to his question seemed readily apparent, in that it was obvious that this was the site chosen by these new arrivals to descend upon the Imperial City, he had learned enough about his powers to realise that he had doubtless been brought to this particular area for a reason.

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For long moments, his question did not raise an answer from the gathered Eldar. After what seemed to Codian to be a lengthy examination the Warlock host turned away from him and took up their original task once more, directing their attentions towards clearing away the last pockets of enemy resistance. The small number of Farseers remained as they were, still and silent as statues before him until, once more, the tallest of them spoke once again. The pacification of your world is almost complete, Prophet. This city is the only bastion that remains to be conquered, but then I see that you know this in your heart. Codian nodded. They will never take this city. That is my vow. It was the Eldars turn to incline his head at this. We share a common if secret knowledge of what the future may well bring, Daelo Codian, but beware the strength of your pride. We see all paths, both past and future, better to guide our actions in this present. You must be aware though that only the past is set in stone, for the present tells the truth of all that has come to pass. The future is known only as possibility, however infinite. Probability is a powerful factor in guiding ones destiny but even then, nothing is certain. I understand that now. Codian answered. And my role in forging our future is clear. I will leave nothing to chance in my quest to bring an end to the Ctan. Your conviction is sincere, Prophet. For so long have the mon-keigh and the Eldar fought one another. Now you see the truth in that. There could have been no other way. The agents of the Ctan had to believe that the disseperate races of this galaxy were ever divided in internecine war. I see that. Codian answered. But this is hardly the time or place to discuss our past divisions. We have a war to win, Eldar. Together. The unnamed Farseer seemed to exude a response of palpable agreement rather than display any physical accord. He raised the long, delicate fingers of one hand to the skies and spread them, as if to display the heavens to the Chaplain. This war is about to enter another one of its many predestined phases, Daelo Codian. Blessed Anaris guides you as wisely as your own instincts. It is hardly chance that has brought you here to this place. You have come to bear witness, have you not? Hearing this caused his brow to furrow. For the first time since his arrival here, Codian found himself genuinely perplexed by his current situation. I am learning to trust the fates that guide me to my destinations, Eldar. I confess that I do not know why I am here, only that I am required to be so. The Farseer pondered upon this answer for a moment, the bright jade eyes of his helm pulsing with inner light. Apparently satisfied, he tilted his head in acquiescence. You are wise beyond your genetic origins, Prophet. This site is to see the coming of the false ones, the living god-idols of the Tau. They are coming, Prophet. The Ethereals.

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Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Three: Seat of Power.

The quiet stillness of the dark chamber was an all-pervading presence, heavy and oppressive despite the muted cacophony of the various consoles and devices. A pale green glow bathed the silent Ethereal host, casting a sheen across the symmetrical rows of smooth grey flesh. These were creatures that had not opened their eyes in an age, nor experienced the sensation of physical movement for hundreds of years. Hundreds of the immobile creatures thronged the massive chamber, fixed forever into the console-thrones that maintained their wasting physical forms. What little recognisable flesh remained on the dormant creatures was puckered and sutured, housing cables and nutrient feeds. Each and every one of the rulers of the Unity was now no more than a component, a part of the collective machine. At the head of the chamber he sat in ever-silent judgement, the silver-skinned god of the Tau. Aunva, master of the greatest empire ever to rule the stars. Light played across his rippling, fluid form as he raised a hand from the armrest of the throne, the limb rising with a ponderous slowness, its hand open and palm raised up. A flickering needle of green light came into being, forming from nowhere to sputter and pulse as if caught in his grasp. Aunva said nothing, for the presence of his voice was far from necessary. The very stars themselves were his to command, slaves to his whim. There were no laws he was forced to obey, no limitations defiant of his will. He was the master of all of creation, and there were none who would deny him that. His brother had defied him, and in doing so had issued the challenge. There was no other course of action open to him except to answer that challenge. He would ensure this. He closed the hand, the action causing the light to extinguish. As one, every single Ethereal before him shuddered, the collective rumbling whisper of this act disturbing the peace of the chamber. The call to war had been made, and answered. +++ Guilliman clamped his fingers around his brothers throat and pulled the sword free. The keen metal sang against bone and marble as it slid free, slick with Russs blood. The Wolf shuddered, his face tightening in pain. There was not a shred of mercy to be seen in Guillimans eyes. Where is your legendary strength now, brother? Do you feel it seeping from you, along with your lifeblood? It is as I said, Russ. The Tau are supreme. I love my Emperor with all that I am and yet his work, for all its potency and magnificence, is now perfected. I understand that this is a lesson hard indeed to take. That is why I knew that only the most brutal of demonstrations would suffice. I trust my efforts are thus justified. Russ did not answer. His keen eyes, hooded with pain, drifted past Guillimans colossal shoulders. It was only the slightest of gestures but it was enough to attract his brothers attention. The vast power claw snapped shut around his waist and hoisted him into the air with violent force. B-----d! A deep mechanical voice roared. The Fell-Handed One brought the Primarch down hard against the ground, dashing his armoured body into the rockcrete.

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The already vast power of Bjorn was further augmented by the ancient ones blazing rage at seeing his beloved Primarch brought so low. Servos whined and popped as the Dreadnought pummelled Guilliman into the ground again and again, sending showers of road surface pluming up around them. You dare to lay a hand on the Wolf! You dare to mark his armour and cleave his flesh! He bellowed his rage out above the clamour of battle and cast the Primarch away, activating his assault cannon as he turned. Shells burst against Guillimans spinning body at a dizzying rate, the multiple impacts throwing the Primarchs assailed form into a violent and explosive spin. He was barely visible as he landed, the ground around him coming apart amid the attentions of Bjorns powerful cannon. Dust rose and sparks flared across Guillimans vast form as he rose, shuddering beneath the bone-shattering attack. He spoke, and though the threat in his words was lost amid the cacophony, the hatred in his gaze betrayed his intent all too well. He fought against the murderous gale as he advanced, much of his form hidden beneath the vicious onslaught. Despite this Guilliman could not be stayed. He raised his arms up before his face and sprinted towards his new foe. Bjorn the Fell-Handed was the most ancient Astarte to serve the Imperium still. He had fought beside Russ during the Great Crusade, loyal and implacable. He had taken the mantle of the first Great Wolf in Russs stead and had served the Space Wolves beyond even physical death. Encased as he was in the unmatchable armour of his Dreadnought tomb, there were few abroad on Terra this day to rival the potency of this ancient warrior. Roboute Guilliman was a Primarch, a living son of the Emperor. To him, this ancient colossus was but a child. Guilliman ducked low beneath the vast, snapping power claw and drove his shoulder into Bjorns sarcophagus, the impact sending the ancient warrior reeling back. Bjorns wide feet thundered across the ground as he fought to maintain his balance, but Guillimans speed was without compare. He leapt forward again and brought his sword down hard against the thick slab of the Dreadnoughts arm. The blade bit deep into the thick cylinder and then came to a halt. The armour there was enormously thick, much more so than that of any target he was used to duelling with. He pushed harder, feeling the sword bite even deeper, but the strained, grinding squeal this produced warned him that any more pressure would likely result in the ruination of his own weapon. Thick black smoke billowed from the exhaust vents at Bjorns back as he lowered his torso and pushed back, fighting to best a foe he knew he could not match in strength. Guilliman hammered his fist hard into the thin vision slit before him, buckling the ancient metal. The third blow drove his hand through the plate and into the depths of the sarcophagus. Bjorn fought with a renewed vigour then as he realised the danger he was in. His convulsions shook the sword free of his arm and he swept Guilliman up, the energy charge that coated the glowing blades flaring at the Primarchs touch. Guilliman lashed out with a foot and landed a blow that left a deep groove in the ornate wolf carving that decorated the sarcophagus. He hacked down with his sword, fighting to cleave the armoured torso in two. The strike slid deep enough to raise a mechanical cry of pain from the age-old warrior. Metal ground against metal as Bjorn threw his torso into a rapidly escalating spin. Guilliman held on to Agiselus still and the power of the rotation hauled him off his feet. Whether through instinct or fierce pride,

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he would not let go. Bjorn stomped forward and dashed the Primarch again and again through the wall of the towering structure nearest them, the action throwing up clouds of glass and brickwork with every impact. The Primarch reached out with his free hand to find purchase, grabbing at whatever solid surface he could find. Again and again those areas of intended purchase crumbled away beneath his grasp. For a short but agonising while it seemed as if he would never succeed, but then at last his fingers rang against the metres-thick stone of an immense support pillar, and held. Bjorns revolution came to an immediate and sickening halt. His vast form whined and groaned as it fought to continue its movement. Guilliman held on and pulled. The sword came free but not before Bjorn was hauled around through the air and flung into the bottom of the wide staircase supported by the pillar. Guillimans face was alight with the thrill of the clash as he rose and drew his sword back, ready to bring the fight to an end. You were a worthy opponent, venerable one. Despite your allegiances you fight for honour, to defend the one you serve without thought for your own welfare. You are a credit to your Primarch, a credit he does not deserve. Leave him. A voice uttered from behind him. Guilliman froze and then cast around. The spear of Russ flashed and plunged through his neck. +++ Berolinus laughed out loud and skipped back, avoiding the snarling chainsword with ease. The fearsome weapon buzzed through the air past him again and again, dangerously close, and yet the Ultramarine avoided each and every attempt with an almost casual effortlessness. Blackmanes single eye blazed with hatred for his foe as he pressed on, wielding the otherwise cumbersome weapon with a skill and grace at odds with its size. He was fast, as fast as any natural predator, and despite appearances his every attack was planned and executed with a precision honed over hundreds of years of combat. Berolinus too fought with a style that greatly exceeded his appearance and choice of weaponry. He made no discernable effort gain control of the fight, instead relying on his confidence and skill to turn aside Ragnars every effort. He used his shield expertly, shifting its position in swift, darting movements to meet each blow. His arm was entwined with the haft of his hammer and he used the head of the weapon as a secondary shield at his shoulder, turning aside blows that quested for his neck and head. The Ultramarine was a blur of hyperactive motion, never once remaining still. He danced from foot to foot, spinning on his heel between strikes, unwilling to leave any part of his body unguarded for longer than a second. This prevented the Space Wolf from seeking an effective opening in his defences, for those defences were constantly changing, leaving no opportunities to take advantage of. This frustrated Blackmane, and that frustration translated itself as outright anger. Blackmane gave a roar of displeasure and doubled his efforts, the speed of his attacks increasing. Berolinus gave a laugh of joy and ducked low, turning on his heels as the chainblade passed by overhead.

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The following strike rang against the Ultramarines storm shield with power enough to drive him back several paces. Berolinus twisted again and swung his hammer out, almost catching Ragnar with a deadly blow to the head. Thats it! Let your rage feed you! He cried, dancing around the following attacks. Such emotion! Such passion! Set it free, Wolf! Let it consume you! Blackmane did not answer. Instead he pressed on, his anger empowering him to new extremes of pace and strength. He attacked again and again, scything through the road surface in Berolinuss wake. The teeth of the ancient sword screeched against the thick rockcrete as they carved furrows through the ground, driven deep into the road by Ragnars ever-increasing vigour. Thats it, Wolf! Embrace it! Let it in! Let your raw emotions open you up to the embrace of powers greater than anything you could imagine! All you have to do is let the oblivion of abandonment consume you and all your limitations will mean nothing! Become all you can be! Blackmanes form was but a blur now, his efforts accelerated beyond any mortal measurement of ability. Like a force of nature he bore on, all considerations of skill or defence burned from his mind by the rage that clouded his judgement. The Wolf landed a blow that glanced across the Ultramarines shield and parted the studded armour at his upper arm, drawing a line of smouldering blood out in its wake. Berolinus hissed in audible pleasure and drew himself back, tightening his defences. A fine blow, Wolf, for such an animal I am Ragnar Blackmane, traitor! Remember that name! Ragnar snarled, leaping forward to strike again. He stabbed at Berolinus several times with the wide tip of his blade, hunting for a gap in his defences. Again, he was denied. The Ultramarines eyes were ominously dark now, far from their natural hue. Faint lines pulsed beneath the thinning skin of his face. Ragnar noticed that the warriors smile seemed ever more wide now, almost too much so to be considered natural. His scent had changed too. Who or whatever this thing was before him, it was far more ancient than its outward appearance suggested. Many of the Wolves had begun to filter into the surrounding area in their running battle with the hunters of the Tau. Seeing the fight between their champion and the ward of Guilliman they slowed, drawn like moths to a flame by the powerful clash. None dared interfere with the conflict, for to do so would be to dishonour the ancient Space Wolf and the very fundamental traditions of the Chapter. Blackmane powered forth a series of low swipes intended to take the legs of his opponent and then twisted around to deliver a wide sweep at the Ultramarines waist, his wolf pelt swirling about his armoured form. Berolinus rolled away onto his back and flipped over, cycling his legs as he did so. The teeth of the frostfang screeched against his armoured limbs and then Berolinus was up on his feet once again. He kicked out and turned the chainblade aside before thrusting his hammer forward like a spear into Ragnars chest. Energy flared and the Space Wolf lurched back, his chest plate bearing a fresh and deep indentation. Hnngh. You do not fight like an Ultramarine. Blackmane grunted, fighting to mask the pain coursing through his body. You underestimate me, Wolf. Just as you underestimate the defences of your soul. I may yet allow you to best me, for I would welcome your soul amongst my host.

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Ragnar drew his frostfang into a defensive posture before him and hesitated, fighting to keep his senses reined in. his opponent seemed to somehow know of his terrible anger, and how that anger both fuelled him and robbed him of reason. He studied the Ultramarines face and could see the conflict in those features clearly. The changes were almost too subtle to notice and yet they were constant, ever conflicting. The malevolent smile seemed to fade and then strengthen in turn, as if the being before him was fighting for control. With every shift in emotion the warriors scent changed too. It grew heavy and ancient, almost sweet with musk, before fading away to be replaced by the youthful, almost sterile scent of the young Ultramarine. The warriors familiar was acting strangely too. The bird had taken flight when the two had met in combat and had yet to return, almost as if it feared its own master. How a familiar could come to fear the one its was slaved to was a question that held no rational answer. Something was very wrong. You speak with the voice of a daemon, Ultramarine. You are corrupt with the influence of the warp! Berolinus wavered as he heard this, visibly swayed by the Wolfs claims. The smile faded almost to nothing and the darkness in his eyes bled away. I am slave to no corruption, Wolf, and influenced only by the will of my Primarch! You see a skill that far exceeds your own and you fight to explain that away with your accusations! Berolinus drew his arms together and made ready to attack his opponent, only to falter at the last moment. He took a single step forward and spread his arms, the darkness returning to his eyes once again. Slay me then, Wolf! End my life! Release me from this prison of flesh! Rel No! No, you will not beat me! You are nothing but a voice in my head! Nothing! The confusion in the warriors voice served only to confirm Ragnars suspicions in his mind. This creature before him was more than the sum of its parts; he held no doubt about that now. The scent of chaos he had come to know so well during his time within the Eye was potent in the air now, diluted somewhat by the unnatural odour of the Astartes own strange, amalgamated physiology but still nonetheless recognisable. He drove his heels into the ground and sprang forward; swinging his frostfang up and around, ready to bring it down upon the Ultramarines head. Berolinus responded with unmatchable speed as he flung his shield up to meet the blow and then brought the hammer around. Ragnars blade rang against the small but powerful shield, the impact sending a burst of light and energy out from its ancient surface. At the exact same moment the powerful hammer smashed into Blackmanes side with power enough to pitch the Wolf away. A collective cry of dismay rose up from the Fenrisian spectators as they witnessed their champion brought so low, for the blow was a crippling one, most likely fatal. The entire left-hand side of his torso was a smouldering ruin, distorted beyond any natural dimensions. Ragnar Blackmane was still alive as the gloating Astarte bounded over to where he lay and shoved him onto his back with a foot, an action that served to spur the surrounding Wolves to life. Wulfen howled in dismay and lurched forward like dogs straining at their leashes. Those few Rune Priests present within the gathering fought to rein in the angered spectators, for the rules of Fenrisian combat were clear and sacrosanct. Martial challenges such as this one were to the death, and were only permitted to be interrupted by those who were recognised as a ward of the Wolf in question. Ragnar Blackmane was a fearsome and immensely proud warrior whose honour would not stand for such interruptions, even if it meant his life. Blackmane had no such ward. The rules, however frustrating, were clear. No other could or would intervene until the fall of the deathblow.

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Whether or not Berolinus knew any of this was unclear, but the warrior made no attempt to disguise his enjoyment of the situation. He lowered the head of his hammer close to Ragnars face whilst keeping the Space Wolf pinned to the ground, letting the energy sheath of the weapon play across the Astartes olive skin. You are beaten, barbarian. He hissed, savouring the moment of triumph. Blackmane simply glared at him, his canines bared in utter hatred. His outstretched hand quested through the rubble for the hilt of his fallen frostfang, for the weapon lay inches from his grasp, and yet so far it might as well have been a distance of miles. He turned his attention away from the struggling warrior and looked out at the faces all around him, calm and unafraid of the palpable and collective desire for retribution. Who are you, Wolf? Are you somebody? Should I know of you, of your name? Are you legend, or is it that your brethren simply cannot bear to see one of their own debased so in defeat? I suppose the answers matter little. We fought, you lost. There could be no other outcome. While ever I breathe, I am undefeated, traitor. Ragnar growled, redoubling his efforts. Berolinus took in the Wolfs inane labours and smiled his wide, disjointed smile. Then I shall endeavour to grant you freedom from respiration, and bring the agonies suffered by your comrades to an end. He swept the hammer down and took away the head of Ragnar Blackmane with one final, casual strike, sending it spinning away across the ground. You are loosed! He cried to the surrounding Wolves, spreading his arms wide. A heartbeat later and he was gone, consumed by the press of grey-armoured bodies. The last visible part of Lurom Berolinus to disappear from sight was the wide, malevolent grin. And then the slaughter truly began.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Four: Terra Trembles.

We must keep them from the chamber, brother. Even if it means our deaths, we must fight to fulfil our destiny. Xerlios nodded in confirmation without uttering a single word in reply, for in truth there was nothing he needed to say. Validimus knew the truth, just as Xerlios did, just as all the Companions did. The Centurion slapped his friend on the shoulder and watched as Xerlios charged out into the melee, dismissing the sorrow that came with the consideration that this would likely be the last time they fought together. His soul ached to consider the weight of the secret locked within his heart, for to keep such things from the majority of his brothers was a task almost too hard for him to bear, but that was his legacy as a member of the Companions. Internment into that most secret of brotherhoods brought with it the knowledge of secrets so ancient and significant that the Emperor Himself had decreed that only those closest to His physical presence were permitted to know the truth of them.

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This was no slight on the majority of the Adeptus Custodes, far from it. Each and every one of these ancient warriors was as loyal and as honourable as it was possible for a son of the Emperor to be. No, the truth of it went far deeper than that. Each one of the Companions was, in every sense, the best of the best. Every Custode was a powerful psyker in his own right, blessed by the Emperor Himself and further augmented by His physical presence. Only the strongest and most impregnable of the Custodes were considered for membership within the ranks of the companions. Only those with true and absolute mental fortification were even considered. The Companions were literally impregnable, in almost every way. There was absolutely no sentient force that existed powerful enough to corrupt or sway a Companion. He thought back then to the loss of one of their finest, brother Valedor. At the time his death had almost caused a schism within the Custode ranks, for Valedor had been revealed to be an enemy spy, subjugated to the will of the Assassinorum by the agents of the false Sigilite. It was only later that his body was discovered to be gone, missing from its temporary tomb deep within the bowels of the Palace. Though the mystery of this continued to confound the Custodes to this day, the truth of it was clear. The creature that had tried to end the life of Dorn had not been Constantine Valedor, but someone or something else. Who or what mattered little now, not at this point. The very history of the Adeptus Custodes was about to reach its zenith. The Custodes existed but to serve the Emperor, and the Emperor was no more. Everything had changed now. The Imperium was without its Emperor for the first time since its creation. The only thing left for the human race now was survival. The Master of Mankinds work was done, and of all His subjects, only a few knew the full truth behind his schemes. Validimus ejected the spent clip of his bolter and slammed home a fresh one, stepping back to allow another squad of Custodes access to the chamber. Lestion was amongst them; his psycannon thundering charged bolts out into the gleaming Pariahs flowing from the tunnels beyond. The shells of the psycannon seemed to be particularly potent in countering the cybernetic warriors, the massive psychic charge they delivered utterly noxious to the soulless beings. Those Pariahs hit by the rounds made no sound as they fell, whickering green energies bleeding from their wounds. The Centurion felt the pressure in his head continue to build as more of the enemy spilled out of the dark archways along the north wall and into the vast chamber. Despite their best attempts to stem the tide they came still, slowly but surely pushing the defending Custodes back. Validimus watched this exchange for only a moment, for his attention could not fail but to be stolen by the activity at the centre of the chamber. His vast form smouldering from the scores of a hundred blade strikes, the creature once known as Exosus Gog continued to rage at his Eldar attackers. The fight had continued this way for hours now and yet, to Validimus every second that had passed had seemed a lifetime. The efforts of the Phoenix Lords, as potent as they were, had as yet failed to bring fatigue to the monstrous being. He fought on with the same rage and vigour as ever, ignorant to the damage his augmented body had sustained. Jain Zar of the Howling Banshees mirrored Gogs endless energy as she fought on. To witness her fight was akin to watching a ribbon caught by the wind, for her graceful form seemed ever fluid, flexible beyond any normal physical constraints. She leapt high and swept her blade across the Void Champions back, scoring yet another deep groove through the thick armour. Gog, for all his vast size, was a creature blessed with a disproportionate agility and speed. He twisted to meet the Phoenix Lord as she attacked, one hand darting out to catch her by the ankle. He snatched her from the air and brought her round, flinging her across the chamber as if she were less than nothing.

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Out in the distant gloom Jain Zar rolled through the air and landed feet first against the far wall. She pushed herself out and rolled, landing lightly on her feet. Surrounded by the crowding Pariahs. Validimus felt his pulse quicken as he witnessed this, though he knew that there was nothing he could do. He spent the next few seconds issuing desperate orders, redeploying squads of his warriors to better face the multiple threats. More and more of the Custodes were arriving from the furthest corners of the Palace to meet the threat, for their presence was no longer needed now that the Emperor was gone. And of course, there was Magog. The second twin had yet to make his appearance since his murderous rampage through the tunnels beyond. Validimus had fully expected him to smash his way into the chamber and join the battle, but he had not. There had to be but one explanation for his apparent disappearance. He was heading for the Throne Room. The Centurion did not know how this would affect the outcome of the conflict. True, the Throne Room was the eventual target destination of the enemy, he knew that, but Magog alone would not be enough to present a threat to the terrible being that awaited him there. If they could contain and destroy Gog here then the Dragons forces would be seriously compromised. He was a man torn in several directions at once by the series of events unfolding here. Part of him longed to charge into the fray and join the Phoenix Lords in the battle with Gog, and part of him wanted so badly to follow the fiends brother to the Throne Room. Another, far baser facet of him yearned to join Magog in the prosecution of the fiend that had ended the life of his Emperor, for to actually fight with all his heart and soul to preserve the life of the foul Ctan was almost too much for him to bear. Yes, it was the Emperors final wish that the Custodes give all to keep the Deceiver on his prized Throne, and he understood the truth behind this disturbing plan, but the knowledge of that truth did not make this any easier. The primordial beast had to kill the Emperor, in order to see Him released from the ancient prison that had sustained Him for so long. The Emperors immortal soul was free from its physical anchor now, at long last. The Eagle had taken flight into the Empyrean, where the influence of the Ctan could not touch Him. How the Pantheon of the Primordial Annihilator must have quaked at His arrival, Validimus considered to himself, pride swelling his breast. Trapped as He had been between life and death, the ruination of the Emperors body had seen his foretold ascension into the most powerful psychic presence ever known. The Caesus had provided the raw psychic power that He had required to drive Him deep into that nightmare realm, far beyond the waiting defences of the Dark Gods of Chaos. The servants of those gods had come to Terra now; he knew that in his heart. He could sense their foul presence. Through both fear and a mutual hatred of the Ctan, the Pantheon had joined the Final War. Though he knew that the Dark Pantheon could never join the fight directly, they had their own part to play in the destruction of the Ctan. They waited even now beyond the veil, their hunger matchless and incalculable. In time, they would feast. A shout of alarm rose up from the far end of the chamber, snatching him boorishly from his reverie. He cast around in time to see Custodes swiftly redeploying, squads shifting in large packs like shoals of fish as they responded to some new threat. It took only moments for Validimus to see what was happening. More of the enemy were starting to arrive now. These warriors were a good head taller than the other

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Pariahs, and far broader in their dimensions. Gogs own legions, he noted with a sense of mounting dread. He had feared this day for an age, and now it was here, he could scarcely contain the sense of mounting dread in his soul. They were here. The Void Angels had returned. +++ +++THE WALLS+++ What is this? What is happening? Dorns unblinking gaze took in the burning skies, his patrician features set in stone at the sight of it. All around him Imperial Fists and Black Templars alike faltered in their activities in order to observe the phenomenon. Moments ago, the sky above them had begun to glow with unnatural light. Forks of bright energy raked the tops of the buildings surrounding the walls, thrown forth from the ever-increasing glow in the atmosphere high above. The Primarch eventually lowered his gaze and looked to those around him, searching for any signs of an answer, only to be met with a sea of concern and bewilderment. Cries and shouts of alarm rose up along the walls as those defenders present came to notice the occurrence. One by one, columns of burning light descended from amongst the clouds. First one, then ten or more. Within moments the vista was filled with hundreds of them. Orbital bombardment. The Primarch heard Helbrecht utter behind him. Dorn gave a slow shake of the head at this. As soon as he had laid eyes on the descending pillars of bright flame, he understood. He knew the truth, despite the fact that he had never before witnessed a similar occurrence. An age amongst the Adeptus Custodes, protected and disguised as one of their own by the very influence of his immortal father the Emperor, had provided the hidden Primarch with many, many secrets. The Companions had taken him into their fold and in doing so he had learned much of the hidden histories and predicted futures of the Imperium. He knew what he was seeing, and he knew that, deep down, Helbrecht knew too, for the High Marshall had faced such terrors before. They are coming, High Marshall. He answered, making no effort to disguise the portentousness in his voice. The Ethereals of the Tau are about to join the war. He turned then, in time to see the High Marshalls flint-grey eyes grow wide within their sockets. Here was a man who had witnessed the horror of the Ethereals first-hand, a man who had fought the unnatural daemons for an age. Dorn could see with but a glance that Helbrecht knew what they were capable of. That, and the clear fact that the High Marshall had never before seen so many of them about to participate in the prosecution of a war. We must reorganise our forces! Send the word out to all the Templars! The Ethereals are here! Notify the Sword Brethren of my orders immediately! They must prepare to mobilise No.

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Despite the subdued volume of the single word, Helbrecht froze as if struck by the full force of a speeding Land Raider. He cast around to look upon the Primarch, disbelief writ large across his craggy face. My lord Dorn, I dont understand. The defence forces that fight still out there stand no chance against the coming abominations. I know. Dorn answered, a reply that served only to astonishment the High Marshall further. Helbrecht took a step back, his arms spread in disbelief. We cannot help them, High Marshal. Trust in me when I say this to you. They must weather the coming of the Ethereals on their own, these brave defenders. And what of their fate, my Primarch? Helbrecht asked, emoting far more concern than he had obviously intended. From his reaction, Dorn seemed to take no offence at this. Their fate is in the hands of the Emperor. He replied solemnly, turning away. We have our own allotted task. There is a storm coming, High Marshall. We must be ready to meet it. +++ The warrior woman was beautiful, he could not deny this. So beautiful, her features graceful and delicate, her skin flawless and pale beneath the vibrant crimson of her own blood. Those eyes. Those striking blue eyes were charged with energies he could barely comprehend. They burned in spite of their piercing coldness. When she spoke, her voice was but a whisper and yet her words carried a deep and hidden power that far belied their volume. They slid through the air like silk, like the first hiss of the winds borne upon the coming storm. The Prophet. Guillimans dark eyes widened as he heard this. His armoured fingers creaked as they tightened around the hilt of his prized sword and around her own tortured hand. What? What did you say? She writhed beneath his grasp, her ceramite gauntlet crumpling. Despite the terrible pain the determination and defiance in her gaze never once faltered. I leave this legacy. She uttered, the fingers of her free hand pressing against the Primarchs temple. Guilliman shuddered and arched back, though he found himself suddenly unable to break free of her grip. A burning glow radiated from her palm, a searing light that scorched the Primarchs skin and caused it to blister. Know The Saint uttered, her armoured fingers seeming to sink into the Primarchs flesh. Know the truth. See the lie within. If only for the briefest of moments, doubt. He is coming, Primarch. See it as I have seen it. He is coming for you. He is coming for you. He started, recoiling back instinctively at the sound of the voice. He blinked, the sensation of hot blood warm against the skin of his face. For a fleeting moment he was the Primarch, he was Guilliman. He drank in the sensation of physical power, his every breath heavy and potent. His limbs ached with vigour and his mind railed with knowledge, for the experience was compelling indeed.

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Berolinus swallowed hard and shook himself as the last vestiges of his dwindling sanity cried out for him to pull himself together. His head was pounding and his entire body ached, a level of pain he had scarcely felt in a long time. He opened his eyes; eyes that were slick with dried blood, and immediately felt an uncharacteristic nausea tighten his stomach. Scores of dead Space Wolves littered the ground around him. Their bodies were smashed, pummelled into lumpen messes by his warhammer. He had slaughtered them all. His final few victims lay gasping in the rubble beneath him, their bodies shattered. He staggered forward, dispatching the dying few, dazed by his situation. He had no real recollection of the fight save for snatches of dream-like memories, flashes of bloodied faces and ruined bodies. His ancient armour was literally awash with damage, slashes and dents caused by the weapons of the enemy, but he was free of serious harm. Even he found this to be incredible. Berolinus held much faith in his own abilities and yet the sheer number of dead and mortally wounded about him was more than even he could begin to accept. These were Space Wolves, and he held enough respect, however begrudged, for the martial prowess of such warriors to recognise how unlikely his situation was. This result wasunnatural. Unbelievable. The worst aspect of all of it was that he understood how this had happened, and why. What was that? He hissed, disgust heavy in his voice. What did you do? I dont remember doing any of this, you b-----d. I let my defences slip for a moment and you took advantage of that. It will not happen again. You know that to be a lie, Berolinus. You cannot hold me back forever. He felt bile rise within him as he heard the voice, its very presence sending a wave of sickness coursing through him. I can and I will, daemon. Tell me, what did you show me? Who was this warrior woman, Lucius, and what did she do to my Primarch? Ahhh, you speak my name for the first time, my soul mate. Finally, you begin to accept me Answer me! Berolinus raged, no longer caring for the concealment of his own private hell. Why did you show me this? To open your eyes to the truth. To allow you to see all that your Primarch is, Berolinus. Her name was the Endymion. She was a saint of the Emperor, a vessel of his power and will. Your false Primarch slaughtered her. Then she was the enemy. Guilliman is a great and noble man, Lucius. He is a saint in his own right, resurrected and infused with power to rival that of the Emperor Himself. You continue to fight to turn me against him but you will never succeed. He is my Primarch He is not! He is nothing but an imposter! He is an amalgamation, a beast, devoid of any true measure of origin! Such blind devotion, Berolinus, can only prove to be your undoing. Can you not see what he is? If only you would allow me to show you Still you persist. Berolinus answered, shaking his head vigorously as if this would somehow rid him of the pervasive presence.

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Time and again you strive to turn me from him, to corrupt my devotion. You are within me, I know that. You strive to corrupt me against him, for you know that you do not have the power to envelop my soul and my will through force alone. You clutch so desperately at straws, Lucius. You will never prevail. I will open your eyes to the truth, my friend, in time. You will understand much when the time is right for you to do so. You so-called Primarch himself knows the truth, Ultramarine. The Endymion showed him, if only for a fleeting moment. He deceives even himself, and I will be the one to open his eyes to the truth. I doubt that. Do you? You are but a child, Berolinus, a foolish and gullible child. The death of the Saint was a victory to your Guilliman, but her demise was far more important than you could ever imagine. She spoke to the warp upon her death, you see. She called out to the furthest reaches of this galaxy and beyond, and that death-cry was heard by all. She called to me, Berolinus. She told me what is was that I am fated to do. I will kill him, when the time is right. I will kill your Primarch Enough! Berolinus screamed, falling to his knees. He let his hammer go to clatter against the ground and bunched his fists tight, driving every ounce of his will to the fore. The voice of Lucius faded to an echo, sinking into the furthest reaches of his mind. Remember the tear This was the last thing he heard.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Five: The Ethereals.

Go, Daelo Codian. You are not safe here. The Farseers warning was an extreme understatement indeed, the Chaplain knew that. He had faced one of these creatures before, or at least witnessed a confrontation between it and Qah. He was aware just how powerful but one of these Ethereals was. The skies burned all around him as the host descended. There numbers were impossible to count, although a swift estimate put their numbers in the hundreds. It was clear to him that, as powerful as these Eldar psykers were, they feared the coming of the Unitys commanders. The arrival of the Mon Korstla had tipped the scales and stolen much of the power of their courageous counter attack. The arrival of the Ethereals would smash those scales to dust. Everyone out here in the city is in incredible danger. He began, staring to walk backwards, his pistols held at the ready. We have to warn everyone. All our forces must fall back beyond the palace defences, Eldar. Any who remain behind will be annihilated. The Farseer continued to instruct his companions throughout Codians warning, directing their efforts with fluid grace and a complete absence of fear. Then you must be the one to send warning, Daelo Codian. Do not concern yourself with our welfare. We are Eldar, and we will serve this war as effectively in death as we ever did in life. You must leave now, while

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there is still time. We do not possess power enough to hold them back for long. Leave. Codian took another step back and then swayed on his feet as the first of the godlike beings touched down. The ground quaked as the burning column speared into it and dissipated, throwing debris out into the air. The unnatural flames unravelled into nothing, revealing the burning giant at their centre. Glowing eyes fell to regard the defiant Eldar beneath them. The Farseers and warlocks of the Eldar host came alive, power coruscating between them. The Ethereals burning form shuddered as it was assailed, flame peeling away from it beneath the combined assault. Then it attacked. A mere three mighty strides brought it looming into the centre of the Eldar forces. Its advance crushed one of the Warlocks underfoot, her body disappearing beneath the living inferno. A grossly extended arm swept out and felled another three of the nimble alien witches with such speed that they had no time to respond. They were dead before they hit the ground, their fragile bodies shattered. The Farseer danced into the path of the Ethereal and thrust the head of his staff into the flaming mass. He screamed some high-pitched and unintelligible alien curse and willed a mighty blast of power through the staff into the Ethereal. The towering creature staggered back, its form losing momentary cohesion beneath the power of the assault, but it was an effort by the Eldar that was to have no lasting consequence. The Farseer drew his staff back and prepared to attack again, determined to bring the Ethereal low, but he stood little real chance of victory. The blow came faster than he had clearly expected. The intangible stuff of the Ethereals arm rippled and shuddered, elongating as it swung for him. Like a serpent the living fire curled around the Farseers waist and scooped him up off his feet with jarring violence. The last thing Codian saw before he turned on his heel and sprinted from the dropship graveyard was the Farseer being dashed apart. These creatures were not real, he knew that now, but they were no less deadly for it. He had to warn the others of their arrival. Their only chance now was to fall back to the Palace and maintain the defences there. The situation would get far worse yet before it got better. He did not see the column of flame that flared to life from the Ethereals arm and twisted towards him, hunting for his death. Darkness enveloped him, and he was already gone. +++ Russ hammered his boot into Guillimans chest and hauled the blade of his spear free, cyan blood cascading after it. He twisted the weapon in his hands and brought it around, ready to use again, but his brother was far from done, despite the terrible wound. Guilliman fell to the ground and rolled beneath the strike, his breath coming in great, gurgling rasps. Russ knew he had gained the upper hand and he was reluctant to waste his advantage. He kept up the pressure as he chased the Ultramarine Primarch across the road, lunging with his spear. Guilliman flailed and knocked the blade away and Russ tried again. Again, the strike was turned aside. The blow should have been fatal, even Russ knew that. He could scarcely believe that this creature was still alive, still fighting to best him. The blade of his spear had almost decapitated his opponent and yet here they still fought, his victory far from assured. Guilliman rose then, faster than he had expected, and swung his mighty sword in an effort to take Russs head. The Wolf hopped back, leaning away from the strike. He felt the unexpected hit glance across the back of his skull. His own uncanny senses flared even as the blow connected, but by this time they were too late to warn him.

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He spun on his heel and flung the spear instinctively. Bile had but time to turn his head aside and the ancient weapon rang as it sank into the stone plinth behind him, missing his throat by less than an inch. Too slow! Bile laughed, twisting around to present the skull-topped rod he held in one hand to the Space Wolf Primarch. Russ felt a strange darkness begin to grow at the centre of his mind as he regarded the weapon. At its very sight his nostrils flared. Its scent was strange, heady and corrupt Impressive, Russ. I have never known the rods effects to take so long in manifesting. You are indeed a powerful creature. Absolute, indescribable agony tore through his brain then, a sensation so powerful that it brought him to his knees. His limbs quaked and his vision swam. He had never known pain like it. Still smiling, Bile bowed low and stepped back as Guilliman loomed over the prone body of the Wolf, clearly more than happy to confer the imminent kill to his master. Guilliman looked upon the Apothecary with expression of resentment and begrudged gratitude, though he said nothing. The wound at his throat was already beginning to heal, thanks in no small part to Biles genetic alterations. The blow had robbed him of the ability to speak and yet he could feel his larynx knitting back together even now beneath the scar tissue that had already formed over the closed wound. Russ was still conscious, he could see that. How he longed to speak, to spit hatred and triumph into the face of the Wolf, but the urge to kill him was too great. He turned Agiselus over in his hands and drove the sword through Russs chest right up to the hilt. The Wolf convulsed, pain etched across his face, yet he gave no sound. Guilliman rose once again and pulled the sword free. He lowered the tip of the blade so that it was resting against Russs throat. His intentions were clear. An eye for an eye. I want you to suffer. He whispered hoarsely, only after an extreme and concerted effort. With that he lifted his foot and smashed it down into Russs body again and again, each ringing blow shaking the ground beneath. Such was the violence of the blows that Russ himself lifted bodily off the ground beneath each one, his limbs flailing loosely. His mighty armour contorted, bending inwards at each impact. You took my arm, Wolf. Do you remember that? He spat, the power in his voice slowly returning. Agiselus swept down and rang against, armour, bone and then the ground beneath, parting Russs arm at the elbow. Guilliman was alive with rage and vigour now, the glint of madness in his black eyes. He stooped low to snatch the arm from the ground and then cast it away. The limb rang as it struck the wall and bounced away amongst the rubble. Behind him Bile tensed and started to circle slowly, his jaundiced eyes darting across the ruined street. The fight between the Primarchs had begun to attract more and more Space Wolves, warriors that were clearly aghast at seeing their Primarch brought so low. Honour was all to these Marines, but this was their Primarch, and he was about to die. The first of them sprang forward and sprinted towards Guilliman, his chainaxe raised above his head. Bile stepped into his path and shouldered the warrior away, using the surprise and speed of the sudden attack to bring the arms of his chirurgeon down as one into the flailing Wolf. The needles stabbed cleanly through the Astartes ceramite armour and drove deep into his flesh. Cutting tools scythed the Wolfs head from his shoulders and his body fell to the floor, ruined and bleeding. A flash of blue caught Biles attention and he lifted his head in time to see Berolinus sprinting towards the fight, his avian familiar gliding through the air above him. He skidded to a halt beside Bile, breathing hard,

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his face slack with an almost unreadable expression. That expression soon changed, his features tightening once more. The faintest traces of a smile played at the edges of his mouth. He reached down to his belt and tore something free, casting the object to the floor between him and the converging Wolves. It was the head of Ragnar Blackmane. Come join your champion, if it is death that you so desire. He hissed, his voice sibilant and completely at odds with his appearance. Guilliman was totally unaware of the fight unfolding just beyond him, lost as he was in vengeance. He dragged Russ across the road by his hair and then threw him against the wall of the nearest building. Russ slid down into a slumped seated position. He had hardly the strength left in him to lift his head. Through the mask of blood that coated his face, one eye remained open, and that eye continued to radiate the hatred of the Wolf His brother disappeared from view but for a moment, and when he returned he held the Spear of Russ in one hand. You were so sure! Guilliman grunted, hurling the weapon out across the road at Russ. It pierced the Wolfs stomach without effort and thudded into the wall behind him. You were so sure of yourself, brother! He raged, spreading his arms wide. So arrogant, so overconfident of your own prowess! Look at you now! Look how low I have brought you! I should have killed you when I had the chance. Russ wheezed, every word a supreme effort of will. Guilliman smiled at this. Yes, you should have. You should have but you could not. You could not bring yourself to do so because you are weak, Leman. The strong do not grant mercy. The strong eradicate the weak, thus the survival of the species is assured. You were weak then, brother. I shall not be so merciful. With that the Primarch stooped low and hauled a huge chunk of broken wall up into the air. Despite the size and weight of the manmade boulder he crossed the space between them in seconds and brought it down so hard into Russ that the impact flung him back several feet. The haft of the spear shattered into splinters beneath the blow and the wall behind Russ shook, the rockcrete there compacting several inches. The rock rumbled away as Guilliman turned from his victim and strode back across the road towards the rubble of another nearby ruined wall, where he disappeared from view amongst the debris. Russ fought to lift his head as a mournful metallic groan issued forth from the ruins beyond. Moments later the father of the Ultramarines appeared, his face contorted with effort. His sword was at his side once again as he dragged something huge and angular from the ruins. Bjorn He croaked, fighting to move. The ancient Dreadnought had been brought low by the punishment he had endured. The huge blocks of stone that had been hewn to form the stairs fell away as Guilliman dragged the venerable warrior out into the street, ignoring his writhing protests. It is my greatest desire to see that you suffer before you die. Guilliman spat, letting the heavy construct fall to the ground. If it was within my power to prolong that suffering for an eternity, I would, but it is not. I hate you, Russ, but my malice is far from blind. I hate you for all that you stand for. I hate you for your unswerving blindness,

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your total inability to see the truth behind your loyalties. There is no more Emperor, my brother. There is no more Imperium to defend. You have returned too late to the fold. You fight for a lost cause. I never expected such blindness, Russ, not from you. You deserve to die. He turned to the prone form of Bjorn and curled his fingers around the oblong plate set into the face of the Dreadnoughts sarcophagus. The metal there groaned as he sank his fingers into the thick plate. Do not do this Russ hissed, fighting with every ounce of strength he had left to rise, to prevent the death of his oldest friend. Guilliman did not ignore his pleas. Worse, he revelled in the desperation behind the Wolfs voice as he hauled the panel free and cast it away from him, wires and components scattering in its wake. I will do as I please Russ, for I am in control. This is my war and I am its master. My enemies exist but to be destroyed and I will destroy them all, one by one. This is known as the end of times, brother, and that is indeed what this is. This is the end for you, and for all those who stand by your side. Guilliman thrust a hand deep inside the open sarcophagus and hauled something wet and organic clear of the breach. It was little more than a wasted head and torso, what little skin that remained upon it pallid and dead. Hundreds of wires and pipes trailed from the thing and as they were torn free of the innards of the Dreadnought some spat sparks into the air, whilst others sprayed fluids across the scene. The Unity commanders face twisted in disgust as he regarded the scant biological remains of Bjorn at arms length. Without a word he squeezed his fist tight around the corpses neck and watched as the ruined torso fell to the ground with a wet thud. Russ let out a rising bellow of raw rage and fought to push himself up onto his feet, his mighty limbs quaking. His armour had been so punished by his brothers sadistic assaults that it creaked and whined beneath his every movement, the muscle beneath it fighting for the space to expand and contract. Beyond him Guilliman kicked the remains of Bjorn away and drew his sword, the keen blade ringing as it was loosed. To his credit, Russ had managed to rise by the time Guilliman had crossed the space between them with a few bounding strides. His great strength had been pummelled from him by his brother. Many of his bones had been broken, and the ground around him was awash with his blood. Leman Russ did not have the strength left in him to fight this combat. He barely had strength enough to lift his eyes in time to see Agiselus rise up above his brothers head, ready to bite down into his flesh and end his life. The darkness literally burst into being between the two Primarchs, filling the space in an instant. There followed a flash of light and Guilliman arched back, his intended kill denied. Codian threw himself from the pall of shadow and rolled, coming up onto his feet. He levelled his already smouldering bolt pistol at his Primarch and fired again and again, every shot serving to maintain the disruption in Guillimans balance. His plasma pistol flared and an incandescent bolt of energy thundered into the Primarchs shoulder, turning him sharply on his heel and driving him to his knees. He dared spare his Primarch no more than a cursory glance before turning to the wavering Wolf. Lord Russ Leave me, Chaplain. Guilliman will kill you if you do not run. Russ answered, his voice little more than a fragile wheeze. Codian shook his head. No. This fight is over. I wont let you die here, not like this. Not against him.

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With that the Chaplain holstered his pistols and wrapped his arms around Russ. A dark miasma leaked forth from the slightest shadows about them and quickly enveloped the pair. Guilliman rose and looked to the scene in time to see the darkness fade away. Russ was gone. Smoke still curled from the bruise at the centre of his forehead and he swept a hand through it, his teeth bared in absolute rage. He could scarcely believe his eyes. Russ had escaped, against all the odds. His brother was as good as dead and yet still he was denied the kill. No! This cannot be! He cast around, desperate to vent his rage upon whatever enemy force he could find to hand. Beyond him the Space Wolves were already in full retreat, their bolters singing after them as they sprinted through the streets. Bile had stood his ground, unwilling to chase the cowardly Astartes. Berolinus had clearly intended to follow them but the sheer volume of fire had driven him back. Even now he retreated, his storm shield shuddering at his arm as he weathered the explosive storm. This seemed for all the world to be cowardice of the part of the Wolves but he knew different. They had witnessed the salvation of their Primarch when all had seemed lost and this had given them heart. Had they witnessed the Wolfs death then they would have fought to the end to avenge him and he would have killed them all, every last damned one of them. He had been denied all this. He had been denied his glory, his rightful triumph. He had caught sight of Russs saviour for less than a second, but that image was burned into his mind now. He could see every minute detail of the traitorous b-----d in his minds eye. I will have my revenge, Chaplain. He whispered to himself, ensuring to brand the personal vow upon his very soul. This I swear. Both Bile and Berolinus arrived at his side in time to catch these final words yet neither of them dared to question their master. The Ultramarine fell to one knee before his Primarch and bowed his head, his chest heaving with the exertions of the earlier fight. My lord, the Wolves fled before us. I gave chase but in their cowardice they fought Forget them. Guilliman snapped, his tone more than enough to extinguish his wards explanation. They are nothing. Soon mighty Aunva Himself will visit His wrath upon this world and then the defenders of Terra will truly tremble. Only the Imperial Palace still stands now, the final bastion to be conquered. The Space Wolves will be put to death in time. All the enemies of the Unity will be annihilated, for there is no more certain fate in store for them than that. Berolinus rose and nodded, speaking no further. The disappointment in his heart was made clear by his expression but he did not voice it. The Primarch saw this and let the anger drain slowly from his face. You have fought well, Berolinus. Many Wolves have fallen to your warhammer this day. Know that I recognise this. In your service, my lord. He answered, bowing deeply. Guilliman responded with a nod and then gestured out at the surrounding buildings. Now that the Space Wolves and the other elements of the Alliance were in full retreat the forces of the Unity were the dominant presence here. The warriors of the Mon Korstla hunted through the spaces between the buildings, sliding

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from shadow to shadow in small but deadly squads, seeking out those unfortunate enough to have found themselves stranded by the retreat of the Alliance. Join our warriors and secure this area, my son. We have seen a victory here and this time I am adamant that we will maintain it. Look to the skies and see how this war progresses. The Ethereals have already descended upon Terra. Blessed Aunva will soon grace us with his incontestable presence here. We must be sure to prepare for his arrival. Berolinus bowed again and then ran to join the hunters without any further word, the wishes of his Primarch ever his greatest desire to realise. Guilliman stood in silence for a long moment, watching as the warrior eventually disappeared into the manmade canyons beyond. Behind him, Bile observed Berolinuss departure with an iniquitous smile upon his face. The Wolf is a ruin, my lord, by your hand. He must be hours from death, if not closer. It does not matter that he was whisked away by the enemy. I saw the desolation of his form before he disappeared, and I can promise you that even Leman Russ will not survive it. Guilliman moved faster than Bile could have ever imagined. He swung around and smashed the back of his fist into the Apothecarys face, landing a blow that sent Bile spinning across the road and into the wall of the nearest edifice. Bile spat out a glut of thick black mucus and pushed himself up onto his hands, the extremities at his back raking against the wall behind him in order to aid his ascent. The Primarch was before him in an instant, covering the distance in three bounding strides. He snatched at Biles neck and lifted him effortlessly up off his feet, pressing him against the wall. I should have taken the head of Russ today, Bile. You remade me so that my victory was assured. Hggn. You-your victory i-is assured Bile choked, his hands scrabbling at the fingers wrapped around his throat. I could and would have beaten him without your aid, Apothecary, and yet you landed a blow that was powerful enough to incapacitate him. You robbed me of an exclusive victory. We were brother against brother, Bile. You altered the balance of that. The Wolves should have witnessed the death of their Primarch by my hand and mine alone. It would have broken them. Please, l-lord, I only wished tognnnhensure that Russ was not allowed to You changed the terms of the combat, Bile. The Wolves saw this. You had better pray that he survives his injuries and faces me one more time. I will have his head, and I will beat him. Alone. He let go and Bile slid down the wall, still clutching at his throat. Guilliman turned away, only to hear the breathless Apothecary utter something almost inaudible. His dark eyes widened. What did you say? He growled, frozen to the spot in anger. Behind him, Bile pulled himself up onto his feet, coughing and wheezing. I said that you have nothing to prove, my lord. Nothing to prove The words resonated through Guillimans skull, their significance inexplicable to him. For some obscure reason he found his memories drifting back to those of the woman Saint. From time to time this happened

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to him, and yet he had never mentioned it to anyone else, nor would he ever do so. You are superior to your brothers in every way and they will know that now. Bile continued. You are the greatest of all of them, and my own work has done nothing save for to increase that greatness further. They fear you now doubly so because they are able to see that change. I have mastered all the greatest secrets of the creation of the Primarchs. There are no limits to what we can achieve, my lord, together. Guilliman nodded at this, paused to think for a moment, and then set out into the city without a further word. Behind him, the Primogenitor worked the last vestiges of cramp from his neck and then made to follow. Despite himself, he could not help but smile.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Six: The Coming of True Darkness.
Will he live? Every audible murmur faded into silence at the Warmasters question. A host of faces turned to the small group of Apothecaries gathered around the prone form of Leman Russ. I cannot say at this point. One of the white-armoured Astartes answered, wiping the blood from his gauntlets with the edges of his cloak. He signalled to the others to remove the Primarch. A vast stretcher had been hastily constructed, the inches-thick steel still barely enough to bear the Primarchs weight. It took eight of the Apothecarys brethren to lift the prone Primarch off the floor. Even then the powerful warriors struggled with Russs weight. The thick metal sheet creaked and groaned beneath him as the Apothecaries carried him away in silence. He is a Primarch, my lord. The Chief Apothecary continued, his face grim. Who amongst us is able to even guess how his body will react to the traumas visited upon it? We know nothing about him, Warmaster. All the Primarchs are a mystery to us. I understand. Keep him as stable as you can, Aestrio. Do whatever you can to keep him alive, and ensure that the Wolves are allowed access to him at all times. We cannot afford an internal schism now, not when these days are about to grow so much darker. I believe he will survive this, Warmaster. The stuff Leman Russ is made of is unbreakable. Codian said quietly. Calgar turned his vast bulk to look upon the Chaplain as he heard this. Guilliman has punished him greatly, Codian. Russ was always legendary for his martial prowess and yet I have seen with my own eyes the handiwork of our fallen father. I have never known fear in my life, but I am unashamed to say that I fear this abomination that I was once proud to call my Primarch. What have the Tau done to him, Chaplain? Codians answer was delayed as he turned his gaze away slightly, giving the appearance of one unwilling to speak all that was upon his mind. Unnoticed by all around him, his fingers tightened unbidden upon the hilt of the Anaris. When he did speak, it was clear even to Calgar that he had chosen his words carefully. You have to understand my lord that this thing, it is not Roboute Guilliman. There is nothing of our Primarch left inside that monstrous shell. That is all he is, Warmaster, a shell. A faade, a mannequin

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merely worked to resemble our lost Primarch. Just to look upon him is to see that nothing of Roboute Guilliman remains. In his mind he believes that he is still the same personality, that he shares the same desires and dreams as our Primarch once did. This is nothing but a falsehood placed there by the Tau, so deep-rooted that even he is unable to accept the truth. I am barely able to comprehend all this. Calgar answered, the weight in his mechanical voice. That the Tau have fallen so far to dothis. Once, long ago, the Ultramarines fought alongside the Tau, Codian. In all my many centuries as a warrior of Ultramar it is a rare occasion indeed that the Emperors finest warriors have fought side by side with xenos, but on a world called Malbede, we did just that. The conflict between our forces awakened a greater evil that slumbered deep beneath the surface of that world, Chaplain. The Necrontyr. Codian answered with a slow nod. Yes, I recall that campaign from the Annals of Hera. Indeed. The tale was always well known throughout the ranks of the Ultramarines because it detailed an event that was unprecedented. The Tau fought alongside us there to quash the Necrontyr and they fought with honour, a concept we did not know even existed amongst the xenos races. I still remember that race, Codian. I still recall the proud and honourable Tau. What happened to them? Was it all just a falsehood? Did they really fool us so completely? There is still much mystery surrounding the transformation of the Tau into what they are today, my lord, and much if not most of it matters little. They are what they are now, we cannot change that. Do not chide yourself for acting with honour, lord Calgar, for if we forget how to conduct ourselves in battle, if we lose sight of the fundamental principles of war, then what are we. We are nothing. We are no better than the enemy. Wise words, Chaplain. We have lost so much on the journey here, but this enemy will never take away our honour. The Emperor is gone now, our Primarch too, truth be told, but their spirit remains within us. The body of the Imperium is ravaged; Warmaster, but the enemy cannot touch her spirit. We will prevail. Though Calgar was incapable of any physical expression, Codian could sense that the Warmaster took heart in his words. The last few hours had passed in a whirlwind of activity. The survivors of the counter-assault, of which there had been a good few more than anyone had dared to hope, had been steadily pouring back behind the defences of the Eternity Wall Gate, chased by the combined forces of Guilliman, the Mon Korstla and the Ethereal host. Many of the Alliance commanders had gathered here before the Eternity Wall Gate during that time, drawn by the combined news of Russs plight and the arrival of the Ethereals. The arrival of this phase of the war had been fully expected, for it was herald to the escalation of events. There was much to discuss of the coming war. Of Russs brothers, those that had come to investigate his plight were Ferrus Manus, Vulkan, Corax and Jaghatai Khan. Dorn was still busy with the continuation of the defence of the walls, and as yet no one had been able to raise Magnus and Jonson at the Lions Gate. The four giants stood within their own imposing circle, quietly discussing the potential fate of the Wolf. None had dared attempt to join the conversation or even approach the ancient beings. Even Calgar, the ultimate commander of the Alliance, had yet to attempt to approach them. Codian decided that it was high time to gain the opinions of the Primarchs on what they were to expect. More so, he felt that this would be an ideal opportunity to test the collective and as yet undisclosed knowledge of the Primarchs. It was true that he was privy to many great secrets, but the question was, how

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much did the sons of the Emperor really know? I hope that you would beg my pardon, but we must know. He began, approaching the small gathering cautiously. Of all of us, you know the Wolf better than any. Will he survive this? Please, none of us are afraid to hear the truth, no matter how dark it may be. Manus, Corax and Vulkan turned slowly to stare at the Chaplain, clearly irritated by the interruption. Only the Khan displayed no such emotions, and seeing this Codian found himself glad that he and the White Scar Primarch had shared the journey to Terra together. We believe so. Though it is true that none of us have yet sustained such punishment and lived to survive it, we believe that the constitution of Russ is potent enough to ward off the damage done to him. He has lost his arm and that is an injury from which he can never fully recover, but he should heal, given time. He fell silent then, his eyes narrowed in thought. It is unlikely that he will be healed in time to rejoin our efforts here. Not impossible, but unlikely. I think that it is sagacious to accept the fact that we have most likely lost Russ for the duration of this war. But we have you. Codian answered, plying hope into his tone. We have the rest of you. The Primarchs returned, reunited for the first time in an age. Khan, you and your brothers are counted amongst the most powerful assets we have in this war. Your unswerving faith does us credit, Codian, but you must ask yourself how justified it is. The Khan answered. We are far from invincible. Russ is proof of that. Russ is proof that none of us can afford to underestimate the enemy. Corax said, cutting his way into the discussion. If we are to believe all we have heard, then the Tau have managed to do the impossible. They have remade our brother, improved him vastly. Chaplain, you have seen him in action first-hand. Tell us, what manner of changes have the enemy wrought into him? I suspect the intervention of one of our own kind, far fallen from grace, my lord. Codian answered. There is one who remains ever at his side, an Apothecary of obvious Astarte proportions. I have seen this individual a number of times and although I have yet to learn his name, I suspect that he has played an important part in the physical corruption of the Primarch. Codian gave the gathered Primarchs time to ingest his opinion, during which he studied their reaction closely. Of course, he knew far more of the situation than he was letting on. He knew the truth behind Guillimans betrayal now, yet still the question remained. How much did the Primarchs know? It was Vulkan who answered this for him. The dark-skinned father of the Salamanders fixed his steely gaze upon the Chaplain, studying him even as Codian sought to assess the groups response. We know of Bile, Codian. Of all those corrupted during the Heresy, Fabius Bile is amongst the most dangerous. He has succeeded in uncovering much of the forbidden knowledge used by the Emperor to create us. Why he works for the Tau, we have yet to discover. Still, Codian, it would seem that you are reluctant to answer our question. Guilliman. What have they done to him?

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Enhanced him. Codian answered. He seems stronger, faster. There is much written of Guilliman in the annals of the Ultramarines, but this creature seems far superior in ability to our Primarch. When they first met in battle, Russ was clearly the stronger and more capable of the two. Whatever this Bile has done to him has altered that. We must not waste our time trying to second-guess the motives of this traitor. Manus interjected, his voice ever cold and devoid of emotion. And we certainly cannot allow ourselves to rely upon him. I do not believe that he works to further the cause of the Dark Gods. He is a slave to his own desires. He is predictable, but only to a degree. And yet it is clear that the Dragon suspects nothing. Corax said. Guilliman is here. Then you do know Codian began. As one the faces of the Primarchs turned to him and he saw it in their eyes. His suspicions were correct. I speak with the greatest of respect, my lords, when I say that I am unwilling to remain in the dark here. Said a deep mechanical voice from behind them. Codian and the Primarchs turned as one to see Calgar standing apart from the gathering, flanked by Tigurius, Ventris and Cassius. Codian did not know how long the Warmaster had been listening in to the conversation, but he suspected that it was long enough. I am the commander of this Alliance and I must insist that I am brought up to speed on everything you know. We cannot fight this enemy unless we are united, and we cannot be united while ever there are secrets between us. The Chaplain heard this and knew that Calgar was right. He needed to know the full truth, they all did. A part of him longed to open up to Calgar and tell him everything, every last dark secret, and yet he could not. Such information was hidden for a reason. There were some truths so obscene and astonishing that most even Marneus Calgar would fight to deny them. No, he decided there and then that it was not his place to reveal all to the Warmaster. Fortunately for him, it soon became clear that he would not be required to. You are right. The Khan said, after a long moments awkward silence. You deserve to know everything, Calgar. Everything we know, that is. I warn you though, there is much that you will not want to hear. I am ready. Calgar answered. With that he gestured to the Ultramarine warriors around him. These are my most trusted brothers, Khan. What you have to say to me, you may also say to them. The Khan tilted his head in agreement. Very well. Codian, perhaps you would be willing to set the ball rolling. After all, the agent holds a long association with you. The Chaplain felt his pulse quicken at this. He had expected that the Khan and the others would allow Calgar an explanation, but at the mention of Grungi it soon became clear that the Primarchs were willing to do better than that. He had expected the coming meeting for some time now, but now that it was fast approaching, he began to feel the anticipation build within him. I am here, Khan. Said a voice from beyond the gathering. As one, every face turned to look upon the squat alien. Grungi stared back, taking in the stare of each Primarch in turn before nodding a greeting to the Chaplain.

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I have been waiting for this day. They said it would come, in time. He said, walking slowly past the Ultramarines and into the centre of the gathering. Then they are prepared to interact with us? Codian asked. The Demiurg nodded. Of course they are, Codian. It was always a question of timing, and now the time is right. Meet who? Calgar asked, his otherwise emotionless voice heavy with suspicion. With that Codian looked to the Warmaster, his eyes narrowed. They call themselves the Cabal, and although you do not know it, they are a driving force behind this war. They are a collective of xenos races dedicated to the prevention of galactic catastrophe. Prevention of galactic catastrophe? Calgar scoffed. Look around you, Chaplain. The Tau are set to overrun this Palace, the last remaining sanctity of the Imperium. They own the stars themselves. I have yet seen little in the way of prevention. The Cabal work behind the scenes, Warmaster. That is why most do not even know that they exist. The races that form the Cabal are incredibly ancient Forgive me, Codian, but I am an inpatient man. The Warmaster cut in. The Tau hammer at our gates even now. I have fought this war for an age and I have done so without the help of aloof and ancient xenos races. I trust you, Chaplain. I trust you with my life, which is the reason that I am willing to hear what you have to say, but be warned, I will afford this no more time than I see fit. I barely have the luxury of gallivanting about this world, meeting with alien creatures with no discernable association to me. You misunderstand. Grungi said then, taking a step forward. You need go nowhere. They are here, Warmaster. They always have been. None of the Primarchs so much as blinked at the Demiurgs incredible claims. Calgar clearly noticed this and yet he refrained from pushing the point. In some way the lack of response in his peers served to balance his humours. Instead of refuting the Demiurgs claims as preposterous, he opened his vast arms. Then we will meet with them and hear what they have to say. Grungi nodded and stepped back, removing a small cubed device from one of the side pockets of his flight pants. The cube, small enough to fit in the palm of his good hand, looked to be made of some smooth and opaque substance, its centre softly pulsing. The Demiurg whispered something and then placed the object on the floor at his feet. He waved the others back as he himself moved away from the spot. No sooner had he done so than the light at the cubes centre began to intensify. Please do not be alarmed. Grungi said. We have no enemies within the Cabal. Displays of force or aggression are not necessary. What happened next left the Warmaster no time to respond. Without warning the cube melted, running like quicksilver into a shimmering puddle. The puddle quickly spread and grew, and within seconds the fluid stuff had formed a wide, flawless and perfectly circular mirror upon the stone flags. Even Codian shifted uneasily as he saw this. Still the gathered Primarchs did not respond with any sign of shock or unease. They merely observed the proceedings, ever calm. A few tense seconds passed by without further incident. Then, just as the first startled whispers began to pass through those present, the first ripple appeared in the reflective silver disc.

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One by one, shapes rose up through the mirror as if breaking the surface of some impossibly calm pool. Several bodies rose up from beneath as one, all facing outwards. Most of the figures were generally humanoid, though they differed in size and proportions. Representatives of the Cabal. Grungi said quietly, tilting his head at the alien arrivals. With that he stepped back into the gathered crowds and slipped from sight. There were nine of the creatures in all, and each one was as far removed from its counterpart as could be. Despite himself Codian could not help but reach for the hilt of Anaris, only to feel the weight of the blade seem to increase greatly in its holster, as if unwilling to be drawn. I would have an explanation. Calgar uttered to the host, whatever emotions he felt at the sight of such a gathering mercifully hidden from sight. I know you call yourselves the Cabal. What is your purpose? Why are you here? These are but two of the many questions I expect you to answer, if indeed you are capable of doing so. We are fully capable, Warmaster Calgar. Said a whispered voice from amongst the collective. Codian scanned the various aliens and noticed that it was a large insectoid creature that had spoken. The thing was easily as tall as an Astarte, and clad in beaten bronze armour plating that covered the segmented scales of its angular body. As it spoke again, the tiny mandibles around its mouth twitched and writhed like busy fingers, manipulating whatever passed for its vocal chords so as to form human words. The creatures very form seemed almost to whisper, as if every miniscule movement of its body somehow produced the noise. We are here to answer any question you would put to us, for we are not enemies. We are indeed allies, for life is the spark that passes through us all. Life is that which binds us. We fight to preserve life. Said another, far smaller individual. Nothing could be seen of the short and unassuming creature for it was swathed in thick, dark robes, and where its face should have been was nothing but a black void. As we have done since the rise of the First Great Enemy. So falls to us the responsibility of policing the denizens of these stars and beyond, so as to ensure that none may be allowed to rise to a position of ultimate dominance. Then I would say that you have failed in your self-appointed duties. Calgar answered coldly, his voice heavy with accusation. Or have you failed to notice that the Tau have been running rampant throughout the galaxy for the last six centuries? They are as near to ultimate dominance as it is possible for a race to be. Terra is the final bastion of the Imperium yet to fall, and this is the first evidence I have ever encountered to even suggest of your existence. Ours is not a belligerent role. Said yet another voice. This one was deep and potent, and seemed to come from no discernable direction. Codian glanced amongst the assembled creatures and noticed that one of them, a huge, bloated amphibian who seemed to be seated cross-legged in the air itself, had eyes that shone like jewels, pulsing softly in time with the psychic voice. To fight our eternal war on the front line would be impractical, and would ultimately deny us victory. No, we must ever remain within the shadows. That has been our way since the War in Heaven. Said the large insectoid.

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Calgar, unsurprisingly, was far from convinced. So, by your own admission, you are a vast and secret galactic collective that has striven for an untold age to maintain peace in our galaxy. I am no fool, and I am no stranger to these stars. I know that there has never been peace Peace, perhaps not. Said the short, hooded thing. But balance. It is part of the nature of sentience that the living are unable to exist without conflict. Said yet another xenos. This one was also shorter than most of the others. It possessed pale green skin, devoid of any body hair. Its features held a hint of almost Orkish familiarity and yet its proportions were far more slender and humanoid. We were created to fight, all of us. Individuality cannot exist without disparity. We exist for war. The large amphibian cut in. My lord, forgive me but I do not feel that I can remain silent a moment longer. Cassius said, passing from behind the Warmaster to stand before the congregation. Though the flesh of the Chaplains face had long since been replaced by immobile steel, his anger was all too apparent. I find these claims incredible. The Tau are the first and only race to bring the magnificence of the Imperium so low. The Emperors reign saw the majesty of mankind blossom into an empire greater than these stars have ever known. I cannot stand here and listen to these tales and believe that such a supposedly powerful organisation would allow the progress of such an empire You assume too much. Your Imperium was never a threat. This time the speaker was another of the curious aliens, a thickset beast with four lower legs, its muscular crimson body covered in hard scales. It stamped its hooves as it shifted its weight, a sign of barely restrained frustration. When it spoke it was obvious that the thing was unused to the human language. A clear rebreather device covered its face, rendering its voice hollow and muffled. The development of your Imperium was controlled and monitored, human. Your kind have achieved much in your short existence, but you must understand your place in the universe. Our place is one of dominance. Cassius snapped. At that the centaur-like creature shook its head and snorted. Hardly. All that you have achieved as been thus far allowed by us. When and where necessary, steps have been taken to cull your rampant population. We scarcely expect you to understand this. It is not your place to understand. The amphibian added. Your appreciation of this can only be realised through your continued evolution. Cassius let loose a low growl of annoyance and took a step forward, his hand reaching to his belt for the hilt of his crozius. At this, one of the other xeno figures responded in kind. The tall alien raised its long arms and the crystalline growths there shifted, emitting a gentle ringing sound as they reconfigured themselves. Crystals sprouted from each hand, growing as if to approximate firearms. At the centre of each growth could be seen an ever-increasing glow, as whatever unknown energies were at the beck and call of the alien continued to build. There will be no need for such hostilities. A stooped individual uttered, its voice a whispered, sibilant hiss. It shifted its slender, festering bulk so as to observe the confrontation, its hidden eyes shining from beneath the folds of its rotting hood. It threw one impossibly long arm out before the crystal-encrusted creature in an

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effort to negate the tension of the situation. Hu-man cannot understand its place. Hu-man is young, as all its kind. Must not be punished for display of passion. Weapons are aggressive by their very nature. Indeed. Said the cloaked dwarf. To understand the Greater Scheme on a racial level is to take the final evolutionary step. Only then will your kind be eligible to petition a place amongst us. You. Codian said then, interrupting the enigmatic conversation. He raised a finger towards the short creature. I know you. I know your kind. I have seen you His voice died away as he looked to the silent Primarchs. Your kind were on the Rock. What involvement have you with Jonson and the Dark Angels? I spoke to one called Cypher and he told me That we were figments of your imagination, yes. That much is true, Prophet. We are known to a few of your species as the Watchers, and we have no discernable form. We are merely interpreted by your own subconscious mind. You see of us what you wish to see, for we are creatures of the warp. Daemons Cassius hissed. No. The Watcher replied. We are not daemons. That we are of the warp does not automatically classify us as children of the Dark Gods. It is we who kept the Lion safe from the predations of both the Ctan and the Dark Gods. It is we who kept many of you safe. Added the hunched creature clad in the rotting cloak. As it spoke, it extended long, mould-encrusted fingers towards the gathered Primarchs. But then again, you know that. Said the slender Orkoid. You are the champions of your kind. That you have all thus far kept our existence secret from those beneath you speaks volumes of your inability to trust the greater majority of your species with the truth. One of the aliens had yet to speak. By far one of the most outlandish of the group, the thing drifted forth on a writhing bed of serpentine tendrils. Its undulating form changed colour, displaying a myriad of hues and colours in seconds. Those of the Cabal nearest to it turned their heads to look upon the beast, as if responding to some unintelligible communication. Indeed. The crystalline being translated. Our kind have tested your species many times, for it was deigned to be our responsibility to ensure that you were kept in a state of constant aggression. Enough! Calgar answered, sweeping one huge paw before him. I have heard enough of this! I tire if hearing the human race referred to as some manner of simple, docile soldier species, manipulated by ancient and aloof xenos masters. You underestimate us. You underestimate the wisdom and might of our Emperor. Not so The scaly-skinned centaur began. At this, the last of the group raised its hand in a clear gesture of silence. The thing was long and slender, quite similar in dimensions to a member of the Tau Air caste. It wore a tight-fitting garment that resembled a single wide ribbon decorated in emerald jewels, the material entwined around its lithe frame from its feet to its neck. The aliens features were smooth and aquiline, its eyes little more than white slits in its face. You must not reveal too much, Chraoarak. This species is extremely xenophobic and ill-equipped to handle such truths. They revere their Emperor as a god.

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Perhaps it would benefit them to be thus humbled? The crystal-thing considered. Perhaps. Codian answered swiftly, cutting into the conversation in fear of allowing the members of the cabal to reveal too much too soon. He looked to each of the gathered creatures in turn, his finger raised in challenge and accusation. But you make the mistake of judging us collectively. There are those amongst us who need no such lessons, those who understand far more than you suspect. I know of the Cabal. I know of your history. I know that even you have made such mistakes. I know that you have been deceived by one more powerful and insidious than any of you were prepared for, and that this deceit almost brought ruination to your organisation. For millennia, your attentions were directed away from the Ctan by one of their own, so totally that you almost forgot that the Star Gods existed. Perhaps this would be a lesson you would be willing to share with us? Just as he expected, not one of the assembled members of the Cabal answered. At this, he nodded slowly. As I thought. Perhaps then, you would be willing to speak of the reason you wished to meet with us? I concur. The amphibian answered, its eyes blazing. It would seem that you are indeed wise beyond the constraints of your species, Daelo Codian, and you are correct. We are here because the Star Gods are close to converging, and in order to ensure that they are met with a defiance powerful enough to formulate a possible victory, a meeting is necessary. Negotiations must be entered into. Negotiations with who? Calgar asked. Upon hearing this, Codian looked to the Warmaster, his expression darkening. I must warn you, my lord, to steel your heart and strengthen your mind. This may be the hardest thing you have yet faced in your long life. I do not like the sound of that. Calgar replied. But I will trust you, Codian. I hope so, my lord. He whispered, nodding to the assembled members of the Cabal. It is time. Summon them. Behind him, each one of the Primarchs shifted slightly, and every hand felt the touch of a weapon. They were coming.

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Seven: Blood Damned.

There was no given warning. The air itself ran fluid, curling tightly into a swirling vortex of fluid movement that yawned open, spilling glittering light from its puckered centre. As one the Primarchs swept round and formed a protective wall, standing shoulder to shoulder in the face of the growing anomaly. What is this? Calgar snarled behind them. Tigurius gave a low growl and shuddered, his rune-encrusted sarcophagus coming alive with hazy light. To arms, lord Calgar

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No. Codian warned the Ultramarines, swiftly crossing the space between them so as to stand in challenge to the Chief Librarians admonition. Trust me when I say this, we must not raise arms against them. Just have faith, Warmaster, and trust me. Please. The mighty Magnus the Red swept through the breach with a flourish of his arm, otherworldly energies playing about his fingertips. With him came the Lion, his face ever set in stone. His sword was drawn and his armour was punished greatly, telling of his efforts in defending the Lions Gate against the predations of OKirlas warriors. Though Magnus outshone him in presence, Codians eyes were drawn to the Lions own. In those eyes he found his confirmation, for they betrayed a simmering discomfort born of the weight of knowledge that the Primarch had carried with him for millennia. He had known this day would come to pass for an age. Warmaster! My gathered brothers! Members of the Cabal! Magnus began, raising his arms out to his sides. Now is the time that the Council of the End is called, for the final stage of this war is upon us. Now is the time when all differences are set aside, when all allegiances are forgotten, if only for a time. The Star Gods, the Ctan, converge to feed, to gorge upon the life force of this world and her defenders. He came to rest at the centre of the gathered bodies, his single eye blazing out at the assembled figures. Without a word Jonson slipped by him and moved to stand with his brothers, his eyes hooded and haunted. Xenos. Heretic. Astarte. Human. Imperial. Enemy. These words and more no longer hold any significance amongst us. That we live is simply enough. That we live is enough for us to be counted as an enemy of the Ctan and their Necrontyr slaves Again, you speak of the Ctan. Calgar cut in, striding forward. This war is with the Tau, Magnus. It is the Tau who have driven us back to Terra, our final bastion. It is the Tau who have ravaged this galaxy, and yet you speak as if they hardly matter. The Tau, for all their power and abundance, were always only the tools of greater, darker beings, Calgar. The Unity is merely a weapon, a weapon wielded by the Ctan. You must see this. You must understand. I empathise with your confusion, Warmaster, I truly do, but the fact remains. The Tau are our enemy here, the greatest we have ever collectively faced, but they are destined to pale in comparison when the hordes of the Necrontyr and their Ctan masters make their play. And what will happen to the Tau when these Ctan reveal themselves? Calgar asked. They will no longer matter. Magnus replied. You will see this, in time. For now, Warmaster, I must ask that you demonstrate a restraint to mirror that of your status, for this is to be a meeting of darkness and light. As prophesised, I have brought them into the fold once again. With that he stepped aside and presented the anomaly with a flourish. The wormhole shuddered and began to spread, slowly at first and then increasing rapidly, folding out over itself to spread an aura of darkness across the scene. Huge shapes formed within that darkness as it passed over them, fluid, undulating outlines that began to take on definition as soon as they appeared. The fallen Primarchs were born out of the very nightmares of their brethren and cast out into the gathering, their arrival sending a surge of revulsion and discomfort through all those assembled. Codian felt the

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Dawnblade squirm at his hip as the lost sons of the Emperor came to be before him. Even though he was one of the few present who had known for a long time that this day would come, he could not help but revile the very sight of them. His basest instincts railed against all they were and all they represented, for it was part of his very nature as an Astarte to hate and despise these abominations, these traitors. Traitors though they were, for now at least, they were allies. They shared a common enemy and a desire to exist. It did not matter that they would always be enemies, that they were lost forever, damned by their association with the gods of the warp. Such rivalries were eternal and they would continue to exist long after this war had ended, should any of those present here survive it. They were enemies united under a common goal. Brotherssss Hissed a serpentine monstrosity, its yellow eyes glistening with undisguised glee at regarding the uncorrupted Primarchs. It has been too long since last we stood shoulder to shoulder. This was Fulgrim, daemon prince, father of the Emperors Children. Whatever form he had taken was forever lost now, consumed by the ravages of the warp and the influence of the daemonic entity that had claimed him as its own. He was a twisted and inhuman thing now, his legs replaced by a serpents tail. He bore three arms, one of which ended in a huge serrated claw. The air about him seemed to glitter with golden light and was thick, made hazy with powerful musk. As he spoke, a long forked tongue flicked about his lips, as if tasting the scent of those before him. The last time we stood shoulder to shoulder, fiend, you took my head. All eyes turned to Manus, his silvered face contorted in a grimace of utter hatred. Fulgrim shifted his reptilian gaze to look upon the Primarch of the Iron Hands, his lips twisting into a malevolent smile. That I did, brother. Come, Ferrus, there is no need to bear a grudge. We both know that events played out exactly as they were fated to do so. Your death was a necessary evil As was your betrayal, Fulgrim, I am sure. Manus snarled in reply. By allowing daemonic filth to corrupt your body, the Ctan were made unable to bring you harm. I am sure that the damnation of all that you were was a small price to pay. As ever with your kind, irrelevance threatens to degrade this assembly. The swollen amphibian interjected with a wave of its hand. The time has long since passed for recrimination and dispute. There is no room for petty quarrels Petty quarrels? The voice was harsh and low, heavy with power. One particularly massive figure moved from amongst the gathered heretics to brandish his vast blade at the hovering creature. He was huge, towering a good head above even the Primarchs. He wore armour that glistened crimson as if coated with an ever-fresh sheen of spilled blood. The mighty bronze chainblade he wielded was easily the length of an Astarte, and his plated crimson and bronze armour smouldered as if still hot from the forges. This was Angron, lord and father of the World Eaters. Angron was a true monster in every sense of the word. Even as Codian looked upon the immense being he found that he was unable to truly accept all that his eyes were telling him he saw. One moment the ancient heretic seemed even physically larger, the next his exposed skin was as red as fresh blood. Another glance at Angron and Codian saw a pair of huge leathery wings folded at his back. Another blink and they were gone.

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It does not matter what you see, Prophet. That your mind is unable to process Angrons horrifying visage in its full corrupted state is testament to your faith in the Imperial Creed. It took all his mental strength not to physically respond to the presence of the psychic voice. It was Magnus, speaking directly to his mind. He guessed then that the powerful Primarch had sensed his thoughts. Most of the Fallen Sons are forever altered by the powers of chaos, Codian, their proportions far too hideous and inhuman for most to fully behold. We see them only as our minds will allow us to see them. Ours is a rivalry that has shaken the very stars themselves many times. The seething giant growled. We are more than enemies, xenos. While ever we exist, we are anathema to one another. We severed our ties with the Emperor and these weak fools millennia ago, and it was a permanent separation. Am I the only one amongst us who sees this so-called alliance as an absolute impossibility? By my very nature I am drawn to seek the glorious death of all others. It is my only desire to open the veins of each of them and spill blood for the Blood God, and to reap their skulls for the foot of His throne. Ever the weak, unrestrained fool, Angron. Vulkan uttered in reply. The dark-skinned giant visibly swelled as if to meet his fallen brothers challenge, his armoured fingers creaking around the haft of his warhammer. That you would disregard the imminent danger of the approaching Star Gods to seek conflict with us speaks volumes of that emotional weakness. Is there really nothing left of the man you were, of the man our father created? As you said, Vulkan, the Emperor created me. Angron replied, fire burning behind his hate-filled eyes. He is responsible for the creation of all that I am. You see me as a monster. He brought life to this dark soul within me. He gave me existence, substance. Whatever it is that lies within you, that caused you to told onto your love for our father and your faith in him during the rebellion of Horus, he deemed me unworthy of receiving. He damned me, Vulkan. Not so. Calgar said, finding his voice for the first time since the arrival of the ancient traitors. How dare you blame your own failures on the Emperor? Just as I had always imagined, heresy pours from your mouth with Be quiet, insect. Angron snapped, thrusting the head of his weapon out at the Warmaster. You are so far beneath me I am incensed that you even dare to exist! That you dare to even look upon me is travesty enough I am the Warmaster of the Imperium, heretic! It is all I can do to even tolerate your presence! Then to fight this war alongside us must be torture indeed. Said a cold, malevolent voice from within the chaos ranks. I imagine this gathering to be your own personal nightmare, little Warmaster. The fiend that stepped forth was a hunched and tortured thing. His long black hair slid about his oversized brow and pale grey features as he moved, his yellow eyes bright beneath the darkness of his eye sockets. He wielded a pair of massive lightning claws that hissed and rang as he flexed the oversized fingers, energy discharge flashing between the huge flensing blades. A long black cloak of leather hung about him, all but obscuring the dark blues and blacks of the armour beneath. Konrad. Corax breathed, voicing the incredulity coursing through the hearts of all his allied brothers. How can this be? Konrad Curze was the Primarch of the Night Lords, a twisted and sadistic abomination. The Night Haunter,

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those who had ever encountered him had known him as. He was the master of fear, a living deadly shadow of the night, the ultimate predator. More so, Curze was dead, or at least that had been the legend for thousands of years. Curze tilted his head slightly as he looked to his brother Corax, his lank locks sliding across a pallid, hairless face. What would you have me say, Corax? That I foretold my own assassination and yet still allowed it to come to pass? I have been dead for thousands of years and that is exactly how I wanted to exist. I am the Lord of Nightmares, brother. You cannot kill that which exists in your darkest dreams. Do not try and explain such things to them, Curze. They cannot hear that which they do not understand. Said another of the hulking beasts. This one was a vast conglomeration of silvered iron armour plating, both shoulders emblazoned with bright yellow and black chevrons. In his inhuman eyes burned with molten rage. Most of his face was hidden beneath a large metal grille, from which billowed noxious smoke, and sprouting from his head was a pair of large horns plated in shining silver. They were never betrayed as we were. They were never humiliated or belittled by our father. Do not waste your breath, only to have them deny the Emperors duplicitous nature. They know nothing of betrayal, for they have never truly been betrayed. Vulkan, Manus and the Khan came to life at hearing this, advancing upon the Brazen Primarch of the Iron Warriors, their weapons drawn and ready to exact revenge. Do not speak His name in heresy, Perturabo! The Khan raged, the blade of his vast tulwar flashing as it was brought to bear. You are not fit to utter His name He is not fit to be known as my sire! The daemon Primarch screamed in reply, thrusting a hand out to counter the advance of his brothers. The limb shifted and morphed, the armour there twisting into a new form. His iron fingers peeled away and the long barrel of a lascannon slid into view, its tip already glowing with crackling, building energy. Perturabo! No! The head of a large, burning mace descended before the powerful cannon and swept it aside. Lorgar of the Word Bearers loomed large before his angered brother, his blazing eyes burning with chastisement. Lorgar emanated an aura of power that even the other Primarchs struggled to match. His blood red armour writhed with unnatural life, as if imbued with a dark soul all of its own. Hundreds of leather parchment strips hung from his armour, fluttering in the ethereal breeze that seemed to surround him. The tortured skin of his face was tattooed with minute text and heretical symbols that writhed across his features, and his eyes were twin guttering flames set into his skull. He wore a crown of serrated horns upon his otherwise smooth skull, and a halo of terrible light flickered about his head, giving him the appearance of some unholy saint. This is not what the Ruinous Four wish of us. We are here to do their bidding, Perturabo, and theirs alone. I do not care for personal grudges, my brother. We have all been wronged by the fool we called father. None of that matters now. All that matters is that we survive this war and we serve the gods of the warp in destroying the Ctan. With that, Lorgar lowered his cursed crozius and looked to the loyalist Primarchs, his stare ablaze with

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unhidden loathing. Retribution against the Imperium that wronged us will come, in time. I promise you that. Promise all you like, fiend. We shall see what comes to pass once the Ctan are defeated. Snarled the Lion, radiating contempt. Lorgar lifted back his head and laughed at this, a sharp, barking sound. Of all of you, Jonson, I see the spark of heresy flickering the brightest beneath the surface of your soul. You could have been cast aside by the Emperor so easily for the actions of your Chapter. Even now, so long after the rebellion of Horus, you bear the weight of irreparable shame upon those shoulders of yours. Even you do not realise how close you came to siding with us, my kin. I would have put myself to death before betray all that I am. The Lion answered, sweeping aside Lorgars claims with a chopping motion. Therein lies the difference between you and I. I would never have let a personal slight drive me from my loyalties to the Imperium. I discovered the roots of heresy within my own Chapter and I eradicated that infection. You damned yourself and those in your charge forever simply because the Emperor rejected your fawning devotion, Lorgar. You are a Primarch and yet you rebelled against all that you were like some spoilt child. So you see, there is a greater division between us than you realise. Enough! The voice thundered through the air with such force that everyone present staggered on the spot, shaken by the power of the mental demand. The flags on which they stood cracked in several places, a testament to the unnatural pressures exerted by the responsible party. The floating amphibian hovered forth into the heated exchange, both its hands held out before it. The air itself twisted and danced around its hands, as if made corporeal and fluid by its will. It was the Lorgar who made to strike the first blow in anger, despite his own warnings. The dark head of his daemonic weapon flared, billowing thick black noxious smoke as if to mirror his own rising anger. He swung the crozius out at Jonson, letting loose with a cry of rage as he did so. The air before him solidified and turned the blow aside. Jonson tensed, his eyes widening in disbelief. He took a step towards Lorgar and then found himself propelled back, his armoured feet sliding across the flags. There will be no conflict here. You will learn to set aside your differences for the good of this war. The creature floated into the centre of the gathering and slowly spread its spindly arms wide. Every individual present shifted, the spaces between them growing. Some, like Angron of the World Eaters, fought against the powerful aliens influence. He was the favoured of Khorne, the Blood God, who despises all forms of sorcery, and the daemonic gifts that Khorne had bestowed upon him granted him a measure of powerful protection against such magicks. Angron! No! Magnus called, sweeping his hands before him in strange and power-laden patterns. The air before Angron shimmered and hazed, first growing thin and then peeling away completely to reveal a black, swirling vortex beneath. I will cast you back into the Empyrean if you insist on fighting against this alliance, brother! There can be no room for conflict amongst us now! Angron answered the challenge of the Red Cyclops the only way he knew how. He lifted one huge foot and slammed it into the ground, an action motivated by the unquenchable rage within him. In truth, even he knew that his frustration did not matter. Still, this did little to douse his anger at being denied his instincts.

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I will take your skull for him, Magnus, it vow it. Of all of us, he hates you with a passion, sorcerer. We shall have a reckoning, Angron, when this is done. Magnus answered, sweeping the warpgate away with a flick of his hand. For now, we will be allies. There is nothing you or I can do to prevent that. Mortarion. It was Vulkan who had uttered the infernal name, and hearing it spoken caused the furore to die away. All eyes turned to the Primarch of the Salamanders. Where is Mortarion? Of all the surviving traitors, he is the only one not present here. As was his choice. Fulgrim answered with a hiss, gesturing out beyond the walls of the defences to where the city lay in wait. You know him well enough, Vulkan. Mortarion is a creature of function, of action over words. He wished for the honour of engaging the Tau first. Who are we to deny him that? Upon hearing this Codian turned his gaze to the distant structures of the city. Although he could see nothing of the coming battle from here, he could not help but imagine the horror of it. They had gained powerful allies here, allies that could help turn the tide of this war, but the question remained foremost in his mind. What would they lose in entering this infernal pact?

Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Eight: Let Them Rot.

+++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ There lies your destiny, my lord. The Imperial Palace. Bile stepped clear of the ramp of the Orca and presented the walls of the Alliance defence lines to his commander with a flourish before stepping aside to allow the Primarch an unobstructed view of his goal. Guilliman swept his cloak aside and joined the Apothecary to stand before the waiting defences, Berolinus ever at his side. The Ultramarine said nothing as he looked out upon the seemingly endless network of walls and the uncounted warriors that awaited the advance of the Unity. Indeed, Berolinus had spoken little since Russs escape. The final obstacle. Guilliman said with some relish. Beyond these walls lies the Eternity Gate, and beyond there, our ultimate victory. It is only right and just that Aunva would choose this gate as worthy of His attentions. Where Shadowblade failed, we shall succeed. Yes, and it would seem that there as still as yet been no successful attempts at communication with the other factors of this assault. Bile informed him. We know that Shadowblade is dead, and that Macharius has fallen too. We have to face the possibility that both OKirla and the Ork may be lost to us.

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They are of no concern to me. Guilliman answered. Let them rot for their failures, if that is indeed the case. They were only ever made part of this war to provide a distraction to the enemy. Here is where we will drive our way into the Palace. There are concerns that must be addressed, my lord. Berolinus said, moving forward to stand beside his Primarch. We have successfully swept aside all remaining traces of the counter-attack and secured this area of the city, but we cannot allow ourselves to dismiss the threat that the enemy still pose. We dont even know if any of the other forces still survive. We may be the last, my Primarch. Guilliman looked to Berolinus as he heard this. Although his expression remained neutral, there was no mistaking the glimmer of amusement behind his eyes. Your apprehension is admirable, my son, but unnecessary. Do not forget, we have the power of Aunva and His Ethereals behind us now. Whatever we have yet to face, it will surely pale in comparison with what the living gods of the Tau are to bring to this war. Turn, Berolinus. Turn and see. The Ultramarine did as he was ordered. He looked back, his gaze driving deep into the canyons of the city. There, as surely and implacably as the passage of time, hundreds of burning blue columns of fire could be seen twisting their way ever closer. I bow to your wisdom, lord, and to the might of the Ethereals. Berolinus uttered, forcing conviction into his voice. Guilliman regarded him for a moment, almost as if reading the truth behind the Astartes statement. Whatever his suspicions, the Primarch did not give voice to them. Usually, Fabius Bile hung on to every word exchanged between the Primarch and his ward, for he made no attempts to hide his pleasure at seeing the two at odds. This time, however, his attention was elsewhere. My lord Guilliman The Primarch looked to Bile at the sound of his voice. He followed the Apothecarys gaze and saw then what Bile had seen to cause him concern. Despite the distance, the creature was huge enough to be seen quite clearly, at least by Guilliman. It stood head and shoulders above even him, he guessed, but it was not the figures physical size that caused the breath to catch in his throat. Huge and mouldering black wings lay folded across the things back, glistening with mucus and exposed bone. The grime-encrusted scraps of cloth that were entwined around the monsters vast form flapped in the breeze, slapping wetly against him. The scythe he held in his hands was an oversized abomination, its rusting blade exuding a dark miasma of unearthly power. Guilliman actually felt his stomach twist at the sight of the thing, a sensation he had never experienced before. More so, he recognised the creature immediately, despite the foul changes that had ravaged its form since the last time he had laid eyes on him. Mortarion. Guilliman whispered, his voice heavy with disgust. Biles eyes widened slowly as he heard this. Berolinus shifted uneasily at the sound of the apprehension in his Primarchs voice, but otherwise he did not recognise the name. He stepped forward to stand by Guillimans side and raised his hammer out towards the figure. Whoever this fool is, we will smash the defiance from him and show the Alliance that we will not tolerate such challenges. Who does this creature think he is to challenge us so, alone and without aid?

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Do not underestimate him, Berolinus. Mortarion is not part of the Alliance, he cant be. Calgar may be a coward and a fool, perhaps even stupid enough to ally himself with the powers of chaos, but the other Primarchs would never stand for it. Chaos? Berolinus answered, almost choking on the word. This Mortarion is a scion of the Dark Gods? How can this be, my lord? Did the Unity not see the destruction of the forces of chaos on Caris Estarus? Guilliman shook his head at this. No, my son. We defeated only the armies of the Despoiler there, and you are wrong about Mortarion. He does not challenge us alone, I can promise you that. Wherever Mortarion goes, so follows filth, pestilence and decay. Then what do we do? The Ultramarine asked, swinging his warhammer from his shoulder in readiness. Guilliman raised a hand and swept it over his head, a clear signal to the forces gathered behind him. This changes nothing! He bellowed, drawing Agiselus from its scabbard. Save perhaps for the plan of attack! Drones to the fore, as many as we can spare! I want long-range support in place and firing solutions acquired within the minute! We keep our distance as long as we can and we turn aside anything that comes our way with our superior firepower! This day will be ours! Berolinus cast a glance at the Apothecary and, much to his surprise; he saw an expression that spoke of a shared concern between them. He knew little of Biles past, but he was able to guess that the silver-haired Apothecary was old. He did know for a fact that for an Astarte to even begin to show signs of physical aging, the subject had to be at least a thousand years old and more. It stood to reason that Bile knew far more of the machinations of chaos than he, for in truth the war for Caris Estarus had seen his first taste of the Great Enemy. Biles concern was beyond doubt, and that in turn caused Berolinus to feel unease at this situation. Something was wrong, very wrong, and Guilliman seemed to be the only one who did not realise this. Berolinus rotated his head towards the distant figure and the avian familiar at his shoulder took to the air with a screech, responding to his unspoken command. Almost at the same time the first of the korvesa passed by their position, speeding silently through the air in perfect squad synchronisation towards the enemy. Scour the heretic from my sight! This is my command! Guilliman shouted, sweeping his blade forward as he broke into a slow, bounding run. Berolinus had seen his Primarch advance like this many times before, and so he immediately recognised that something was amiss. He had seen Guilliman cover similar distances in a matter of seconds, seen him accelerate into a blur, near overwhelmed with his desire to engage and slay the enemy. Although he found himself almost immediately struggling to keep up with the Primarch, Berolinus knew that, given past experience, Guilliman could easily have engaged the enemy by now. Something was holding him back. Was it fear? No, he dismissed the thought from his mind straight away, mentally chastising himself for even considering such a thing. His thoughts slid briefly back to the insidious presence within him and he dismissed this consideration too. The voice had not spoken for a while now, and he intended to keep it that way. This was not the presence fighting to corrupt his thoughts, but his own doubts, his own weakness. He would not doubt his Primarch again. Whatever it was that was on Guillimans mind, it was not fear. It was knowledge, skill and experience.

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Devilfish and Hammerheads passed by them seconds later as the bulk of the Fire Warrior hordes quickly overtook the charging Primarch, each and every warrior utterly devoted to fulfilling their commanders wishes. All drones attack! First wave, move in to support! Second wave, slow your advance and make ready to advance on my command! Guilliman shouted, confident that his personal comm unit would carry his orders across the entire army. Berolinuss eyes remained fixed upon the Primarch, for he knew now that Guilliman had some form of plan on his mind. The first of the drones reached the hulking monstrosity within moments of the attack. Remora fighters rolled in the air as they descended towards Mortarion, their burst cannons spinning out webs of bright, burning death. The vast heretic raised his rotting scythe high in the air and let out a gurgling roar of defiance and anger, a terrible sound that cut through the entire scene like the blade of a rusty knife. His entire form shuddered, hazing as if disintegrating momentarily. There rose a loud buzzing and an immense living black cloud poured from every joint and orifice about him to rise up into the air, polluting the space about him with immediate effect. Billions of fat black flies swarmed from the fallen Primarchs body and met the advance of the drones like a tidal wave, crashing into the hurtling Remoras. Pulse fire was simply absorbed by the mass, each shot expending its energies in cutting through hundreds of tiny, disease-ridden bodies. The Remoras were the first to be engulfed by the plague. More than twenty of the A.I controlled machines delved headlong into the mass. For a fleeting second the swarm was lit from within by a combination of pulse fire and thruster flares. The swarm bulged, swirling and eddying like smoke around the enveloped machines. Then the first of the Remoras fell through the mass and crashed into the floor, cold and drained of power. Its smooth surfaces were puckered and tarnished with rust and filth, as if it had spent an age lying beneath some dark and unknown lake of effluence. It broke apart as it careered along the ground, wings and components shedding away in large wet piles. The entire squadron met its end amid the pestilent swarm. One by one the Remoras fell from the skies, broken and corrupted beyond repair. One of the drones managed to make it clear of the swarm and began to break apart in the air, shedding its armoured body in huge, rusted flakes. It fell to the ground and spun towards Mortarion. The Primarch coolly swept his manreaper through the drone and parted it in two, the blow causing the bisected pieces to utterly disintegrate. Support! Guilliman called, apparently unperturbed by the disturbing scene. Railgun submunitions, cyclic ion blasters and airburst fragmentation launchers activate! Wipe this filth clean! Second wave, maintain distance and await my command! All other support units, hold back and make ready to attain targeting solutions on my word! First wave, bring me the head of Mortarion! Berolinus looked on as the rest of the drone attack force reached the dark mass, guns flaring. Untold millions of flies burst apart and fell like a putrid rain before the guns of the drones and yet the mass did not seem to thin, at least not in any significant proportions. The korvesa entered into the fight in perfect squad formations, slowing as they neared the swarm. The flies swirled and focused as they started their attack, forming spears of putrid filth in order to single out one target at a time. The first gun drone fell, torn apart by the living cloud. Two more fell in quick succession, burst like rip fruit as the flies entered every available orifice or gap in their armour and expanded them quickly beyond tolerance. The Hammerheads open up seconds later and the force of their combined assault shook Berolinus in his boots. A near-sold hail of energy and projectile shots slammed into the swarm, indiscriminately destroying drones and insectile bodies in turn. Fragmentation bomblets vaporised thousands of the unnatural creatures with each blast, blowing wide holes in the mass. Lines of pulsing ion energy turned swathes of them to ash and atoms with each pass. Flamers coughed along the front lines, sending bulging gouts of

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fire into the swarm. Maintain vigilance, second wave! Guilliman called, grinding to a halt. Third wave, deploy and set up a defensive perimeter! I want every single angle of attack ready to be covered! First wave, press on and secure me the primary kill! Berolinus came to a halt beside his Primarch at the very same moment as Bile. The two shared a hostile glance and then both turned their attention to the Primarch. My lord, we must ensure you are ready Bile said, his voice low enough to cause Berolinus to suspect his intentions. His physical strengths are by far the least of our worries. I am proof against his corruption, I am sure of that, but you Guilliman turned to look upon Bile then, his powerful dark eyes devoid of concern. This scenario may be removed from what we anticipated, Bile, but I see no unmanageable change. Chemical or bacterial, you assured me that such concerns would not pose a problem. At that Bile reached into one of the leather pouches hanging at his belt and produced a small vial syringe filled with a dark crimson liquid. My lord, you know of my past and I make no apologies for it, but to accept this you must accept it origins. It is the best defence we have against the dark arts of the Diseased One. What is that? Berolinus asked. Bile shot him a hate-filled glance at this. None of your concern You are mistaken, Apothecary. Guilliman answered, taking the vial from him. The moment Berolinus chose to stand by my side, he chose to place ultimate faith in me. All that matters to him is that I find victory here. With that, Guilliman looked to the Ultramarine at his side. Am I correct? Of course, my lord. Berolinus replied, bowing deeply. Good. With that, Guilliman took the vial and swept his thumb over the small rune set into its glass surface. The entire object shimmered and then the needle began to vibrate with power, a soft sheath of energy washing over it. He noticed the expression of bemusement that passed over the Ultramarines face and responded with a muted smile. My hide is able to withstand a point-blank impact with a bolter shell and not even bruise, my son. No normal needle would stand a chance of piercing my skin. Guilliman said no more as he stabbed the syringe into his neck, inhaling softly through gritted teeth as he did so. He shuddered the moment the liquid entered his system, every muscle in his body convulsing. A ruddy colour washed over the skin of his face and then was gone, as swiftly as it had appeared. He let out a hiss of pain and stamped his foot into the ground, hard enough to crack the rockcrete beneath. Blood He whispered, almost too quietly to hear.

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My lord Berolinus began, starting forward. Guilliman swept his hand away and rose to his full height. All that matters is the victory, Berolinus. He said again, turning to face the distant heretic. First wave! I await my kill! The first of the Devilfish carriers had negotiated the living cloud of virulent filth by now, skirting around its outer edges as the drones continued their assault. It ground to a smooth halt some a hundred or so metres from the waiting Primarch of the Death Guard, deploying its own slaved korvesa units as it did so. both side hatches and the rear ramp opened, spilling Fire Warriors out onto the square. No sooner had each warrior exited the vehicle than the gun in their hands came to life, spitting pulse rounds out at Mortarions vast form. Bright blue bursts of energy rang against his armour, sinking deep into the puckered mess rather than deflecting away. The corrupt abomination turned his head towards his attackers, the three round vision slits set into his helm pulsing with a sickly yellow light. He spread his black wings wide and launched himself into the air, shedding filth and slime in his wake. The single bound carried him clear across the space and into the proximity of the Devilfish. He swung his scythe up and over his head and drove it deep into the hull of the vehicle, cutting through the crew compartment and slicing the entire front section of the craft in two. He landed on the ground with enough force to shake most of the Fire Warriors off their feet. Those who managed to maintain their balance or were swift enough to roll back up into a firing position turned their attention to the giant, loosing salvos of fire that peppered the Primarchs vast form. Mortarion lifted a hand up towards his attackers and spread his fingers wide. The air between them hazed and rippled, as if suddenly agitated by an extreme rise in temperature. As this phenomenon passed over the Fire Warriors they convulsed, letting their weapons fall to the ground as they clawed at their helmets. Bloody vomit cascaded from the mouths of those who were able to tear their helmets free in time, for none were proof against Mortarions foul contagions. Tau fell in twisted heaps, their entrails pouring from their mouths across the ground in serpentine knots. Others screamed in agony as they clawed their way across the square, their skin sloughing away from their bones in great bloody clumps. Mortarion charged through the dying warriors towards the arriving Tau vehicles, a filthy black miasma rising from the ruined ground in the wake of his every footfall. He reached the first of them and snatched at its nose while the Devilfish was still in the process of slowing, displaying no signs of effort as he flipped the vehicle over onto its roof. Another troop carrier slewed to a halt beside him, the nearest side hatch rising open. Mortarion cast around and brought one mighty fist down onto the hatch, the blow causing the metal circle to slam closed once more. The Fire Warrior commander atop the turret cried out as he fought to weather the convulsions of the craft. Mortarion leapt up onto the vehicles hull and swept the back of his hand out, casually swatting the Tau into a broken and bloody mess. He lowered his face towards the hole and unleashed a torrent of bile through the grille set into his helm, flooding the hold of the craft within seconds. Berolinus fought to master his own gag reflex as he watched this foulness unfold, his revulsion for the daemonic fiend growing by the second. Beyond Mortarion he saw that, from each smouldering crater that the Primarch had left behind, unearthly creatures were punching their way up through the putrescent ground. They were wasted and distended things, their rotting bodies skeletal and naked. Each one carried some form of rusted cleaver or sword, weapons that dripped with unnatural filth. My Primarch, look! Daemons! He spat, thrusting an outstretched finger towards the emerging fiends. Guilliman turned his gaze towards the things and nodded slowly.

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Now you see, Berolinus. The Foul One finally reveals his true self. The Primarch raised his sword and drove the blade towards the happening. First wave, maintain the offensive! Second wave advance! We have daemons on the field! All support weapons redeploy to acquire these new targets! Third wave, maintain vigilance and cover all other possible angles of attack! Berolinus could see clearly from here that there was little of the first wave that still survived. Mortarion had made a ruin of them, warriors and vehicles all, and now that the daemons were starting to enter the fray he could see that the first wave would be lost within minutes, swamped by a veritable tide of filth. Less than a moment later, the first reports of bolter fire rang throughout the square as the windows of the buildings overlooking the scene began to blaze with fire. A quick assessment of the surrounding area revealed more than a good few shifting shapes to Berolinus, as the shadows within almost every alleyway and passage about him seethed. The Death Guard finally reveal themselves. Guilliman said, satisfaction foremost in his voice. Now the battle is truly joined. Let my brother bathe in the success of his surprise attack. It will be a fleeting satisfaction. The Primarch spun Agiselus in his grip and then drove his heels into the ground, cracking the surface beneath his weight. Berolinus rocked gently on his heels as Guilliman charged away, the force of his acceleration dragging the air after him. What was that? He spat, casting Bile a hate-filled look. What poison have you put into his veins now, you b-----d? I put nothing into him, fool. He took my gift willingly. Bile answered with a harsh laugh, his eyes flashing malevolence. If you must know the truth, the vial contained the blood of a champion of Khorne. Its properties are second to none in turning aside the unnatural influences of the warp, Nurgles contagions included. Berolinus let out a snarl of shock and anger and raised his hammer, his teeth bared. No! Damn you, Bile! I knew that you were a foul traitor! I knew that you sought only to deliver him to the foul gods you serve No, Ultramarine. Bile answered with a slow shake of his head. You are mistaken, and dont you dare try to deny the corruption that lies at the centre of your own black heart. I will not deny it. I do not serve the interests of the Unity, I never did, but you always knew that. And now you strive to bring that same corruption to Guilliman. I wont allow it, traitor. Stupid little Astarte. Bile sneered in answer. You cant save him from this fate. Do you really still fail to see the truth? The one you serve made secret oaths to powers you abhor long before you even existed. I can corrupt him no further than he has already allowed himself to fall. It does not matter how vehemently you try to deny it, Berolinus. In time, you will come to realise the truth.

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Chapter One Hundred and Eighty Nine: Mortarion.

The bolter fire seemed to come from everywhere at once, flashing across the square and into the Tau lines. The third wave were ready for this attack, just as Guilliman had commanded. Hammerheads rotated their turrets towards the buildings and returned fire, unleashing powerful blasts that shook entire walls free and consumed windows by the score. Fire warrior teams sent salvos of pulse fire into the dark spaces between the edifices, engulfing the shadows there. Berolinus raised his storm shield as bolter fire rattled across his armour, his reactions undoubtedly saving him. He lowered the shield and cast around in time to see Bile sprinting after the Primarch, the distraction allowing the Apothecary to put a good amount of space between them. This is not over. He snarled, giving chase. He knew that he could not engage Bile while ever the Apothecary was in the presence of the Primarch but that did not prevent him from keeping a close eye on the ancient heretics activities. Mortarion tore through the remains of the first wave with gusto, revelling in the death and destruction he was causing. He lunged forward into another reeling squad, his very presence rotting the flesh from the bones of the warriors with a near-instant effect. He thrust an arm out and snatched one of the Tau clear off his feet, lifting him like a prize. The warrior cried pout and clutched at the Primarchs fingers as a patina of corruption spread over his armour and flesh, dulling both. Glistening tendrils burst from the warriors torso and a moment later his armour cracked and fell away as his body swelled beneath, becoming nothing more than a roiling, mewling mass of decay and bile. Mortarion flung the spawn aside with abandon and the creature landed wetly amongst the reeling Fire Warriors, its tentacles darting out to snatch at those unfortunate enough to be nearest. Mortarions daemons were advancing upon the remnants of the Tau forces now and they were finding little resistance to meet them as they tore through the tortured warriors, hacking and stabbing at their writhing victims. Berolinus kept one wary eye on the proceedings as he bounded towards the fight, noting that, as more and more of the daemons emerged, the entire environment around them seemed to be changing. The skies above were steadily darkening and everything at ground level was beginning to suffer the presence of the chaos forces. A patina of decay was spreading from each of the daemon Primarchs footfalls, leaking from the broken surface of the ground in the wake of the emerging Plaguebearers. Black slime bubbled up from beneath the shattered rockcrete and spilled out into the square. The viscous stuff began to change everything close to its presence, staining the surface of the ground a foul brown colour. Tiny gibbering abominations clawed their way free of the pools of filth, slipping and sliding in the effluence as they waddled in ever-growing groups out to where the Tau dead and dying lay, hunger burning in their shining eyes. Mortarion himself paused in his labours to look back upon the scene, casting aside the broken metal body of a Crisis suit as he did so. The monster never once spoke or even made to utter a sound, but his debased pride in witnessing the extent of the foul changes in his wake was all too apparent. Guilliman sailed through the air like a missile, his legs cycling and his sword arm drawn back over his shoulder. The implacable Lord of Decay turned almost ponderously to look upon the hurtling Primarch and raised his scythe in readiness to turn aside the attack. Agiselus rang against Mortarions daemon weapon, the blow causing the living blade to shudder, exuding a miasma of black corruption. Guilliman landed lightly and twisted, striking again. The sword carved smoothly through Mortarions barrel chest, drawing a line of glistening filth out in its wake. The corrupt Primarch was a good head and shoulders larger than his brother and far larger in bulk. His

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weapon too was of a much greater size and more cumbersome to wield, despite its deadliness. Mortarion swept the gnarled haft of the scythe out and met Guillimans sword with the blow, but the attack was designed to push Guilliman back rather than deal him harm. It worked, the unholy strength of Nurgles greatest champion throwing Guilliman back several feet and allowing Mortarion the opportunity to find the distance he needed to press home an attack. Mortarion threw a wide two-handed sweep out in an attempt to cleave Guilliman in two at the waist, but the smaller Primarch was much too swift to succumb. He leaned back and the scythe passed over his chest, close enough to scatter its leaking effluence across his armour. Guilliman transformed his dodge into a rotating turn and he flung Agiselus out, carving through one of the beasts wings. Matted feathers and yellowed bone scattered out in the blades wake but again, Mortarion showed no visible signs of pain or distress. He drove one foot into the ground and thrust his head forward, the sound that issued forth a strangled and rattling gurgle of a roar. Foetid air blasted from his grilled mouth, heavy with toxins and clouded with flecks of ultra-virulent spores. Guilliman staggered, assailed by the noisome and deadly warp-spawned gale. He raised his arms and crossed them before his face, as if to shield himself from the worst of the disgusting attacks force. The worst was far more than any simple application of force. His features rippled beneath the strength of the repulsive breeze and his skin began to blacken and degrade, eaten away with terrifying speed by the necrotising toxins generated within Mortarion. Guilliman gave out a grunt of effort and pain and pressed forward, his eyes narrowed in pain. Dead skin sloughed away in the gale but, even as it did so, the wounds instantly healed, regenerating as fast as they were caused. Mortarion took another step and added further power to his unholy attack, looming even closer, his eyes blazing. Guilliman spread his arms as if to embrace the assault, lifting his head back as he did so and unleashing a scream of defiance. I am stronger than you, daemon! I am the strongest of all of us, the best our father sired! Better even than the demi-god I was made to be! I am your better, foul brother! You will die here, and you will scream in rage at your own insolence in deigning to challenge me! You cannot contest that which is destiny! One almighty effort saw Guilliman beat the force of the assault and drive forth with his sword, the blade piercing Mortarions chest. He pulled Agiselus free and swept it out to take the traitors head but the blow was stopped short by Mortarions rising scythe. The mighty return swing rang against Guillimans shoulder pad, carving a deep groove through the metal that rusted and bubble instantly. Guilliman turned with the blow and hammered a foot into the daemon Primarchs knee, driving Mortarion down onto the ground. Even as he did so he brought his blade up and then down, sinking it deep into Mortarions collar between his shoulder and neck. The heretic nightmares free hand clamped around the blade, the touch of his corroded fingers hissing against the weapons energy sheath. His vast wings spread wide and then both Primarchs were in the air, a hail of stinking debris falling in their wake. Mortarion hauled the blade free of his armour and flesh and flung it, Guilliman and all, towards the ground. Guilliman turned over in the air and landed on his feet, to his credit. The force of the throw drove him a good way into the ground and sent up a localised explosion of debris and rockcrete fragments. The fiends daemon-slaves swarmed around him, attracted by the presence of living flesh. They moaned as they shambled forward, their footfalls slapping wetly against the ground. Nurglings capered about the feet of the Plaguebearers, chattering with excitement at the prospect of the kill. Guilliman rose and swept Agiselus about him in a mighty waist-high arc, cutting down the daemon host with a single blow. Wails of despair and denial tore at the air before fading, the unnatural throats that had issued them unravelling into base ectoplasm.

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The father of the Death Guard fell feet-first down onto Guilliman with the force of a comet, the blow sending a ripple through the road surface for several metres all around. For a moment all that was visible was the writhing, miasma-wreathed form of Mortarion, a cyclone of glistening feathers and swirling, rotted rags. Then the Ultramarine lord landed a powerful blow hidden by the reeking mass of his brother and Mortarion flew back, detritus cascading from his disgusting form. He sailed through the air and came down hard on his back, the impact of the landing sending out a sickening cacophony of snapping bones and wet, sucking squelches. He rolled over and up onto his feet, screaming like some vast, injured leviathan. The sounds that issued from the Primarchs throat could hardly be classified by any sane or rational means as words. There were none amongst the forces of the Unity present that recognised or even understood the purpose of them, for they were terrible and unknown by their very nature. The horrific cacophony set a nauseating resonance vibrating through the air. The very substance of reality writhed as if in agony, the sound causing the barriers between the realms to buckle and thin. Even Guilliman staggered beneath the unnatural ferocity of the aural bombardment. The lesser warriors of the Unity suffered far more. Fire Warriors fell in squads, blood cascading from every orifice set into their helmets. Vespid dropped from the skies, their wings shattered and twisted. Korvesa shuddered and broke apart, spewing sparks and ichors that were never intended to be naturally generated by their synthetic forms. Through all this, the Death Guard continued to press home their attack. Hulking, rotted bodies lumbered from the spaces between the buildings, their bolters ever chattering death out into the Unity lines. Missiles looped free of the emerging warriors and slammed into the gathered war machines, reaping destruction amongst the Hammerheads and Devilfish. Berolinus rolled back up onto his feet and shook his head, disorientated by the sudden and terrible noise. He could feel and hear the blood pounding in his ears and his vision swam. Knots of nausea tightened uncontrollably in his stomach and it was all he could do to keep the meagre contents of his stomach from exploding upwards. The warp, Berolinus. The warp is coming. The presence of the voice startled him, for his thoughts had been silent now for a while. When it spoke, its now-familiar tones were almost comforting to hear, familiar amid a mental ocean of unknown and sickening sensations. I know a part of you recognises the call, Ultramarine. Mortarion beseeches the warp to come to his aid, and the warp answers. Grandfather Nurgle stirs Berolinus fought to ignore the voice of Lucius but even as he did so he knew the insidious presence spoke the truth. Whatever Bile had done to him had inured him to the influences of the warp to a degree, but even so he could feel the changes being wrought to the reality around him by the foul Primarch. The air grew hot at an incredibly fast rate, and with that heat came a cloying, sickly sweet stench. The breeze became heavy and rich with the scent of rotting meat and faeces and the watery light that managed to penetrate the towering edifices beyond grew weaker and weaker. Within minutes, the sun far above was little more than a diluted and pale orb, its light struggling to reach the ancient ground of Terra. My lord! Berolinus cried, recognising the signs of danger almost immediately. His cries of warning fell on deaf ears. Guilliman was barely visible now, lost amid a thickening mist of decay and toxins further across the wide expanse. He slowed, turning on the spot to assess his surroundings.

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The hand at his shoulder caused him to start, enough so that he wheeled around and struck a blow at the looming figure behind him. The hand darted out and turned the blow aside with surprising ease, the flat palm causing his fist to glance away. He raised the hammer but his opponent was far swifter, a huge booted foot swinging out and down to knock the weapon to the floor. Berolinus refused to allow the hammer to fall from his grasp and he rode the influence of the blow, falling to one knee as he did so. The foot remained planted on the head of the hammer and the muzzle of a bolter pressed into his forehead, effectively ending the swift confrontation. Hold your aggression in check, Ultramarine. We are not enemies. The warrior was huge, far larger in stature than Berolinus. He wore the colours of the Unity, something he recognised even as he heard the Astartes claims. The Alliance is my enemy, Astarte. You are mistaken No, Berolinus, I am not. How do you know me? He asked, sweeping the bolter aside with the back of his fist and rising, finally letting the hammer go. The warriors hand shot out and steel fingers wrapped around his neck, preventing him from rising further. We know all that we need to know. Do not fight us, Lurom Berolinus. It is not your destiny to die by my hand. You do not know it but you are fated for something far greater than an ignominious and unknown death. Now that both his hands were free, Berolinus wrapped his fingers around the vice-like grip and fought to free himself. The strength of the warrior was far greater than his own and yet he refused to give up. I am fated for far greater things, Alliance b-----d. I will stand beside my Primarch when he claims this world as his own. I will Kill him. The warrior replied, his pale face looming close. For a moment, Berolinus felt the Astartes emerald eyes burning into him. You will kill him, when the time is right. And you are mistaken, Berolinus. We are not of the Alliance. We have no interest in saving this world; its fate means nothing to us. The survival of every living thing on this planet means nothing to us. All that matters is the defeat of the Ctan. All that matters is vengeance, for the Emperor and for us. We will recapture the honour that was stolen from us, Ultramarine. I promise you that. With that the warrior released his grip, flinging Berolinus away as if he were a rag doll. He kicked the Ultramarines hammer out after him and then turned into the mist, bringing his bolter to bear. Berolinus rolled up onto his knees and snatched his hammer from the floor in time to see several more Astartes sprint from the drifting fog to stand at the side of the giant, their bolters flaring. Death Guard lumbered towards them and were cut down for their folly by sustained and disciplined bursts of fire. The larger warrior shouted a few coarse commands and together the Marines sank away from sight, firing as they went. Within seconds, it was as if they had never been here. We could have killed him, Berolinus, together. Said the voice in his head. All you had to do was slide your own thoughts aside and let me in. He would have been no match for us. You have never needed an invitation before. Berolinus whispered as he rose, fighting to contain the anger within him.

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In fact, I believe that I could sense fear within you, Lucius. Could it be that you finally found an opponent that you were afraid to fight? Idiot! I am the greatest warrior in existence, Berolinus, and you know that. I have fought and killed too many of your enemies for you to even try and deny this. That much is true, phantom, and yet I am beginning to know your thoughts as well as you know mine. I recognise the fear within you now, as I understand more and more what you are. You too betray your own thoughts. Just as he had suspected, the voice within him did not answer. I read your fears, Lucius. You need me to abandon myself to you, to give in to your insidious temptations so that you may steal my body and live again. Your pleas reek of desperation, Lucius, because you fear that I may be killed before you are able to achieve this. If I die uncorrupted, then you die with me. Again, the presence did not respond. Berolinus allowed himself a quiet smile at this. Lucky for you that I am in no hurry to die. He spat. With that, he brought the hammer up to his chest and threw himself into a sprint, heading towards the desperate fight between Mortarion and his lord. Warriors of the Unity, to me! Came a thunderous call from amongst the cloying mists. Immediately Berolinus felt a tightening in his chest as his enhanced biology responded to the call. Adrenalin coursed through him, driving a huge portion of his free will from his control. Though he could neither see, smell nor taste them, the pheromones exuded by his commander flooded through the vast area, and if they were affected by the unnatural collective miasma of the chaos legions then this was not apparent in their effects. Tau vehicles swept past him, their engines throbbing as they were accelerated right up to their tolerance levels. Many of the troop carriers were open at their hatches and Fire Warriors hung from them, screaming their rage and devotion out into the vile air. Berolinus noted that many of the aliens were palsied and sickly, made so by the all-pervasive pall, but their determination was undiminished by ill-health. He fought to force his eyes to cut through the murk and see the fight between Guilliman and Mortarion better, but despite his best efforts the conflict was still all but hidden from him. Who or whatever the mysterious Astartes were they were long gone now, although he could still hear the reports of their weapons echoing through the streets beyond. The Death Guard still hung back, nothing more than dark, shifting shapes at the edges of the mists, and he reasoned that this was in no small part due to the fresh surge of aggression displayed by the Tau elements of Guillimans forces. Another Devilfish loomed past and he made to snatch at its rear section, his hand finding a suitable fixing point set into the crafts raised rear ramp. He swung his legs up onto the step and held on tight as the transport zoomed towards the confrontation, the incensed Tau that clung to its open hatches oblivious to his presence. Jump off, Berolinus. You are not safe. Shut up! He snarled, what little of his reserves of tolerance remained for the voice rapidly eroding. I am serious. This craft is in danger, and I will not risk a final death. Jump off. The presence of the dead heretic seemed to swell within him, almost to the point of breaching his mental defences. He felt his grip weaken almost instantly, and it was all he could do to remain holding on. A heartbeat later and even that became too much. He cried out as he felt his fingers lose their grip on the handle and he was loose, sailing through the air, his arms and legs flailing. The ground rose up to meet him with an unforgiving swiftness and he gasped, feeling the air burst from his lungs.

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His armour rang as he bounced across the road surface several times and then he found his equilibrium. His feet touched the floor as he turned end over end and he fought to keep his balance, using his arms to steady himself as he rode his momentum. He skidded to a halt in time to see the Devilfish punch its way through the ever-thickening mists and disappear from sight, the nauseating fog closing in around it. A few seconds after its disappearance, the thick murk was lit internally by the hazy flash of weapons fire, its brightness all but dulled and its staccato whine muffled and muted. The Tau had already found the enemy, and he should have been there with them. Berolinus barely had time to curse the ghostly presence when a low and thunderous boom rumbled out of the fog, powerful enough to shake the ground beneath him. He held his breath and brought his hammer up in readiness, his teeth bared. The weapons discharge from the Devilfish had ceased almost abruptly. He took a step forward and began to advance when another loud boom stopped him in his tracks. His eagle familiar had been circling through the cloying air ever since he had thrown himself at the charging Devilfish and now the creature came to rest upon his shoulder, its twin heads bowed low in animalistic fear. A large dark shape spun through the air above and before him and then came crashing down into the ground, quaking the road with the impact of its landing. The ruined Devilfish turned end over end as it bounced across the square, shedding debris from its mangled shape with each jarring impact. The tortured machine skidded to a halt a few metres from his feet, giving out a final tortured squeal as it came to rest. I told you, Berolinus. What happened? He whispered, his features slackened with disbelief. What in Ultramars name did that? As if in answer, a deep and heart-freezing chuckle rolled from the fog, the sound sending waves of queasiness coursing through him. A single, thunderous footstep shook him off-balance, the sound of wet and rotting flesh being slammed against the floor. I suggest that you run. You cannot fight that. Even as Lucius spoke the warning, the ground around the punished transport looked to come alive. A cacophony of squeals, hisses and chattering giggles filled the air as a living tide of filth surged forth, the small creatures scrabbling through a thick syrupy river of decomposing effluence of their own making. Far beyond the swarm of tiny daemons, a huge dark shape lumbered through the fog, sloshing and groaning beneath each vast step. A foul gust of decay blasted Berolinus, potent enough to invoke a series of hacking coughs from the troubled Marine. What is that? He whispered again, his hand tightening around the hilt of his hammer. Shut up and run. Lucius replied.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety: Hate and Death.

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Never give up! Hold on to your minds with every last vestige of strength! I command this! The Emperor commands this! Do not let the b----ds sweep your thoughts away! Validimus swept his blazing sword in a wide arc about him, turning on his heel as he did so. He showed his teeth as he threw his weight onto his forward foot and stabbed out into the traitorous throng, his blazing steel finding cold, alien metal. The hulking warrior-thing shuddered as he ran it through, its emerald eyes blazing. It uttered no sound as whatever passed for life drained from its cybernetic form. Its fingers opened sharply and it dropped its bladed rifle to the ground as the Centurion pulled his sword free, black unknown ichors cascading from the wound. Validimus felt the shift, however slight is was. Another void closed, another of the foul enemy slain. Every second of this existence was agony, to merely bear the existence of these abominations almost too much to bear for any but the strongest of psykers. Caer Validimus was one of the most potent Imperial psykers in existence, however, and his mental might was not to be trifled with. He focused every last scrap of will inside him and drove it forth, forming it into a steel-hard spike of pure, burning hatred. The power manifested itself as a spiralling surge of blinding white light that burst from his forehead and speared through the milling Void Angels, tearing apart everything it touched. Scraps of armour, black fluids and long-dead flesh cascaded into the air in the wake of the attack, the power literally tearing its victims to atoms. He gasped and fell to his knees, his eyes and mouth leaking a glittering frosty mist, flecks of crimson adding a richness to the ice-cold miasma. Custodes charged past him, their bolters thundering. Several squads smashed into the oncoming monstrosities, Guardian Spears flashing in the half-lit gloom. As he fought to rise, to add the weight of his own might to the skirmish, he could feel the otherworldly pressures as they flexed against the unseen boundaries of reality all around him. Each and every enemy death changed the world about him, shifting the balance of the laws of reality so slightly that only one as sensitive as he could even sense that change. It was as if each death brought with it a release of pressure, casting the slightest illumination into the cold darkness of the void. He felt a fleeting shift in the air and The Eldar Angel of Death tumbled by him, a storm of flashing limbs and inhuman, indefinite hatred. Her slender hand flashed out and released her screaming tri-bladed star, the living weapon exuding a palpable thirst for the death of the enemy. To him, the collective entity known as Jain Zar was a blinding constellation of soul-light, a beacon of blazing hope amid an endless ocean of void. Like all the Phoenix Lords, therein lay her greatest strength against the living anathema of Gog and his corrupted legion. The warrior-gods of the Eldar were individuals only in form; for each ancient suit of armour contained untold numbers of Eldar souls, all working in tandem to strength and enhance one another. Against such a stalwart defence, the most powerful of the soulless could not touch them. The Storm of Silence vaulted effortlessly over his head and came to rest lightly some metres away from him. Her head snapped up and her blazing eyes met his, the mental weight of the stare enough to freeze his muscles to ice. Destiny shifts, as is the way of the errant skeins, mon-keigh. Darkness weaves a new path. The Void Dragons knowledge is vast as the star-sea, he knows. A new prize glitters before him. I dont understand Validimus began. Jain Zars eyes blazed with a renewed intensity then and he

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gasped, feeling every last layer of his immense psychic defences being swept away like gossamer on the breeze. Darkness closed around him and he was vaguely aware of the sensation of falling, a sensation, it seemed, without end. Exquisite. Perfection. Flawless, golden, shining. Blazing. It took his breath away, to see what his eyes had not seen for an age. He did not question it. He dared not even blink, nor utter a word of disbelief, for fear of the vision taking flight. The Emperor. The immortal master of all mankind stood before him, his bronzed regal features casting a striking sideways profile. A halo of flickering witchfire blazed around his head, causing his rich black hair to stir as if caught in the most gentle of breezes. The emperors patrician brow was furrowed deeply, and his indomitable snow-white eyes shone with a deep and unmatchable fury. Validimus saw this and was at once terrified of the wrath he saw in those eyes, for it was a wrath with power enough to level the mightiest of cities should his lord and master desire it. Validimus cast his gaze slowly over the vast chamber, his memories stirring as he took in the sight. Far across the amphitheatre stood Magnus the Red, the one-eyed giant standing head and shoulders amidst the most potent members of his cabal. The expression on Magnuss face was stern and dour, as heavy with as much anger as any would dare allow their features to express before the lord of the Imperium. My father, you stand here before me in judgement. The giant uttered. You stand before us all in accusation. You accuse my Thousand Sons and I of ignorance, of dabbling in practices unfathomable and arcane, and yet you, my father, refuse to listen to my warnings. You refuse to acknowledge the viper in your own nest. Validimus knew this incident; this lost time, as if it were ingrained in his memory forever. He found himself standing in exactly the same spot, his brother Custodes forming a curving line at either side of him. Each one of the Honoured Hundred were silent and still as statues, at least to the causal observer. Validimus could feel the charged tension growing in the air. Tempered anger bubbling beneath the surface of each golden warrior. Magnus cast an accusing finger out beyond him to where Validimus knew he would find another familiar face, standing apart from the main council. He turned his head slowly, almost as if he was lost amid a sea of morasses, to look upon the abomination he knew his gaze would find standing beyond. You speak of that which in unnatural. Magnus was saying, his deep voice weighted with venom. And yet you suffer the presence of not one, but two of the most unnatural creatures that have ever existed. Your own son is an anathema to you, father, cell by dark cell. Why is it that you fail to see the truth? Validimus barely heard the words of the cyclopean goliath, although he knew them, word for word. His eyes were fixed to the tall figure standing beyond, the dark living void that was Cassus Magog. Magog was a true giant, in every sense of the word, but his physical presence paled in comparison to the sheer emptiness his existence radiated. Like his absent brother, Magog stood apart from the other sons of the Emperor due to the fact that he had been born, for all intents and purposes, with a deep and numbing

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void in place of his soul. Psykers like Validimus found such creatures abhorrent in the extreme, although he would never have dared to voice such an opinion before the Emperor. The towering Primarch knew this, of course. Validimus was confident that both Gog and Magog even revelled in their infamy amongst the psykers of the Imperium. It was said amongst the Custodes that it was from them that the Emperor had extracted the Pariah gene that had in turn seen the creation of both their own legions and the Sisters of Silence. He suppressed a shudder as he felt Magogs eyes upon him, that black stare boring into his soul. Magog was the taller of the two brothers and was set apart from most by the colour of his sallow, almost grey skin. He wore gunmetal grey armour fringed with gold and an ornate gold and jade deathmask that covered all save his mouth. The right eye of the golden skull mask was huge, so much so that it set Magogs sculpted features off-balance. Validimus had seen the Animus Speculum at work, and the mere thought of it sent a cold shiver down his spine. The device was a conduit, a means of controlled release for the vast and terrible powers within him, and it was deadly to one such as he. Once again, I am persecuted by one who I call my brother. Magog uttered, unable to keep the corners of his mouth from turning upwards in amusement. He looked to the Emperor and spread his arms, as if to plead his case. My father, when will this persecution end? Are we not all on the same side? You made me, my Emperor, and you forged me in your own image. Why then do my siblings find it so hard to accept that which is your own handiwork? Gog and I tire of this constant discrimination, my lord. The Primarchs were created with but a single intent. Why then do we find ourselves harangued relentlessly for that which is not of our doing? My legion and I tire of this, my Emperor. Magnus practises witchcraft on Prospero against your wishes, and yet he once again seeks to divert his own selfish crimes towards us when he is called to task for his actions. You speak the truth, Cassus. The Emperor replied, his heavy voice weighed with displeasure. Validimus saw his turn his gaze towards Magnus once again. He felt the oppressive mental weight of an unknown psychic exchange between the two, although he was unable to determine its private content. Magnus hissed through bared teeth and shivered beneath the influence of the exchange, his single eye narrowing. Magog observed this exchange and allowed his own expression to harden, his black eyes flashing with concern. What is this? I do not possess the mind-sight but I recognise conspiracy in all its forms, my Emperor Then you are mistaken, Cassus. The Emperor replied, breaking the mental link between himself and Magnus and turning to the blank Primarch. I am merely chastising Magnus. There is no conspiracy here. Magnus will cease the practice of sorcery with immediate effect, that is my decree. When Gog returns from his holy pilgrimage to Mars he will be informed of this, as will all your brothers. This matter is closed. The absolute finality in the Emperors voice prevented Magog from questioning his Emperor further. Indeed, the presence of one such as he was more than most psykers could even stand, and that was taking into account the limiting effects of the arcane device he wore to keep his negative energies in check. That said, the Emperor Himself had never once displayed even the slightest discomfort when in the presence of either of the brothers, for he was simply too potent a psyker to suffer the affects of their proximity. Validimus suspected that this was perhaps the only thing that kept the brothers in line, for they were without a doubt the darkest and most untrustworthy of the Primarchs, perhaps even more so than the

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uncontrollable Angron or murderous Kurze. I bow to your judgement. Magnus uttered, his voice nonetheless low and filled with spite. At that he gestured to the sorcerers behind him and made to leave, but before he did so he fixed the Centurion with a lingering stare. Remember this day. All of you. He said, and though the warning was directed towards the gathering as a whole, his single eye remained set upon Validimus. There is a darkness amongst us and we will see it flourish, in time. Shame will strike the events of history from the hearts and minds of men, but treachery can never truly be banished by ignorance. Beware of them, all of you. Beware the Void Angels and the Nihilum Sons Validimus felt a lurch shake him from the very core of his being, a deep and irresistible pull. The Nihilum Sons. He whispered, as if hearing the name spoken aloud evoked memories that had been driven deep inside him where none could touch them. He remembered then. He remembered that none of this was real. The faces surrounding him began to melt, swirling and coalescing into a single cyclone of fluid colour. He caught sight of Jain Zars slender alien features amid the morass, her terrible eyes blazing. And he understood. The Nihilum Sons. He uttered, rising from the floor of the dark stone corridor. The Eldar Phoenix Lord was long gone now, and in her place were a small number of his own warriors, concern writ large across their features. Centurion One of them began. Validimus dismissed their concern and started forward, snatching one of them by the shoulder. There is no time! Send warning to the surface brother. Magog does not make for the Throne Room; he means to take the war to the defenders above. The Nihilum Sons have returned. +++ Dorn lowered the magnoculars but kept his eyes narrowed and fixed to the far distance. His sight was many times greater than that of any of the warriors around him, and even from here he could make out the dark edges of the mysterious phenomenon as it began to creep around the vast curve of the walls many miles away. What is it, lord Dorn? Helbrecht asked, his deep voice filled with empathic concern. Dorn shook his head slowly in answer. I cannot say. Whatever it is, I do not think it the Unity is responsible. The Primarch and his Fists had been observing the approach of the Ethereals for a while now, frustrated by their inability to prevent it. A short time ago the distant phenomenon had seemed to cease, and had been replaced instead by what he could only describe as a dark and mysterious rolling mist. We have never known the Unity to employ toxins or gas. Helbrecht said, clearly attempting to speculate upon the purpose of the strange occurrence. Dorn shook his head at this. This is not of the Unitys doing. He said again. No, the mere sight of it causes my stomach to churn. This is the work of far darker powers. I smell traitors.

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Chaos? Helbrecht whispered, his eyes widening. Dorn tilted his head slowly. Chaos. High Marshal, there are secrets that you need to be made aware of Dorn began. Just then his confession was cut short by a shout of alarm. He turned to look to the west in time to see a number of Fists and Templars charging across the wall top towards his position. Beyond them he could see and hear weapons being discharged. Helbrecht tensed by his side and brought his sword around in readiness. He moved his free hand up to his throat and spoke. What is happening? Sword Brethren Capheus, talk to me Missiles began to spear across the expanse, exploding from the distant buildings beyond. Dorn pushed past Helbrecht and looked on in disbelief as the battlements came under fire from the hidden Eldar. The Primarch looked on as the explosions threw men into the air and out into the abyss. One of his warriors shouldered his way to the edge of the battlements and raised his bolter, driven to do so by the apparent treachery despite the fact that the weapon stood no chance of retaliating. Damned Eldar! We were fools to ever trust them Figures spiralled out of the skies and came to rest upon the wide walkway. The Swooping Hawks quickly formed a firing line, their las-blasters held out before them in readiness to counter the angered Marines. Hold. A powerful yet quiet voice uttered. Baharroth came to rest on his toes upon the raised battlements and hopped down onto the stone walkway, his vast, humming wings growing quiet. He raised himself up to his full height so that he stood shoulder to shoulder with the Primarch. The luxury of choice has been taken from the Dark Reapers, Rogal Dorn. The secret darkness hidden below the palace of your Emperor has spewed forth one of the Void Champions and his legions. You are in incredible danger here. Maugan Ra and I will do all we can to defeat the beast but we may not be powerful enough to stop him. You will die here on these walls if you stay. Dorns eyes widened as he heard this but otherwise he did not flinch. After what seemed to those beneath him to be an age, he turned his gaze towards the distant conflict. Tell me his name, Eldar. Which one of the Dark Brothers has risen from his crypt to face me? The one you call Magog. Baharroth answered. Then I will do what my father could not. Dorn uttered, the hilt of his sword groaning as his fingers tightened around it. I will destroy the abomination for all time. +++ Great Unclean One. Berolinus had heard the name whispered in fear once before, on the ruined world of Berestus. Five full squads had not returned to the Heras Lament that day, and it was from those woeful few that had survived the assault on the stronghold of the Demagogue of Blight that had spoken of the colossal horror that had claimed the lives of so many. He thought back to the fearful tales of the monstrosity and recognised much of what had been described in the massive, bloated fiend beyond. The thing was little more than a mass of rolling, gangrenous skin covered in suppurating sores and huge fleshless wounds. Fat maggots poured from every orifice across its

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stinking mass to be crushed beneath its lumbering weight as it bore on. Berolinus caught sight of two twinkling eyes almost lost amid the endless decay, guttering twin flames that sat beneath a brace of huge, rotting antlers. An unfortunate Fire Warrior screamed and writhed in the things grasp, his flesh hissing beneath the daemons toxic touch. The Great Unclean One squeezed its huge fist almost indifferently and the warrior spasmed, his blood cascading from between the daemons fingers. The warp-spawned monster threw the crushed Tau into its open maw and then turned its unholy attention to the Tau bodies both living and dead spread out before its feet. Lurom Berolinus was no coward, but he knew when he stood little to no chance of victory. He swung his hammer up onto his shoulder and turned to run as the Greater Daemon began to feast upon the Tau casualties, its rolling chuckles as deep and resonant as thunder. It noticed the man-things flight seconds later and its tiny eyes narrowed further as it recognised fresh, living meat. In one hand it held a huge collection of rusting chains, each one ending in a massive barbed hook. It swung its arm back and then flung the chains forward like a whip. Berolinus heard the groaning rattle of the chains growing ever louder behind him and risked a glance, in time to see the cruel hooks descending towards him. He spat a curse and threw himself forward into a roll, the huge metal barbs crashing into the ground where he had stood a second before. The daemon gave out a bellow of rattling rage and hauled the chains back, tearing huge chunks out of the ground as it did so. Berolinus rolled back up onto his feet and kept running, throwing himself from side to side in an effort to keep the fiend guessing. He felt a low tremor quake the soles of his feet as the fiend took another step forward, its chains ringing as they were drawn back once again. His familiar had taken flight as soon as the daemon had appeared and now it returned, swooping in low over his head with a shrill cry. Berolinus shared a link with the creature, for it was an external extension of his own senses. He understood the warning and ducked low as the chains passed overhead, missing him by inches. The sleek shape cut through the mist before him and caused him to grind to a halt, his boots skidding across the grime-slick ground. His eagle screeched and rose sharply as the imposing shape of a Tau Hammerhead loomed large before him. The vast turret-mounted railcannon vibrated softly as it began to whine, the keening sound rising sharply in pitch as the weapon charged up. He fell to his knees and covered his ears as the cannon thundered, the power of its discharge quaking everything around it for a fleeting second. The speeding shell screamed by overhead and slammed into the daemons vast chest, driving through the rotting mass of its rippling torso with ease. The force of the impact staggered the fiend, driving it back. Gore and filth spiralled after the shell as the gaping hole grew ever bigger. The daemon roared its rage and defiance out into the fetid air and took a single, lumbering step forward. The stuff of its unnatural body slowly ceased in its swirling disintegration and began to draw back together once again, pus and viscera filling the wound. More Tau craft cut through the mist to join the Hammerhead as Berolinus rose, fighting the effects of the railcannon blast. Fire Warriors and Pathfinders poured from the Devilfishes and formed firing lines before him, their guns blazing even as they emerged. Berolinus sprinted to the right as the slaved gun drones detached themselves and hovered towards the reeling daemon. He ran towards the nearest ShasEl and skidded to a halt by his side. Keep that thing busy for as long as you can. Kill it if you are able, but if you cannot then sell yourselves as dearly as possible. Guilliman must be assisted.

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The Tau simply nodded and then continued to direct the firepower of his squad out at the daemon. Berolinus afforded himself one final glance out at the abomination and then disappeared into the mist, the roars of the Great Unclean One ringing in his ears.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety One: Memories and Hatred.

There was no saving this one. He knew that even as he clamped his hand over the gaping, livid wound that was once the Marines neck. The warrior knew it too, that much was clear from the look in his eyes. Fabius squeezed his fingers tight over the wound nonetheless and reached for his hypodermic pistol, the device already pre-loaded with a full dose of potent multi-stimm, ignoring the warm blood that jetted through his fingers and pattered across his face. A hand closed round his and he looked to the warriors quivering features. The Astartes skin was drawn and pale for he was but moments from death. His ability to speak had been obliterated by the cruel bite of the Laeran weapon that had inflicted it, but the words that formed upon his trembling lips were all too readable. The gene-seed Fabius nodded softly and removed his hand from the wound, allowing what remained of the warriors blood to cascade from his veins. He was clothed in the simple surgical smock of his profession still for he had not taken part in the ground assault. Due to this most of his armour and equipment was not readily to hand here within the cool chambers of his Apothecarion. With no other choice, he slid his hands around the Marines neck and twisted sharply, severing the warriors spinal cord with seemingly little effort. He let out a defeated sigh and turned to his workstation, peeling his blood-soaked plastex gloves from his hands, one after another. As he cast the gloves aside the steam spigot of his basin activated automatically at his proximity and he ran his hands beneath the scalding mist, barely even aware of either the act or the sharp bite of the hot steam. Another one lost. It was more of a statement than a question. He turned as he heard the voice, gathering his silver mane behind his head and securing it with the golden clasp he kept ever close at hand. The Apothecary nodded to him as he passed into the chamber, his white armour slick with blood and weapons discharge. He placed his helm upon the surface before him and then proceeded to detach the vials hanging at his belt one by one, taking great care to do so slowly and with deliberate caution. Yes. The fatalities are starting to mount in this war, brother. We are sustaining losses we can barely afford. Such is the will of Fulgrim and the Emperor. The Apothecary answered, tapping the shining golden eagle upon his chest twice in salute. Indeed. Fabius replied, unable to keep the sadness from his voice. With that he crossed over to where his

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reductor lay amongst the other various pieces scattered across his workstation. He reached for the device and lifted it gently from its resting place, the weight of its significance far greater than that of its actual mass. How many? He asked without looking over his shoulder. He referred of course to the zygotes that the Apothecary had brought with him from the Laeran battlefields. Each one was an Astarte lost forever to the Emperors Children. Too many, brother. The Astarte replied beyond him. Martyrs to the cause, one and all. By the grace of the Creed, they shall live on. Fabius nodded again and looked to the Apothecary. He studied the warrior for a lingering moment, scrutinising the mans features. The Apothecary seemed only to notice this after a short period and he paused, meeting Fabiuss gaze with sharp, emerald eyes. For a moment, neither of the two warriors uttered a sound, nor even flinched. Finally it was Fabius who chose to break the awkward silence, and he did so with a soft but conversant smile. I applaud you one your efforts, I really do, but you have yet to fully master the finer intricacies of the differences between the genetically predetermined features of our Legion. Its the hair, you see. The platinum colour of your hair places you as a son of Chemos but the hairline is all wrong. He said, with a casual wave of his hand as if to draw the Marines attention to his own features. It is far too strong, too vertical. That would place you as Terran stock, but then again the colour of your hair is all wrong. Your features, too. Far too strong. You lack the aquiline sharpness of the cheekbones and the nose that would have placed your origins on Chemos and yet the delicate pallor of your skin suggests this. I really would suggest that you research further in future. The Marines eyes narrowed at Fabiuss words and his expression remained stark, devoid of amusement. It was clear that this slight did not sit well with him. We applaud your efforts with thealterationsyou have thus far gifted those of your Legion with. Your Lord Commanders in particular are Vespasian. Fabius whispered, cutting the Marines words short. He refuses still. He will be neither coerced nor forced into this. Then he will be silenced. The mysterious Apothecary continued. For Fulgrim will never suffer dissention. You are an exceptional surgeon, Fabius. That is why we chose you for this. Soon, even your Primarch will come to seek your gifts. You must not deny him. Fabius slowed as he heard this, letting out a long sigh of frustration. He slammed the reductor down on the table before him and turned to the warrior, his strong, patrician features tight and bunched with displeasure. Deny him? Damn you, but how could I deny my Primarch? You and your masters have cursed me, spy. You have set me on a path that will lead my Legion to destruction, and I have allowed this in my weakness No, Fabius. Your actions were never born of weakness. You must never think that. You are strong, and that strength will forever set you apart from those you call brothers. There is a storm coming, one that will quake our Imperium to its very foundations. The Emperors Children must be led into this war by Fulgrim, there can be no other way. The gods of the warp must be championed. Gods! Fabius spat, as if the very notion was utterly ridiculous to him. Again you speak of beings and entities that exist beyond the veil of this reality. Can you not see how ridiculous such notions are?

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It is good that you think this way. The Apothecary answered. There is much we still cannot explain, Fabius, but you must know that the influence of chaos is destined to scour many of your brother Astartes of their devotion to the Emperor. This must come to pass. Mankind must be seen to be fragmented, forever locked in turmoil. It is the only way our species will survive long enough. Long enough to achieve what? Fabius asked, a question he had asked many times already. As ever, his enigmatic counterpart merely shook his head. Such information is our burden alone to bear, son of Fulgrim. All you need to know is that you alone can and must stay true to this path. The power of chaos can be used, harnessed to fulfil your every goal, but it must never be allowed to corrupt you. Never surrender your will. We will be in touch soon enough. With that the Apothecary lifted his helm from the bench and placed it over his head once again, locking it in place with a gentle twist. Wait He began, starting forward. Fabius Bile gave a sharp gasp and blinked. The memory sank away like sand in an hourglass, draining from his mind as the reality of his current situation sank in. The Devilfish rocked again, the impact jarring the last vestiges of the recollection from him as Fire Warriors pushed past his towering form towards the open ramp beyond. The arms of his chirurgeon whined softly as they curled around him, almost as if in concern for their master. He swatted the mechanical arms aside and followed the Tau towards the rear of the craft and out into the raging war, his nostrils flaring as he did so as if imbued with a life of their own. Hnnn. Warp-rot. He uttered to himself, recognising the unnatural pungency that hung in the air. The entire area was covered in a dense, hanging mist now, a miasma so full of poisons and raging viruses that even he felt his stomach tighten at their presence. He passed by a Fire Warrior squad and slowed, intrigued by the plight of its line officer. The creature wore no helmet, as was quite common amongst the lower officers of his caste. The Taus dark eyes were ringed with blood and his lipless mouth was flecked with a lurid froth. Even as he ordered his warriors forward he hacked and coughed, each convulsion expelling foamy bile. He withdrew the skull-topped rod from its holster at his side and twisted the thing once around his hand as he prepared to enter the melee once again, driven by a fresh desire to expel every last vestige of the recollection from his mind. Daemons capered through the mist, long-limbed, lurching shadows that groaned and hissed as they hunted the Tau. He sprinted forward and charged headlong into a trio of the things, swinging his rod like a club before him. Daemonic flesh parted easily before the unholy power of the weapon. Rusting blades rang against his Tau-forged armour but he ignored them, for the true threat the weapons posed was the corruption they carried rather than their dulled edges, and that corruption was not strong enough to beat the toxic ichors that flowed through Biles veins. His living mechanical arms stabbed and lunged in defence of their master, both turning blows aside and adding their own to the fight. Within moments, Bile was victorious. Further beyond, he could just make out the swirling, shifting melee that was the fight between the Primarchs. He knew that Guilliman had to win this fight. He had to. Mortarion was a powerful foe, perhaps more than a match for Guilliman, but he was destined to lose. Of all those within the vast collective of the Unity, only he knew the truth.

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With me! He called, sweeping a hand forward. Brothers and sisters of the Unity, advance! Our Primarch needs us! Within seconds the mists parted as the Tau responded to his call. Fire Warriors and Pathfinders fought for space as they charged forth, driven to answer. Bile drew his arms in as the charging squads ran past, breaking around him like waves against an immoveable rock. Far beyond, past the roving mists and further into the depths of the city, he could see the bright, pulsing lights as they slowly but unstoppably drew ever nearer. The Ethereals were coming. +++ The thing was huge and shapeless. Like some manner of massive, shell-less mollusc, it slid over the top of the wall, its weight causing the rockcrete to groan and crumble. Its mottled body shone with slick mucus and the many tubules set across its mass contracted, squeezing gouts of spores and bilious smog out into the area. Guardsmen and Marines rushed forth to counter the unholy thing, sending waves of fire into its undulating body. The creature spasmed and sent out streamers of thick, visceral bile into the defenders, the acidic stuff burning all it touched. Magnus bellowed words of charged power and thrust an open hand out at the warp-thing. Blue fire erupted from his palm and spread, twisting into a vertical column of flame that slammed into the creature and set it alight. The spawn screamed, a high-pitched and guttural screech, as it shrunk away and died, obliterated by the sheer sorcerous might of the cyclopean giant. Mortarion! Keep your filth in check! He raged, dispelling the flames that licked about his hand with a sweep. With that he gestured before him in a wide arc and, wherever his finger fell, a bright burst of glittering power disgorged a single, blue-armoured figure. One by one, the Thousand Sons of Magnus the Red emerged before the walls, each ghostly warrior bowing his head in greeting to their Primarch before turning in silence to guard the area. Let him have his fun. Lorgar barked, mirth evident in his guttural voice. Magnus turned at this and flashed a scathing glance at his brother. Crawl your way back to the Eye if any of are dissatisfied with your destinies. He spat in reply. But be warned, while you remain here, you will obey our rules. Lorgar snarled and took a step forward, the flames that licked around his unholy crozius flaring in empathy with his anger. Codian shook his head slowly and moved to stand before Magnus, the Dawnblade glinting in his hands. An unwise move, traitor. The towering Primarchs eyes widened at this and his mouth twisted into a malevolent smile, though when he spoke, there was nothing save for pure venom in his voice. Maggot. Imperial slave-filth. Stand aside and turn your gaze from my countenance or I will strike you from existence. Codian rose to his full height as he heard this, his eyes narrowing.

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You will do no A flash of dark shadow, and he was gone. Even as the residue of his disappearance faded into nothing, Codian came into being inches from Lorgars face, the shining Dawnblade keening as it hovered gently against the bronzed flesh of the Primarchs throat. such thing. Lorgar did not even find the time to answer the challenge. A howl of unfettered anger rose up from the traitor Primarch ranks as Kurze responded to the threat in his brothers name. The Night Haunter bounded through the throng, his dark body low and fluid. He flowed through the mass and leapt high into the air towards the Chaplain, moving almost as fast as Codian himself had done to close the space. His terrible claws flared to life, a sheen of power enveloping each one. Thrusters screamed and then a speeding shape slammed into the descending Primarch, the impact knocking him to the floor. Kurze and Corax tumbled end over end across the flags, a storm of flailing limbs. The distraction was all that Lorgar had needed and Codian gasped, feeling his hand and the powerful blade pushed aside by a powerful blow. Lorgars hand curled around his wrist and Codian felt hot waves of agony course through him as the blasphemous crozius loomed close. Anaris responded to this threat, sensing the imminent danger. Power cascaded from the blade and lit the Primarch like a beacon, coruscating around his armoured form. Lorgar cried out and let go, his own weapon erupting in defence of its master. Hah! Thats it! Let blood flow in Khornes name! Angron cried out, shaking his hands in the air. Codian felt a flood of burning anger pour into him at the sight of Lorgar. A red haze fell over his eyes and his heart rate increased, fuelled by the desire to strike down the traitorous scum before him. Enough! The single word resounded across the scene with force enough to freeze everyone in his tracks. It was Qah himself who had spoken, and his anger was evident. Wiry tendrils of shadow twisted free of his mass to snap and slash towards the combatants. Both Corax and the Night Haunter were snatched from their vicious embrace and flung away from one another. At the same time the nightmare stuff of the Old One enveloped Lorgar and hoisted him high into the air, heedless of his curses and struggles. Codian acted in impulse, his own inherent sense of self-preservation calling up the arcane powers at his command even as his mind realised that Qah was no threat to him. He drew back and disappeared in a puff of obsidian smoke. Qahs living shadows speared through the wake of the jump and followed, sliding like serpents into the swirling smoke. They reappeared even as he did next to the Old One. Codian started as he caught sight of Qah, his face a picture of anger. Then the shadows coiled around him and pinned his arms tight to his sides with such force that even the Dawnblade seemed powerless to oppose him. This is not the way to uphold this alliance. Qah hissed, drawing him close. I do not care for the concerns or the prejudices of any one here. We are all allies. My word is final. For the first time since their meeting, Codian recognised a darkness in the ancient alien that he had not experienced before. He knew that Qah was far from evil and yet there was a madness in his black eyes, a desperation that spoke of a hidden inner turmoil he had not realised existed within the soul of the Old One.

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Codian opened his mouth to apologise but Qah dismissed whatever he had intended to say with a wave of his hand. The shadows uncoiled from around the Chaplain and sank away to rejoin the hazy mass once again. Other members of the Cabal exerted their presence upon the dark Primarchs in an attempt to bolster Qahs efforts. The floating amphibian raised his hands and Angron recoiled, his filed teeth bared. The collar about his neck glowed red as if with the heat of the forge and yet his mighty arms were lowered, clearly through the efforts of the alien. This will do none of us any good! Magnus snapped, sweeping the stupidity of the situation away with a flick of his hand. The Dragons forces converge upon us as we speak. If we cannot stand before him united then we will fall divided. This is an absolute certainty. The Ctan will win. Blood for the Blood God, Cyclops. Angron snarled, brandishing his terrible chainblade. All that matters is blood and death. It is my lot to open the veins and take the skulls of all. Why should I care for these plans. What sport can such creatures provide me? Then let them win. Magnus answered with a sneer. Let them find victory over us, Angron. Let them put the light from your eyes and end your reign of murder and bloodshed. Let them take your gods champion. What then? Who will take the skulls your foul god desires so when there are none left to kill in his name? Angron did not answer, instead seething in anger at his inability to further argue his case. Magnus tilted his head slowly at this. Well then. The next stage of this war is about to begin. The Ethereals are bound for the Eternity Wall Gate. The enemy intends to display its true power here, and here is where we will counter them. It is here that the Void Dragon will come to realise that his plans are far from assured success. We will meet him together. And what of Guilliman? Calgar asked, speaking for the first time since the tense confrontation. He is our Primarch, Magnus. He is no traitor, at least not of his own choosing. I do not wish to see him put to death. It was Codian who responded to this question in Magnuss place. He cast around and raised the Dawnblade out before him, as if to add weight to his answer. Guilliman will be saved, my lord. I promise you that.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Two: They Come.

Throne preserve us all. Look at that. Throne Guard Sergeant Crain Lestern clung to the overhead rail for dear life as he hung from the open ramp, the passing wind tearing at the lapels of his fatigues. The ground hurtled bay far below as the Valkyrie thundered its way through the wide city streets, its pilot flying the craft as high as he dared to due to the damage it had sustained. Lestern had been the last man to board the flyer before it had taken to the air and fled the coming hordes. The Tau guns had found their range even as he had been dragged into the hold and his men, good men,

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had screamed and died as they were taken apart. He tore his eyes away from the terrible sight and shook his head, blinking furiously. Craydos blood still stung his eyes from when the young Guardsmans head had been taken from his shoulders mere feet away from him. He could still taste Craydos blood in his mouth. We wont make it back. He flashed a determined look at the slumped Arbite, as if to challenge the officers portentous claim. The Arbite looked up moments later and scowled at the Guardsman, his fingers tightening around the bloody wound at his shoulder as he did so. This craft is shot. The rear hatch is open to the elements, Guard. One shot will bring us down in a ball of flame. Lestern shook his head and turned his attention back to the city behind them. Though he would never have dared voice such an opinion, the sight was as magnificent as it was terrible. Each Ethereal was a blazing beacon of light, vast and burning and indomitable, set against a sea of advancing bodies. The Tau were on the move, flowing like water from every junction and intersection to join the Ethereals and the greater mass. He had fought against the Tau all his military life, indeed, he knew no other enemy, and yet Lestern had never seen such numbers before. There were hundreds of thousands of them heading towards the Eternity Wall Gate, and that indeterminable number was continuing to grow with the passing of each minute. A dark and ominous smoke billowed out from the engines above the hatch every few minutes, a stark warning as to the state of the punished craft. Lestern tightened his grip a little as he observed another choking emission. He holstered his laspistol and ran a hand over the frag grenades hanging from his belt. In truth, the consideration was a ridiculous one. Even primed to maximum, the grenades would explode long before hitting the enemy crowds below. We are dead. He heard the Arbite snarl behind him. Perhaps your faith in the Emperor is lacking. A deep voice growled beside him. Lestern looked on as the hulking Astarte fixed the Arbite with a stern and chastising gaze. It was enough to cause the officer to lower his head in shame, and probably more than a little fear. The Marine had lost his squad minutes before the Valkyie had swooped in to extract the survivors of the Tau assault. He had been one of the first to board the craft and had assisted its crew in hauling aboard those too injured to move themselves. He had spoken little since the craft had taken to the air, and instead had sat in silence, nursing the horrendous wounds he had sustained without complaint. If we do not make it back to the Gate, then those of us who survive will meet the enemy and sell ourselves dearly before we die. We will die free of the yoke of Tau oppression, and we will die as heroes. Heroes do not retreat. The Arbite answered. Though his voice was low and his face turned away, there was a measure of defiance in the officers voice. Lestern held his breath as he heard this. He had seen loss do strange and terrible things to a man. It was clear that the Arbite had lost all those he knew and he held a ball of black bitterness at his heart because of this.

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The Marine issued a low growl and raised his bolter, the massive weapon made all the more menacing by the fact that it seemed no more than a pistol in the warriors hands. A loud and rumbling scream swept aside the tension of the situation and the Guardsman gasped, tightening his grip instinctively around the holding bar. He swung out to look beyond the open hatch as a mixed squadron of Navy flyers hurtled past, their burners flaring bright. The sleek form of a Lightning twisted past, trailing thick black smoke from its underside. At its heels came a trio of Thunderbolts, bulky and angular next to the nimble swept-wing design of the Lightning. Even as they passed, one of the Thunderbolts shuddered, energy blasts scything into its rear section. Bright fire cascaded over its tail and the craft spun away towards the ground, shedding flames and debris as it went. Lestern recognised the pursuing enemy craft as Barracudas and he felt his heart harden in his chest as he witnessed their approach. Glittering balls of ion energy chased the fleeing Imperial craft, passing by so close that he could feel the heat radiating from them. Hold on Was all he had time to shout. Pulse fire spun from the wing mounts if the nearest flyer as it passed. Lestern threw himself back into the hold as the bright azure hail swept across the rear of the Valkyrie, ringing as it punched through armour plating. He landed on his back as the burning death peppered the open hold, shredding bodies and searing flesh and blood to stinking vapours. The lights above him flickered out and the craft screamed, first shuddering and then dipping sharply. He rose as if weightless, the ceiling descending to meet him. For long minutes he struggled to push himself away from the cold surface in vain, the force of the crafts descent too much to counter. Next came pain, mercifully brief, and then darkness. +++ It took him a long time to even realise that he was awake, that he was alive. It was the pain that finally convinced him. His body ached worse than he had ever known, every inch of it. Time was an unfathomable mystery to him now, an enigma he could not understand. He should be dead, he knew that without a doubt. The impact should have dashed him into a bloody pulp. He dragged himself across the shattered floor of the hold, his aching sliding over the blood-slick remains of those who had fallen with him. He passed by the Arbite, or at least what was left of him. The mans eyes were glassy and dull. He was laid in a strange angle, his back arched so badly that a good measure of his spine glistened where it protruded from his waist. His ears registered the sound of bolter fire beyond the hold, where the weak sunlight shone through. He still had his laspistol, the weapon holstered at his waist. Drawing and arming it hurt like hell, but he knew he had little choice. Fight and die, or just die. The choices left open to him were few and grim. A shadow fell over him and he cried out as a rough, strong hand hauled him up and planted him on his backside, propped up against the mangled hull of the Valkyrie. Take as many of them with you as you can. The Marine said, thrusting his bolter out at the oncoming mass. He held his other arm limp by his side and his hand hung from his wrist by a strand of bloody tendon. The warrior grunted and then dashed the severed limb against the hull, sending the useless hand twisting away. I cant feel my legs Lestern gasped.

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It does not matter. We arent going anywhere, Guard. Your finger is still able to pull the trigger, is it not? Do not waste what life you have left. We exist to serve. Lestern nodded, the very act of which sent lances of agony coursing through him. He lifted the pistol and held it there in front of him, fighting to keep the barrel as steady as he was able. The enemy hordes were still some way off, but the sight of them nonetheless sent a chill up his spine. He looked into the oncoming tide and knew with utter certainty that his death was assured. There were millions of them. The warriors of the Unity flowed from every visible junction to join the greater mass, jostling for space amongst the charge. He had fought the Unity here since they had first descended on this world and yet he had not seen such vigour in them until this day. Something had happened, but what, he could not guess. Something had fanned the flames of their zeal. A crescendo of supersonic booms spilt the air above him as the Navy fighters screamed by overhead, spitting hatred and death out into the advancing Tau. The Unity craft were still hot on their heels and eager for the kill. Blasts scythed through the squadron, splitting Thunderbolts in two even as they emptied their payloads into the enemy. From here, his lifeblood ebbing away, Lestern took in the scene with an almost serene acceptance. The Astartes voice was sonorous and booming as he cursed and denied the oncoming enemy, yet the Guardsman did not hear the words. The first shots lanced clear of the Tau to assail the downed craft. Lestern gasped as convulsions wracked his body. The rail rifle shot punched through the flyers metal skin with force enough to drag its smouldering carcass back a good foot. The Emperor protects. He whispered, fighting to steady his hand. Before him the Marine turned and shook his head slowly. Not this time, Guard. This time we steel our hearts, give our all and prepare for His judgement. Lestern nodded weakly. He understood. With that he faced the coming tide once more, taking in one last, lingering look at the uncountable abominations before him. The speeding craft of the Tau were so thick on the ground here that they rang against one another as they jostled for space. The strange beasts that had joined the Tau legions loped, flapped, swung or sprinted ahead of the Fire Warrior lines, as thirsty for the death of all those who opposed them as their pureblood cousins. There are so many of them He hissed beneath his breath. The Marine did not hear him. One of the unnatural beasts was already upon him, braving the fire cascading from its own lines to attack the warrior. Sergeant Crain Lestern knew then that his death was seconds away. There was nothing else left for him to do. He swallowed hard, whispered a prayer to his Emperor, and emptied his clip into the tsunami of baying, charging hatred. +++ Guilliman flipped effortlessly over onto his feet and stabbed with Agiselus. The sword slid through the torso of the foul daemon with little resistance up to its hilt. The Primarch withdrew the blade and took the Plaguebearers head from its shoulders, ending its existence. Nurglings surged around the fallen daemons body, attracted by the feast of gushing ichors and steaming filth that surged from its body. Guilliman rushed forth and stamped the small abominations into the ground, flattening hordes of them with every descending foot.

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What do you hope to achieve? He cried, spreading his arms wide. Mortarion threw himself through the cloying mist and swept his scythe before him, questing for his brothers destruction. Guilliman countered the blow with his sword and struck, driving his blade deep into the soft, spongy matter of Mortarions armoured ribs. The Lord of Rot staggered back and kicked out, the sole of his boot ringing against Guillimans blade. The father of the Ultramarines rode the force of the strike and twisted on his heel, attacking again. Mortarion was ready. His mighty black wings beat a single time and propelled him back beyond the range of Guillimans reach, denying him. At the same time a furious, collective roar rose up from the puckered armour of the heretic and a choking cloud of black flies surged from within him, a swarm so prolific in number that one could be forgiven for envisaging the corrupt Primarch as a hollow vessel. Guilliman laughed aloud at seeing this and swept a hand forward. Null-drones, to me! Bolster you master! As ordered the automatons swiftly flanked the Primarch, their domed casings pulsing with crackling psi-suppressive power. The primary function of the drones was to counter the powers and effects of the psykers that so often opposed the will of the Tau, for they were a race devoid of the ability to command the powers of the warp. Here though, the drones performed an altogether different task. There were few psykers here amongst the legions of the Death Guard but instead there was a suffocating profusion of warp-born influence. Indeed, the millions of tiny creatures that flooded from Mortarion had found their origins in the flows and eddies of the warp, for they were literally made of that unholy essence. As such, for all their vast numbers, the carrion of Nurgle were sorely pressed to even exist in the presence of the powerful machines. Fat black bodies popped into greasy mist at the arrival of the drones, unable to maintain hold of their existence. Like the tiniest fragmentation bomblets the flies exploded, their collective demise creating a staccato rhythm that beat against the breastbones of all those present as they died. Guilliman looked on in satisfaction as his damned brother quailed beneath the arrival of the devices, his own warp-corrupted form tortured by their presence. A fleeting glance behind him told him that, where the choking mists had begun to thin further into the city, the Death Guard were reeling before the advance of his legions. Both the Tau and the hybrid forces of the hunters had begun to converge in earnest. They came like a storm surge, their collective numbers growing by the minute. The foulness of Mortarions own legions still stained the surrounding city streets. His daemons fought on, side by side with the hideous, rotting abominations that were his Death Guard Marines. None of this mattered to Guilliman. In his mind, Victory was assured. Mortarion had given his all in the fight to defend the Eternity Wall Gate, and though he could barely understand the motivation of the long-lost heretic, the reasons behind his defiant actions were unimportant. You are fated to fail. Guilliman spat, his voice heavy with self-assuredness. Look around you, brother. See how futile your long existence has been. You gave yourself over to dark powers long ago, and whatever it is you had hoped to achieve, you have failed. Flesh and blood, Mortarion. All I command is flesh and blood. Flesh and blood to be corrupted. The towering heretic replied, his voice broken and warped. Guilliman shook his head. You cavort with daemons and unholy powers, and yet they are as nothing to the Unity. You cannot stop

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me, Mortarion. Try as hard as you like, I will destroy you and your foul armies. I will strike the mighty gates of the Palace wide open, and I will carve a path through all who oppose me for my lord AunVa to enter unopposed. There can be no other destiny. Somewhere beyond them, something vast and inhuman screamed its rage out into the city, the sound almost drowned out by a thunderous fusillade of withering blasts. Guilliman recognised the demise of something ancient and terrible and allowed himself a smile of victory. There, you see? Flesh and blood will always prevail. There are those who have been so bold to chide me for siding with xenos. They lie long dead now, ground to bones and dust beneath the uncounted feet of the Unity. I will live on, Mortarion, long after what remains of your flesh has sloughed from your palsied bones. Mortarion responded to this insult with extreme prejudice. He issued a low, rumbling snarl and threw himself across the space between them, his vast scythe sweeping back, ready to strike. Guilliman countered, driving himself forward faster than the Lord of rot could ever match. The scythe came down hard to meet Guilliman but he was ready, Agiselus shimmering in his grasp. He swept the scythe aside and twisted with the blow, bringing the sword around again to meet his foe in mid-air. The blade sang as it met corroded armour and Guilliman landed lightly beyond his foe, spinning with grace on his toes to face Mortarion once again. even as he did so, he lowered his blade. He already knew full well how potent his strike had been. Mortarion fell like a rock onto the surface of the square, his weight quaking the flags beneath him. The giants waist and legs landed a good way from his torso, the limbs splayed awkwardly as if robbed of the bones that had supported them. Let it end now, brother. Guilliman uttered, flicking black gore from his prized blade in disgust. Let the rot claim its prize at long last. Decay follows death, Mortarion, it does not precede it. I have restored its natural order. Fool. The single word rumbled through the air, startling the Primarch of the Ultramarines by its very presence. Guillimans raised eyebrows soon fell, as if the fact that his sibling still clung to some semblance of life slowly You lay at my feet, brother, bisected by my blade. Your armies dwindle as they teeter at the edge of extinction. Your daemon allies flee this realm. All this, and you call me a fool. My eyes must be blinded to the truth then, for I see no folly in victory. Then widen your gaze and see what you have done. Mortarion answered. I did not come here to best you, brother. I came here to fulfil my destiny. Look beyond you, to where you legions advance upon this place. All I needed to do was to draw them here. Enough. Guilliman spat. Be quiet now, you are done, Mortarion. You are dead. The punished daemon Primarch twitched at this, his great wings fluttering one last time. He still held his mighty scythe and, with every ounce of effort he could muster, he slammed the rusting blade into the ground, driving it deep into the ancient soil of Terra. No, I am not dead. I am death. I am the incarnation of death. I am the virulent epidemic, the wasting disease and the remorselessness of decay. I am pestilence and pox, famine and blight, contagion and cancer. I am all of these things, Guilliman. Where I walk, death follows. Where I fall, death will rise. He shuddered then, violent spasms racking his parted body. A cry rose up from the dying Primarch, growing louder and louder with the passing of each moment. His outline began to break up, his pitted

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armour shedding great black flakes as if it were burning and turning to soot. All that Mortarion was came apart as his essence flooded through the scythe and into the ground. A stinking black miasma began to spread out from the blade, turning the flags to filth and bubbling gore. Guillimans expression fell and he stepped back, his eyes narrowing. What is this? He whispered. My lord! He cast around to see Fabius charging through the dissipating mists ahead of the oncoming legions. He swung his rod at an attacking Death Guard Marine but, instead of falling to the blow, the warrior simply came apart a second before the Apothecarys weapon touched him. The Marine burst apart in a blast of black sooty spores, the force of which disintegrated everything, even his armour. Death Guard warriors began to die in this manner all about him, bursting like dry pustules into millions of microscopic spores. Guilliman opened his mouth to speak, to question the occurrence, when a sudden and violent wind rose up from nowhere to steal his voice. The maelstrom tore at the oncoming Tau, stopping most of them in their paths. The remains of the Death Guard gusted about them, so thick that many began to choke and gag despite the fact that they wore helmets. Within seconds, nothing could be seen except for the swirling darkness of the poisonous storm. The legacy of Mortarion was realised, and there were none present on the battlefield, not even Guilliman, who realised the consequences of this.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Three: Enemy At The Gates.

It is done. Mortarion is no more. Both loyalist and traitor alike looked to Magnus as they heard this. There were a few raised eyebrows amongst the gathered Primarchs, and yet Codian noted that none of them seemed to feel the need to question exactly what Magnus meant. And so, now what? Calgar asked. Codian shifted his gaze to his Chapter Master and was surprised to feel a measure of relief in the fact that the warrior did not share the same innate understanding as the Primarchs. True, he knew what the future held for all of them more than most, and yet, the more the myriad strands of fate unravelled, the more it seemed the Primarchs also knew of what was to come to pass. Despite his unique position, he could not help but see himself as a pawn in this vast, millennia-spanning game. His part is over, Lord Calgar. Magnus answered. Mortarion has given of himself to ensure that the Ctans schemes are not easily realised. With that the Primarch of the Thousand Sons spoke words of power beneath his breath and extended his hand out before him, as if to cast those words out upon the wind. Yet more figures appeared amongst the Thousand Sons, though it was clear from the first sight of them that these individuals were a breed apart

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from the ghostly automatons that were Magnuss foot soldiers. These were the sorcerer lords of Magnus, his Cabal. No two were the same in appearance and yet all of them conformed to a singular theme. Some wore cloaks of chattering human faces, whilst others sported shrouds of iridescent feathers. Some were without helms, their faces made drawn and pallid by their long allegiance to their sorcerous ways. Others wore helms of horns or spikes. The sorcerers of Magnus needed no instruction from their lord. Without a word they began to spread themselves amongst their phantom brothers, voices whispering words of unknown power. They will strive to contain it. Magnus said, as if sensing the questions of those who were perplexed by the arrival of Magnuss elite. For now at least, we can do no more, except wait. Mortarions rot must be allowed time to spread. A disquieted murmur drifted through the gathered throng. Explain Calgar growled. The general conversation drifted from Codians thoughts as his mind turned to an altogether different consideration. He glanced through the crowds to where Qah stood in silence, his unblinking eyes ever surveying the unfolding drama. The ancient alien sensed the Chaplains mind focus upon him and he nodded softly, the gesture slight enough to be lost upon all the others present. Your fears are a beacon to my mind, Chaplain. You need not worry. Your brother Apothecary and his companions are safe for now. Soon the Void Dragon will come, drawn to this arena by the actions of Mortarion. That is when we will recall Umbras and the others. Codian nodded in reply, bolstered by this knowledge. He had not heard from Umbras since he and the others had taken to the city to fulfil their secret mission. He only hoped that the Apothecary had seen enough success to maintain their plans. That said, his confidence in his brother was unwavering. +++THE WALLS+++ Sons of Rogal Dorn, one and all! Engage at will! Tear this foul enemy from the walls! Helbrecht was a living avatar of fury, the anger etched upon his face radiating out before him. His flaming sword flared ever brighter as if in empathy with his rage. Templar and Fist alike came to life as the High Marshal approached, spurred on by his clarion call. The enemy had found their way up onto the walls and, though none knew how this had come to pass, it did not matter to the Marines. Bolter fire chattered through the air far beyond him as those warriors nearest the enemy forces met their foe. The Eldar missiles had ceased in their indiscriminate slaughter some minutes before, on Dorns command. As he advanced he could see the flying warriors of the Eldar as they descended in squads to meet the threat, their laser weapons cutting the air in two. Silvered bodies fell from the walls in droves as the combined firepower reaped them. Up ahead Helbrecht could see one of the many tetragonal guardhouses that sat in regular intervals upon the bulwarks. The construct was now little more than a smashed, blazing ruin, its gun emplacements devastated along with its walls. Eldar missiles continued to smash into the remnants of the tower here, for this was where the enemy had

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chosen to emerge. Despite the punishment the legions of Magog came still, charging through the firestorm to meet the defenders. The giant things were easily the size of his warriors, Helbrecht noted. Whatever manner of armour they wore, the silver carapaces of the enemy seemed more than capable of shrugging off bolter fire. They answered the defenders with glaive-rifles that sent beams of emerald energy sweeping across the walls. These cruel weapons tore apart all they touched, stripping armour from flesh and flesh from bone in the blink of an eye. He watched as one of the Sword Brethren charged headlong into the enemy host, his storm bolter and power fist singing. He swept a brace of the abominations from the wall top with a backhanded punch and then staggered as one of the beams slammed into his armoured chest and punched clean through him, the potent layers of his tactical dreadnought armour peeling away almost unopposed. From this distance he could smell the scorched flesh of his brethren and feel the heat of the enemys weapons. He could feel and hear his Primarch advancing behind him, rapidly closing the distance he had created between them with his charge. Prosecute these heretics! He cried, sprinting the last few feet out onto the wide square plateau that housed the towers remains. For Dorn and for the Throne! These were the Nihilum Sons, Helbrecht had been told. These were heretics as ancient as his own Primarch, lost to the Imperium long before even the foul Horus had shown his true colours and split the mightiest empire the stars had ever known in two. He closed upon the nearest of them and felt the breath catch in his throat at the very presence of it. His mind shivered, an icy dullness enclosing his thoughts. Through sheer willpower alone he shrugged the effects of the heretics presence aside and leapt the last few feet, bringing his sword crashing down upon the traitors head. His blade split the fiend in two from crown to stomach and it died, sparks and synthetic ichors cascading from its sundered form. The thing fell, convulsing and shuddering, leaving him free to throw himself into a powerful spin. His blade bit deep into another of the enemy and the things head spun away. More of the enemy surged up the exposed staircase and out onto the shattered area around the keep, saturating the area with deadly green death as they did so. Marines fell around him, scythed into pieces by the flaying beam. He leapt to the side in time to dodge one of the blasts and the glowing column tore through the thick battlements with ease, slicing massive chunks of stone free to fall away into the sheer drop below. Our Lord Dorn approaches! He cried, hacking and slashing at the gathering enemy. Carve him a path! Rogal Dorns fury was unmatchable as he thundered into the conflict, his eyes wide and terrible. His arrival seemed to animate the traitor Marine-things further and those of the Nihilum Sons nearest him surged forth to meet the Primarch, disregarding all others foes in their haste to reach him. They broke against the father of the Imperial Fists as a breeze against the mightiest of oaks. He swung his vast arms left and right, slicing with his blade and pummelling with his free hand, smashing and carving the enemy to pieces. Every step he took, he destroyed. Silvered bodies rushed to meet him and he killed them in droves, sweeping entire squads out over the sides of the walls. He swung his sword and cut through two and three in turn, parting long-dead flesh and alien armour without effort.

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Shimmering energies splashed across his ancient carapace and he cried out despite himself, feeling the skin and armour at his shoulder blister and part. He threw himself to the side and flung his sword out at his attacker. The weapon spun across the space and pinned the Pariah-Marine to the wall at its waist with impact enough to cause it to drop its deadly glaive. The Primarch dug his heels into the ground and launched himself at his attacker, enemy blades and fire questing after him. As he landed against the pinned warrior his momentum and body weight crushed the thing into the wall, grinding its mechanical innards into a tight ball of ruined matter. He hauled the sword free and kicked out, sending the dying warrior out into the open air amid a hail of falling rock. Helbrecht and his elite warriors were in the midst of the thickest fighting across from him and, for all their determination and skill, they were close to being overwhelmed. He plucked a large boulder from near his feet and cast the stone out into the melee, smashing the head from one of the abominations. Despite his fury and unmatchable power, Dorn found himself tested by the very presence of the machinations. It was a discomfort and detestation that stretched back across the millennia, to when the sons of Gog and Magog had been warriors of pure flesh and blood. Even then he had hated the Nihilum Sons and the Void Angels for what they were. They were an unnatural, disturbing breed, at odds with existence itself. Why the Emperor, his father, had ever chosen to allow them to exist, Dorn would never know. A secret and hidden part of him was sure that the Emperor Himself had been fooled, manipulated even, by the true masters of these creatures. There were few alive today that knew of the true legacy of the Pariah, and Dorn was one of those few. The answers to such questions were irrelevant now. They did exist, that was fact, and they needed to be destroyed once and for all. The ancient one ghosted past him with a speed and grace that far exceeded anything he had expected of Eldar. Maugan Ras sleek cannon whispered as it spat death out into the Nihilum Sons, each razor-edged disc released with inhuman precision. He saw one of the enemy fall, the pulsing jewel set into its metal forehead cleft in two by the shuriken. The Pariah-Marine fell without a sound but also without pause, the shot as deadly as it was accurate. A dark haze flooded from the wound, and for a fleeting moment Dorn felt the pressure of that miasma push against his mind, its weight curling suffocating fingers of ice around his thoughts. The discharge ended almost as soon as it had begun and the pressure eased. The Phoenix Lord was truly the vision of death incarnate as he waded into the throng, his every move lithe and refined despite his armour bulk. He swept the crackling power blade set into his reaper-cannon through limbs and torsos, severing a fresh victim with each swing. One of his warriors gave a shout of alarm and Dorn spun around to see more of the enemy creations surging up from the dark staircase, their weapons blazing. He shouldered his own men aside in his haste to engage them. Helbrecht and his champions were into the new arrivals first. The High Marshal unleashed his rage and determination in an ear-splitting cry as he led his Sword Brethren into the enemy. Each one of the Terminators was a seasoned veteran of countless battles, a consummate warrior that few could match. The Sword Brethren gave their all as they met the enemy, pummelling them with bolter fire and tearing bodies to pieces with the power of their charged fists and swords. In their midst strode Naugus, protg of the legendary Chaplain Grimaldus, the Hero of Helsreach. Naugus was a fury to behold, towering even over his brothers. He swung his crozius in great, devastating arcs as he bellowed the Catechism Eterna, the burning censers set into the head of the weapon billowing spiced

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smoke out across the melee. Helbrecht was a devastating and brilliant warrior, but the press of enemy bodies about him was such that even he failed to notice the glowing tip of the dreadful weapon as it levelled upon him. Nauguss inescapable gaze saw the danger before him and he drove his way forward through the Pariah-Marines, decrying the threat even as he brought his arm back to strike. Strike he did, and the unfortunate son of Magog paid the ultimate price. The glowing wings of Nauguss crozius carved a diagonal path through the things metal skull and emerged at its shoulder, parting the beast violently. In his haste to save his High Marshal the Chaplain had thrust himself forward of his own lines and found himself surrounded then. Death pressed in around him and he spun on his heel, smashing the Nihilum Sons away. A crackling blade swept past his face, too close for comfort. Another stabbed forth and burst his bolt pistol as if it were a piece of overripe fruit. He kicked out, knocking one of his attackers aside. Even as he did so another of the enemy warriors charged at him, its elbow smashing into his face. The Chaplain staggered back but the weight of his powerful armour was against him. The wall crumbled beneath his bulk and he fell into space, yet even as he did so he snatched at his killer and held fast, dragging the Pariah-Marine to its death along with him. Naugus made no sound as he tumbled from sight, leaving a wide gap in the bulwark in his wake. No! Helbrechts eyes widened as he witnessed the Chaplain fall from sight. He made to run to the edge but his own warriors held him at bay, a thicket of arms crossing before him to deny him. He is lost! One of the Sword Brethren uttered, his voice made deep and grainy by the vox-speakers in his helm. Naugus is no more, my lord. We can but avenge him. Helbrecht tore his way free with a snarl, and for a tense moment it seemed as if he would strike his own brethren. No matter the anger inside him, the High Marshal was made of sterner stuff. For every son of the Emperor lost, we will take the lives of ten! He roared, entering the fray once more. The Eldar Phoenix Lord Maugan Ra was a storm of death and vengeance amongst the enemy. His arms blurred as he twisted the dreaded weapon Maugetar about him, each and every pass scything limbs free. He continued to fire even as he attacked, deadly shuriken flaying armour and dead flesh all about him. The beast himself rose from the staircase then, the darkness below spilling after him as if the shadows themselves were drawn to the void at his core. Magog stepped out onto the summit of the tower, a vision of dark majesty that towered head and shoulders above his warriors. All eyes turned to the Void Champion. Maugan Ra was the first to engage him. The alien vision of death swept the lesser Pariah-Marines aside to meet their lord in single combat. He turned his ancient weapon upon Magog and unleashed a storm of razor-edged death, saturating the Champions vast armoured form with shuriken fire. Magog weathered the bladed storm, ignoring the uncountable impacts as they stripped whorls of armour from him. He raised his mighty glaive above his head, his glowing eyes finding the towering form of Dorn beyond.

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Dorn. The ground shook as he charged, batting the ancient Phoenix Lord aside as if he were beneath his attention. Helbrecht and his Templars saw this and moved as one to counter the ancient traitor. Magog met the Sword Brethren and as he did so, the metal death mask he wore blazed with emerald fire, his terrible eyes burning brightly. The advancing Terminators slowed, the unnatural radiance chilling them to their bones. Not one of these implacable warriors had ever known true fear before, and the unfamiliar sensation at their hearts gave them pause enough for the foul Void Champion to press home his attack. Magogs weapon shimmered and he cut through the Terminators with languid ease, his blade passing effortlessly through the ancient suits of armour. Made intangible by the unknown energies that powered it, the alien weapon met no resistance. Six of the finest warriors the Black Templars had ever known died in moments, fighting to protect their High Marshal. Helbrecht felt the deaths of his brothers as a dagger through his hearts and he leapt to meet Magog, his flaming blade bright against the darkening skies. Magog simply turned the blow aside with the back of his fist and bore on, shouldering Helbrecht aside. Dorn. He uttered again, his mechanical voice deep and resonant. The Primarch heard this and saw the path of destruction that his errant brother had carved through his warriors to reach him, and he knew then that Magog would not rest until Rogal Dorn lay dead at his feet. The Void Champions eyes were alight with a terrible fire still, a fire infused with diabolical power. It was a fire designed to steal the determination and zeal from the hearts of men, but he was far from just a man. You are nothing, Cassus! He cried out, driving his feet into the stone and launching himself forward. You are but a ghost of the past, and I will lay you to rest once and for all! Dorn and Magog met and the skies trembled. Dorns sword rang as it struck Magogs glaive just beneath the glowing blade and, for all his might, Dorns strike came to a shuddering halt. Magog pushed back and sent his brother reeling, his arms cycling in an attempt to balance himself. Magog pressed on, swatting aside the Fists and Templars that surged to meet him. There was nothing that would stop him in his quest to put his brother to the sword. Dorn found his balance quickly and readied himself to meet the Void Champion in time to parry a vicious strike. He gripped his sword in both hands as he took up the defensive, the very presence of his unearthly foe testing him. Magog rained blows down upon him again and again, fighting to breach Dorns defences through sheer strength and relentlessness. The Imperial Fists Primarch ducked low and shouldered Magog back. As the Void Champion reeled Dorn swept his blade out and drew a deep line through his opponents chest armour. He rode the momentum of the strike and spun on his heel, bringing his sword down to connect with Magogs neck. The unrelenting Void Champions free hand darted out and his fingers closed around the blade. Coruscating energies flared from the Void Champions fingers and enveloped Dorn, charging his body with power enough to expose his skeleton in bright, sporadic flashes. Dorn reeled back but the lightning bolts followed, arcing from Magog to connect the two Primarchs with snaking fingers of power. Helbrecht rose, his fury at being to contemptuously denied setting his features alight. He ached where the Void Champion had impacted with him but the pain of that strike was as nothing compared with the thirst for vengeance at his core. He raised his sword, ready to charge, when a knot of Fists and Templars raced towards him, their bolters roaring. Just as Magog had disregarded him, so in turn had he allowed the lesser enemy to slip his mind for a

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moment. This had almost proved to be his undoing. He cast around in time to see a line of Pariah-Marines lurching back away from him, multiple bolt impacts smashing against their bodies. The Marines ran past him, bringing chainswords and knives to bear. Even as they did so a brace of the brave warriors fell, their bodies ravaged by the flaying properties of the return fire. Every cell in his body screamed, imploring him to bolster his Primarch, but he knew that if he did, these valiant few who had saved him would be destroyed for their efforts. My Emperor, watch over your son. He whispered, throwing a final glance over his shoulder before he sprinted towards the top of the staircase in order to join his brothers. Dorn hammered his elbow into the Void Champions face and thrust with his sword. Magog batted the blade aside but Dorn was unfazed. He balled his fist and delivered a powerful blow to Magogs ribs, the armour there buckling beneath the blow. A second punch rang against the Void Champions chest and a third snapped his head back, exposing his throat. Dorn did not have time to bring his sword to bear and so he rammed his fingers into the collection of metal tendons there, hoping that the strike would be enough to sever Magogs head from his body. The Void Champion quailed beneath the blow but did not fall. He toppled back into his warriors, his vast weight sending a number of them tumbling over the tortured bulwark. Dorn did not wait to see if Magog would follow them to their doom. He advanced, thrusting the sword before him. The blade sang as it ground through the fiends chest armour and sank deep into the unseen stuff beyond. Sparks burst from the wound and a thin, dark ichor hissed as it spurted free. Dorns victory was a fleeting one however, he realised as much when he saw the pulsing weapon of his enemy rising to meet him. The gauss beam slammed into him with the force of a charging Titan, punching him back even as it began to strip the layers of his armour away. He hauled his sword free and rolled clear, flakes of armour still drifting free of him as they were pulled towards the weapon. He came back up onto his feet and drew his sword back, hurt and tested, but far from done. Dorn. Magog growled once again, rising to meet him. Death comes for you. No, Cassus, it is you who will fall this day. The Ctan made a void of your soul. I vow that I will make a void of your existence. For all the Primarchs determination and bravado, he found himself denied then in those next few tense moments. He came from nowhere, a flurry of blurred colour and beating crystalline wings. Baharroth descended like a hawk, his lasweapon stabbing bright lances of fire into the Void Champions vast form. He uttered a shrill avian cry as he tore into the heretic, his enchanted blade flashing again and again. Dorn could not help but marvel at the speed and skill of the alien warrior. Magogs fury was evident as he fought to counter the Phoenix Lord. His weapon was powerful but it was awkward, its length unsuited to such close quarters fighting. Baharroth kept himself tight to his opponent as he continued to attack, flowing about Magog like the wind. Beyond the clash, he could see that those of the Nihilum Sons who were fighting to gain access to the tower top were finding their progress greatly hindered. He could only imagine the hundreds they had killed as they had fought their way through the labyrinthe tunnels and access ways that led to the wall top. Both Maugan Ra and Helbrecht were at the forefront of the defending Marine forces and they were doing a fine job in keeping the Pariah-Marines at bay. Those of the enemy who had found success in gaining access to the walls were beginning to pay for that accomplishment. The defenders were giving no quarter in meeting them, and Baharroths Hawks were thick

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in the air as they descended to counter the enemy, sending waves of lasfire into them and raining grenades across the bulwarks. Through it all, shuriken fire continued to scythe through the enemy from afar. Dorn could only postulate that the warriors of Maugan Ra were responsible for this, for they seemed to possess weapons capable of sending forth the silent death so magnanimous of the Eldar as well as the missile fire that had since ceased. Dorn saw all this and knew that it was now he needed to act. The forces of the enemy were reeling for their arrogance, and to despatch Magog now would be to sever the head from the body. Let this end now. He snarled beneath his breath. Dorn crossed the space in a flash, despatching one of the errant enemy with ease as the thing rushed to counter him. Even as he reached Magog the beast found his first chink in the Eldars attack. Baharroth made to strike the Void Champion and Magog snatched at his shimmering blade. Metal rang against wraithbone and otherworldly energies flashed. The sword bit deep into his fingers but Magog held on, his strength enough to steal away the Phoenix Lords momentum. He increased his grip and unleashed a maelstrom of electrical power; the whickering fingers of energy setting Baharroth alight. The Phoenix Lord spasmed and reeled back but he would not let go of his sword. Magogs fingers came away but still the lightning spilled from him, wracking the ancient Eldar being with painful convulsions. Baharroth fell to the ground, his wraithbone armour smouldering. Dorn was upon Magog even as the discharge ceased and he intended to show his brother no quarter. Magog found time only to raise his ruined hand up to shield himself. Dorns blade sliced through the arm at the elbow, sending it spinning away in a wash of sparks. Magog drove his knee up and the blow connected with a solid clang against Dorns chest. He fought to keep the impact from bending him at the waist but it was to no avail. Magog slammed his ruined elbow down into the base of Dorns neck and then brought his knee up once again, launching Dorn into the air. The Primarch came down hard, the flags compressing beneath his weight. Almost at the same moment Helbrecht appeared in his vision, punished and bloodied from his fight with the Pariah-Marines. He crashed into the wall before the Primarch, clearly struggling to keep himself from falling over the edge. One of the enemy ran to finish the job, but its efforts were in vain. Helbrecht rose and wrapped his arms around the warrior, using its own momentum to toss it over the edge of the precipice. He hung there for long moments after, as if frozen. Dorn imagined the High Marshal to be taking a moment to relish the demise of another of their foe, but even as he thought this, a part of him knew that it was not so. Something else had caught Helbrechts eye. The High Marshal cried out then, but whatever it was he said was lost on the Primarch as he witnessed something incredible. A dark shape soared from the abyss beyond, rising fast to ascend above the High Marshal. Dorn caught sight of blazing flame, fire the colour of blood. Like some angelic vision, Chaplain Naugus rose from the death that had claimed him, alive and unharmed. Only it was not the Chaplain that had saved himself through some divine miracle, but rather he had been saved by another, far darker vision of death. The Lord of Death landed before Dorn and released his living cargo. Mephistons flaming wings folded behind his back and then ceased to be, dissipating in fading licks of fire. He turned his burning gaze to the Primarch and inclined his head.

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Primarch Dorn. The Sons of Blood have come to help bolster these defences, and it would seem that we have arrived just in time. With that Mephiston gave out an animalistic roar and tore his force sword free of its holster, just in time to meet another fresh enemy surge. Pariah-Marines flooded into the tight spaces surrounding the walls and Mephiston met them without pause, his fangs bared. His first few strikes tore the enemy apart, ending an ancient life with each swing. Dorn rose sharply and watched as more shapes clambered over the bulwarks and threw themselves onto the wall top, howling like feral beasts. The Blood Angels were feral, they were animals clad in twisted armour, with skin the colour of Lunas surface. Many of the creatures were not even armed, instead relying on their won flensing claws, fangs and inhuman strength to tear the enemy asunder. Those that were armed sported huge chainblades bristling with barbed teeth, weapons designed to tear open the veins and entrails of the foe and loose their blood. Helbrecht and Naugus met in a warriors embrace, hands clasped tightly together. The Chaplain said nothing of his return from death or his terrible saviour, for the call of battle sang in his blood and his crozius thirsted for the taste of the Nihilum Sons. Through it all, Magog looked on, watching as the defenders numbers were further bolstered. He held out his ruined arm, the ragged stump oozing an unnatural gore, and the alien symbol carved into the centre of his chest opened. Hundreds of miniscule machines scuttled from the depths of his torso to crawl across his chest and down towards the injury. They quickly formed at the nexus of the damage and began to reknit the wound, rebuilding their masters arm inch by inch at a rate that seemed impossible. Within seconds an entire metal skeleton had been reconstructed, the mechanical fingers flexing as it being tested. Even as the machines began to reform Magogs armoured gauntlet over the fresh reconstruction, the metal bones of the new hand began to crackle with power. Not again, filth. Dorn spat. He leapt forward and met the Void Champion once again, so swiftly that even Magog could not find the time to bring his warscythe to bear. The Primarch rained blows down upon his brother, his limbs moving almost too fast for the eye to follow. The Void Champion countered again and again but it was all he could do to drive away each deadly strike. He attempted to raise his weapon to meet his foe, but each time he did so Dorn batted the scythe aside and continued to press home, never once allowing Magog and inch. Laser blasts slammed into the Void Champions back as Baharroth joined the fray. He was a blur of colour and movement and he crossed the space between him and his foe in an instant. His glowing blade slid from Magogs chest, piercing the Void Champion cleanly. Dorn! The fiend cried again, this time his mechanical voice loud and weighted with anger. He threw himself into a twist and flung the Phoenix Lord from him, blade and all. Baharroth twisted away over Dorns head, his wings humming to life. Mephiston gave out a cry of bloodlust and loped into the fight, his bestial body low, his sword at the ready. He scored a deep gouge across the chest of the Void Champion, the psychic energies that gave life to his blade guttering and popping under the sphere of the Pariah Lords influence. Kill it, Blood Angel! Take its head from its shoulders! Dorn commanded, fighting to find a space for himself at the edge of the combat. Mephiston was only too happy to oblige. He stabbed at Magog, his blade passing an inch from the Champions face, and then returned with a raking strike that saw the claws of his free hand tear strips from the dark Primarchs metal face. Dorn saw his opening and took it. He shouldered his way into the fight and connected solidly with his brothers vast body, the blow knocking Magog back into the wall. The thick rockcrete blocks groaned

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beneath the Void Champions weight, threatening to give way at any moment, and Rogal Dorn was only too happy to persuade them to yield. You are done! He cried, drawing his arm back in readiness to strike. It was a moment in time, a single, fleeting heartbeat, but it was all the Void Champion needed. He threw his arm up and fired, activating the terrible power of the gauss cannon of his warscythe. The shimmering beam grew as it passed along the acceleration chamber and burst free of the bladed barrel, connecting squarely with Dorns wide chest. The Primarch took a step back but already the agony of the assault coursed through him, the despicable beam flaying his armour apart, atom by atom. A cry of denial rose up from beyond him and Helbrecht threw himself forward, ready to deny the Void Champion his kill, even if it meant his own life. The High Marshal passed in front of the beam and took its full force away from his Primarch. Dorns own armour was a unique and incredibly ancient thing, fashioned at the very dawn of the Imperium by artisans whose dark arts had long since been lost to the veil of time. For all its own potency, Helbrechts golden artificer armour was far from its match. The High Marshal convulsed as the alien beam cut him to pieces, flaying apart his chest in a storm of blood, flesh and glittering armour fragments. Dorn fell back a second before the gauss beam passed through Helbrechts torso and continued on, its power undiminished. Mephiston swept his sword up and smashed the scythe away, the impact causing the beam to stutter and cut out. The Void Champion made to rise but Dorn was already up on his feet, alight with righteous fury. He descended on Magog like a wraith and drove his blade deep into the base of the Champions throat, a strike that ceased only as the golden hilt of the weapon rang against the fiends gorget. Emerald sparks cascaded from the wound and from the glowing eyes of the Void champion. He emitted a strangled mechanical cry and convulsed. Dorn rose and pulled his sword free, hatred and contempt twisting his features. He raised his foot and slammed it down into Magogs prone form, the power of the blow literally shattering the wall behind the Void Champion to rubble. Cassus Magog slipped from sight, the darkening void beyond swallowing him up. Dorns expression remained unchanged as he leaned over the parapet to watch his brother fall. Though they grew smaller with the passing of each moment, Magogs blazing eyes burned bright, and the hatred at Dorns heart was mirrored in that gaze. Their eyes remained locked for long moments, and then Magog threw back his head and spread his arms, almost as if to embrace his coming death. A darkness burst from him then, pouring from every part of his body to spread like oil in water, alive and impenetrable. The veil spread with a speed no one present could ever have imagined, rushing up and over the wall to engulf everyone and everything within its midnight-black coils. Dorn crossed his arms before his face instinctively, fearing that the phenomenon was some new and unknown method of attack. The cloying darkness engulfed him and he shivered. It was ice cold, as cold as the grave. He could not help but hold his breath for it was as if the void itself had opened up and swallowed him whole. With the impenetrable darkness came a feeling of desolation, of remoteness and utter despair. He bared his teeth and fought against the foul sensations, unwilling to let this pall of living shadow bring about his downfall. Much to his surprise the black miasma retraced then. It enveloped the remains of the tower for only a

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moment before it sank away, twisting and sliding after the falling Void Champion. Dorn swept the last of the lingering shadows away and looked on as the veil of darkness grew ever smaller, twisting into a tightening vortex until it disappeared from sight, compressed into nothing. Magog was gone. Whatever it was that he had done, the phenomenon had spirited him away. My lord Dorn. He rose and looked into the feral eyes of Mephiston as the Blood Angel was joined by the brace of Phoenix Lords. Magog has escaped his death. He said, announcing the distasteful fact to each of the trio as one. Maugan Ra inclined his head. Yes. The Void Champion is gone for now. He has called upon the unnatural powers of the Necrontyr to spirit both himself and his minions away, but he will return. We have tested him, Rogal Dorn, and he will be made wiser for it. He knows now that a direct attack will not bring him the victory he craves. When he returns, we will be ready for him. Mephiston added with a growl. Dorn turned his gaze to the fallen warrior at his feet. Even in death, Helbrecht cut a proud and regal figure. The Primarch ignored the horrific wounds to the High Marshals body and instead took in his face. There was no pain there, nor fear. Only peace. He died a fine and noble death, Rogal Dorn. Baharroth said, his voice soft and melodic. He will be honoured in the memory of the Eldar. Dorn bowed softly and then looked to Mephiston once again, his eyes shifting left to right to take in the growing number of Blood Angels that began to congregate about him. The timing of your arrival could not have been better, Librarian. Many have fallen to the Nihilum Sons and their dark master, and yet that number could have been much higher. You have my thanks. Your thanks are not needed, Primarch. Mephiston replied, a core of simmering nuisance in his voice. I fear that my arrival here was far from coincidence. I came to bring warning, Lord Dorn. Dorns face hardened as he heard this, his muscles in his cheeks bunching. He looked on as Mephiston gestured out to the west, in the direction of the Eternity Wall Gate. The forces of chaos have made their play, my lord. Mortarion is martyred to the cause, his rot unleashed. The enemy advance upon the Gate, led still by the pretender Guilliman, the Ethereals hot on his heels. Soon, the Void Dragon will make his play. Then it is time to prepare for the next phase. Maugan Ra answered. He glanced to his Phoenix Lord brother and together the two ancient beings left the gathering without another word. Dorn did not watch them go, instead choosing to fix his gaze upon the ever-darkening skies, the night once again drawing near. The real war for Terra was soon to begin

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Four: Destiny Unfolds.

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Roboute Guilliman strode through the gathered Tau, his face a mask of disgust. All around him lay the putrescence of the Death Guards collective demise. It was a stinking, cloying disorder and the warriors of the Unity were suffering for it. Little remained of the dead traitors that could be identified. Even armour had melted away to filth, the ancient ceramite decaying as if it had consisted of biological matter. The daemonic entities that had accompanied the bloated warriors of Mortarion had suffered a similar fate. They too had simply rotted away, each unnatural death leaving behind a spreading puddle of black, gelatinous filth thick with spores and odious moulds. He gave a hiss of infuriation as he regarded the Fire Warriors nearest him. Quite a number of them had removed their helmets in order to expel the contents of their stomachs and, of those, many were almost foetal upon the glistening ground, their bodies wracked with painful convulsions. Everywhere he looked, once grey skin had taken on an altogether sickly pallor. He looked into the eyes of a ShasEl and saw only pain, the warriors face covered in patches of dark pustules. The Tau witnessed the approach of the Primarch through rheumy eyes and bowed his head in respect, fighting to steady his stance as he did so. My lord Guilliman, thethe enemy have been routed Despite himself, Guilliman could not help but feel pity of the wretched creature. A part of him sneered at the weakness of the warriors constitution, but reason told him that he could expect nothing else. Whatever purpose the demise of the Death Guard had served, it seemed to be working. Lord Guilliman! He slowed and cast around at the hail. Both Bile and Berolinus were picking their way through the sick and the dead towards him. Though he picked up signs of discomfort in both of them, neither seemed particularly affected by their poisonous surroundings. What foulness is this, Apothecary? He called, gesturing about him. Mortarions rotting legions gave of themselves to release this pox amongst us. Tell me, am I fated to lose my armies? Biles brow furrowed at the consideration of Guillimans question. His eyes darted about him as he took in the appalling sights. My lord Primarch, I have already taken the liberty of mobilising every available medical unit we have in order to respond to thisdespicable act. I have sequestered additional Pathfinder support to deal with the battlefield injuries and informed Korvesa command to despatch as many medicae drones as they are able to muster. I have ordered a full biological assessment Will I lose my armies? Guilliman asked again, the tone of his voice leaving no doubt in Biles mind that the Primarch expected the next words to leave his mouth would form a resolute answer. II cannot say. He admitted, his pace slackening. It is clear that the enemy intended to infect our legions, but with what, I do not know. One thing I can be sure of is that the contagion is warp-based. The biological toxins that have been released are powerful, there is no doubt about that, but I do find myself surprised that the casualties have thus far been kept to a minimum. You diagnosis does little to alleviate my concerns, Apothecary. I understand that, my lord. What I mean to say is that Mortarion serves the foul god of pestilence and decay. I have seen the work of the Plague Lord first-hand, many times. I have seen viruses unleashed powerful enough to liquefy flesh and bone. I have seen the enemies of Nurgle instantaneously split apart

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by infestations of maggots, or spore invasions that causes the victim to vomit his own viscera. Lord, this plague is not designed to kill, it would seem, but rather to debilitate and weaken. To what end, I cannot say. And I will not allow our imminent victory to be waylaid, Fabius. Guilliman answered, balling his fist in defiance of the Apothecarys bleak prognosis. Go. Liase with the best medical staff you have and obtain answers. Instruct scouting teams to determine how far through the ranks this corruption has spread, but be sure to recruit them from the uninfected elements of our forces. I will not risk dispersing this damned poison further. Contain this, Fabius. You are to consider that order sacrosanct. As do I always, lord. Fabius answered with a deep bow. With that he turned and left, heading deeper into the scattered Unity ranks. Berolinus had remained silent through the exchange, awaiting his lords pleasure. Guilliman looked to him then and gestured about him at the ruination and carnage that blighted his armies. This may prove to set us back, Berolinus. Night draws ever closer, and with it the completion of another day. Another day we have thus far failed to break the final fastness of the corrupted Imperium. AunVas plans are further delayed, and this will serve to anger Him. I will not be found wanting in my lords eyes, Berolinus. Tell me what I can do, my Primarch, and it will be done. The Ultramarine replied, his face colouring in empathy with his masters displeasure. He took in the sickness and death about him, his lip curling in disgust at the failing of the Tau and the other weaker elements of the Unity forces. Guilliman dismissed the thousands about him with a sweep of his hand. There is little we can do to bolster the constitution of our forces until we hear from Fabius. The Apothecary is confident that this latest spineless attack is not intended to kill, but to sicken our forces. I would know why this is so. My lord, if there were any survivors amongst the enemy then I would tear the answers from their throats, but there is not. The Death Guard have perished to a man. I fear that the answers lie beyond the walls of the defences. I agree. Guilliman said. And it would seem that both Calgar and my brothers have made their pact with the Ruinous Powers. Now you see, Berolinus. If ever you held the slightest doubt in your heart of the validation of our cause here, let that doubt be expunged for all time. The corruption of the Imperium is more total than even I had dared to fear. No, this war must be ended as soon as possible. We must gather every able-bodied warrior we have left and press home our attack on the Eternity Wall Gate. The Ethereals come, and we must show them that we are not to be found wanting even in the face of this latest treachery. We must show them that we are still strong. And the weak must be purged, my lord. Berolinus answered, turning his gaze to the writhing warrior at his feet. Guilliman inclined his head. Fabius seems confident that this plague was incubated in the foul tides of the Empyrean. If this is so then we may find a measure of protection in the influence of the null-drones. Order as many as you can forward. We will await the arrival of the Ethereals and assail the Gate with the onset of night Even as Guilliman spoke, he looked to Berolinus to see the warrior avert his gaze and fall to one knee. Almost at the exact same instant, every cell in his body came alive, his very biological constitution responding to the approach of something magnificent and revered.

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Light flared before Primarch and Astarte alike as the Ethereal came into being, its burning form spilling out of the air to tower before them both. Revered Aun Guilliman whispered, mirroring the obeisance of his ward. The Ethereal studied both of its subjects for a moment, its inhuman eyes blazing, and then spoke. What manner of ruination is this? Guilliman visibly quaked beneath the weight of the question, a reaction born of the reverence in his heart. My lord Aun, the enemys cowardice has seen our warriors brought low, but we are far from done. There is no excuse for failure, Kaiguela. The Ethereal uttered, its voice flat and rumbling with power. Perhaps AunVa was wrong to entrust the prosecution of this war to you. His gaze is all-pervading. He casts it across this theatre of war and sees nothing but failure about him. The enemy continues to best us at every turn. The Palace should have been breached by now. Perhaps your role in this war is coming to an end. Upon hearing this Guilliman threw his head to the floor and beseeched the Aun for clemency. I live to serve the Greater Good, lord Aun. I will not debase myself in begging for forgiveness, but I will offer you this guarantee. Come the breaking of the new day, the Eternity Wall Gate will have fallen, and all those who oppose our push into the Palace will fall. I vow this. +++ Now is the time to strike. It was Angron who had spoken, and he made no attempt to mask the murderous anticipation in his voice. Qah heard this and signalled his agreement. Events proceed as they should. Mortarions sacrifice has undoubtedly applied pressure to Guillimans cause, especially with the approach of the Ethereals What of the contagion? Codian asked, gesturing towards the billowing spore clouds beyond, kept at bay only by the efforts of Magnuss coven. The Unity forces may have been slowed by this, but at what cost to us? We are unable to force a counterattack. It was Magnus himself who answered the question. We do not have to fear the effects of the corruption. My sorcerers have seen some success in divining the properties of the contagion. It is hyper-accelerated, designed to spread incredibly fast. Once it is absorbed by the victim it takes root and is near impossible to purge, but in its airborne state it burns itself out incredibly fast. It cannot be passed from victim to victim once it is absorbed. In short, it will be safe to attack within the hour. And you can be sure of this? Codian enquired suspiciously. We are dealing with the forces of chaos here, after all. History shows us that Mortarion is capable of much treachery That much is true, Chaplain, yes. But know this. The contagion is warp-based, and there are few that know

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the influences of that realm better than I. Besides, I need not remind you how history portrays me, and you know that I will give my life to see this war bring victory to the enemies of the Unity. Trust me when I say that we have nothing to fear from Mortarions plague. Codian bowed his head to the Primarch then, trusting his answer. Very well. So, what now, Magnus? Night draws ever closer and we have seen a victory of sorts against Guillimans forces. The Chaplain poses an important question, sorcerer, and we would all have the answers. Calgar cut in, asserting his authority over the gathering once more. The warriors of the Unity are infected by this terrible, wasting disease, I will grant you that. And yet you tell us that we cannot advance to meet them in order to consolidate this victory. Are we to end yet another day locked in this stalemate? The Ethereals of the Tau draw close, Magnus, and you tell us that nothing can be done to halt their progress. I am no fool as to the abilities of the enemy. I know that these abominations cannot be affected by such things as disease. That much is true, Warmaster, but fear not. Even now the Eldar gather, for their role in this war is about to be put into effect. As we speak they work to summon an entity that will meet the Ethereals before these walls and contest their push to breach our defences. And what manner of entity would have the power to meet the Ethereals, Magnus? War himself. The sorcerous giant replied. +++ It is as magnificent as it is terrifying, is it not? Inquisitor Jena Orechiel folded the flowing lapels of her coat about her as she regarded the shimmering wall of sorcerous power before her. Though she did not answer, she agreed fully with the observations of her companion. Czevak gestured to the warrior-mystics of the Coven, his head turning softly from side to side in disbelief. To think, for thousands of years these beings were regarded amongst the worst heretical enemies of the Imperium, and yet here they are now, fighting to preserve us from death. Hmm. Would that I could trust the motives of these chaos-embracing witches. Orechiel hissed, her eyes narrowing at the very sight of them. It matters little to me who vouches for Magnus and his ilk. I find it impossible to dismiss a lifetime of dogma so easily. Czevak allowed himself a muted smile at the reaction of his companion. They had both left the tense meeting a short while ago for, although neither of them had admitted as much, the pair of Inquisitors found the presence of so many near-mythical beings somewhat daunting. It was as if they were bearing witness to an event that so far transcended them that their presence felt almost intrusive, no matter their shared status. No, Czevak told himself. Even here, witnessing the dark marvel that was the combined efforts of Magnuss sorcerers, they both felt a little more at ease. The events that were unfolding in this war were secret, ominous and many. Their departure from the council would matter little. Ahriman. Orechiel said after a period of silence. He hunted for you, Czevak. He fought to seize you, so

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that he could gain access to the secrets of the Eldar webway. Czevak lowered his head a little at hearing this, the memories of that distant time flowing through his mind once again. He did, Jena. I know what you are thinking. Oh? Orechiel arched an eyebrow at this response, intrigued by the Inquisitors apparent precognitive abilities. As he answered, Czevaks gaze wandered once again to the ancient magisters of the Thousand Sons. I was a pawn then, Jena. A playing piece, one tiny part of this colossal game. The question on your mind is one that has wandered through my own thoughts many times. Why did Ahriman do what he did to me? Why did he try to break me to discover the secrets of the Black Library, when all along the Thousand Sons and the Eldar were fated to unite in this final war? And your answer? Czevak shrugged. Because I was not important enough, Lady Orechiel. Because my life did not matter to the greater scheme of things. Orechiels eyes narrowed at this. She raised a hand up and gestured out at their surroundings. How can you say that? Look where you are, Czevak. You stand at the threshold of the Emperors Palace. You are counted amongst the legions that are fated to defend the last bastion of mankind. This is destiny. This day, and those that follow, will become legend. I hope you are right, Jena. He replied. I hope we all survive to see the Ctan defeated, but you fail to see the truth of my answer. There are many who knew all this would come to pass, many more than either of us could have dared to guess. The Eldar knew of this war, so too the Thousand Sons. I was a pawn in their games Jena and yet no one saw fit to tell me the truth. The Eldar did. Yes, but only after many mortal lifetimes of incarceration. Dont you see? To the greater beings at work behind all this, I am but a child, incapable of understanding and beneath for explanation. This irks me, my lady. I could have given so much, and yet I have given nothing. I could have made a difference. You still can, Czevak. Orechiel answered, placing a hand upon his shoulder. Her piercing blue eyes met his, and for a moment, only a lingering silence passed between them. Let them underestimate us, it matters little. We are Inquisitors. We are children of the God-Emperor. We will make a difference here. Czevak seemed to take a measure of assurance from this. You are right, Jena. We will His words trailed away then, causing concern to creep across Orechiels face. She noticed that his gaze had shifted from the efforts of the sorcerers, his eyes now turned to the darkening skies above. She followed his stare but could not see anything that would have attracted his attention.

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What is it? The Eldar. Czevak answered, pointing to the distant lights of the warring fleets in orbit. Something is happening. Look. Orechiel did so but remained confounded by whatever it was that her cohort had seen. You have lost me. The ships. Look closer and you will see it. something is happening. Jena, you dont spend as long with the Eldar as I have and not learn to recognise such signs. I knew something was happening. Dont you feel that? At this point, Orechiel was utterly confounded. A deep frown fell across her face and she looked to Czevak. The Inquisitor exhaled slowly and opened the fingers of one hand, as if to touch the air itself. I cannot fully explain it, but there is aa resonance in the air. It is a feeling one can neither describe nor teach, but it is there. There are webway portals opening up all around here, my lady, and the veil shudders at their activation. Do you not feel the hairs at the base of your neck standing on end? The Eldar are making their play. I His voice trailed away then, suspicion passing over his face. He took Orechiels hand in his and led her away from the wall, to where the nearest of the outlying prefabrications stood, the shadows between them deepened further by the onset of dusk. Czevak offered nothing in the way of explanation as he led her into the gloom, his eyes searching the darkness for something he knew he would not be able to see. I know you are here. Show yourself to us. Behind him, Orechiel flipped the leather holding strap of her holster open and slid her prized shuriken pistol free. Do you hear me? Czevak continued, his teeth bared. You mind games wont work on me, Eldar. I know your kind too well. have the good grace to reveal yourself. After a lingering moment the shadows before him quivered and then parted, a tall and slender figure stepping from beneath them into the half-lit gloom. As the illusion peeled away the vibrant colours of the aliens attire sparkled into being. It regarded both Inquisitors with a face of smooth, mirrored glass. Orechiel recognised the being for what it was, though her knowledge of the myriad factions of the Eldar was basic and far from that of her counterparts. You are able to see beneath the Veil, mon-keigh. The whispered reply was far more of a statement than a question. Czevak nodded nonetheless. I am able to recognise its presence, yes. What transpires here, Shadowseer? The Eldar are on the move. With that he reached into the folds of his robes and produced a small amulet. The teardrop piece was framed in gold and hung from a glittering chain around his neck. Orechiel studied the jewel and found, to her bewilderment, that she was unable to place the things actual colour. One moment it seemed to take on an amber hue, and then emerald, and a heartbeat after that, indigo. The artefact looked to shiver in Czevaks hand, almost as if it were somehow out of synch with the rest of reality. She recognised the jewel for what it was, or rather, what it consisted of. It was wraithbone, the mysterious,

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psycho-conductive material exclusive to the Eldar race. This thing has been going crazy for the last few minutes. Czevak continued. And I would know why. I sense Eldar wherever I turn, Shadowseer, hidden and secreted away from the eyes of all others, but not from me. So I ask again. What is happening? You are perceptive, mon-keigh. But then again, you are counted amongst those few of the lesser races that have walked the halls of the Black Library. You are correct, the Eldar move to counter the approach of the Ctan, to accelerate this war to the next level. It is our time for great sacrifice, Czevak. The Young Kings have given of themselves, and the Hymn of Khaine resonates through the halls of each and every Craftworld. He is coming, and all shall be war and blood.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Five: War Calls

She slid through the cold of the void, magnificent and utterly deadly to all who dared to challenge her. The Flame of Asuryan was a ship without compare, with all the grace of an ocean predator, faster and more agile than any of the lumbering enemy vessels. Her proud solar sails glittered in the light of the sun as she swept down beneath the colossal and imposing bulk of a Larshi and her turret pulsars spat lances of shining death across the airless expanse, raking the underside of the enemy craft with bright fire. Railgun batteries swivelled on their mounts to chase the ship but she was far too fast to target. A hail of powerful shells sailed after her as she ran in beneath the larger Tau vessel, screaming silently out into the vast emptiness of space, denied the kill. Scores of Remora drone fighters flooded from the launch bays to intercept the Flame but she was ready for them. Nightwing fighter craft spilled out of her keel to meet the automated ships and the battle was joined within moments of their emergence. The sleek Eldar fighters were more than a match for the drones, their guns tearing apart a fresh target with each blast. The fighters wheeled and spun through the Remora squadrons like birds of prey, flashing darts of blue and yellow that exuded destruction with every twist and turn of their sleek bodies. The Flame of Asuryan rose sharply, her nose almost vertical, the pulsars at her port erupting with power. Vast lances of light speared into the flank of the Larshi to cut swathes through the Tau vessel. Explosions spilled across its armoured hull, fed by the escaping air. At such a close range the shields of the Unity ship were virtually ineffectual and so each and every hit scored a critical wound. +++ Yriel stood on the bridge of his mighty Dragonship, his hands clasped firmly around the smooth wraithbone of the bar before him. Beyond this shimmered the vertical, fluid disc that was the Pool-Eye, the wall-spanning viewing port. Soft ripples of warp energy radiated across the disc as the ship rode the turbulent death of the Tau vessel. Yriels tall form swayed gently with the movements of his craft, riding the crest of the shockwaves with all the millennia of practice that came with being a veteran corsair, for there were few amongst the Eldar with more experience of a life sailing the void. A wash of energy shimmered briefly before his eyes as the ships shields countered the pulsing shockwaves.

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He closed his eyes then, his grip on the bar increasing. Through the very stuff of the craft he could hear the whispered voices of the Flames own Infinity Circuit, for many of her crew were far beyond mortal life. His eyes still closed, his brow creased softly as he listened. He focused his thoughts and pushed his consciousness forward, intrigued by the spirit chatter. The souls were restless, agitated, and whatever it was that was causing this, it was more than the excitement of the current situation. He could taste the edges of fear and anticipation in here. It was like a breeze, like the blade of an icy knife. The denizens of the Circuit were troubled. My Prince? The whispered voice cut through his mind and he realised then in his semi-reverie that the voice had been spoken from beyond, from the natural realm. He withdrew his thoughts and opened his eyes, blinking away the last vestiges of the thin, frosty film that had settled over his face. Kodurion stood behind him. The aging Farseers helm was removed and tucked beneath on arm. The ship rocked gently again as Yriel turned on his dais to meet the Farseer, his face wearing a mixture of annoyance and anticipation at being disturbed. There are ructions within the Circuit, old one. Yriel said. The Farseer nodded. The Matrix itself is unsettled, Autarch. Destiny calls us to the stage of war. It is our time. Yriels eyes narrowed at this, and all thoughts of the battle beyond the Pool Eye faded away. You are sure, Kodurion? I am, Autarch. The Matrix writhes in expectation. The call to war has been made and we must answer. The blood of Khaine begins to seethe. My Prince, they have been sighted. With that the Farseer raised a hand and gestured at the Pool-Eye. The fluid imaged shimmered and then changed, the ripples that spread from its centre sending concentric waves of white light washing across its rippling surface. The image shifted then, changing. Another area of space was shown. Yriel cast around to look upon the Pool-Eye and could not help but allow horror to transform his features. They come. The Farseer whispered behind him. And we must respond. Then my reign as the Autarch of Iyanden has come to an end. Signal Iyanden. It is already done, Autarch. Ynneads call is strong within the Matrix. As we speak, the Craftworlds hover at the edges of the void, ready to converge. The Prince of Iyanden indicated an acceptance of this with a slow nod. The fleets of Iyanden have done enough here, Kodurion. To stay and continue our efforts in this theatre of war would surely see the destruction of every last one of our vessels. Signal the retreat. We will withdraw our forces from the orbit of this world and make ready for the next stage. I trust that the other Craftworld forces will take our lead? Autarch, the retreat is already underway. Our cousins of Biel-Tan have already withdrawn their ships, and as we speak, the fleets of both Kaelor and Alaitoc are in the process of disengaging. The others will surely follow soon. Ready the warpgates then, Farseer. Yriel replied coldly. The chamber of the Avatar calls, and I shall

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answer. +++ +++THE ETERNITY WALL GATE+++ Youyou are sure of this? Codian let out a long, calming sigh and then tilted his head. If Lord Calgar found any doubt in his heart at the revelation that had just been revealed to him in this private conference, the Chaplains resolute expression quelled it. I am, my lord. It is clear what we must do next, and now that I have revealed this secret to you, you may at last begin to understand why much of the secrecy you have witnessed in the prosecution of this war was necessary. I can only ask for your forgiveness that such things were not revealed to you sooner. Calgar shifted uneasily on his thick legs, the weight of the astonishing disclosure still sinking in. A short time ago the Chaplain had requested a private audience with the Warmaster, stating that there were important things he had to reveal, secrets that were for the Warmasters ears only. In the midst of the tense exchange of the council, it had been relatively easy for the two Ultramarines to find a secluded spot away from the main body of the gathering. Here, in the shadow of the surrounding prefabrications, idling war machines and the piles upon piles of munitions, Codian had told the master of the Alliance something that had utterly astounded him. Several minutes passed before Calgar would even reacquire the ability to speak. For so long, the weight of this consideration has sat heavy in my soul, Chaplain. Ever since the fall of Macragge, there has not been a day that has passed without the loss of our Primarch crossing my mind, and now you tell me that there is a chance that the lost Guilliman can be returned to us. The abomination that leads the forces of the Unity is a foe that is utterly dedicated to seeking the destruction of every living thing beyond these walls, Chaplain. He is a foe I have come to know and despise, and I hate him. I hate him because I am responsible for his creation, and that responsibility has worn away my soul for so long that I can never imagine an existence without it. Can it truly be that this dark travesty can be unmade? I would give my life to ensure this. Codian answered. Lord Calgar, we have a chance to undo the damage that was wrought upon the Ultramarines by the Unity. We have a chance to release blessed Guilliman from the yoke of the Tau. It is time to lay our guilt to rest, my lord. I will return Guilliman to us. I will restore the Primarch. How? Calgar asked, his voice heavy with anticipation despite its mechanical tone. Chaplain, you speak of a deed that has dominated my wildest, most secret desires. How will you achieve this? Qah has formulated a plan. The ancient alien is confident that he can release our Primarch from his imposed slavery, but this cannot happen while he remains beneath the watchful and protective influence of the Void Dragon. To see Guilliman returned to us, we must undertake a difficult and dangerous mission to the Ctans flagship Calgar emitted a low, cheerless groan at the Chaplains words. Codian, I cannot see how this can be possible. The forces of the Alliance are powerful, but even I can see no way of helping you to achieve this. The Chaplain shook his head. You do not have to concern yourself with this part of the mission, my lord. With Qahs help, I will take a small force to the ship in order to do what must be done. The secret to blessed Guillimans salvation lies

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there, and we cannot achieve his release without journeying to the Tau ship and locating Biles secret laboratorium. It is Bile who is responsible for the corruption of the abomination that even now assails our defences, Warmaster. So it is that we will find the answer to the Primarchs release high above us, in orbit. You propose a bold and courageous plan, Chaplain, but you cannot discount the power of the Void Dragon. We both know the dark secret of this Aunva, and we know that he is a creature capable of destroying any one of us, even you, without a thought. The Chaplain extended a hand out to gesture beyond the walls at this, to where the Ethereals of the Tau were still slowly but indisputably grinding their way towards the walls. You are correct, lord, and that is why Qah is unable to join us. The war beyond these walls should draw him like a moth to a flame in time, and when it does, that is when we shall act. Qah is needed here, for it is his presence that shall keep the Void Dragons attention away from what is happening high above. We have already made contact with brother Umbras and the others, and he has done well in his mission. We now have a small force of Tau that are free of the Void Dragons influence, warriors that are dedicated to avenging the wrong that has been done to their race and their empire. Qah is in the midst of retrieving this force as we speak. So, you intend to infiltrate the ship with these converted Tau? Yes. The vessel also houses the true mortal forms of the Ethereals. Down here on the battlefield they are near unbeatable, but if we are able to penetrate the inner defences of the ship then we could destroy these creatures in their lair, and thus end the Ethereal threat once and for all. All we need now is to find some way of creating a diversion, something that will draw the attention of the ships security forces away from us Take me. Calgar answered, flexing the fingers of his huge mechanical paws. I would give my life to see our Primarch released from his living torment. Take me, Codian. I will tear that damned ship apart inch by inch. Codian stepped close to the towering Dreadnought and placed a hand upon Calgars vast arm. He shook his head. My lord, I knew that you would offer yourself to this cause, but it cannot be. You are needed here. The men and women of the Alliance are yours alone to command, as it has always been. It matters not how many of the Primarchs have returned to the fold of the Imperium in its darkest hour, you are their Warmaster. You cannot abandon them now, not even for a cause such as this. The Chaplain speaks the truth, lord. A psychic voice uttered, its materialization surprising both of the Ultramarines. Codian turned to see a number of shapes emerge from the cover of the bunkers beyond and step out into the glow of the bright spot lamps. It was Tigurius, Ventris and Cassius. From their collective manner, Codian was left in no doubt that the trio had heard everything, especially the psychic Tigurius. With your permission, Warmaster, we will undertake this mission. The ancient said. For the Primarch and the good of the Alliance. Old friend, you must understand the dangers involved. Codian warned him. Your role would be one of distraction. You would need to draw the attention of the vessels crew away from us, and in doing so you would invite the wrath of uncounted enemy warriors. More so, you cannot afford to discount the Void Dragon. The moment you begin to run rampage aboard his ship, he will know. I can offer no guarantees that I would be able to extract you from this vipers nest. And we would ask for none, brother. Ventris answered. I am confident that I speak for all of us when I say that we would give our lives to see our Primarch restored and end the tyranny of the Ethereals. For years

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these b----rds have hunted us, hounded us at every turn. Our lives would be a small price to pay to see the millions that they have exterminated avenged. The ground beneath their feet quaked gently as Calgar moved to stand before the three warriors. We have been through the war together, brothers. Together, the four of us have held the remains of our Imperium in place. I would not see all three of you lost, not even for a cause such as this. My lord, we understand that. Cassius answered. But we are all, first and foremost, protectors of this Imperium. We exist but to ultimately give our lives to protect those within the Emperors fold. If we are to fall, then we will fall. For years we have retreated at every turn. We have given ground time and again to the enemy. Now, my lord, we have no more ground left to give. Here is where we make our final stand. It is time for us to take this war to the enemy. That we will be aiding the release of our Primarch with our actions is reason enough for us to do this. Warmaster, grant us your blessing. I will leave you to your discussions. Codian said. Ending his meeting with a gracious bow to all those present, he turned and walked away, swiftly entering the vast expanse beyond the collective of bunkers. No sooner had he done so than he noticed that something was happening. The defenders were alive with activity, enough so to cause him to increase his pace into a jog. Within minutes, he had spied the first familiar face. It was the Khan, both his stature and the brilliant white of his armour causing him to stand out amongst the tide of smaller bodies. Khan! He called, sprinting the remaining distance between them. Men and women parted before him, shocked by the sight of the dark figure bearing down upon them. As he neared, Jaghatai Khans gaze found him. What is this? What is happening? The Khan raised his curved blade and nodded towards the walls. They have decided that they cannot wait any longer. They are going over the wall, Chaplain, despite the lingering presence of the contagion. A dark shadow fell over the two warriors then, its presence causing the Khans voice to die away. Codian cast around to see the mighty crimson form of Angron towering over him. The Primarchs terrible eyes were aflame, burning with the fires of the forge. When he spoke, his voice was thick and rumbling, his breath heady with blood. We can wait no longer. These false things, these Ethereals, need to be shown the martial worth of a true opponent. You may be intent to cower behind these walls, Jaghatai, but I am not. I exist to spill blood, and if these pathetic xenos things have no blood to spill, then I will open them up and loose whatever passes for their vital fluids. You cannot kill them, Angron. The Khan growled in reply. The crimson giant gave a harsh, grating laugh at this. We shall see. Lord Khorne, master of murder! I would have you visit the Maelstrom of Gore upon this pathetic foe! To war! Angron took a single, thunderous step forward then, and as he did so his visage began to change. All that Angron, Daemon Primarch of the World Eaters truly was boiled to the surface, banishing the illusion he had wore since his arrival. Before he had been a huge and imposing creature, taller even than the other Primarchs, but as his true self

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tore its way through the mirage that had swathed him Codian could not help but gasp in horror. He was a monster, a true and utter abomination. He swelled to three or four times his size, his crimson armour splitting and reforming to become even more grotesque, a hideous tangle of red skin, smouldering brass and blood-drenched plate. His face took on a bestial, almost canine appearance and his long dreadlocks grew and grew to almost envelop his back. A mighty pair of leathered wings tore free of his back, growing as they unfurled. The mighty black iron blade he wielded came alive then, pulsing runes of chaos glowing white-hot across its surface. Angron took to the skies then with a mighty roar, his vast wings beating the air around him into a swirling gale. Far above, lightning raked the skies, and every flash showed a snapshot frozen in time. The clouds there were a deep crimson, churning as if with the power of the fires of Khornes forge. Moments later, the red rain began to fall. +++ Roboute Guilliman stood in silence, the night breeze gently tugging at the edges of his cloak. Far beyond him the lights of the Alliance defence lines glittered like stars in the darkness, almost as if their very presence existed but to defy his will. I will break you open. He whispered to the distant Palace. I vow this. I will bring your walls crashing down, in the name of the Unity and of blessed Aunva. You cannot protect the heretics that shelter within your walls forever. The rumble of thunder overhead stole his attention and he turned his gaze to the skies as the first strikes of lightning split the dark, unnatural clouds. A frown creased his face at this. When the rains began to fall minutes later, he found himself blinking the fat droplets from his eyes. They were warm, and uncharacteristically thick. He hissed in annoyance and wiped a hand across his face, only to be confronted by the heady tang of copper. Around him the sickly survivors of Mortarions plague groaned at this latest obstacle, many of them moving to seek shelter beneath the fins of skimmers and other such opportunistic sanctuaries. This situation was unacceptable, he told himself. He was the commander of the mightiest force in existence, and yet those warriors beneath his command mirrored nothing of this fact. The Tau were ravaged with disease now, and that infection was near total. Only those who were sealed within the powerful battlesuits had thus far managed to escape the contagion, but this was little comfort to him. His legions were reeling, despite the best efforts of the Apothecary and his medical teams. They had been punished, but they were far from done. He scanned the hordes beyond until his eyes fell on a familiar figure. Fabius! Report! The Apothecary glanced up from his ministrations and bowed his head. He crossed the yard at a steady pace and stood before the Primarch minutes later, the crimson rain running down his pale face in ominous rivulets. My lord, we are seeing some success in banishing the worst debilitating effects of this virus, but we have

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thus far failed to expel it from any of the victims. Will it kill them, Apothecary? Guillimans reply was low and direct, each word forced from his lips with all the power and menace of a verbal blade strike. Bile shook his head. For the most part, I do not believe so. We have seen many deaths amongst the human elements of the Unity though. The Vespid too, for all their alien constitution, have suffered badly at the hands of this disease, but the Tau seem better suited to weathering its worst effects. Then they will serve their original purpose Guilliman replied coldly. That is all that matters. Bile bowed his head at his lords answer and then hissed in annoyance. He wiped the back of his hand across his face, smearing the crimson liquid across his weathered features. Damn this stuff. The forces of chaos seek to discourage us with this latest vileness. Guilliman mused, glancing up at the skies. Once again, they vastly underestimate our resolve. I relish the prospect of educating them to this end. Almost as if in answer to this, a mighty roar resonated through the deluge, powerful enough to shiver the red rain itself. Both Guilliman and Bile turned their heads to look out at the distant walls at the sound. Though neither of them spoke of it, both felt the power and energy of the bestial noise set the blood deluge alight with resonance, charging each and every droplet with unnatural invigoration. Guillimans void-dark eyes narrowed at the terrible cry, and his patrician features tightened. No matter the changes wrought by time and corruption, recognition flared with the Primarchs soul. Angron. He uttered. By his side, Bile could not suppress the shiver of dread that cut through his soul.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Six: Drowned in Blood.

The defence lines were in chaos. Codian spat and shook his head in disgust, the vile taste of copper filling his mouth. The entire area was bathed in a rich crimson glow where the lamps that illuminated the walls had become stained with the vitae of the unnatural downpour. Men and Marines alike struggled to keep their footing as they slid in the thick filth. Preachers of the Imperial Cult moved amongst the panicked mass, decrying the foul influence of the powers of chaos. Small, scattered bands of Astartes stood together, their heads bowed, whispering quiet prayers of fortification. Codian offered up his own personal prayers as he negotiated the disarray and panic, scanning the crowds for any signs that the dark brethren of the Primarchs were still in attendance.

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There were no signs of any of them. He could only assume that, like Angron, they had taken the offensive and mobilised to meet Guilliman and his army in battle. The bedlam about him had stolen his sense of time and so he had found himself unable to fathom how much of it had passed, but in the long moments that had followed Angrons departure and the ensuing discord, he had caught snatches of conversation in passing from those who were in contact with the defence line outposts. From what he was able to understand, the fallen Primarchs were far from alone here on Terra. Hushed and terrified voices spoke of dark figures, warriors with the build of Astartes but of a far darker appearance. He had learned little more than this, but all that he had heard bore a sobering connection with the emergence of Mortarions Death Guard. He inwardly cursed the knowledge within him as he carried on, shouldering his way through the crowds. To the few he had spoken to of his gift, there were those who would have been forgiven for assuming that this inherited wisdom was a precise and absolute thing. This was far from the truth. The vast wealth of information inside him was akin to a history book. The information of the specific event was written down, set into the very pages of his mind, perusable and forever to hand. The event was recorded with an accuracy that no written tome could match, but what were hidden were the intricate and complex layers of detail that no account could ever record. Only the milestones of destiny were available to him; the journey itself was shrouded in obscurity. He knew what he had to do, what was expected of him. So too did he know of all the major events of this apocalyptic climax. This aside, there was an uncounted number of variables, of subplots and hidden stratums that could never be catalogued. Were the legions of the fallen Primarchs here on Terra, destined to fight alongside the dark icons that had dragged them into eternal oblivion? Of course, this was perfectly possible. Likely, even. Many following thoughts coursed through his mind at this, warring for dominance with the physical instincts that drove him forward. The legions of the chaos Marines were vast to the point where no one truly knew the scale of them. They were not governed by the restrictive measures of the Codex; but rather by the whims of their Primarch masters and the gods themselves. The Death Guard were gone now, if the rumours were to be believed, but what of the other legions? The fact that that they had not simply arrived here on Terra meant little. He had fought his ancient and corrupt brethren on many occasions in the past, and he knew that they were equally as given to the more unknown and arcane means of interplanetary travel as they were the more conventional method of spacecraft use. The Alliance could not afford to underestimate these fallen legions in their resourcefulness, and neither could the Tau. He cut through the nearest throng of milling Guardsmen and found himself close to the walls. Almost immediately he recognised the figures before him. The Demiurg, Grungi, was in close conversation with Qah, or so it seemed. The dark ancient being inclined his head slowly at Grungis words, clearly in agreement with him. Beyond them, stood apart from the roving knots of bodies all around, a number of the Cabal waited in silence, outwardly unaffected by the growing panic. It was Qah who first noticed his approach. The alien lifted his head and looked out across the expanse at him, sensing his closing presence. It did not take Codian long to close the distance.

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Chaos has mobilised, Prophet. Qah said, reading the questions in his thoughts. The Legions have come. Guilliman and the Ethereals will find themselves tested this night. Codian looked to ignore this announcement, his gaze passing between the two xenos allies. What is happening here? I was unaware that you two had an association. We did not. Qah answered, his voice ever calm and measured. Although I do hold an acquaintance with Grungis masters, the Cabal. We were just discussing his next role, Prophet. I have to leave now, Codian. I have one last task to complete, and there is only Qah who can aid me in this. Grungis reply was clipped and simple, purposely devoid of detail. The Chaplain could see in his face that he was clearly unhappy to be leaving this war now, for despite his allegiances, his desire was first and foremost to slay the enemy that had hunted his race to extinction. The trap must be closed, Prophet. Grungi said, turning to face the ancient one. Qah lifted a hand and spread his fingers, the gesture causing the air before him to deform and pucker. A swirling vortex of energy punched through the surface of reality, a tunnel of flashing lightning and ever-shifting colours. Hunt well up there, Codian. Grungi said, his face fixed to the iridescent void. Be sure to leave some of the b-----ds for me. With that he stepped into the breach and it closed behind him, the air sealing shut with a flat, rumbling thud. Qah rotated his hand and then folded into the ever-shifting shadows of his form. He will return, Codian. In the meantime, the stage has been set for the next scene. Now that the fallen Primarchs have mobilised, it is only a matter of time before the Void Dragon is forced to descend to take personal command of this war. So the plan to see Guilliman fully restored to us closes. Codian replied, relief adding substance to his voice. At last. Then by your leave, Qah, bring Umbras and the others home. The alien shook his head at this. No. Better that we go to them, Chaplain. Our secret army awaits us. +++ The Lord of Blood landed with the force of a falling comet, his crimson bulk shattering the surface of the ground for a good ten metres in every direction. Angron flexed the huge wings but once before he folded them behind his back. The rush of displaced air tore at Guilliman and Bile, rocking both of them back on their heels. Brother. Angron growled, sulphurous fumes blasting from his lipless mouth. Such changes that time has wrought upon both if us. Here I stand before you after so long, made magnificent and godlike by the gifts of my eternal lord. And you A harsh and rumbling bark issued from his throat, rolling across the scene like a peal of thunder. What has time made you? A thing of many facets, a morass of biology, a fragmentary entity devoid of any sense of personal identity. Do you even have the slightest idea who you are, or what you have become? I

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pity you. Guilliman did not answer immediately. He lowered his sword so that its tip pointed to the ground out before him, a gesture of challenge, a statement of boldness. Biles eyes darted between the fallen Primarch and the hordes of dark, blood red shapes that bore on towards their lines. You could have been great, brother. Angron spat, fierce power flashing in his glowing white eyes. You could have so easily taken the infinite gifts that come with fealty to the gods of chaos. You could have become a god yourself, elevated far beyond anything the Emperor could have wrought. Instead you chose to keep to the path of mortals. Look at you now. I am made magnificent by my god, Angron. Guilliman answered, spreading his arms wide. The one true god, who walks amongst mortals as the Emperor did in life. My lord AunVa does not cower behind the veil of the warp, only to send his minions to do his bidding. No, he is not weak of substance, too much so to enter this realm. Tell me, Angron, where is your Blood God now, as we speak? Why does he not join this war, if his own extinction is abhorrent to him? I will tell you why, my brother. He is unable. He is weak! This was enough to ignite the fires of Angrons wrath. The provoker had become the provoked with but a single statement, and the greatest champion of the Blood God was barely known for his tolerance. The towering monster let out a strangled roar of utter rage and threw himself forward, swinging his vast iron sword around to cleave the unrepentant Guilliman in two. Angron was arguably the most powerful opponent Guilliman had ever faced, but the daemonic Primarch was by far the slower of the two. Flickering fires blazed around his horned head as he brought the weapon down but Guilliman had already leapt back out of the way of the strike. The blade crashed down into the ground and opened a glowing rend, one that released a rolling blossom of black smoke. He hauled the sword free as Guilliman lunged forward, seeing his chance. He thrust forward with Agiselus and found Angrons stomach. His blade slid through armour and twisted flesh up to its hilt. Far above Guilliman, Angrons eyes flashed with malevolent glee. First blood to you. He snarled. He snatched at Guilliman with his free hand, his fingers closing around his brothers head. Guilliman was a consummate warrior but this took him by surprise. Instinct forced him to let go of his blade and curl his hands around Angrons fist. The daemon Primarch brought a knee up to smash into Guillimans ribs and he cried out, the armour there buckling. Fool! Angron roared, lifting him into the air. I am not Abaddon! I am not Russ, nor Mortarion! I have seen the champions you have bested through the eyes of my god, brother, and you have fought well, but I am Angron! He swung Guilliman around and smashed him into the ground, the impact shattering and crazing the surface for a good ten metres around him. He did this again and again, each impact ringing across the vast plaza. You will scream my name and beg for forgiveness before I am through. Only then will I grant you the mercy of death. Guilliman had been punished indeed by the assault. His once magnificent armour was distorted and rent, the crimson rain pooled in the many dents across its surface, its paint chipped and its artifice ruined. Angron lifted him once again, ready to punish him further. The Unity commander was ready this time.

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He swung both his legs forward and up to land a bone-crushing blow against Angrons face. The impact snapped Angrons head back, shattering teeth like glass. It was enough. The distraction threw Angron off-balance and Guilliman fought to exploit this. His boots rang against Angrons armour as he struggled to locate the hilt of his sword. The tips of his boots found purchase against the hilt and he pulled. The crackling blade slid free, but it was not enough. Clever. Angron snarled, his blazing white eyes finding Guilliman once again. He increased his grip and Guilliman could not help but let out a cry of pain as he felt his skull grind beneath his daemonic siblings fingers. Angron flung him like a rag doll across the plaza, as if he were beneath attention. Guilliman landed hard and bounced several times across the ground, each ringing impact seeing more of his armour shed away like flaking paint, before he skidded to a halt. The towering monster took the hilt of Agiselus in his grip and pulled the sword free, his black vitae popping and crackling along the length of the energised blade. Stand, brother. We are far from done yet. With that he cast the sword before him and the spinning weapon keened as it speared into the ground blade-first beside Guillimans head. It was only then that Angron, bathing in the glow of his own magnificence, deigned to lower his eyes to look upon the figure standing a few metres before him. Biles eyes narrowed as the terrible glowing gaze of Angron found him. The Rod of Torment spat and quivered in his hand, worrying at the nauseating deluge that splattered across its daemon-forged surface. Biles extremities rose and fell softly behind him, presenting themselves as if to challenge the hulking monster. You. The dark Primarch uttered, tilting his head towards Bile. I know you. You were the one who betrayed my general Karkattamorg on Daedalus all those centuries ago. You denied Khorne the glory of the Red Dawn. And I would do so again. Bile answered, drawing himself up as if in an attempt to match the Primarchs colossal stature. Angron nodded at this, a look of satisfaction passing over his bestial face. With that he made a salute across his chest with the smouldering blade and then looked across the square once more, in time to see Roboute Guilliman rising to his feet. The two legendary figures locked eyes and they held one anothers attention for a lingering moment. Guilliman took in the immense majesty of the malevolent champion; his gaze never once faltering even as the red rains parted around him and revealed a screaming, cursing tide of crimson armour and snarling chainblades. Angrons World Eaters broke around him as they poured towards the Tau lines, every one of the crazed berserker warriors literally throwing himself headlong into the battle to come. Incited into a mindless frenzy by the power of the Maelstrom of Gore, Khornes most potent gift, the World Eaters entered the fray. Amidst the chaos, Angron himself did not even flinch. He held himself fast as he stared into Guillimans black eyes, relishing the moment.

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Guilliman too did not move so much as a muscle as he awaited the arrival of the Khornate berserkers. From the depths of the foul deluge came his own forces, still suffering the effects of Mortarions plague but no less determined to meet the foe. Fire Warriors rushed past their commander in lines a hundred strong, presenting a sea of pulse rifles ready to deal death in the name of the Unity and the Greater Good. Behind the Fire Warriors came the towering Ethereals, sentient columns of blazing fire every one, their outstretched hands crackling with whickering energies. When the two forces came together, the resultant clash shook the air like thunder. The guns of the Tau blazed a heartbeat before they met the Marines and many World Eaters fell in that single, murderous instant. Their brothers leapt the falling corpses to reach the foe and the warriors of Angron were amongst the Tau then, their chainblades tearing heads from shoulders and cutting bodies in two. The first lines of the Tau were torn apart within seconds, for the warriors of the Unity were no match for the World Eaters in combat. Fresh blood and viscera flew into the air to join with the crimson rains as the Marines cut their way through the alien hordes, only to present themselves to the second vast Tau warrior front. Again, pulse fire blazed a bright bow wave of death into the enemy and more World Eaters fell, cut to ribbons by the unforgiving guns of the Unity. Missiles speared over the heads of the Tau and into Angrons forces from the war machines beyond, blowing huge holes through the advancing Marines. Railgun fire felled crimson-armoured bodies by the score, punching through body after body as they drove deep into the World Eater mass. Berolinus clawed his way up onto the curved hull of the Hammerhead, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief. The wide double turret before him spat missile after missile out over the heads of the Tau forces and into the enemy, guided by the two hovering markerlight drones before the craft. Fire Warriors broke around the hovering tank as they surged on to meet the threat. He stepped aside as one of the alien warriors leapt onto the hull beside him and brought his rifle to bear, ignoring the Marines presence. What is happening? Who are the aggressors? The Fire Warrior did not reply. Berolinus could not see the Taus face beneath his helmet but he could tell by the body language of the alien that he was agitated, almost to the point of madness. His focus was utterly dedicated on destroying the enemy. Berolinus hissed in annoyance and batted the Fire Warrior aside, sending him tumbling into the surging mass. From here he could only catch fleeting glimpses of an enemy dressed in thick, crimson armour, although he could not tell whether this was a representation of their true colours or a product of the foul downpour. His familiar sat ever at his shoulder, squawking and fluttering its glistening wings against the heady rain. Everything was covered in blood. He fought to keep his footing as the Hammerhead bucked and shifted, his boots sliding on the glistening surface. In the short time that had passed since he left the Primarchs side, everything had turned to chaos. What is this? He asked again. This time, the question was not directed at any living being. Blood, Berolinus. The blood of Khorne himself. Even you know that. He grimaced as the voice slid its insidious way through his mind, even though he was the one who had prompted the exchange. Those are the minions of Khorne out there, hacking the warriors of your beloved Unity to pieces. It may be a

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crude and debase thing, but it is magnificent. Guilliman. Does he live still? What is this, Ultramarine? Do you begin to doubt the prowess of your beloved Primarch? Answer the question, ghost. He spat, raising his voice against the keening whine-hiss of the escaping missiles. Yes, he lives, Berolinus. For now. As we speak he stands alone against Khornes greatest living champion, Angron, his brother. No, alone is a lie. The one you know as Fabius is with him. Consider that, Berolinus. When Guilliman falls to Angrons blade, he will do so knowing that only Fabius was present to defend him. I am sure that he wonders even now where his champion is, and why he has deserted him. I will not be goaded I speak only the truth. Give yourself to me, Berolinus, and together we will carve a path through these scrabbling aliens to stand by his side. Neither of us care for the Tau, you know that. All you have to do is open up your soul and let me in. You are beginning to sound like a malfunctioning vox recording. Berolinus replied. I have my answer, Lucius. Be silent now. He forced his will to the fore to envelop the voice and the presence faded once again, though not before issuing the Ultramarine with some choice words of unforgiving heresy. Lucius had spoken a truth, and this admission grated at him. As insensible as they were now, the Tau were little more than an obstacle to him, and in truth he cared little for the xenos creatures. Although he would never admitted as much to his Primarch, he hated the Tau. He hated them for their inhumanity, their very hereditary base. They were not human, nor even any of the subtle variations of that genetic theme. Guillimans ideal of a galaxy ruled by a mongrel Unity appalled him and yet he dared not let go of the idea that the Primarch held his own secret agenda. Whatever the truth behind these considerations, he could not allow Guilliman to fall, not now, not ever. He could not hesitate in finding his Primarch and fighting by his side. The Tau were simply in the way. Let me in The phantom voice boiled its way to the surface of his mind unbidden and unexpected. He gritted his teeth and banished the spirit of Lucius from his thoughts once again. The fiend was getting stronger. Berolinus dismissed the thought the instant it entered his mind, but he could not ignore it. Sooner or later, Lucius would find a way in.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Seven: Blood for the Blood God.

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Angron! World Eaters shattered against Guillimans strident form as he carved his way forward one step at a time, his arms flailing about him. He did not have to select his opponents, or plan his strikes. The warriors of the World Eaters were ravenous and crazed beyond measure and thick on the ground. To them, the glory of combat was absolute, and there was no greater opponent of this field of battle than a living Primarch. Each and every warrior that met him clamoured for the chance to slay such a magnificent foe. That they stood little chance meant nothing to any one of them. Crimson berserkers were slashed and pummelled as they poured into Guillimans reach but still the tide pressed on, totally dedicated and totally without pause. Guilliman met the storm of wild brutality with unmatchable strength and resilience. His arms swiftly accelerated into twin blurs of blue, his charged blade drawing glittering arcs all around him. He took the sword and lunged, thrusting his torso forward. He swept Agiselus through a dozen bodies or more, parting armour and flesh with the magnificent strike. Body parts spun away as he twisted on his heel and brought the sword around again, this time swinging it down in a blazing diagonal sweep. World Eaters died as he spread his arms and hacked again, this time single-handed, to take more dark lives from the embrace of Khorne. Small knots of the demented Marines broke through his defences to hack at him with screaming axes and chainswords. Cries of evil adulation shook the air as the berserkers assailed him, drawing screeching gashes across his armour. He kicked out and bones snapped, the armour sheathing them crumpling. He swung a fist and crimson bodies twisted away over the heads of their brethren, their lives shattered from them by the power of the blow. For the Greater Good! He cried, his powerful voice resonating far above the clamour of the battle. For AunVa! For the Unity! Bladed teeth ground against the punished armour of his vambraces again and again as he countered seven, eight, nine blows a second. He lifted a foot and the heel of his boot halted a World Eater in mid-charge, the impact ringing like the clarion call of a bell. He ground the foolish warrior into the ground for his trouble and trod him into the hard stone flags as he pressed on, riding a blow to the head that would have spilt the skull of a Titan. In the name of AunVa, you will all fall before me! AUNVA! The word left his lips with force enough that the very air before him warped and distorted. World Eaters shattered beneath the sonic pressure of the assault, armour and bone alike compacting. Red rain was shaken into mist as the buffeting waves cleaved the air into two. Dark vitae poured from Guillimans eyes and nose as his own hyper-accelerated vocal chords burst the blood vessels in his face but he ignored this slight disadvantage and bore on, his mind set on a confrontation with Angron. Far beyond the seething, endless tide of World Eaters, the Lord of Blood roared in challenge. +++ Berolinus let his anger boil from his mouth as he cursed the Tau for their inanity. The warriors of the Unity were almost a mirror of the mindless brutes of the chaos legions, for it was as if all the forces of the Unity had lost their senses as one. The few scant minutes that had past following the taunting of Lucius had been a free-for-all. He had fought his way forward, towering over the Tau advance but unable to progress with any countable success in spite of this. He had barely been able to refrain from simply sweeping the Tau aside with his thunder hammer,

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and he knew that even if he had, it would have made little difference to his progress. Fighting through crowds or wading knee-deep through bodies, neither choice would have made any difference to his predicament. Some deep, rational part of him knew that, the more he gave himself over to the abandonment of self-discipline, the closer Lucius came to asserting control, and he would not allow that. There had to be another way. His eyes fell upon a scene before him that caught his attention with the possibilities it presented. The milling press of bodies had caused a number of the Tau war machines to slow, even grind to a halt in most cases. Many of the idling Devilfish carriers lay open at the rear where their Fire Warrior or Pathfinder passengers had disembarked to join the masses and continue on foot. Far beyond the chaos, Berolinus heard a powerful and strident voice. There was much about the sound that was strange and unfamiliar, but despite this, he recognised the identity of its owner immediately. Lord Guilliman He whispered, concern heavy in his voice. He turned his attention the nearest of the vehicles then as he made to plan his next move. The lightly armoured warriors of a Pathfinder team were still in the process of exiting the Devilfish, leaping down onto the ground in single file under the animated directions of their squad commander. Berolinus closed the space in a few bounding strides and he leapt up the open ramp, barging the last few of the xenos warriors from his path as he entered the interior of the skimmer. The hold was cramped in here, enough so that he was forced to progress in a stooped position. The Devilfish rocked beneath his weight as he picked his way to the bulkhead at the far end of the space and the hatch there. He did not slow to press the hatchs activation stud. He simply thrust his hammer forward and punched his way through into the cramped pilots compartment, parting the interlocking pieces as if they were made of the flimsiest tin metal. The Tau sat behind the controls of the Devilfish started at the Marines rude entrance, near leaping from her chair as the hulking figure poured his way into the little available space. Forward. Berolinus snapped, the expression on his face radiating the gravity of the command. The Tau blinked, her mouth working soundlessly as she fought to voice a response. He decided in an instant that he had no interest in what the pilot had to say and her delay was enough to seal her fate. He reached forward and slammed her head into the small viewing slit with force enough to shatter her skull, killing her instantly. He tore the broken body from the pilots seat and cast it away behind him. These Tau are weak, he told himself. They are not worthy of tolerance or mercy. Your eyes begin to open, my brother. Said the voice in his head. He ignored it and reached over the chair to where the crafts controls lay spread out before him. He had little idea how to pilot this piece of alien technology but he recognised the more fundamental paraphernalia situated before the chair. The navigation controls explained themselves to him by their simple appearance and he thrust the double grip handle forward into the console. He was rewarded by a sudden lurch of forward motion, the engine thrusters either side of the tank throbbing as they were flooded with motive power.

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The Devilfish hovered forward, its speed increasing steadily. Within seconds Berolinus felt the first of many dull thuds against the nose of the craft as it began to barge its way through the massed Tau, ignorant to the injury and death its progress caused. He forced himself back through the ruined hatch as the craft bucked and shuddered around him. The holds interior lights flickered beneath the buffeting of the rough ride and he rode this as best he could, his armoured shoulderguards ringing as they struck the hull again and again. He had almost reached the open ramp when a fresh series of impacts thundered against the exterior of the craft, far more violent this time. The eagle at his shoulder let out a cry of alarm and flapped its wings, distracting him for a moment. The bird settled in time for him to see a large armoured figure throw itself upon the ramp and duck into the Devilfish, a shuddering chainaxe held in its hand. He reacted faster than thought, instinct driving him forward to meet the foe even as the sight of it soaked into his mind. Enemy Marine was fast, as fast as him, and as he swung his hammer back as best he could in the confined space, the berserker was ready to meet him with his whirring blade. Berolinus raised his shield and the axe smashed into the energised buckler, the force of the impact throwing an explosion of sparks out before him. The head of his own weapon screeched across the hull as he swung it out and up into the World Eater, catching him fully in the ribs. The Marine rose like a rocket on the head of the hammer and crumpled against the roof of the craft, the force of the impact buckling the thick plating and caving his torso in. His body landed hard and Berolinus kicked it away, sending it tumbling down the ramp. The eagle at his shoulder gave out a cry and threw itself out into the night, made nervous by the cramped conditions and the swift conflict. The Devilfish was still driving forward at a good speed, and as it began to pass further into the conflict he looked on as charging bodies sped by, some of the closest of the enemy striking out at the vehicle wildly as it passed, others tumbling and spinning as they had been struck by the rampaging Devilfish. The open ramp rose and fell sharply as it struck the floor again and again, shedding sparks each time. The mechanical turret platform at the centre of the hold was designed to raise and lower a being of Tau proportions to an elevated position. For one such as Berolinus, it was handy step that provided elevation enough to allow him to peer through the open hatch and survey the terrain before him. He squeezed himself up through the hole and into the hammering downpour of filth, unable to keep the revulsion from his expression. Another World Eater appeared before him, taking him by surprise. The acceleration of the craft was too much for the warrior to stand and so the Marine fell, losing his footing on the slick hull. He slammed into the raised cupola and bounced clear over Berolinuss head, swinging wildly in an attempt to take the Ultramarines head from his shoulders as he twisted by. Berolinus ducked almost indifferently and then rose again, arms first this time. Metal groaned around him as he forced his bulk through the tight gap, his progress made a little easier by the unnatural rains. What he saw up ahead gave him pause enough to freeze in the position. Lit by the backdrop of the intermittent lightning, he could see his Primarch from here, a whirlwind of motion and blue, blood-slick armour. Beyond him a hulking monster of a size he had scarcely before seen stood defiant and unafraid in a gore-drenched clearing, its arms outstretched in challenge. But this was not the scene that had ultimately stolen his breath. Further beyond the towering form of Angron, close to the walls of the first defence line, he saw a vision that would forever remained burned into his memory unto death. Blessed Emperor He breathed. What manner of enemy is this?

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For the first time since he had fought his way to his Primarchs side, Lurom Berolinus found his utter conviction in the unquestionable supremacy of his Primarch and the cause of the Unity marred by the first nagging seeds of doubt. +++ The blow scattered twenty bodies or more. Every single one of the cursed World Eaters died instantly, pummelled into oblivion by the inhuman force of the collision. Bones shattered into fragments inside armoured shells that were flattened around them. Heads and limbs spun away, dislodged by the titanic impact. Chains of adamantium teeth screeched and spun free of Khornate weapons as those same weapons were shattered like glass. Guilliman skidded to a halt, his arms outstretched by his sides. A fine rain of viscera and paint flakes hovered briefly before him to mingle with the blood-rain. Across the corpse-strewn expanse, Angron smiled a predatory smile. Perhaps I was hasty to judge you, my kin. I see with my own eyes now how much the Tau have improved your prowess. You were never so dark, sobrutal, beneath the Emperors yoke. It is good that you begin to recognise the supremacy of AunVa and of the Ethereals, Angron. Guilliman replied, relaxing his posture into a ready combat stance. Perhaps I too was hasty in my conjecture. You are not as mindless and foolish as I had once thought. Angrons bestial face darkened at this. Foolish is the one who seeks to insult my primacy, brother. You will make my lord a exceptional trophy. Your blood-elixir will become his finest vintage. Then I would choke him. Guilliman replied. But first, I will take from him his greatest champion. Guilliman said nothing more. He threw himself into the air, Agiselus flashing in his hand. He brought the sword around in a wide arc as Angron responded to this aggressive advance with a cry of bestial release and advanced. The two champions met in the air and traded blows, the resultant clash ringing across the battlefield with a keening and thunderous crash of metal upon metal. They twisted around one another, still exchanging attack after murderous attack, both swords seeming to run fluid as they struck against one another again and again. Guilliman and Angron landed in the same instant and each extended his sword to strike at the other. The two blades connected and they held that stance for a moment, a nexus of crackling, blazing energy shining like a miniature sun where the swords touched. The effort in Guillimans expression was clear to see. His features shook, and those same tremors ran down his arm where the muscles there fought with every ounce of strength they had to better his brother. Angron smiled at this exchange of strength, relishing the martial challenge. You desire nothing more than to be the best, brother. That is good. Never lose sight of that goal. Guilliman chided at his brothers words of guidance and threw himself into a turning spin, bringing his sword around away from Angrons guard to strike at his neck. Angron turned the blow aside with his sword arm and countered, thrusting for Guillimans stomach.

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The Ultramarine Primarch arched his body and the blade hissed by, the living presence within thirsting for him. He chopped down and sent it into the ground and then skipped forward, stabbing at Angrons chest. The strike sank into the giants armour deep enough to bite at the corrupted flesh beneath. Had he the chance to do so, Guilliman would have drove it deep into the heart of his opponent but Angron was quick to react, bringing his sword back up to sweep for Guillimans head. He ducked and withdrew his blade in time to save his life. Angron brought his sword around over his head and down, raking at the spot where Guilliman had been stood a heartbeat earlier. Guilliman rolled to the left and came up to thrust at his foes ribs but Angron was, for all intents and purposes, the better warrior. He smashed the pommel of his sword into the questing blade and the force of the blow caused Guilliman to stumble forward a step. Angron reached out and snatched his brothers free arm, closing his fingers around Guillimans vambrace. He let out a shuddering roar and hauled Guilliman off his feet. He swung him like a club into the ground and let go, driving the sole of his boot into the prone Primarch. The first attempt shook Guilliman to the core and made a ruin of the hard surface about and beneath him. Angrons second effort was denied then as Guilliman stopped the descending foot with the flat of his blade. He held the sword between his hands and the blade pulsed as it made contact with the daemons boot. Angron had not been prepared for this. His hesitance allowed Guilliman to sweep his legs out and strike at the Blood Lords knees. The blow would have torn the legs off an Astarte Terminator and it was powerful enough to throw Angron off-balance. He teetered, his arms flailing, ready to crash to the ground. His vast wings unfurled behind him and in a single sweep they brought him back upright and carried him aloft, the force of the air they displaced sending broken bodies tumbling across the ground away from his feet. Guilliman rose swiftly to take advantage of the distraction and he made to snatch at Angrons feet. The monstrosity responded with a bone-shattering kick, one that sent Guilliman sailing through the air and into the crowds of advancing Tau. He came down hard, his armoured bulk crushing bodies into the ground. He skipped like a stone, scattering Fire Warriors at his passing, and then lurched to a halt as he connected with something far more solid. The Devilfish that had arrested his flight folded around him with almost lovingly, its armoured prow yielding to his near-indestructible form. The vehicles progress halted immediately, the opposing force of its thruster engines tilting it sharply on its axis before the unnatural arrest of its advance and the punishment done to its control bank caused them to overload. Guilliman shook his head and tensed as a body in familiar blue power armour tumbled over him and landed on the ground at his feet. Berolinus rolled up onto his feet and swung his hammer around, bringing the weapon to a halt mere inches from his Primarchs face. Lord Guilliman! The Marine gasped, appalled at the imprudence of his instinctive reaction. My Primarch, please forgive me Guilliman waved the weapon aside and rose, shaking the gathered debris free of his pauldrons. You are forgiven, son. Now stand aside. I have a daemon to slay. Berolinus bowed sharply and did as he was ordered, relieved to see that his lord was alive and well. Guilliman spun Agiselus in his hand before breaking into a rapid sprint, punished and hurt but far from done.

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I see you have returned to us, Ultramarine. He tore his gaze away from his lord and glanced behind him, recognising the voice. Bile grunted in effort as he hauled himself clear of the underside of the crippled Devilfish, his extra extremities adding their own assistance to his efforts. Your operation skills leave a lot to be desired with regards to Tau technology. He added with a sneer. In any other circumstance, Berolinus would not have been able to resist a smile of satisfaction in knowing that he had inadvertently drove over the insidious Apothecary. There were far more pressing concerns to occupy his thoughts now, however, and even worse, he seemed to be the only one so far to have noticed the changes that were taking place. Fabius He began, reaching over to help the Apothecary pull himself free. Bile accepted his aid only until he was clear of the ruined Devilfish and then he made a show of shrugging the Marines arm aside. Something is happening, Fabius. Look. He pointed out beyond the battle to where the walls of the defence lines rose above the clamour. He could still see them now, the lurid, almost sickening flashes of shimmering light, the swirling vortexes throwing arc lighting across the dark, blood-slick melee. The Apothecary sneered and dusted himself off as his mechanical arms ran through automated damageassessment cycles, checking themselves for signs of impairment. I see it, Ultramarine. There is hardly anything you or I can do about it. About what, Fabius? What in Ultramar is going on over there? Destiny. The grizzled Genomancer replied, turning away to retrieve his rod from the floor behind him. Berolinus gave a growl of frustration and snatched at Biles shoulder. If you know something then answer me The speed of the Apothecarys reaction took him completely by surprise. Bile rose and turned, his mechanical arms thrusting and stabbing at Berolinus. He swept the Marines hand away and hammered the flat of his palm into Berolinuss chest, the blow sending the Ultramarine skidding away across the gore-strewn ground. Berolinus made to raise his hammer but Bile was faster. He smashed the weapon away with his own charged pole and snatched at the Marines neck. Steel fingers closed around Berolinuss throat and he gasped, unable to draw breath. Then Bile was in his face, his breath hot and foetid, his yellowed eyes wild. I know. I know my place in all this, Astarte. I know the truths and the lies of this damned war. You are ignorant, made blind by your devotion to Guilliman. That is enough. You need know no more than that. He shoved the Marine away then, and as Berolinus fought to remain on his feet, Bile raised the rod up to point its crackling head at him. Look about you, Berolinus. The skies run red with the vitae of the Blood God. The forces of chaos have come to contest this siege, and now the Eldar make their play. Tell me, Berolinus. Have you ever fought gods? That is a ludicrous question

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Is it? Bile hissed, the first flicker of a smile creeping across the edges of his mouth. Then we shall see what the passage of time does to change your opinion on that. Now Whatever it was that the Apothecary had planned to say to him was lost then as Bile tensed, the humour that hovered within his expression draining away. He followed Biles gaze and tensed as a large, lumbering shape loomed through the rains, quaking the ground beneath its heavy footfalls. It was a beast quite unlike anything the Astarte had seen in his life. It was a thing of iron and bronze, an amalgamation of daemonic life and unnatural mechanics. Its armoured flanks were thick and hulking, set on short, piston-driven legs. Iron hooves clattered across the stone as it charged, and thick black smoke streamed from its nostrils and mouth. The fires of Khornes forge blazed in its tiny eyes and glowed beneath its plated form, as if its very heart was lit by the same heat and flames that moulded the weapons of the Blood Gods daemonic followers. Indeed, the beast itself was a weapon, a construct of iron and evil melded together in that hellish forge and given life by Khornes burning breath. On its back rode another daemon beast, its unnatural flesh wet and crimson as if soaked in blood. It carried a burning sword and Berolinus caught sight of its bestial face for a moment as it passed. The expression he saw there was clear in its message. You are next. The Juggernaut thundered towards Bile and he drew himself up, ready to meet it. Its nightmare rider quested for him with its blade, seeking to take his skull for its god. Bile threw himself to the side and kicked out as the sword swept by him, catching the mount squarely at the side of its head. The beast let out a tinny roar and smashed into the ruined hull of the Devilfish, its momentum carrying it through the armour and into the hold. The daemon at its back leapt clear an instant before its charge disappeared into the vehicle and it landed before Bile, thrashing and hacking with its sword even as it touched the ground. Biles extra arms cycled before him, turning aside blow after blow. He stepped back again and again as the daemon assailed him, and for a moment it appeared as if he was about to find himself overwhelmed. Without warning he drove forward, his motorized limbs still darting about him in defence, and swung his weapon up and into the things groin. The Bloodletter came apart without resistance, its aberrant form parting beneath the bite of Biles powerful rod. Its body burst into thick, greasy smoke and it dissipated with a fading, lingering scream of defiance and denial, its hold on this reality stolen from it. Bile spat out a mouthful of the warp residue and rotated his neck, swinging his silvered ponytail back behind his head. They will not rest. He said, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth. You have seen and done so much since you found your Primarch, Berolinus, and yet you still understand so little. Did you really think that the Unity would find victory here so easily? Do you still fail to see the bigger picture? Guilliman will see victory here. Berolinus answered, decrying the Apothecarys statement with a dismissive wave of his hand. If you were true to this Unity then you would not doubt that. Bile heard this and titled back his head, unleashing a harsh, barking laugh.

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Then you are a fool, Astarte. Look. Look beyond this place, to where the destiny you place your faith in leads us. Look what awaits us before the walls of the Palace, and see the folly of your conviction. Berolinus did as Bile instructed, unable to suppress his curiosity. And he saw.

Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Eight: Death Wakes...

It did not matter to him how many times he made the transition. The sensation as always the same. It was an unnatural feeling, at odds with everything he had ever known since his own birth. His body railed at it, as though his cells screamed in warning and protest at it, disputing the collapse and dissipation that broke them apart and saw them thrust into that anomalous environment, only to be reconstructed and reformed a heartbeat later. Codian stumbled forward, his stomach heaving. He coughed the dry air from his lungs and shook the throbbing ache from his head, fighting to maintain his composure. All around him he was dimly aware of the emergence of a new and different environment, totally at odds with the surroundings he had left a heartbeat ago. Although what he had just experienced was very much similar to the phenomenon he himself was capable of inciting, this new sensation was at the same time alien and far removed from what he thought he knew. His entire body let him know this in the most nauseating way. He vomited the meagre contents of his stomach onto the dust-strewn floor and then rose, wiping his mouth. He reached to his belt and unclipped the small liquid holding cylinder fastened there, popping the lid with a flick of his thumb. He found himself grateful for the restorative properties of the liquid as it slid down his throat. The nutrient soup served to calm his stomach and coat his parched throat in the same instant, giving him back a measure of the dignity that the translation had robbed from him. I apologise if the journey was uncomfortable. A voice said beside him. You must understand, such methods were devised for use by my species alone. Codian looked to Qah and nodded his acceptance of the request for forgiveness as he swallowed the mouthful of liquid, his eyes still adjusting to the gloom of his new surroundings. He could hear the foul rains still from in here, a dull and constant beat against the walls of this new and unknown place. Where have you brought me, Qah? To a secret place. The ancient one replied, looking out into the gloom beyond. A place of hope. Codian replaced the flask and followed the aliens gaze, his forehead creasing. Although his eyes were steadily adjusting to the scarce light here, he could still see little more than shadows and darkness before him. Qah changed that with a wave of his hand. In obedience to his gesture the once-dead lamps hanging above them came alive, one after another. Codian looked on as the vast space was revealed before him,

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metre after metre, each section flooding with brightness amid an echoing thrum of sound. The light slid over an armoured form, the white power armour he wore at once familiar to the Chaplain. Umbras looked up as he was revealed and reached up to remove his helm, pulling the protective mask free with a twist and a hiss of air. Brother Codian. It is good to see you alive and well. Codian could not help but smile as he saw the familiar face of his comrade. He crossed the space between them in a few loping strides and took the Apothecarys arm, the force of his grip describing an honest account of the gladness in his heart. My brother. I had fearedIt matters not. You are here, alive and well. I give thanks to the Emperor for that. Umbras patted the Chaplain on the shoulder and nodded, his own face a mirror of the joy that dominated Codians expression. The mission was hard, Chaplain, but we persevered. Umbras said, waving a hand behind him. Both the Cadian and Gormat stepped into the light, bowing their heads in greeting. Codian bowed in turn to both of them, surprised by the relief that surged through him. In the short space of time that had passed since he had known these two allies, he had come to regard them as brothers, although, as an Astarte, he would never have voiced as such an admission. Brother Codian, how goes the war? The Cadian said, his manner clearly betraying his inability to allow the question to linger inside him. When he spoke, his face was heavy with anticipation, his knuckles whitening as he gripped his rifle. In Creeds name, tell me we hold out still. I implore you. The Alliance is far from done, Cadian. The enemy are starting to learn that we are not going to be beaten so easily. The Cadian nodded his head at this, his fears laid to rest. Codian took in the three figures and noted that each one bore the scars of battle, both on his armour and his flesh. He could only imagine the struggles they had faced but he could see that the going had been hard. Were you successful? We were. Umbras smiled, patting the pouch at his belt. Indeed. Gormat added, extending a hand from beneath his robes to gesture out into the gloomy expanse beyond. The Tau we freed from the influence of the Ethereals were surprisingly compliant. It would seem that the pheromone control is weakest in those of the Fire Warrior Caste, a fact that even I was unaware of. Codian noticed then that the shadows at the far end of the basement began to shift as Umbras continued the explanation. As Gormat says, we discovered that those of the lower Castes are the easiest to release from the genetic influence. It would seem thatwell, Im not sure how to explain it, Chaplain. They simply arent as willing to follow the Ethereals as they would appear. What your comrade means, Gormat continued, is that those of the Warrior Castes in particular appear, at some basic level, to be aware of the insidious influence of our races rulers. Of course, we were never made aware of this simply because we have never encountered a Tau possessed of his or her own free will. The

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truth of this has shocked us all, Chaplain. See for yourself. With that he waved the shifting shapes beyond them forward and Codian saw what he had suspected to see. Tau warriors slid into the light, many of them raising arms and squinting eyes as they showed themselves. A good many of them were bloodied and scruffy in appearance but, of all those he could see, all were able-bodied enough for the mission ahead. There were a few Earth Caste engineers scattered throughout the group, but they were thin on the ground compared with the sheer number of Fire Caste. What we have here are remnants of squads. Umbras explained. The going was hard. Many were lost in the various struggles to inoculate them, and not all those we managed to suppress survived the purge. We built up our numbers little by little, and the going became easier once we began to grow. By out last count, there were around fifty of us. As Codian took in the alien crowd before him, wherever his gaze fell it was met with nods of wary greeting. The mood here was tense, there was no disguising that. These Tau may well be free of the oppression that had ruled over their lives since birth, Codian told himself, but that did not mean that they automatically trusted the Alliance. More likely they had gathered to Gormat seeking guidance, feeling a measure of kinship with one of their own. This mattered little to the mission, truth be told. So long as these Tau opposed the rule of the Ethereals, they were allies. I here you have a mission for us. The Cadian, said, unable to keep the anticipation from his voice. He emphasised the word us when he spoke, an indication that he already felt a kinship with these newfound allies. We are at your disposal, guela. Said a new voice from the crowd of aliens. The speaker stepped forward and gave Codian a sharp, fist to chest salute, though the caution in his single remaining eye did not dissipate. I am ElSensho. From what I gather, I am the surviving senior officer of this coalition force. You may place your utmost trust in me, Marine. Codian did not answer immediately. He allowed himself a moment to study the Tau. Like most Tau, he was short, shorter even than the smallest of his colleagues, the Cadian. He was a stocky figure, however, and the many battle scars written across his face told of his experience in the field. He had lost an eye at some point, but had forgone the opportunity to replace that loss with augmetics. The Fire Warrior seemed to sense Codians assessment of him. He cleared his throat and stood a little straighter. This is not our war, guela. None of us truly want this. We are an ambitious peoples, the need for growth and expansion written into our hearts at birth, but we do not desire utter domination of this galaxy. Why would we? Nature, life itself, shows us the truth of things. The swifter an organism grows, the sooner its burns itself out. Then why do you fight, ElSensho? Codian asked. If none of you want this war, if there is a part of you deep inside that the Ethereals cannot touch, why is it that you are unable to resist? Because we are slaves. We exist within the cages of our own flesh, forever bound to the will of the Ethereals. At the very core of our being we are warriors one and all, the Fire Caste, born to fight, to make war on those we would count as enemies. The Ethereals have decreed that you are our enemies, thus, we cannot resist.

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Then you must understand that we are to ask you to make war on your own kind. Codian continued. The mission that we are about to undertake will see you pitted against those still blinded by that insidious influence. This said, he made a show of reaching to his belt and unclasping a number of the small pouches that hung there. He handed these pouches to Umbras, and bade the Apothecary to secret them within his own, more ample, field pouches. We have brought more of the elixir, in the hope that we may release more of your kind from this influence, but you must be willing to accept that we may not be able to save most of those we face. We will face them as enemies, after all. I understand that. ElSensho answered with a slight nod of his head. And I accept it. I know from my own experience that I would rather accept death than slavery, Marine. I hold no doubt in my mind that this is true for all my kind. Very well. Codian said. Then here is our plan. The free Tau of the collective began to shuffle and jostle closer around him as the Chaplain began to describe the task ahead. +++ He tensed, pressing his body closer to the buckled ruin of the Hammerheads hull. The head of his hammer pulsed and crackled softly as it waited to deal death, almost excited by the prospect of it. The crazed warriors of the World Eaters werent exactly given over to stealth and subtlety. He heard the impatient, lusty snarls of the fiend seconds before the crimson bulk of his opponent leapt from the gaping hole in the side of the craft, slick with the blood of the Tau he had just butchered within. His chainaxe flicked a radiating spray of gore and viscera out before him, the blurred and constant cycle of its teeth shedding the stuff of its victims in readiness to receive more. Berolinus threw himself at the berserker, bringing his hammer up in a murderous arc to smash the monsters head from his shoulders. The World Eater snapped his head around at the sound of the Ultramarines war cry and brought his axe to bear, ready to defend his life. The oncoming blow smashed the axe away and Berolinus brought it around again, but the World Eater was fast, possessed of animalistic instinct. He threw his head back and twisted, riding the momentum of his own weapon and using it to deliver a vicious swing. Berolinus threw his shield up and the thing rocked beneath the blow, bleeding sparks and energy as it fought to absorb the tremendous force of the impact. He kicked out and the World Eater lurched back, stumbling across the scattered debris at his feet. The slick blood and the uneven terrain brought him crashing onto his rump and he rolled over onto his feet. The blazing hammer swung out to take his legs but he had seen the attempt in time to throw his legs up, denying Berolinus once again. The heretic was agile despite his size and the cumbersome weight of his armour. He twisted in the air and slashed for the Ultramarine, the snarling teeth of his weapon catching Berolinus across the lip of his pauldron. Whickering chips of ceramite followed in the axes wake, torn free by the diamond-hard teeth. He landed and brought the axe around his head, ready for another strike. Berolinus was far too close to bring his own powerful but cumbersome weapon to bear and so he threw himself at the corrupt Marine, driving a shoulder into his opponents chest. He smashed the lip of his storm shield into the World Eaters faceplate and watched with some satisfaction as the rebreather vent buckled, throwing strips of plasteel free. The force of the momentum he drove into

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the warrior carried him back, leaving a space between them large enough for the Ultramarine to utilise. He snatched his hammer in both hands and swung it out behind him, bringing it up over his head in a powerful, blazing arc. The weapon smashed into the World Eaters armoured scalp between the squared angles of the extremities that protruded there, compacting his helm and his skull down into his chest. The World Eater sagged to his knees, his arms falling loosely by his sides. The shuddering axe wormed free of his dead fingers and skittered away across the rubble, hunting for the flesh of its enemies still, even after the death of its master. He left the dead World Eater locked in this final position of supplication and checked the interior of the crippled tank. There was little space to be found within the belly of a Hammerhead, and that space was awash with the liquefied remains of the vehicles crew. Bile strode past him then, a captured Tau pulse carbine held out before him like a pistol. The weapons trigger guard was little more than a ruin in his hand where his had forced his oversized fingers to fit the grip. He emptied the carbines energy cell in a concentrated burst of fire and then cast the spent weapon aside. What say you to the glory of the Unity now, Ultramarine? He asked, gesturing out at the distant walls. Berolinus did not answer or make any attempt to follow the gesture. He knew full well what sight awaited him if he did so. We will prevail. He said finally, turning his back to the Apothecary. If you do not believe that, perhaps it would be best if you turned tail and ran from this war. There are enemies enough here for us to face. Bile hissed at this, the sound a curious mix of mirth and contempt. We all have our own goals, Berolinus. I have a duty to see through to the end. I have many sins for which I must atone. Berolinus threw himself around to confront the Apothecary then but the harsh words he had intended to spit out died in his throat. Bile had already left. He could see him now, sprinting towards the desperate fight between his Primarch and the traitor-beast Angron. He could not allow Bile to stand beside Guilliman when he, the Primarchs own ward and protector, foundered and hesitated here, alone. Worse still, he had another new and portentous threat to consider. He could not help himself. He had tried as best he could to ignore the phenomenon, but he could not keep it from his mind. He could not afford to ignore it any longer, nor continue to attempt to deny its existence. He knew in his heart that his denial was one borne of fear, and that in turn troubled him, the sensation magnified by it. He needed to know, needed to understand what they were to face, for it was an inevitable confrontation, as unavoidable as the embrace of death. And so he clambered up the leaning craft and onto the turret. There he stood, afforded an elevated view of his surroundings. From here, he could see them clearly and, just as before, his blood ran cold at the sight of them. They were giants, gods given form, the largest things he had ever seen to walk on two legs aside from the Titans of the Mechanicus. They were the gods of the Eldar, the Avatars of Khaine, and they were magnificent in their monstrosity. The Avatars were beacons of blazing light burning in the crimson night, the red rains hissing as they hammered down onto the smouldering colossi. From this distance they were structures of glowing, molten lines, each and every muscle segment and plate framed by the eternal fires that burned within them. Some carried immense swords, blades that blazed with writhing runes, whilst others marched with spears in their hands, weapons that were longer in length than Baneblade tanks.

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A terrible collective keening resounded across the vast space from these weapons, a sound that shivered his soul with its intensity and emotion. They were thirsting for him, thirsting for his blood, and he knew that they would hunt him as they would hunt all those who stood for the cause of the Unity. The pressure of their existence here was a weight that hung heavy around him, inside him, as if that very existence sought to push him from this reality and take his place. He did not know what these abominable Eldar daemons were, or how the aliens had come to call upon them, but none of these questions needed an answer. He knew that they were utterly deadly just by passing his gaze over them, for they exuded a palpable aura of hatred and death that any man could feel. Almost hidden by the sheer radiance and majesty of these dark living statues, a tide of lesser Eldar pooled about their feet, advancing in sweeping tanks, small, speeding flyers or simply on foot. He caught sight of them again and again as the crimson lightning above lit the scene, raging against the presence of this new and terrible threat. The dark allies of the Alliance were gathering in force, and this bode ill for the efforts of the Unity and his Primarch. The forces of chaos were already punishing them. When the Eldar hit the battle line, it would be a massacre. He had stopped receiving the ability of extended senses a while ago, and he had not seen or sensed his familiar since it took flight from the hold of the Hammerhead. The creature was scared, no doubt put to flight by the horror of the foul downpour. He suspected it would be a long time before he saw it again. Without the additional eyes and ears of the slave-thing he felt strangely detached, as if lacking some part of his own original range of senses. With the aid of the eagle he could have assessed the situation more thoroughly, perhaps been able to better plan his next move. As it was, the chaotic nature of the fight left him unable to formulate a plan of action, for the forces of the Unity were in near disarray, thrown into a state of frenzy by the melee. He ducked low and then leapt from the hull of the craft as a squad of Crisis suits roared by overhead, their jetpacks burning bright and red in the wet gloom. Pulse fire and other assorted projectiles spewed from their weapons systems into the shifting tide of World Eaters. One of the suits exploded moments later overhead, scattering fire and armour across the conflict. Burning comets of debris crashed down into enemy and ally alike, crushing those who were too weak of body or armour to withstand such punishment, and scattering those who were more robust. He flinched as something rang against the bulk of the downed Hammerhead. He flicked his head around instinctively to see what had made the noise, only to follow the move with a near dive to the floor. The Crisis suit stood above him, unleashing its munitions into the oncoming World Eaters, almost oblivious to his presence. Pulse fire zipped past his head in thick swarms of buzzing azure light. Missiles screamed loose of the launcher at the warriors other arm, leaving smoking contrails that slowly faded away between the armoured Tau warrior and his distant victims. Berolinus fought back the anger rising within him at this affront and rose, intending to chastise the reckless warrior. He never got the chance. The night came alive and took him.

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Chapter One Hundred and Ninety Nine: Fear and Fire.

It sprang from the darkness, fluid and predatory, a living shadow of wraith and murderous hatred. Berolinus had a vision of some hulking but lissom feline night predator, for when the shape struck it leapt the last few meters and barged into the Crisis warrior with its fangs to the fore. The suit rang against the hull of the Hammerhead as the hunter slammed into its prey, bowling the warrior off his feet. With a sweep of an arm the machines optic array was gone, torn free to spin away into the detritus beyond. Huge power claws raked the metal belly of the shell open, tearing thick chunks of armour free as if they were strips of flesh. The battlesuit continued to fire loosing shot and missile into the skies, as the fiend tore the fleshy Tau heart from its breast and made the warrior into a bloody, liquefied ruin. The attackers head snapped around to face him and Berolinus froze, like a prey animal caught in the gaze of its would-be killer. A pair of cold, grey-blue eyes regarded him from between strands of midnight-black hair, and the creatures skin shone with the pallid glow of Luna herself. The fiend rose then and Berolinus saw just how large the killer was. It stood easily head and shoulders with Guilliman, and the dark blue ceramite shell that encased it, together with the massive charged claws it wielded, served only to further accentuate that size. Sculpted batwings rose either side of its head from its shoulders, serving only to add to its nightmare appearance. Little thing. It uttered, arching its back so as to take up a stooped, aggressive pose. Your hearts will be mine. Night Haunter Said a voice in his head. Berolinus heard this and felt no doubt in his mind that the dark assassins threat was absolutely sincere. Howls and cries rose up from the unseen spaces and hidden shadows all around him, sounds created to terrify those of a lesser valour than he possessed. Insidious whispers passed by the edges of his hearing, made all the more ghostly by the fact that they were almost disembodied, without source or direction. He turned and he ran, heading towards the greater mass of the shifting skirmishes. Behind him the fiend leapt high into the air, its claws outstretched, its thirst for murder directed at him. He drove his legs into the ground and crossed the body-strewn spaces in seconds, but as fast as he was able to run, he knew that he would not escape. Nor did he intend to. His every move already calculated, Berolinus threw himself around at the last possible moment and hauled his hammer after him. His opponent was moving far too fast to see clearly but the ploy worked; his strike connected. An incredible weight crashed into him even as he struck home. Claws rang and slid through the edges of his storm shield despite its powerful energy field, taking away a good chunk of its cruciform edge. He tumbled back, his opponent mirroring his plight. The ground came up to meet him and he rolled with the momentum of his fall, allowing it to bring him back over onto his feet. The dark predator-Primarch was already waiting for him. One of its claws flashed and sparked where his hammer had struck it, but other than this the thing was unharmed, and far from dissuaded in its thirst for his blood.

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It rose and spread its arms, as if bathing in the phantom cries echoing all about it. The column of blue flame came out of nowhere to engulf it, cutting it way across the ground and striking the gaunt monstrosity with the power of a miniature sun. Berolinus staggered back, forced to shield his eyes from the blinding glare. The Ethereal towered over everything around it, matchless in its size and presence. The thing Lucius had called the Night Haunter gave out a strangled roar of pain and anger and attacked, his punished form bleeding azure smoke and molten armour. The Ethereal swept a flaming arm out before it and almost casually smashed the Primarch away, sending him spinning from sight. The omnipotent being said nothing as it turned its gaze upon him, as if to bask in the glory of its own presence. Berolinus bowed his head to the being and then cast around to face the battle once again. He could not afford to pause and consider just how close he had come to death, or indeed marvel at the spectacle he had just witnessed. The frantic nature of the battle had stolen away his ability to ruminate on what was happening around him. Conflict. War. That is all there is, he told himself. When the fires of battle lust are lit within the veins of an Astarte, only combat has the power to extinguish them, to sate their thirst. It was a thirst that he could not deny. +++ The two titans clashed together with the sound of twin storm fronts colliding. Such was the force of the impact that warriors fell around them, thrown off their feet. The two Primarchs traded blows faster than an assault rifle was able to spit shells, striking at one another six or seven times a second. Guilliman maintained the advantage of speed, able to push himself ahead of Angron in his attacks. The lord of the World Eaters was a fraction slower but he was by far the most physically powerful of the two, able to weather that which he could not counter in time. His daemon sword was a huge thing, unwieldy in its size even in hands such as his, and ultimately unsuited to such close combat. This fact did nothing to diminish the danger he posed or the relentlessness of his attacks. He punched and kicked, or blocked with his vast, armoured shoulders. Once or twice he lashed out with his forehead or snapped at Guilliman with shining fangs, for he was a sentient weapon, every inch of him designed to punish and kill. Only the difference in height between the two had thus far prevented Guilliman from literally losing his head. Angrons eyes were wild now, aglow with burning zeal and animated by an almost rabid desire to best his opponent and brother. Every thrust and swing was accompanied by a snarl of rage. The daemonic Primarchs gloating smile was long gone, as was the arrogant expression of superiority that had dominated his twisted face. In its place, the wild glower of a beast that had finished toying with its prey and was ready instead to deliver the final, killing blow. Angron was finding it harder to outmatch his estranged brother than he had obviously expected. That, and he began to recognise something within Guilliman, something deep and familiar, a lingering presence that caused his blood to stir. Guilliman saw this in his eyes and allowed a smile to creep across his face. We share more than our origins, brother, and I see that you sense this. A part of you burns within my veins. Then I will set it free. Angron answered, his rage empowering him, charging his muscles with a fresh surge of vigour. He slashed with his sword and almost opened a rend across Guillimans chest that would have been enough to spill his viscera across the floor. Guilliman leapt back and countered, stabbing with

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Agiselus. The blade drove deep into the meat above Angrons collarbone and the monster roared in angered pain. He struck out and the tip of his iron sword pierced Guillimans side, sliding through armour, flesh and ossified bone into his chest cavity. Guilliman answered this not with a cry of pain but with a howl that shook the air before him. The inhuman sound punched into Angron, a wall of invisible sonic force powerful enough even to throw the daemon Primarch back several metres. Guilliman too staggered back, both beneath the force of his own battle cry and the wound he had received. Angrons blade was a powerful thing, forged by daemonic hand and bound to him by ancient and terrible pacts. It was a living thing, sentient and hungry. Such a strike would have killed another outright, for the powers bound into the blade were not to be denied easily. Whatever dark, living force resided within that cage of black iron recognised the blood that flowed in the Primarchs veins. By rights, the blade should have killed him outright. That it did not was no display of kinship or allegiance, but rather hesitation, a momentary confusion. Perhaps the bound daemon within tasted but a hint of its master within Guilliman, for the blood transfusion he had received had been extracted from the veins of a World Eater, a warrior that had carried the seed of his Primarch for the span of many mortal lifetimes. Whatever the reasons behind it, this undoubtedly saved his life. This was lost on Angron however, for the towering daemon warrior was hurt, reeling beneath the unnatural force of Guillimans sonic attack. His ancient daemonic armour groaned and writhed, reforming itself in the wake of the damage done to it in the attack. Blood pooled in the dents and recesses, hardening in seconds to form new plates. Sulphurous black smoke billowed from the rends and joints, a physical indication of the armours attempts to restore itself. Guilliman ignored his own vital fluids as they leaked from his facial orifices, intent on pressing home his attack. This part of the area before the Palace was scattered with large, raised beds of devotional headstones, each one laid in honour of some ancient saint or general of Terra. The example to his right was a broken ruin, heaped high with the bodies of World Eater and Tau alike. He leapt sideways onto the bed and then launched himself at Angron, bringing his sword up and out before him, intending to drive its blade down into the heretics neck. It would have been a magnificent kill. The storm of searing blue fire passed by him so close that he almost found himself engulfed by it. The burning wall hit Angron and the daemon Primarch disappeared, utterly consumed by the fire. A strangled scream of utter rage rose up from the midst of the storm, all but masked by the rumbling roar of the searing avalanche of energy. Guilliman landed and immediately fell to one knee as the Ethereal, all but ignoring his presence. He closed his eyes and felt the heat of its passing, horrified at the building pit of resentment that fought to well up within him at being so unceremoniously denied the glory of the kill. By your will, my lord. He managed to whisper, as much to convince himself of the absolute authority of the towering being as it was a gesture of respect. Lord! My Primarch! He opened his eyes as he heard the rubble skitter about him. An armoured shape skidded to a halt by his side and a familiar face met his gaze, a face filled with concern. My lord, are you injured?

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Not particularly. Guilliman replied, rising to his feet. Berolinus rose with him and stepped back, finding himself forced to crane his neck so as to look upon his Primarchs face. The Ethereals have joined the war. The Ultramarine said, seemingly ignorant of the obviousness of the statement. And not a moment to soon, my Primarch. Not only do we have the forces of chaos to contend with. Now the Eldar have unleashed daemons into this war. Yes, and they shall fall, as all our enemies shall. Guilliman replied, conviction flooding back into his voice once more. The might and glory of the Ethereals is supreme. Berolinus heard this and bowed his head. Try as he might, he could not keep the lingering seed of doubt from his expression. +++ Qah started, the sudden reaction enough to bring pause to the voices around him. The ancient alien looked out into the dark spaces of the basement, his psychic gaze extending far beyond the walls and into the distant battle. What is it? Codian asked. What do you sense? A shift. The balance of this war has altered. Darkness comes. Around him the indentured Tau shifted uneasily, set ill at ease by the Old Ones words. Qah closed his eyes for a moment and the outline of his head looked to shiver, losing its definition. A moment later, he returned to his normal state. The war gods of the Eldar stalk the field. My brother has answered the call. Is it time, Qah? Are we set? The anticipation in Codians voice was obvious. Qah shook his head at this. No, Codian. The time is not yet right. The presence of Khaine will be the weight that will tip the scales in our favour, but for now, we must continue to wait. Besides, we have our numbers to bolster. The Chaplain looked to Qah as he heard this. He understood. Then bring them to us. Qah stepped back and raised his hand, waving his outstretched fingers in a slow circle. The air at his side puckered and ran fluid, parting in a swirling vortex of melting colour. Tau gasped and backed away as the atmosphere about them grew suddenly cold, frost glittering in the air. Reality gave way to the irresistible powers of the Old One. Displaced air surged into the basement, rocking all those close enough on their heels. Three towering shapes bled from the anomaly and formed before them, writing themselves into their new location under the influence of Qahs inconceivable powers. Tigurius, Cassius and Ventris stood before the gathered warriors as the unnatural disturbance died away in the wake of their arrival.

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Codian bowed his head to the three Ultramarines. Our army. He said, presenting the Tau with a sweep of his hand. Cassius regarded the Tau before him with glowing eyes, allowing his gaze to linger upon the gathered crowds for a moment. Then he turned his gaze to the shadowy Old One. Is it time? Soon. Qah answered, looking out into beyond the ceiling and into the stars once again. He stirs. +++ He opened his eyes at the sound of approaching footsteps. The noise was slight, almost silent, but here in the absolute calm of the chamber, the smallest amount of noise was amplified. The three figures were tall and lean, clad in bodysuits of midnight black. Their faces were hidden, for they were faceless by their very nature. They stood before him in silence, awaiting his pleasure. Report. The assassins knelt and bowed their heads at the sound of his voice. One of the operatives removed his rebreather mask to reveal an aging face framed with short greying hair. My lord. Our mission continues in secrecy. We have thus far managed to remove several key commanders, but the vital targets elude us still. Mephetrans eyes burned a shade brighter as he heard this. Although to hear such news angered him, he savoured the quiver of fear in the assassins voice. Unacceptable. Your mission is to maintain the balance of this war until I am satisfied that it is time for me to initiate my ascension. I have made my wishes quite clear in this matter. I will ensure that efforts are redoubled, my lord. The Master Assassin answered, bowing ever deeper. We have met with some success regarding the war between the Custodes and the forces of the Void Dragon, though the presence of the Eldar have reduced a measure of that success. A short while ago we also received word from our operatives within the Tau fleet. It would seem that the Mechanicus elements there are preparing to make their play. Orders have been given, lord. The God-Machines of the Titanicus are in the process of being awakened. Mephetran tilted his head back slightly as he ruminated on this new information. Good, good. The Void Dragon is soon to enter this war, then. This is excellent news. And what of our little champion, Guilliman? Have the diverse hordes of the Alliance managed to stall or halt his impetuous advance yet, or does he lumber on still, besting foe after foe? He has thus far survived the many trials he has faced. The Master Assassin replied. Though it has become increasingly difficult to manage his success. Mephetran let the man fall silent then and for a time he sat in silence, his glowing eyes fixed to the kneeling slave before him. It troubles you, does it not? My lord?

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The assassin looked up, confusion passing over his face. Mephetran waved a dismissive hand. It see it in your face. I sense it in your voice. Your every word hangs heavily with the question of why I fight to keep him alive. You will is not for my consideration, my lord Nonetheless, I will indulge you. Guilliman is my tool. He is to be manipulated by me and me alone. Let the Void Dragon revel in the success of his greatest champion. I want Roboute Guilliman to survive to the end. I want it to be he who smashes the gates of this Palace wide open. You see, there are no secrets of the flesh that can be kept from one who knows deceit as well as I. Guilliman will die, of that there is no question, but he must die at the very crux of his success. I want the Void Dragon to see that death, and I want him to learn just how lacking his omnipotent gaze really is. Only then will I rise and destroy him. I want him to stare defeat in the face before I deliver oblivion to him. Your wish is our command, lord. The assassin answered. That it is. Mephetran replied. +++ Where are ya? Raaaargh! Ill tear ya ta pieces! OMogdrak threw his vast arms about him in rage, the guns set into the armoured claws spitting out a hail of indiscriminate death all around him. Orks shrunk away from the incandescent Warboss, some yelping in pain as hot pulse rounds caught them. The vast Ork had been locked in this cycle of rage and violence for hours, ever since the sudden and unexpected disappearance of the towering, dark-skinned human. The brief second encounter between them played over and over in his mind, serving to feed and agitate his anger ever further at being denied the kill. Ill find ya! Ill rip dese blasted bit by bit, an Ill find ya! OMogdraks armies were not without their armoured resources. A number of modified Tau skimmers smashed their way through the wall beside him amid a blaze of noise and fire. Once, these craft had been Devilfish, but they had been extensively altered to accommodate the needs of the Orks. Much of the hull armour had been stripped away to allow the Orks access. The pilots compartment was little more than a hole at the nose of the craft, the delicate controls that had once been housed there replaced by simple levers and buttons. Gone were the frontal weapons systems of the craft, instead the nose of the Devilfish held an uneven collection of thick armour plates, all welded together to provide the craft with a punch strong enough to smash through rockcrete. The Orks crammed into the vehicle whooped and hollered as they passed their Warboss. They waved their weapons in the air as the struggling skimmer bore on, groaning beneath the weight of his living cargo. OMogdrak barely acknowledged its passing, for there was only one thing on his simple mind. He made for the breach left behind by the Devilfish and was almost into the wide space when a huge explosion rocked him back on his armoured heels. Intense heat washed over his face, blistering his grey skin. Ork bodies twisted by him, coming apart as they did so. Rockcrete chunks and burning armour plate rang against his armour like projectiles thrown by an angered mob.

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The sheer surprise of the crafts sudden demise served to quell a measure of the anger within him. He raised an arm and batted aside a burning Ork body, the blow breaking it apart around him. Attracted by the bright and noisy display of death, Orks poured from the breaches behind him to investigate the occurrence, jostling for space. Waaaaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhh! The sound froze him in his tracks, seizing his muscles and burning through his simple mind like a mental firestorm. His boyz clattered together behind him as they came to a standstill, many of them falling over as if physically struck by the powerful sound. It was a bestial and animalistic noise, one that OMogdrak had never before heard uttered, and yet some basic and primal part of him recognised it. Unfamiliar urges coursed through him, lighting needs and desires he had not known existed within him. His vision blurred, turning a hazy orange colour. Though he did not know it, nascent energies crackled in his eyes, coaxed to the fore by the ancient call. Pullpull yerselves tagetha! He snarled, fighting to raise his own voice amid the effects of the call. The vocal response he had expected did not come and so he threw himself around, his fists raised in readiness to deal retribution His boyz. Something was happening to his boyz.

Chapter Two Hundred: A Glimpse of the Apocalypse.

The walls. The walls of the defence lines were so close now that it was almost as if he would be able to reach out and touch them. Guilliman suppressed the urge to do just that and instead focused his mind on the fight ahead. They had come so far now and their goal was within reach, but this final push would prove to be the hardest and most dangerous fight he had yet faced. Even with the added might of the Ethereals, the forces that now gathered to oppose them were deadly in the extreme. He ran through the scenarios in his mind again and again. He had planned for this, he told himself. He had planned for every and any eventuality. He had known that it would come to this. He had always known. The Tau had done what no other race or martial force had been able to do. They had conquered this galaxy. The empire of the Unity was vast enough now that it touched the edges of this galaxy, but it was on Terra that they were always going to meet the greatest resistance. They could have done nothing to change this, and in a way Guilliman felt a sense of pride at the fact that it was the cradle of humanity that still resisted. If he could only make AunVa see this, see the strength and resolve that the human race still possessed. His people were misguided, driven down a path of folly by the corrupt leaders of the Imperium. They did not need to be destroyed; they needed to be saved. He would do everything in his power to save them. He allowed his pace to slow as the Ethereals advanced past him, towering pillars of burning, inexorable malice. In truth he almost felt redundant now that the commanders of the Unity proper had taken to the battlefield, although he would never have admitted as such, even to himself. Unwelcome emotions fought to push themselves to the fore of his mind, dark, negative and counter-productive to the creed of the Unity.

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A wave of disgust surged through him at his own weakness of faith. A part of even dared feel even jealousy at the participation of the Ethereals now. Two of the mightiest opponents he had ever faced, both Primarchs, his own brethren, had been stolen away from him by the arrival of the Ethereals. They were out there still, somewhere amongst the chaos and confusion. He whispered a plea to the Emperor for their continued survival, for they were his to destroy, and he would do so in homage to his father and master, the Emperor of man. Standing alone amidst the surging numbers of the Tau, he found that he felt alone, cast adrift upon a sea of frenzy and confusion. By his presence alone he had incited the rage of the Tau forces, setting them alight with a fire that had thus far burned away the worst effects of the debilitating virus, a fire that fuelled them and kept them going where other, lesser races would have withered and died. That the Unity would win this war was a conclusion that was without doubt. It did not matter what the forces of the Alliance threw at them, they simply did not have the strength to deny the will of AunVa. He was, after all, the master of machines, and the Alliance could not win this war without machines. This was the great irony that the Alliance had thus far failed to see. My lord, you falter. Is something troubling you? Guilliman barely turned his head to acknowledge the arrival of his ward. The pace of this war threatens to accelerate beyond us, Berolinus. Do you agree? The Ultramarine found himself taken aback by this question. He studied it for a moment, mindful to provide his Primarch with a suitable answer. Itit would seem so, my lord. Both the Eldar and the forces of chaos present what I would deem to be a very real and powerful threat, a threat I believe that only the Ethereals are powerful enough to respond to. The Tau fight on with fire in their bellies, but if I were to offer my honest opinion, I cannot see this as being enough. The war machines and the more powerful elements of the Unity should doubtless see some success, but I fear that the lesser legions of the Tau are going to suffer badly before we see these walls breached. Much to his relief, Guilliman answered this with a nod. You speak the truth, Berolinus. Our greatest test is upon us and we must answer it with both might and strategy. The walls you see before you represent the final hurdle in a campaign that will see the Unity rule this galaxy unopposed. We will see those walls breached, my son, that is my vow. Where you see obstacles, all I see is the next phase. You look upon these daemons of the Eldar and you see a strength and power the likes of which you fear that even we cannot match. Berolinus swiftly shifted his position as another of the godlike Ethereals loomed past, its burning form casting a flickering azure glow across his armoured form. My Primarch, my faith in this cause and the greatness of the Unity cannot be called into question, but I am no fool. We no longer fight the disillusioned forces of our crumbling Imperium. In the walking gods of the Eldar I see the greatest threat we have yet faced, yes, and the powerful Primarchs of chaos serve only to add to that menace. With that Berolinus gestured around him at the advancing Tau. Most of the mobile vehicle units had already passed by them at this point, leaving the surviving infantry to make their own way towards the defences on foot. II just dont see all this as enough. We need armour and guns, my Primarch, if we are to bolster the Ethereals and break these walls. Machariuss Megalodons would have made a significant difference here,

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but they are lost. Indeed, it would seem that most of our armour has suffered in the earlier stages of this war. We have continued to progress and our determination has brought us this far, but where do we go from here? Where indeed? Guilliman answered, casting his gaze upon Berolinus for a moment. With that he looked back towards the walls and raised his sword. Berolinus, the Unity has not conquered these stars through might alone. The most potent strike, the strike that kills with immediate effect, is the one that is placed to attain the absolute maximum consequence. It matters not the power of the weapon used, but rather where and when it is employed. You see, your thoughts and fears match those of the enemy, my companion, and that is a good indication of the effectiveness of our plans. I do not understand, my lord Good. Then neither should they. He gestured at the walls again with his blade, as if to offer up the entire Alliance as his example. For the most part, the commanders of the Alliance think that they have seen our greatest strengths already, but like you, they are mistaken. Let this Alliance think that they alone maintain the element of surprise here, that they alone offer new and unexpected allies and weapons to this war. Let them make those mistakes. Our victory will be made all the sweeter. He nodded to himself then, as if to confirm something in his own mind, and raised a hand to his collar. This is Guilliman. Give me a direct link to Herodon. Berolinus moved closer as the vox unit set into Guillimans collar crackled, intrigued by what was unfolding. A tinny voice cut through the static a few seconds later but its words were lost to his ears in the surrounding bedlam. Yes, the Eldar have revealed themselves fully now. We are at the walls, Herodon. +++Trans-orbital augurs have detected many spikes within the last half an hour, lord Guilliman. Some are recognisable to us, at least in part. Others are far more obscure, doubtless Eldar in configuration. The enemy make their play, Primarch.+++ And we shall respond, Magos. Release the first wave. He tapped his collar again and the link severed. The Ultramarines eyes narrowed. Guilliman closed his eyes and took a deep breath, allowing the air to exit his lungs slowly. He opened them and found his comrades intrigued gaze upon him. This is it, Berolinus. This is the killing strike, the bolt through the head, the blade drawn across the neck. Now we stand before the Palace, the Alliance will feel the full might of the Unity. The pieces have been placed, and now is the time to execute the final move. From this moment on, we do not hold back. Berolinus jogged closer to his Primarchs side as a large group of Tau sprinted past, crying the name of their Unity from phlegm-filled throats. He hissed in annoyance as the diseased creatures glanced across his armoured form as they poured by him, almost ignorant to his presence. It was only on the off chance that he looked out past them towards the walls of the Palace proper, the huge, towering bulwark surrounding the Eternity Wall Gate, and saw it. The heavens themselves poured the heat of the stars down onto the walls in a single glittering column of

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white-hot energy as wide as a city square. Everything before him was scoured away by the sheet of brilliant white, and the very definition of the walls disappeared to be replaced by a blinding nothingness. The lance strike vaporised everything in its path, cutting through men, machines and fortifications as if they were nothing. Ancient rockcrete that had been constructed to withstand the most potent orbital bombardment simply disintegrated, burned away to atoms by the blast. Void shields burst and failed in droves as the protective grid that bolstered the main walls fought in vain to expel the indescribable energies assailing it. Berolinus rocked back on his heels at the sheer spectacle of what he saw before him, feeling a warm breeze buffet his face. The Alliance answered. Immense lances of red light split the skies in response, rising in the blink of an eye up into the faltering gore rains and punching mile-wide holes through the heavy clouds. Defence lasers. Berolinus recognised the telltale spears of laser energy immediately for what they were. Up until this very moment he had not even considered that such weapons existed here and yet, now that he witnessed them in action, he felt his cheeks colour with the foolishness of this. This was the Imperial Palace itself, the most famous and celebrated structure within the entire Imperium and the most heavily defended edifice in existence. In the distance he saw another shimmering pole of burning white light touch down, its impact hidden by the soaring angles of the Palace beyond. Plumes of rolling fire rose up above the imposing grey walls, visible even from his position miles away from the point of contact. Once again, crimson spears of light lanced upwards in answer. Moments later the hidden stars looked to quake and flash, as if the atmosphere of the world was alight with fire. The rolling clouds lit up, illuminated by the tremendous bursts of light and power cascading through the upper atmosphere. Berolinus knew exactly what this meant, for he had seen its like once before. Seconds before, that had been a ship. Why now? He called, as Guilliman began to stride towards the walls. I do not understand. If we have had these kind of capabilities all along, why wait until now to utilise them? Guilliman did not slow as he turned to look upon the Ultramarine, his expression laced with chastisement. You could ask the same question of the Alliance, Berolinus. Why is it that they have waited until we strike with our orbital weapons to respond in kind? Why not simply attack our ships the moment we made low orbit? II do not know, Primarch. Berolinus replied, genuinely mystified. Once again, he found himself searching his mind for an answer that he felt befitted the status of his Primarch. Honour, perhaps? Hardly. At that, Guilliman looked back towards the vastness of the Palace and tilted his head. Fear, Berolinus. They fear the consequences. Look to the Palace for the answers you seek.

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The Ultramarine did just that. He followed Guillimans gaze to where the distant Palace sat in wait. Patches of darkness flickered here and there, hidden behind the towering walls but nonetheless visible by their very nature. Lights blinked out all across the walls, only to blaze again moments later. They must draw the power they need from the Palace grid itself. Berolinus observed. Guilliman smiled, satisfied with this answer. An unavoidable weakness, Berolinus. An ominous necessity. Each and every time they fire the mighty defence lasers that protect the Palace, they do so knowing that they must allow their defences to be lowered for vitals seconds. Each time this happens, they are left effectively defenceless. Void shields sputter and fail. Sentry systems die. All but the most self-sustaining systems find themselves deactivated as the ancient plasma furnaces pour power into the lasers, draining the grid for miles around them. Guilliman craned his neck to look up into the skies then, following the angled trajectory of another mighty laser blast. The defences of the Imperial Palace are without doubt the most potent in this galaxy. Each blast is powerful enough to cripple or even destroy the mightiest of our ships. The next crimson lance you see, try to imagine how many Tau lives are fated to be ended by it. A sobering thought. Berolinus heard this and narrowed his eyes. Then the cost Matters not. Guilliman replied. Each time we force them to lose power, we open a vein. +++ Centurion Caer Validimus felt the wall slam into his back and he fought to steady himself, pushing a fresh surge of strength from his mind and into his drained limbs. He no longer held any recollection of the passage of time. He did not know how long they had fought the agents of the Void Dragon, how many brothers had fallen to the blades of the enemy or, indeed, how many still survived. He pushed himself back up onto his feet and turned to look upon the silent entity beside him. Fuegan of the Burning Lance simply tilted his gilded head, his eyes glowing with unquenchable inner power. Validimus understood. It was time. The other Phoenix Lords had already left this secret theatre of war, slipping away into the endless shadows in answer to some nameless and unspoken call. He had felt that call in his mind and he had known at that moment that the role of the Phoenix Lords in this battle was over. Nonetheless, the Phoenix Lord spoke to him then, offering an explanation. Our journey here has reached its end. The soulless ones can be delayed no longer, for the race-destiny of the Eldar calls us. We must respond. Validimus radiated a mental shiver of understanding. Like the actors of some cosmic play, the Phoenix Lords of the Eldar had performed their collective role in this part of the war. They were needed elsewhere now. Even from here, deep within the cool and cavernous expanse at the heart of the Palace, he had felt it, heard it with his mind. The call of the Eldar god of war, the blood-scream of Khaine. It rang in his thoughts still, hot and rich, sending tingles of crimson anger through his veins. Fuegan cast one final, fleeting glance his way and then swept around into the crowds of milling Custodes thronging the raised dais of the Inner Ziggurat. He sank into the golden-armoured tide like a blade through

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flesh and was absorbed, disappearing from sight in moments. He had no idea how the Burning Lance would even escape this place but that did not matter, it was enough to know that he would. Here before the Throne Room of the Emperor, the surviving Custodes jostled for space upon the elevated platform, shifting unbidden into defensive lines. Ancient glow globes with circumferences measuring hundreds of metres shone down on them from over a mile above, illuminating the gilded sea of warriors. Validimus was no fool. He knew full well what was unfolding before him. This was a situation with no alternative, a situation he had witnessed being played over and over again in his minds eye. He was staring down the barrel of a loaded gun and there was no escaping it. This was fate, his fate and the fate of all those who fought alongside him. This was the last stand of the Adeptus Custodes, just as he had seen it. Ancient defence guns hung limp far above him, hidden by the cavernous shadows. Many of them had taken their toll of the enemy before they had been silenced, but it was not the guns of the enemy that had silenced them. The weapons had simply given up. They had yielded to the enemy without resistance for, like all of the most ancient, semi-sentient technology, they were slaves to the Machine God. The same weapons, stolen and enslaved to the will of the Void Dragon, could easily have reduced them all to dust by now. The Centurion considered this and found himself sickened by the realisation that it was the being beyond the doors of the Throne Room, the Great Usurper, that had doubtless prevented this. They were alive, every one of them, only by the grace of the Deceiver. They were alive only to defend him. The tides of the enemy shifted in the gloom below, a seething carpet of cold hatred. Gauss lances shimmered up the wide steps of the Inner Ziggurat to pick at his legions, wild lances of quivering death that stripped warriors to the bone in their passing. He saw another Custode fall and felt the rage building deep inside him, white-hot and boiling with retribution. He did not fight the burgeoning sensation, instead choosing to focus and shape it. The soul fire burst forth from him and screamed down into the blackness, illuminating the ancient stone of the Ziggurat walls as it descended. Gate Keepers stomped their way to the fore, cutting through the lesser tides. The towering machines turned their guns down towards the distant enemy and fired. White and silver bodies burst across the length of the colossal staircase and rolled away into the bottomless shadows, trailing leaking energies and glittering clouds of metallic dust. Custodes ran forward in squads to join the efforts of their larger brethren. Guardian spears sang, scattering bolts and flashes of mind-fire through the ascending Void Angels. Validimus could feel the weight of his own approaching doom pressing down upon him, crushing him into the weathered stone. He did not fear death, nor pain, only failure. Failure was a concept that set his heart beating rapidly in his breast. Failure quickened his breath and sent fire coursing through his mind. He would not fail. He could not allow himself that indignity. While ever he drew breath he still lived, and his life, his existence, was dedicated to the manifestation of the Emperors will through his own actions. Brothers! To arms! He called, driving his spear into the air. Let the enemy know that we are far from done! They think that they have driven us into a corner, and that much is true! We have nowhere to turn now! There is no room left for us to retreat! This is to be our last stand, brothers! Let us make that count! Let us give the enemy hell for every drop of blood they spill! Into them! Validimus lowered his spear and charged, surging forward across the slick, mildewed stone. A shuddering roar of assent rose up from behind him as he cut a path through the milling crowds and carved his way through the heaped piles of minute devotional offerings left behind by the millions of pilgrims that had

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visited this holy site over the millennia. He leapt down the first few steps, firing as he progressed. The weapon bucked and shuddered in his hand as it sent bolt after bolt down into the shifting gloom. He did not know who had owned the spear before him, and found it difficult to recollect how he had even come to possess it. He had exchanged weapons many times since the Void Angels had emerged from their secret exile, discarding one and replacing it with another was each weapon had fallen cold and spent in his grasp. The very presence of the Void Angels was enough to eventually burn away the layers of psychic resonance that enveloped the most powerful of force weapons in time, and many such weapons had been scoured this way whilst in his possession. It did not matter. Nothing mattered now except for the consequences of his own actions and the actions of each and every one of his brothers. Together we are strong! He called, his powers surging out through his voice and amplifying the volume of the sound. Together, they cannot hope to burn out our minds! Together, Custodes! We will meet eternity as one! The steps of the Inner Ziggurat shook beneath the weight of uncounted feet as the Custodes followed in his wake, pouring over the lip of the dais to meet the advancing enemy. Within moments the cold, dark air above them began to roil and flash with the burgeoning build-up of psychic energy. Vortexes began to sink into the growing mass as, one by one, the Custodes tapped into the flashing, swirling mass. Raw psychic power descended into bodies and then blazed down into the Void Angels, burning mechanical bodies to ash in an instant. For the Emperor, we are strong! Validimus cried, leaping the last few steps into the vanguard of Gogs legions. He speared the first Void Angel through the chest and removed the shuddering body with a burst of bolt fire. For the Emperor, we shall not fall easily! For the Emperor we shall summon the wrath of His spirit and bring these abominations the end they deserve! He landed amongst the enemy and threw himself into a rotating spin, sweeping his blade around with him. Heads and limbs spun through the air in his wake, for he was alight with the fires of rage now, a blazing, killing avatar of destruction. Call it, brothers! Call it from the depths of your souls and push it out into this reality! Let the enemy see why they have underestimated us so! Bring the Holocaust down upon them all! He drove himself into the climbing Void Angels without fear or compare, his blade glinting in the wash of sickly emerald light radiating off the collected bodies of the enemy. Again and again he hacked and slashed, firing his bolter on full auto, scything Void Angels in all directions. A whickering power began to form about his head, fingers of energy darting from the shimmering anomaly. The steps beneath his feet shook as a huge armoured form rolled past him, a Gate Keeper, its vast bulk burning and flayed by the guns of the enemy. The falling war machine crushed the Void Angels in droves as it rolled and bounced past him, swiftly disappearing into the bobbing mass below. Gauss lances quivered up to meet him but Validimus was not to be stopped now. He spread his arms and uttered a howl of unfettered rage, the sound manifesting as a vocal accompaniment to the power that burst forth from him. The gauss beams shattered against the aura, their power eaten away by the otherworldly force. He sensed him then. He sensed the fiend moments before he saw him, cutting his way through his own as

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if they were less than the enemy, mere obstacles to be removed from his path. Exosus Gog rose up through the Void Angels, parting them with his very presence. The cold light of his eyes cut a path through everything to fix themselves upon Validimus, and when the Centurion saw them he felt the bottomless well of hatred that echoed deep within the hole at the centre of the ancient being. Validimus lowered the tip of his spear at Gog, a clear gesture of challenge. It was a challenge he knew he would find answered. Look upon your doom, traitor! Look upon me, and let fear quake your heart! Gog did not answer him. The fallen Primarch raised his mighty glaive and issued a terrible mechanical roar. A burst of blinding white light cascaded from the weapon and enveloped everything within the blink of an eye. Validimus felt the force of the discharge push him back, rocking him on his heels. The steps about him rang as Custodes were thrown off-balance by the blinding pulse. Warriors cried out, blinded by the flare. Those who are able, push your minds out through the pain! Let your thoughts be your eyes! He shouted, forcing himself to obey his own command. His own sight had been scoured away by the burning flare but, like many of his brethren, he did not need his eyes to see as a mere mortal might. Gogs towering form swam into his mind, cutting through the mental haze, a half-glimpsed outline of void darkness. Soul light flashed and dissipated wherever he swung his terrible glaive to cut down those few brave Custodes who had thrown themselves forth past Validimus into the fray. The Centurion could feel it still, building ever stronger above and within him. Elements of its mass guttered and dimmed as Custodes were killed, but it was too strong now to banish, to potent to affect. He did not know if the corrupt Primarch was even aware of what was happening, nor did he care. Gog could not escape this now. Exosus Gog tore his way upwards towards the Centurion, slashing and beating his way through the press of bodies. Custodes descended to meet him but he cut them down without pause or mercy, sweeping warriors off their feet in droves and sending them tumbling away. +You cannot resist us.+ He shouted, snatching another golden warrior off his feet and dashing him against the steps. +The Throne will be purged. In the name of the Dragon, you will all be purged. There can be no resistance.+ Validimus threw himself forward and drove his spear tip-first at the abomination. Gog reared up, taken momentarily by surprise, though he was far from slow to respond. The two blades passed one another by a hairs breath and carried on into the bodies of their opponents. The Centurions spear slid through the armour at Gogs shoulder and buried itself deep in the unknown stuff of his mechanical form. Gogs crackling warscythe met far less resistance. Validimus gasped as he came to a dead stop, the phase-shifting energy blade buried into his chest up to the hilt. The blow was a mortal one, he knew that instantly. +Dust.+ Gog uttered, a cold disdain shining in his eyes. +That is your fate. Your bodies will be rendered into dust, and you will become nothing but sustenance, energy to feed the God of the Machine.+ How wrong you are, traitor. Validimus replied, blood bubbling from his lips. Even as his life force ebbed away, he managed to force a smile onto his lips.

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Dont you feel it? You are empty, Gog, empty and cold, like all those who serve you. You are a shell. The wrath of the Emperor comes to fill that shell. Yougnnnyou say that we are fated to become dust. You shall be rendered into nought but ash. That is the fate you speak of. Above them, the Holocaust could be contained no more. Gog raised his eyes up into the roiling air in time to see the formidable psychic build-up reach its zenith, in time to see his own fate. +No.+ He hauled his warscythe free and let Validimus fall onto the steps, animated by the danger of the situation. Wispy tendrils of snaking shadow began to leak from him as he threw himself around and raised an arm. The same shadows flowed from the limb and began to twist about his warriors, ready to pull them from this place, to drag them impenitently into the safety of the unknown realms of the Necrontyr. With a single low, rumbling boom, the Holocaust denied him that escape. Waves of searing power radiated out from the central point and passed over Custode and Void Angel alike, burning away armour, flesh and bone in an instant. At that moment, nothing mattered. Nothing resisted. Nothing survived. The Inner Ziggurat itself, like all the most ancient edifices of the Imperial Palace, had been built to withstand the unmatchable presence of its immortal master. The psy-conductive material welcomed the burning caress of the Holocaust as if it were a warm breeze, ineffectual and light. Its passing caused the steps to glow but no more. Each and every one of the Custodes had known that this would be their destiny. They did not fight the effects of the deadly force. They opened themselves to it and allowed it to pass through them, strengthening its already formidable force. The effort of allowing this to happen melted their bodies in an instant, fusing flesh to armour and then drawing all substance from all they were, fulfilling the Centurions promise. The Adeptus Custodes became ash, destroyed as one by the irresistible power. Void Angels, dark warriors that had existed for millennia without emotion or feeling cried out now in rage and pain and fear as they were scoured from existence, their bodies torn to atoms by the Holocaust. Exosus Gog lifted his arms and screamed in utter rage at being denied, for this was all he could do now. Then the Holocaust, the final, terrible legacy of the Adeptus Custodes, flayed him to ash, and he was done, gone, as if he had never existed. +++ He opened his eyes and smiled. At the very centre of the glowing orbs set into his face, almost too obscure as to be noticeable, flickered a tight, repressed core of pain, of discomfort. Impressive. He uttered, flashing a dazzling, malevolent smile. A powerful display indeed. That should anger him quite sufficiently. When Mephetran spoke, it was as if to the air itself. He tightened his grip upon the arms of the Throne, almost as if to display a possessive jealousness. You have denied him a champion and denied him this Throne, and he will hate you all the more for it. That is the difference between my brother and I. I form my desires to be supple, to snake and slither around any setback or obstacle. My plans are flexible, adaptable. I anticipate adversity. I expect hindrance. You see, I set my sights upon the horizon and I wave my way there. He does not. He fell silent then, almost as if in anticipation of some form of answer. The chamber remained utterly silent. He was always sure that his pet would storm this chamber and take my prize from me. That has not happened. He has been denied. His rage shall know no bounds because of that. do you see it?

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He gestured up with one hand. He stirs in earnest now. In his frustration, his impatience for victory, he makes that decision. You have angered him, crippled one, and now your legions shall pay a heavy price. The Void Dragon comes. Mephetran chuckled, the sound rumbling through the stillness of the chamber. Of course, as promised, I will keep my end of the bargain. He calls them to him, the Destroyer and the Lunatic. This world will quake at their coming. I will feed on them, but before I do, the scrabbling mortals on this world will suffer as they have never suffered before. Ah yes, there they are. The Ctan are here. At last.

Chapter Two Hundred and One: They Come.

Qahs head snapped around, shifting with such unexpected ferocity that everyone close enough to see this jumped instinctively. Codian rose from his resting place, his hand wandering to the hilt of the Dawnblade. Qah held up a hand, his dark face tight with some unrecognisable effort. The pools of shadow that served as his eyes narrowed, the miniscule glittering nebulae of the vast mental powers at work within him sparkling at their centre. He shifts. The alien whispered, so quietly that it was almost as if he feared being overheard. Anger causes him to rise, to respondgnnnthey come. They come. I feel their hunger, their desire +I feel it also.+ Said another, his deep mechanical voice a low rumble of sound. Tigurius shifted as he found the attention of the others drawn to him. Nascent psychic energies played about his armoured bulk, and it was clear to all those who observed this that the interred Librarian was troubled by this. +The warp writhes at their coming. Qah, I feel the tides of the Empyrean churning, in turmoil. The very presence of these things begins even now to thin the barriers between the realms. This does not bode well.+ It is an effect that we will fight. Qah answered. He closed his eyes and spoke with his mind, the words leaking into the thoughts of all those present. It is time. We must be reinforced. We cannot allow them to suffocate us. Yes. Only compliance will see us remain with any chance of success. An understanding must be reached. It is the only way. The Cabal. Codian whispered, looking to the Ultramarines by his side. For many of those who fight alongside us now, the warp is their greatest asset. As I understand it, the majority of the Ctan are by their very nature detrimental to the influence of the warp, and they will fight to suffocate it. If they succeed in doing so then they will win, of that there is no doubt. +I feel the minds of the Cabal at work even now.+ Tigurius answered, his augmented voice strained and tested with the effort of peering into that hellish realm. +Though I never imagined that I would admit as much, I pray to the soul of the Emperor that they possess the strength to persevere.+ So do I, lord Tigurius. Codian said, running a hand over the rosarius hanging from his neck. But we must have faith that we will hold out against these monsters. Though you may not know it, there are many more

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minds and presences than the Cabal at work. Every psyker, no every sentient presence with influence in the warp is working even now to keep the link with that realm secured. The Ctan will find their plans far more difficult to realise than they suspect. It is time. Qah said then, his voice causing all others to die away. As one, a sea of heads turned to regard him. The Void Dragon has left his ship. It is time for us to make the transition. Codian took a deep, cleansing breath and nodded. Then we move. At that, Qah spread his arms wide. Then the screaming, roiling darkness came and took them all. +++ Magnificent. Guillimans dark eyes glistened as he regarded the shimmering lights descending all around him. They fell like stars from the heavens, each one aglow with the dying fires of atmospheric resistance. They were coming, and not a moment too soon. He shifted his gaze to look out beyond the descending landing pods, to where the heavens writhed in fearful effect. He looked upon this phenomenon and found himself troubled. The foul blood-rains had cleared a short time ago, but they had done so with such unexpected swiftness even the enemy had seemed to be taken by surprise. The warriors of the World Eaters were mindless berserkers to a man, he knew this much from experience, and yet, even as he had continued to slaughter his way through them, many of the crimson armoured Marines had faltered at the dissipation of the rains, turning their eyes upwards even as he had advanced, their attention stolen by the sudden occurrence. He had killed many in this way, hundreds by his reckoning, and he could not shake the feeling that something was inherently wrong. It troubles you, my Primarch. Guilliman did not avert his eyes as he heard the voice of Berolinus at his side, but he shook his head slowly. The Ultramarine moved closer to his Primarch and followed his gaze, looking out beyond the skies of Terra to where the stars dimmed and swam, obscured by the unidentifiable event. No, Berolinus. Whatever that is, I hold no real concern for it. It would seem that something approaches, yes, but whatever it is that the enemy has in store for us now pales in comparison with the fact that the Supreme Being Himself has deigned to enter this war now. AunVa Berolinus breathed, surprised himself by the reverence in his voice. Guilliman nodded. Yes. Moments ago I was informed that AunVa had left his vessel-throne. Even now he approaches, blazing through the atmosphere in the wake of the coming Titans. So you see, Berolinus, that our path to victory has been locked in place now. The enemy have nothing, nothing at all that can hope to match the might of AunVa. Berolinus simply nodded his assent at this, though his true thoughts on the matter of the Prime Ethereals power went unvoiced. There was no doubt at all that he shared his Primarchs reverence for the inarguable

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dominance of AunVa, but still the power he had seen displayed by both the Eldar and the forces of the Chaos Gods was a power he could not bring himself to dismiss so easily. He continued to watch the descent of the Titans for a moment longer as he mused this. They were earthbound now, descending amid a hail of protective orbital fire. The defence guns of the Palace had increased their efforts to deal with this new threat and in doing so they had begun to stretch their resources even further. He had witnessed the Palace grid take the strain of this increased effort. More and more of that vast edifice was bathed in darkness now, and that darkness seemed to last longer with each effort. The enemy were struggling to cope but still Something continued to rankle at his thoughts, some unexplainable concern. He was sure that he was missing something, that some consideration or fact refused to bring itself forth into the light. Something was wrong but, try as he might, he could not place his finger on what that was. Look to your enemy now, Berolinus. Look to the might of the Eldar, the foe you feared so. It would seem that even gods are capable of cowardice. He shifted his attention at the sound of Guillimans voice and looked back towards the walls. Sure enough, the daemon gods of the Eldar were no longer visible. The Avatars of the Eldar had simply vanished. His face tightened in concern. I dont understand. Havehave they fled? In a sense, yes. They have moved back behind the defences. They did so the moment the Titans began to fall through the atmosphere. They sense His coming. Again, Berolinus found himself unable to accept the Primarchs answer. The very sight of the Avatars had instilled some deep and unshakeable sense of foreboding in him, a feeling that transcended explanation or description. He could not bring himself to accept that Aunva, for all his might, would alone be more than a match for these beings. My lord, perhaps the Eldar have begun to re-deploy their forces in response to the power fluctuations of the Palace. Perhaps they fear that we will breach the defences in the wake of these fluct Perhaps. Guilliman replied, a biting terseness in his voice. Or perhaps they are simply displaying a cowardice that we always knew they possessed in the face of a more powerful enemy. The reasons behind their actions matter not, Berolinus. Their fate is sealed. That it is, my lord. Berolinus replied with a bow. Try as he might, he could not banish the concern from his expression. +++ The towering lander smashed into the wide avenue with force enough to blow the walls of the surrounding buildings to dust. The impact sent forth a shockwave of concussive force out before it, a surge that plucked warriors and war machines up and hurled them aside. Even as the rubble dust continued to swirl about it and the buildings trembled and fell, the massive machine issued a deep, rumbling groan and a deafening whine. Explosive bolts blew in their hundreds around the colossal exit hatch, quaking the lander withy their combined force. The entire hatch fell outwards, still attached to the base of the machine, and crashed into the ground.

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The cavernous interior of the lander belched clouds of steam and smoke, and deep within the smoke, accompanied by an ever-rising whine, a pair of glowing green stars flared to life. The XV-0. Almost as tall as an Imperator Titan, the huge machine stepped clear of its transport and out into the city, trembling the buildings around it with its every step. Countless secondary weapons systems came online one at a time as the Tau Titan cycled its main guns, ready to engage the defenders of the Alliance. The XV-0 was the pinnacle of the Mechanicus achievement within the Unity. The symbol of that turncoat faction was emblazoned on the vast torso of the mighty war machine as a testament to this; the stylised symbol of the Tau set in a circular steel cog. The XV-0s sensor array head turned slowly as its crew took in the surroundings, countless markerlights and acquisition beams scouring the tortured buildings around it. A vast railcannon bank dominated one weapon-limb, the barrel of each of the eight cannons easily twice as long as a Baneblade tank. The other limb housed a brace of fusion cannons, of a size and configuration seen only on these unmatchable leviathans, weapons that even now shimmered and hissed with building power. Within moments, the machine sensed movement up ahead. Hundreds of individual sentry systems diverted their attention to the dust rubble clouds that billowed out of the junction. By the time the first of the speeding tanks slewed around the corner, they were already locked in the Titans sights. The Rhino APCs bore the silver hulls and black and yellow chevrons of the Iron Warriors. The gunners atop the vehicles were the first to spot the waiting Titan and were instantly animated by its presence. The lead Rhinos slewed to a halt, causing a chain reaction that saw more of the armoured vehicles forced to take evasive action in order to avoid shunting into the rear of those in front. Hatches slid open and Iron Warriors poured from the Rhinos even as they drew to a standstill, bolters chattering in their hands. Behind the array-head of the XV-0, the raised back section opened up. Scores of drones billowed into the air and activated their dedicated systems. Some flared to life, bright energy enveloping them. Others unfurled railguns and drifted clear of the mass, ready to hunt. To their credit, the Iron Warriors displayed no outward signs of panic as they formed into neat lines, taking cover where they could find it. Havocs spread themselves through the warrior lines, unleashing missiles and lascannon blasts within moments of acquiring their colossal target. The gun drones opened up first, sending a wave of railgun fire through the forward ranks. Iron Warriors fell in droves to that first assault and the street became awash with blood and gore as armoured bodies burst apart and fell. The practised aim of the chaos warriors meant that they were not slow to reciprocate. Drones shattered in mid-air and plummeted as bolt rounds scythed through the swarm. +++ Disembark! Disembark! Squads by five, into cover and engage! Warmaster Hexor of the Iron Warriors stepped out of the Rhino, his servo-arm unfurling at his back. Warriors exited the ramp behind him in single-file, bolters at the ready. One of the Rhinos exploded to his left, throwing warriors clean off their feet. Hexor swayed beneath the waves of force, armour fragments and viscera pattering against his armour. Before him, the Tau Titan loomed large, wreathed in smoke. Search beams cut through the obscuring smog, stabbing across the ruined street in search of targets. Beneath his helm, Hexor threw the machine a contemptuous sneer.

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He had faced these things once before, on Phagenor, when the Tau came to close the Eye. They were unknown then, these behemoth machines of combined Tau and Mechanicus construction. Hexor had fought them there and he had destroyed no less than three of them, for he was a Titan killer. They were dangerous and almost impossible to kill, but Hexor knew how. Even as the landers had breached the atmosphere he knew what they were, knew what was coming. Pegralus, bring the Breachlord about and into position! The Predators will cover you as you hunt! Axodel, we need the support of the Soul Forges and we need it now! Logust, I want Havocs, five of them, on me! Axodel, likewise a sorcerer, one of your best! Three lascannons, two heavy bolters! Covering fire from all other units! Move! See my will done! Hexor checked and armed his bolter as he turned away from the leviathan and jogged into the shadow of the nearest building. Armoured bodies bobbed and weaved their way through the gathered vehicles towards him as the rest of the Iron Warriors began to fan out in order to seek cover. As ordered, the five Havocs fell into step behind him just as another nearby Rhino swelled and then utterly exploded amid a shimmering wave of superheated power, the white-hot fragments splashing against the surrounding buildings and burning holes in the walls immediately on impact. Another figure cut through the billowing smoke, his outline surrounded by a shimmering aura of protection. Hexor recognised Vordak immediately, the sorcerers horned helm rising up through the hot rubble fog. Hexor headed for the nearest door and coolly smashed it clean off its hinges with a powerful kick. The lamp set into the right-hand side of his servo-pack hummed online as he stepped into the building and made a quick survey of his surroundings before turning back towards the street, the Havocs flowing in behind him. Several of his squads were advancing in the shadow of the building across the avenue, using the wide overhang of the parapet above them as cover. Even as he saw this he flinched, the advanced sentinel systems of his ancient armour sending crimson warning runes flashing across his eyes. Hexor hissed in disgust at the foolishness of his own men as he watched them fall beneath the crosshairs of his display, one by one. The enemy had found them and acquired them, or so his array warned him. Their deaths would be the price they paid for that laxness. The screams came a heartbeat later, howling from high above. Railcannon shots scythed through the parapet and cut the seven Marine to ribbons, simply imploding and tearing apart those that were not hit directly. The entire corner of the building flashed into thick grey dust and fell, the choking powder animated and formed into eddies of vast, swirling spirals by the passage of the powerful shells. Hexor turned his back on the rumbling dust storm and pushed his way deeper into the building, his Havocs in tow. As he passed through the next doorway and into the stairwell, the entrance he had just left exploded inwards beneath the weight of another Iron Warriors APC. The ruined vehicle rolled clean through the wall and carried on deeper into the building. Hexor glanced over his shoulder only briefly, and then carried on. He cleared the steps in a few bounding strides and threw himself around onto the next set, the stone steps quaking beneath his weight. He knew that this particular structure was nowhere near high enough to reach the Titans upper sections, but that did not matter. Range was far more important. He willed his armours voxcaster encryption systems into life, for he was no stranger to the advanced technologies of the Tau. Axodel, what is the status with the summoning? He shouted, rounding onto the next set of stairs. +My lord, I have secured the support of a Forge-host. They are inbound and locked onto o-kzzzz-sition as we speak+

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Good. Choose one of your favoured thralls as a sacrifice to the Keeper, sorcerer. I would have the full cooperation of the Soul Grinders if we are to keep these wolves at bay. Hexor threw himself out onto the next level and slowed, lowering his body as he did so. He jogged over to the shattered windows and signalled for the others to follow, the harsh hand movement indicating that he demanded stealth from his men. He turned to the sorcerer. Vordak, bolster me. I will summon the shroud. Vordak nodded in assent and raised his staff, the daemonic head of the weapon already aglow with malevolent power. The Warmasters gauntlet hand wandered to the blasphemous icon hanging from his neck and he closed his fingers around it, feeling the bitter warmth flow through the limb. He pressed himself against the wall and whispered, his words inaudible. The dark prayer resonated through the ruined room, almost silent and yet ablaze with burgeoning power. Each of the Havocs paused and shivered slightly as tendrils of black, hazy energy leaked from their armour and spread about them, the phenomenon alive and whispering in turn as if alive. They had been made blind to the sensors of the enemy machine now, the ability a particular gift granted to Hexor, for he was a favoured warrior of the Dark Gods. Beyond the window, the XV-0 continued to cut its way through the Iron Warrior host. A thunderous report shook the air and, even as Hexor risked a glance out into the street, the torso of the Titan shook, a host of multiple energy sheaths flaring across its armoured bulk. The Breachlord had entered the fray. Pegralus, pull back! He ordered over the vox. Reload and re-engage! All other squads, I need those enemy drones kept busy! Covering fire, full spread! Neutralise those support systems! In the name of Perturabo, see it done! Behind him, the Havocs moved into position. Vordak stepped back and lowered himself onto one knee, his staff held firm before him. Energy flared and arced in his eyes, his twisted body acting as a conductor for the warp energies sustaining their collective concealment. The Titan was advancing now, its drones swirling about it, unleashing shot after shot into the Iron Warrior defence lines. Its fusion cannons flared, flash-boiling the air between it and its targets and rendering everything hazy and distorted. Hexor checked the range of the machine one more time and then waved the others back into cover. He activated his vox once again, this time willing the channel to switch to another specific recipient. Archodel, expand the augurs, find out how many of these things we face, numbers and positions. We need to formulate an effective counter. I would have answers within the minute. +Yes lord. Your will be done.+ Hissed the static-filled reply. Hexor took a deep breath and steeled himself for the confrontation. He had witnessed the deployment with his own eyes. The landers had spread as they had fallen through the atmosphere but they had kept to a specific trajectory, one that would see them deployed within support range of one another. They had a long fight ahead of them.

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The building shook around them as the weak sunlight dimmed further, the Titan looming close. Mortar fell from the ceiling to patter across their armour, and the polished wooden panels lining the walls quivered and came loose. Hexor ignored this. All that mattered was the destruction of the target. He waved the Havocs towards the shattered windows and then crept forward, crouched low. The room was cast in deep shadow now as the XV-0 lumbered past, the locomotion of its limbs giving off a harsh, ear-splitting whine, its every step thunderous and deep. Its many drones continued to encircle it, scattering railfire out before them in deadly waves. Another swift set of hand signals saw the Havocs align themselves according to his wishes. The three lascannons took the centre windows and the two heavy bolters, crouched into flanking positions, ready to defend the small squad. By now the Titan had passed their immediate position and its rear section was visible, exposed. It was time. You know what to do. Hexor hissed, rising from his cover. As he rose, he activated the vox. Hexor to all units. Attack! Attack! A heartbeat later the Titans shields flashed, power coruscating about it, as the Iron Warriors in the street pressed home their attack. The swarm of drones darted forward to counter the threat. Hexor saw his chance. Fire. Bring it down. He swept his arm forward and the Havocs opened up as one. A trio of bright, burning beams angled down and slammed into the exposed joint behind the Titans right knee, all three striking the exact same location at the exact same time. The XV-0s shields flashed again, but this time they were tested beyond all tolerances by both the precision strike and the concentrated fire before them. Huge pistons and cogs shook on their mounts, distorted and fused by the attack. Hexor rose from his hiding place, an action that prompted the heavy bolters to come to life. Hammer-burst fire exploded amongst the defensive drones as the Warmaster brought his bolter to bear. He sighted along the length of the barrel and coolly picked five of the hovering machines from the air in quick succession, his bolts shattering drones like glass. The Titan had ground to a halt, the joint ruined and fused. Just as he had anticipated, mechadendrites snaked from openings all around the joint, serpentine appendages bearing a selection of repair devices designed to restore the damage and free the linked workings. He shifted his aim and blew them apart, one by one. Even as he did so he tore a grenade from his belt, primed it and then hurled it at one of the openings. The grenade exploded, making a ruin of the aperture. Hexor shifted his aim and continued to reap the twisting appendages. Havocs, strike again! He called, ejecting his spent clip and rearming his bolter in one fluid move. The warriors did as ordered, sending another three lascannon blasts straight into the already tortured joint. At the rear of the Titan the drone ports opened again, sending another cloud of the machines into the air. Hexor spied movement below and to the right of the drone ports. Rectangular launchers rose from another set of hidden chambers and unfurled, sending out questing markerlights as they did so.

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Seeker missiles. Hexor did not know the true name of these intelligent munitions but he knew what they were capable of. The Titan was hurt, and now it was hunting for them. Launchers! Take them out! He commanded, directing the order at the heavy bolters. Even as he spoke one of the markerlights stabbed through the window and passed over the furthest Marine, stopping dead as it found its target. A cloud of missiles billowed from the launchers and into the air, shrieking as they speared forth. The Marine with the heavy bolter rose from his prone position and fired on full auto, the weapon booming and shuddering in his hand. Many of the missiles shattered mid-flight, but it was not enough to save him. Vordak let out a shriek of alarm and rose sharply, sweeping his staff out before him. Warp power arced and boiled from the weapon, creating an ever-expanding bubble of hazy protective energy. The sorcerer knew what was coming. One of the seekers lanced in through the window and buried itself in his chest, detonating on impact. The Marines torso exploded outwards and he lurched back, his weapon spraying the room. Another Havoc fell, his head split wide open. Hexor dived for cover as the hail of explosive munitions homed in on the dead Havoc and tore the room to ribbons. He felt himself falling, the floor beneath him shuddering and then giving way. His armour flexed and rang as the falling debris fought to crush him. Everything went black. His HUD shivered and came back online, running reams of data before his eyes. He ignored the warnings and dismissed them with a thought, clearing his vision. He had fallen through to the floor below, pinned by beams and sections of the outer wall. He shrugged the debris from him and rose, his bolter still held fast in his hand and his servo-arm working to assist him. There were no signs of the others, not even Vordak. They had failed. They were weak, and that weakness had seen them killed. A short search of the level revealed a brace of bodies, those of the Havoc Marines. Of the others there was no sign, but the sight of something lying amongst the rubble caught Hexors eye. A lascannon, intact by the look of it. Hexor grinned beneath his helm and snatched the weapon up, checking it quickly for signs of damage. As he had hoped, the weapon still functioned, its dark spirit unwilling to end its destructive use. He holstered his bolter and took up the cannon with both hands. The windows here were barely visible, hidden by a wall of debris. Using his shoulders, elbows and feet, he smashed his way through the blockage, ignoring the ringing impacts that rocked him as more rubble fell, dislodged by his progress, from above. May the Four Winds guide my aim. He whispered, reaching the shattered window. Still locked in place by the damage done to it, the Titan continued to pour fire into the surrounding streets. Smoke billowed from its hidden fore section, the damage there doubtless caused by the formidable cannon of the Breachlord. From this position, the rear right-hand side of the machines sensor array, essentially the Titans head, was just visible. Hexor had to crane his neck and position the lascannon almost vertically to sight the area, but he knew that one good shot, even from here, could cause enough damage to punch through the XV-0s vital control systems. The cannon shuddered in his hands as it powered up, its exhaust vents hissing as they released the excess build-up of energies at its core. He steadied his aim, braced himself against the surrounding wreckage, and fired.

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The blinding lance speared through the base of the Titans sensor array and exploded out through the top of its head, tearing a good section of the array free. Fire blossomed from the gaping wound as explosions rocked the array, sending whickering chunks of armour plate up into the skies. He lowered the cannon and thrust a victorious fist up into the air. Just as he had hoped, the drones surrounding the machine froze in mid-air, crimson lights blinking furiously across the surface of each one. The automated weapons systems of the Titan fell dormant, starved of the central control of the things logic engines. Warmaster Hexor cast the lascannon aside and spread his arms wide to the heavens. For you, my gods! For your glory, I claim this kill! Let the enemy tremble as they see how we lay ruin to their might, and then they will truly know the power of the Dark Gods! Hexors arms were still outstretched in triumph as the rising whine cut through the air. He froze, his eyes drawn to the Titan. Hidden beneath his helm, those same eyes widened slowly as he realised, much to his astonishment, what was happening. The gaping wound caused by the lascannonwas shrinking. Liquid metal flowed across the damaged area to fill the gap, scouring the blackened, ragged edges of the breach clean. No He whispered, fighting to dispel the shock of what he was seeing. He stooped low and plucked the lascannon from atop the rubble at his side, even as the sickly emerald glow began to leak from every vent and orifice across the machine. His HUD began to warp and stutter, the strange interference sending lines of unrecognisable arcane script across his eyes. The dark spirit of his armour hissed and wailed in his ears like some loyal familiar, venting its hostility at the unexplainable intrusion. He never even saw the arcing fork of green discharge that spat from the Titan and blew him apart, bursting him from within like some overripe fruit. Warmaster Hexor, scion of Perturabo, died alone, and he died ignorant of the truth of the God-Machine that had killed him. The Necrontyr were here.

Chapter Two Hundred and Two: Into The Void.

The voice came to him, and when it did, it instigated the realisation of his existence. He held no conscious memory of the transition, for one second he simply was. The next, he was gone, torn from life itself, a memory erased. Qahs voice wrapped itself around him, giving him substance, consciousness. Codian He fought back panic then, for even in this state he was capable of thought, of emotion. The lack of sense he experienced swamped him, restrictive and suffocating. He could not breathe, he did not need to. Still he struggled to do so, alarm seizing him, fighting to relieve him of his sense of control. Codian, focus on me. Centre your mind on my voice. You are beyond harm here. Your mind is free. Listen to

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me, let my voice draw you in. The words flowed through his mind like syrup, calming his agitated state. Like a drowning man giving in to his fate he ceased in his efforts, realising on some level that any attempts to physically fight this new experience, for he was beyond resistance. He washe was thought. He was a mind freed of all physical restraint. Is this what it is to be a psyker, he considered? Is this what it is to be a ghost? In a sense. Qahs disembodied voice replied, taking the question to be more than rhetorical. Do not fight this, Codian. I have brought you here for a reason. Brought me where? Codian asked, forcing his own voice into being. The words simply materialised, forced into being by his will. Though he was blind and deaf he found he could sense their existence. This is a place beyond the barriers of all you know as existence. It is a layer, a moment detached from all that is. We are safe here, for now. They cannot touch us here. We are nothing but matter, caught in mid-transition. All that we are is stretched between the surface of Terra and the Void Dragons ship, locked in that instant. I have brought you here to witness something, something that you alone can understand. You need to see this, Prophet, so that you can better comprehend what it is we truly face. Ready yourself. Codian did not answer. He didnt even have time to. A single point of light blinked into existence, a pinprick of substance surrounded by a void of oblivion. That point of light grew steadily larger, brighter, increasing by the second. Other lights began to branch out from it, and within moments it was as if the stars themselves flowed from this light, as if the endless expanse of space poured from the shining beacon. The surrounding galaxy emerged around him, each star settling into place as if summoned. Then the ships came. They loomed into being, stretching from nothing into the immense craft they were, like light streaming from the unreachable distance of the unknown regions of space. Hundreds of them expanded into existence all around him, obscuring the stars with their vastness. For the first time since he had joined the war for Terra, he realised the intensity of the battle for the dominance of the worlds orbit. Every single craft visible was ablaze with firepower. Thousands of energy lances drew burning lines between the ships, so much so that it was as if the starscape had been fashioned into a spiders web. Torpedoes and boarding craft wove between these immense lines, questing for targets. Clouds of fighter craft intermingled as they fought for dominance, the exchange of fire so thick that it created miniature nebulae wherever Codian laid his gaze. All around him it was as if new stars were being written into the firmament as more and more of the mighty and colossal craft exploded and died, venting their energies out into the void. The scale of loss out here took his breath away. Each and every flash of light at the corner of his vision was another holocaust, thousands of lives snuffed out in an instant. The matter left behind by destroyed craft was so thick here that imagined he could almost walk beween Terra and Luna. He fixed his gaze on the forlorn sight of a dead body as it drifted past, its species indeterminable. Why? He asked, staggered by the scale of it all. Why have you brought me to this, Qah? I have seen enough death in my life You misunderstand, Prophet. I have not brought you here to witness this fight, even in its dying stages. No, I have summoned you here to witness not death, but birth. The birth of the end. Turn you gaze out into the

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void, to where the largest of all the ships sits in dominance. That is our destination. Look to that ship, and you will see. The silence of this extraterrestrial vista was an ominous and unsettling phenomenon. He could well imagine that the sheer scale of destruction around him would be enough to deafen him, had sound the ability to travel through the void. He focused his attention on the craft in question and found with some surprise that he was able to stretch his perception out towards it, his eyes crossing the void with a speed he could not hope to gauge. He cut through the debris and exchange of fire as he homed in on the immense craft, searching, assessing, fighting to see that which the ancient alien seemed almost desperate for him to see It came. Codian felt his soul tremble as the thing loomed large before him, sliding through the smooth bulkhead of the Tau ship. Dark energies leaked into the void around it as it slid through the solid hull, its body a lean, glistening sliver of liquid silver. He could not explain the horror he felt in his soul at the sight of it. Indeed, it was as if his mind refused to fully accept what he saw, for he found he could not focus on the entity, could not discern its features, its size and build. It was a thing crafted from pure, unadulterated horror, an avatar of hate and murder, an anathema of existence. The Void Dragon Yes, Codian. Drochtyr. The strongest of all the Ctan. We have forced him into this war now, and when he descends upon Terra all shall quake at his coming. Now that we have forced his hand, the true nature of this war shall be revealed. This is the beginning of the end, Codian, and we can do nothing to prevent that. He will lead his legions into this war, but first, he will feed. Had he been able to do so, Codian would have questioned this revelation. As it was, such was the sheer presence of the Void Dragon that he found himself unable to communicate any reaction other than shock. The being hovered there, its long limbs slowly cycling in the airless expanse. Codian caught sight of a brace of glowing eyes, pulsing softly in the darkness, regarding all around them with a hunger palpable enough for him to sense. He cannot hurt us here. Qah said, his mind-voice but a whisper. But we must be careful. If he senses us then we are in great danger. II sense something, Qah. Something building. Codian thought, the words forming and radiating out from him as if uttered by his own voice. A pressure, an intensity. I cant explain it. That is his hunger. Long has the Void Dragon paraded as the god and saviour of the Tau. The silvered skin he wears is a faade, Prophet. It is an arcane device known as the Necrodermis. It contains his essence, and gives him a hold on the material realm. The Ctan feed on stars, and it is long since the Void Dragon satiated his boundless hunger. For a time, he has relied on his ability to fool an entire race into thinking he is their lord and saviour. That time has passed now, Codian. The Void Dragon no longer needs the mantle of AunVa. Now at last, he seeks to reveal his true self, to enter this war and seal his own destiny as the ultimate conqueror, the consummate destroyer. But first, he must feed. Even as Qah uttered this final and ominous revelation, Codian felt a cold shiver run through his altered soul. The Void Dragon turned his timeless gaze out into the colossal battle and raised a hand, extended his palm out towards the nearest ship. The Imperial Frigate was a vast thing, its flanks ablaze with firepower. Tau fighters harried the vessel, sweeping past in squadrons, their guns raking the larger ship. Defensive turrets spat clouds of bright

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energy out after the fighters, the guns finding many targets amongst the numerous foe. The Void Dragons outline shimmered briefly and then the ancient entity looked to stretch into the distance, his quicksilver body becoming a near-infinite line of movement. He travelled along this line into the ship, striking its distant hull like a lascannon beam. A heartbeat later he was gone, absorbed into the craft. What was that? Codian whispered. The ship came apart in a colossal blossom of fire, the explosion radiating out from its core with enough strength to send rings of force sweeping out before it. The attacking Tau craft were blown apart by the shockwave, burst like promethium-filled balloons, able to offer no resistance. The abomination emerged from the white-hot centre of the city-sized conflagration, his mirrored skin alive with the dancing reflection of the bright fire. His arms were held out at his sides, his splayed fingers alight with blazing energies. Hazy, glowing nebulae streamed from the dying explosion, thousands of tendrils twisting and snaking forth as if alive, drawn to the Star God. They entered him, driving into the metal skin of his back and arms, setting the Void Dragons Necrodermis aglow with energy. Now you see. Qah said, his voice wrenching Codian from his aghast state. Now at least, you should have some idea of the Void Dragons power. Now you see what it is we face. This moment in time has to end now, Codian. we have a destination to reach. He felt the pull then, at the centre of all he was. The sensation was akin to falling, that feeling of emptiness, unable to find purchase no matter how hard he tried to do so. It was as if the largest of the ships before him, the capital ship of the Tau, had caught him in its gravity. He found himself fighting against it, his curiosity far from sated. Some deep, secret part of him knew that there were things still to experience, sights and events that he had to witness, that were crucial to his fate. They blinked into existence at the very edge of his perception. They started as points of light, pinpricks of glowing silver shimmering out of the endless void. In a heartbeat they were here, stretched infinitely from the impossible reaches of perpetuity, transported along that line from there to here. The ships were vast, far larger than even the Void Dragons capital vessel. They were truly monumental things, massive silvered constructs each topped with what appeared to be a pyramid of some kind. Codian caught sight of them and at that very moment he knew, beyond any doubt, that he had seen their like once before. They were Necron ships, and this time they were not running. Everything around him started to distort as the irresistible pull took hold. The Void Dragon did not seem to even acknowledge the arrival of his own forces as he continued to feed, this time pouring himself into the nearest Tau vessel. It was then that Codian finally understood the true horror of the Void Dragon. Even as the last of his essence was dragged towards its destination, he finally saw exactly what Qah had intended him to see. The Tau ship came apart within moments, just like its Imperial counterpart, and as Codian finally gave in to the will of whatever force transient form, the Void Dragon emerged from the ensuing fireball, once again aglow with the life-energies of his countless victims, and turned his ageless gaze towards his prize. Terra. +++

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Terra. The word came unbidden, spoken from a throat that had only formed into existence a second before. Every face in the small army turned his way, and Codian felt a sudden imprudence at his own impromptu exclamation. He shook himself, instinctively checking his functions, as if afraid that the transition could have somehow brought him to this location incomplete. Terra. He said again, by way of explanation. The Void Dragon descends there even now. Qah nodded. He has begun to feed, in order to build his strength for the fight to come. We can be sure at least that this ship is safe from his attentions, for he will not want to destroy his Ethereals yet, not until he has the planet seized in his grasp. Then he will destroy the Tau. Ventris uttered, his brow falling. Qah turned his unblinking gaze to the Ultramarine. That he will. He will feed upon them, once he is done with them. The Tau were always destined to be nothing more than food for the Void Dragon. They will fight and die for him, and when they have outlived their usefulness, they will become his sustenance. Codian was only half listening to the Old Ones explanation. He moved beyond the others, to where the Cadian was already scouting the outer edges of their location. They had been brought to what appeared to be some manner of storage bay. From what he was able to discern from the holographic alien signs on the wall next to the access hatches, it was one of several that were situated so as to serve one of the ships many hangars. The hangar is to the left. Codian said, drawing his bolt pistol. The Guardsman nodded. The double hatch to the right leads deeper into the ship. He moved closer to the holo-sign and waved a hand over it. The symbols changed, this time displaying a schematic of the ships interior. According to this, we need to be headed in that direction. The Ethereal Chamber is several levels above us, and here, here and here are where well find the elevators. I doubt that well be able to access those chambers directly. The Tau will have them well protected, with only those of the highest authority afforded the codes to pass into them. These symbols. You are able to read them? The Cadian glanced his way for a moment, his eyes narrowing. I spent almost twenty five years of my life serving the empire of these Tau, Chaplain. Officially, Gothic is my second language. Yes, I am able to read them. Even as he spoke, the soldier seemed to realise the harshness in his tone. His expression softened then and he nodded. I can lead us to where we need to go. II would be hesitant in trusting these Tau.

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Codians eyes glistened as he heard this, the earlier slight compounded further by the Guardsmans revelation. Hesitant? Kasrkin, little time has passed since you yourself served the masters of these same Tau. Your allegiance was not subject to genetic manipulation as was theirs. And I will give my life to right that wrong. The Cadian hissed in reply, his manner becoming defensive. For I am a son of the Emperor. I was born into His fold, no matter the yoke of slavery I have worn around my neck for most of my life. Tell me the truth, Chaplain. Can we be absolutely sure that these Tau are on our side? We have known them for barely more than an hour. How can we be sure that they are truly on our side? Faith. Codian replied. Faith is all we have left now. At that he left the Cadian and headed back towards the others. The soldier watched him leave, his grip tightening upon the gun in his hands. Then you had all better hope that it is enough. He whispered in reply. The others were busy organising themselves following their arrival. Gormat took command of the Tau, his voice strident yet calm as he arranged them into groups, ready to fulfil their roles. The Ultramarines stood away from the Tau, quietly discussing their own plan of action. Umbras stood with them, silent and attentive, as if relishing the chance to simply stand in the presence of other, more venerable members of his Chapter. He nodded to Codian as he approached. The Chaplain returned the gesture but made his way towards Qah. The ancient alien stood away from the others, ever silent and aloof, observing the separate groups with a fatherly eye. He greeted Codian with a slow dip of his head. Thus far we have encountered no resistance. This is good. It means that we have infiltrated the ship without detection. I saw them. Codian answered, his voice low and serious. The Necrons. I saw them arrive. Qah, I have seen such ships once before. The Tau were hunting them And they were doubtless successful in that hunt. Qah answered. Yes, the Necrontyr are here. The answer to your first question is yes. The craft you saw belong to the forces of the Void Dragon. The answer to your second question is no. This time, the Tau will not be successful in facing these ships. Ever since the Void Dragon took the reins of the Tau, his forces have hunted the Necrontyr of the other Star Gods. Without the aid of their Ctan master, the Tau would never have been strong enough to do so. And now the Void Dragon abandons his people. Codian answered. Indeed. He no longer has need of them. Now, they are but food, a race to be consumed. The Tau are no longer the most powerful race in this war, Codian, and the Ctan are no longer at war with one another. Now they have an uneasy alliance. What of the other Ctan? So far we have only encountered two of them. They are here, Codian. Give me but a shard of your consciousness, and I will show them to you. The Chaplain did not truly understand what Qah asked of him, but he nodded nonetheless. Whatever you need, Old One. With that, Qah closed his eyes, the shadows about his head hazing further. Codian felt a similar phenomenon deep inside him. And then

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Nggghh The sound came unbidden, low and heavy with pain. Codian shivered, the breath that issued from his mouth glittering with ice. Ice coldcold hatred. What have you done to me, Qah? It feels as if I have a blade in my heart. The Nightbringer. You feel his presence now, Prophet, for I have opened you up to him. Codian did not answer. Indeed, it was as if he had not even heard the Old One speak. He stood still as a statue, his eyes roving around the hold, his head cocked slightly to one side. What is that? I hear voices, whispers. Something is in here with us. Whatever it is, I can feel it scraping at the edge of my mind. The Outsider. Qah answered, spitting the words from his mouth. That is enough. He waved a hand and the sensations subsided. Codian looked to the Old One and frowned. She of all of them has the ability to trace our minds back to this place. Qah said. That is why I had to end the connection swiftly. No matter though, now you know them. They are here, and they are ready to join the war below us. Then we can delay no longer. We need to do what must be done and then return. I will not let this war reach its conclusion without me. I agree, there can be no further delay. Qah replied. I will stay here with you until our plans are put into action, but then I must return to the surface. The Void Dragon knows I am part of this war, Codian, and he will seek me out. If I am still here on this ship then he will come, and we cannot allow that. Then let us waste no more time. Codian answered. With that, the two turned towards the rest of the waiting figures, to be met with a host of expectant faces. We are ready. Tigurius said. Tell us what we must do, so that our lord Guilliman is freed to lead his Chapter once again.

Chapter Two Hundred and Three: Hail The Machine

+Withdraw. Give the order to withdraw.+ Warmaster Marneus Augustus Calgar turned his gaze away from the hideous machines to face the legions gathered behind him. The line was vast. Bodies stretched out away from him as far as the naked eye could see to both the left and right, following the gentle curve of the defence lines and the Palace Walls. Unlike the Warmaster, the Primarchs needed no optical enhancements to see the towering god-machines of the Tau clearly. At the head of the small group of powerful superhumans, Ferrus Manus scowled at the sight, his silvered features tightening.

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+These machines. They wear the guise of the Tau but they do not serve the empire of our enemy. They serve the fallen Mechanicus and their ancient master.+ They do not advance. The Khan observed, hatred burning in his eyes. Why do they hesitate? +They wait.+ Manus answered, turning his gaze to the skies. +For him.+ Calgar did not follow the gaze of the others. Instead he turned away from the enemy-filled horizon and looked up beyond the walls, to where the air shimmered and crackled. The bubble of force held still, pulsing beneath each mighty blast. For hours now, the mysterious xenos creatures of the Cabal had fought to repel the orbital attacks, and thus far they were meeting with success. The Palaces defence lasers were silent now, no longer needed. Lance after lance of energy slammed into the barrier of psychic force yet it continued to hold. Despite this, Calgar could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. Though the bombardment had not ceased, it had lessened considerably. This could be due to the arrival of the Titans, but he doubted that. Also, it was whispered that something was happening deeper inside the vast complex that constituted the Emperors Palace, but again, the few reports he had received had been sketchy, largely incoherent. Now communications were all but lost with those beyond the walls, thanks to the efforts of the Cabal. Barely an hour before that, the palace of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica had sent a garbled and panicked communication before falling silent. Likewise, both the Navis Nobilitae and the Scholasta Psykana had not been heard from since the orbital attacks had begun. Yes, something was wrong, and the fact that the answers still eluded him was a constant source of frustration. Lord Calgar! The call tore him from his reverie and he turned in time to see a number of Marines approaching at a steady jog, and at their centre was Remus, one of his most trusted Techmarines. My lord, it is the fleet. Something is happening. Though his voice remained steady and flat, Calgar could not fail to detect the note of anxiety lingering beneath it. We have just lost several ships within the space of minutes. There are signatures blinking from our sensors still, Warmaster. Something is killing the fleet. +Then get me answers, Remus. We cannot afford to lose our orbital support at this stage.+ There is something else lord. The Techmarine continued. The reduction in orbital attacks is no coincidence either. Whatever it is that is killing our ships also seems to be affecting the Tau. Our long-range augurs suggest that several Tau vessels have already been destroyed. We are reading weapons signatures that none of us are able to identify. Wewe do not have any viable answers. The evidence would suggest that the enemy are preparing for a decisive strike. Jonson cut in, his voice filled with scorn. He raised his sword and gestured out at the towering machines in the distance. If we are to plan our own counter-attack then we must do so now, before they have the chance to act. Yes, they must be crushed. The Khan seconded. If we can, we must organise a swift strike force, comprised of the fastest assault elements we have at our disposal

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By his side, Corax shook his head. I disagree. Look at the evidence, brothers. It has to be more than coincidence that there are unexplained events occurring within what we believe to be secure zones deep within our own defensive lines. We have to face the truth. It is possible that the enemy have somehow managed to breach our defences. Look at the zones we have thus far lost contact with. Corax speaks the truth. This time, it was Vulkans turn to speak. If what we are seeing is more than an interruption in communications, then the omens are ill indeed. Something is killing our psykers. The Lions face darkened further at this. Then all the more reason to act, and act now. If we are to do this then we must reorganise our forces. We need to investigate this internal threat as well as respond to the arrival of these Titans. +No.+ All eyes turned to Calgar. +Now is the time to consolidate, honoured Primarchs. It is my fear that the enemy wish to see us divided here. Look to the horizon. These Titans do not advance. I believe that they intend to draw us out, to attack. None of us can know why, if indeed this is the case, that they have targeted the psychic elements of our forces, but they must be aware that we know all this is occurring. These apparent attacks present a clear pattern, a pattern designed for us to uncover. No, I believe that the enemy intend to divide us here, before the walls.+ Then what, Calgar? The Khan asked. We can hardly stay here and do nothing. +We will fall back. We will wait until the enemy draws closer, allow the chaos forces to weather the brunt of the conflict. Once the Titans make their move we will fall back behind the walls of the Palace and make our stand there.+ Before him, a number of the Primarchs were suddenly animated by this announcement, expressions of anger and disbelief passing over their faces. Calgar raised his mighty arms then in an attempt to quell the coming arguments. +Listen to me, my lords. This is a crucial point in the war for survival and we must not be drawn into the enemys trap. They attempt to force us into making rash decisions, decisions that will ultimately unravel this defence. I will not allow that to happen. I will not allow them to win.+ A noble speech, Calgar, but what then? The Khan continued. This situation calls for decisive action. +We hold here, Khan, and we continue to hold until the enemy is at the Gates. Then we reposition our forces beyond the walls and we dig in. the enemy still has much to reveal to us, and we will not commit ourselves to an assault, not while those secrets remain undiscovered. +The Eldar know that something is transpiring too. It is no coincidence that they have directed their own forces into the shadow of the walls. They wait also, that much is made obvious by their actions. I have received scattered reports that Eldar warriors and war machines have been sighted deeper within the Palace complex, so it makes sense that they are on the hunt for whatever it is that has been targeting those areas within the Palace that have fallen from our communications net.+

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It could be a trap, Calgar. The Lion put in. We are dealing with the Eldar, after all. They could be using the confusion of this war to penetrate the Palace, for whatever reason. We have thus far managed to keep the Emperors House safe from the predations of these xenos creatures for millennia, and now we have them wandering freely in this most sacred place. You cannot ignore this fact. +What motive could the Eldar have for moving against us now, my lord Primarch?+ Calgar argued. +This is a war for survival, as much for them as it is for us. No, I have faith in them. We are allies here, no matter whether any of us find that fact comfortable or not, and allies we shall remain, at least until this war is won.+ So then, we wait. Corax uttered, turning his gaze to the horizon once again. +++ Come. The single word resonated throughout the unending vastness of the dark chamber. Ever seated upon his captured throne, the Star God slowly opened his eyes, the glowing orbs casting a golden radiance out into the gloom. Ever watchful to the situation as it continued to unfold, Mephetran withdrew his vast presence, coiling it back inside its golden skin, better to focus on the new arrival. A moment later, the air before his throne shimmered, growing lighter. Nauseating flashes of emerald energy pulsed as the air peeled back, and as the phenomenon dissipated, it left behind a single skeletal figure. +My Lord.+ The tall humanoid machine bent at the knee, its eyes blazing with jade light. Mephetran looked upon it and smiled. They have arrived, and thus I have need of your services once again. The Necron did not answer. It simply remained where it was, still and frozen to the spot, awaiting its masters pleasure. Drochtyr, in his infinite arrogance, believes that his entrance into this war will cement his ultimate victory. He does not realise that, even now, these creatures work to undo all he sees as unchangeable. You have served me well, my minion, in the past, and have proved to me that you are able to masquerade as a human quite effectively. Your skills at subterfuge lead me to command you to undertake another mission of deception. Again, the Necron did not reply. A party of these humans has managed to infiltrate Drochtyrs personal vessel, accompanied by a small army of enlightened Tau. You will infiltrate this group, and you will remove and replace one of these individuals. As yet, the reasons behind this latest course of action confound me. I will have answers. Once you discern exactly what they plan to achieve, you will eliminate the party, leaving no survivors, and you will return to this place and report back directly to me. Is this understood? +It is understood.+ The machine answered. Good. Choose your deceit wisely. At that, he gave a simple wave of his hand, a gesture that caused the Necrons eyes to burn a shade

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brighter for a fleeting moment. You have all the information you need. See it done. Mephetrans golden skin took on a green hue as the Necron vanished in a flash of crackling light, leaving him alone with his thoughts once more. Then he spoke again. It is time. Distribute your forces and take your positions. Behind him, thousands of tiny pinpricks of green light illuminated the darkness. +++ Guilliman leapt high, high enough to see the bolts scream by his feet. He landed amongst the shouting Marines and swept his sword through them, killing most of them with the single strike. The surviving Word Bearers scattered, surprised by the ferocity of the sudden attack. Harsh prayers were flung to the Four Winds as the remainder of the squad ran for cover, ready to counter the Primarch. Guilliman ducked low and rounded the scattering of pockmarked rockcrete tank traps, keeping his gilded bolter held out before him. One of the chaos warriors stuck his head out from behind his protective position and the Primarch took it from his shoulders with a single round, the bolt shattering the leering mask. Bolter fire answered the shot immediately and Guilliman staggered as rounds drove into his armour. One of the bolts exploded against his forehead and sent him reeling back, white fire flashing across his vision. The Word Bearers saw their chance. Their guttural voices sang the praises of the warp gods as they threw themselves from their cover and advanced, sending deadly hails of bolter fire scything out before them. Their murderous attack was answered. Bright pulse fire hissed into the charging Marines, striking a number of them and managing to fell one with a shot to the face. Bile and Berolinus charged headlong into the fray, the Apothecarys Tau pistol providing the Ultramarine with covering fire as he swept into the Word Bearers. He landed and swung his hammer down, compressing the first Word Bearers head down into his body cavity. Another lunged at him with a screaming chainsword and he parried the blow, sending the whirring blade into his storm shield. He kicked out; causing the chaos warrior to lurch back, and then smashed his hammer into the fiends head, sending it twisting away. Bile emptied his pistol point-blank into a Word Bearers face and then cast it aside as the last survivor came at him, his sword a screaming, smouldering abomination of a weapon. The Apothecary was unmoved by the terrible thirst of the living weapon. He parried it with his own hell-forged rod, turning on his heel as he did so. The iron arms at his back lashed out, striking away the Word Bearers attempts to press home the attack, and he came about to dash the Rod of Torment across the side of the warriors head. The Word Bearer fell, screaming and writhing on the floor. Bile spat at the hated warrior and finished him off with a powerful downward stroke, the blow fierce enough to compress the fiends helm flat. My lord! Berolinus exclaimed, jogging over to where Guilliman rose from his pained stoop. The Primarch shook himself and pushed the Ultramarine back, unwilling to be seen as experiencing even the slightest moment of weakness. I am uninjured, and I needed no aid in despatching these heretics. Nonetheless, I am pleased to see yet another nest of degenerate scum cleansed.

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Guilliman pushed his way past the two warriors and jogged over to where the Tau war machines continued to drive their way forward, ever determined despite the ferocity of the enemys defence. From here, the walls seemed almost close enough to reach out and touch. This area of the city housed a number of scattered double-storey chapels. These chapels were surrounded by walled and flagged areas filled with saintly statuary and devotional tombstones. Small groves of ornamental trees bordered a number of the edifices, adding areas of green to the otherwise stony grey expanse. It was one of the few areas of cover available to the advancing Tau, and Guilliman had been loath to waste it. The Primarch leapt up onto one of the low-lying walls and tapped his collar, kicking away the dead chaos Marine sprawled at his feet. Keep pushing the armour forward! I want battlesuits on the roofs of these chapels, covering the advance of the infantry! All stealth teams, move up to cover the approaches! Pathfinder teams, use the korvesa to mark defensive positions and then deploy! I want markerlight saturation of this area! I will not lose an inch of ground, not now! Both Berolinus and Bile moved swiftly to join the Primarch. He did not acknowledge them as they neared, his focus centred totally on directing his troops. We will not allow this enemy to confound us with its warp sorcery! I need as many null-drones as we have, and I need them here now! Suffocate this district, drive the warps influence from this region! If the enemy cannot win this fight without the aid of daemons and enchantment then they shall not win at all! Annihilate them! He lowered his finger and leapt back down off the wall, his dark eyes regarding the two warriors awaiting his pleasure. The coordinated attacks of the fallen Primarchs sees to have lessened following the arrival of the Ethereals and the Titans, but we must be wary. I am still a prime target for them, such is their misunderstanding of the Greater Good. I suspect that the arrival of the Ethereals may have acted to divert much of the enemys attentions away from you, my lord. Bile replied flatly. The even tone of the Apothecarys voice betrayed no suggestion of cynicism, but nonetheless Berolinus flashed him a scornful glare. Bile met this stare with a hateful glare of his own, and as he addressed the Primarch once again, he kept his eyes upon the Ultramarine. What I merely meant to suggest is that perhaps this could play to our advantage. Up to this point, you have undoubtedly held the attentions of the enemy. Now that the Ethereals are here, the enemy should find themselves much harder pressed to concentrate their efforts in targeting you GUILLIMAN. The single spoken word rumbled through the air with the power of an artillery barrage, quaking the ground beneath their feet. Guilliman turned on his heel and fell to one knee, sweeping his cloak back as he did so. Berolinus gave a quiet gasp of surprise and mirrored the Primarchs reaction. Bile hesitated, his eyes widening. He glanced about him and the stepped back, a moment before the skies above their heads turned a blinding white, the glow flickering and burning like some colossal signal flare. The glow descended at an incredible pace, falling almost too fast to track with the naked eye. Within seconds it reached the ground, arriving as fast as the Apothecary was able to respond. By the time Bile managed to gather enough of his wits to prostrate himself, the blinding radiance faded, and the god of the Tau hovered before them, his eyes blazing with indescribable inner power.

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Unnatural winds swirled the dust around him into eddies and spirals, almost seeming to instil the dry currents with life. My eternal master. Guilliman managed to whisper. At last, you grace us with your presence. Now the enemy will truly know the futility of their resistance. The Void Dragon passed his gaze over the three kneeling bodies, and Bile found himself compelled to lower his gaze, such was the absolute presence of the Star God. A truth that you have thus far failed to impress upon them, Kaiguela Ilporrui Guilliman. He uttered, his voice much lower this time and yet no less menacing. This siege has languished long enough. Now is the time for the masters of the Tau to drive home the killing blow. This war is mine to command now, Guilliman. I will see the walls of the Emperors Palace breached. All around him, the battlefield was coming to life. Ethereals descended in the blink of an eye upon blazing columns of fire to attack the enemy even as they formed into being. The Tau attack itself faltered as more and more of the aliens came to realise what was happening. Entire cadres ceased in their advance to fall to the floor in terrified obeisance. Squadrons of Devilfishes slewed to a halt, their living cargo pouring from every available exit point in a desperate attempt to display their devotion. Guilliman took all this in, and knew then that his role as this wars leader was over. He fought to maintain a neutral expression as he faced the Void Dragon once more, his dark eyes glistening with tears at the splendour of his masters presence. I exist but to serve your will, my lord. Command me, and it shall be done. That it shall. Your role in this war is far from over, Kaiguela Ilporrui. I have much use for you yet. The Dragon answered. You have brought my armies thus far, as commanded, and for that reason, you shall be rewarded. Yours shall be the ultimate prize, Guilliman. Yours shall be the gift of immortality, of eternal existence. It is time for you to cast of the flesh and blood of your mortal body, and become flawless. This gift I grant to you, so that you can take your place as my champion for eternity. You will accept this. With all my heart. Guilliman replied, his voice close to breaking. Behind him, Bile shifted uneasily. He knew then, at that moment, that his life would soon be over.

Chapter Two Hundred and Four: Poison

The Void Dragon raised his head suddenly, his eyes blazing brighter for a moment. All around him the Ethereals entered the desperate war, each one a tower of shining light, azure fire and unmatchable power. The enemy scattered in their wake, entire squads of corrupt Marines forced to turn tail and flee as the immortal beings rained fire and death down upon them. A few hundred metres to his left, he observed without emotion as one of the giant beings entered into

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combat with an almost feral squad of brightly-coloured Marines. The enemy warriors screamed and howled as they charged the Ethereal, firing shimmering beams of sonic force from the strange, growling weapons they wielded. The Ethereal ignored the waves of sound force that thrashed against its glowing form as it raised its arms and unleashed plumes of azure flame at the Noise Marines, its opening attacks burning one of the warriors to a cinder, armour and all. The Marines swarmed around their intended prey, whooping and wailing in insane glee. Their strange weapons cycled through every possible extreme of noise, the fluctuating sounds quaking everything around them. The Ethereals incorporeal form shuddered and looked to almost break apart for a second as the Noise Marines began to encircle it, assailing it from every angle like a pack of hunting predators. The Ethereal tilted its head back and unleashed an unnatural howl of broken sound, its burning body flaring ever brighter. A bow wave of force pulsed from it to knock the warriors off their feet. Even as the Noise Marines began to drag themselves up off the ground the Tau commander raised one arm and the limb extended, bulging swiftly to five times its original size. Fist bunched, it took a step forward and swung a punch powerful enough to bowl the Marines clear off their feet. Several of them twisted away into the distance, spinning like shrapnel, broken and annihilated. The Ethereal continued ceaselessly, wrapping its oversized fingers around the head of another warrior and using him like a bludgeon to smash the surviving marines to a pulp. An ear-splitting cry rose up as if from nowhere to quake the air, hate-filled and feral. A speeding shape sprinted through the explosions and rubble, leaping high as it neared the Ethereal. Amethyst and golden armour flashed as the figure twisted gracefully and lunged at the Tau commander, driving its curved golden blade deep into the flowing energy of the Ethereals form. Crackling energy burst from the Ethereals body at the point of the inflicted wound and slammed into the attacker, throwing him back. At this moment Guilliman looked up in time to see the exchange. His expression darkened. Fulgrim. He spat, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. Do not interfere. The Void Dragon uttered, the tone of his voice and the power it held suggesting that the Primarch could not challenge the order even if he tried. This is your war no longer. For now, you will serve me in a different way. Guilliman did as he was ordered, though the expression on his face told of the hatred in his heart and the desperation to see his brother dead by his own hand. Fulgrim was a beast, a terror to behold. Guilliman had laid eyes on his daemonic likeness but once before, and the Primarch of the Emperors Children had dealt the blow that had all but slain him that fateful day. Guilliman wanted for nothing more than to avenge that wrong, but now it seemed that retribution would be forever denied him. Fulgrim was made twisted and serpentine by the corruption that had rewritten his body, his legs gone, and in their place, a serpents tail. He righted himself and flashed a swift, desperate glance at Guilliman before powering himself across the rubble-strewn ground towards the Ethereal once more. He ducked low beneath a mighty swing and slashed at the Ethereals legs with his sword, drawing a glowing arc of energy away from the beings limbs. The Ethereals form quivered again, harried by the daemonic power of his blade.

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The fallen Primarch was relentless in his efforts. He slithered around the Ethereal and leapt again, striking at the beings back. The Ethereals entire form shifted and everything about it reversed. All definition about it liquefied as it slid from front to rear, its face forming in the back of its head, its limbs twisting around. Within a heartbeat the Ethereal was facing him, ready to counter the attack. Fulgrim struck out and his blow was turned aside by the back of the Ethereals arm. His blade bit deep into the living energy and the limb fell away, the severed arm fading into nothing as if fell. The limb reformed even as Fulgrim landed and he swung the sword, only to see the Ethereal spread it fingers and catch the blade in some invisible net of force. He fought to free his weapon and only after a swift but immense struggle did he find success. As he rolled away the Ethereal thrust its arms out before it and the malleable stuff of its body reformed into a huge staff, either end blazing with molten energies. It advanced, sweeping the staff out to catch him. Fulgrim continued to roll away and the ground that he had crossed a heartbeat before exploded as the head of the staff slammed into it. Guilliman found that he was unable to tear his gaze away from the conflict. Like an animal he strained at the leash of his masters command, every fibre of his being aching to join the melee. No matter the word of his lord, this abstinence was utterly unnatural to him in every possible way. No other being in this universe had done such an injustice to him as Fulgrim, his brother, and the need for retribution was written into his soul. Something flickered in his mind then, a memory of another time long since passed, a writhing thought. It whispered and bubbled up through the layers of his deepest psyche, unbidden and yet crying out for acknowledgment. He fought against it, denying it, and yet it would not depart, refusing his every attempt to dispel it. Slowly, irrefutably, it banished all before him, merging the fight beyond into swimming, indistinct colour. Brother... The voice echoed through his mind, over and over again, ringing in his ears until it blurred his vision. Then the memory came, thundering through the fog. Fulgrim. The sight of him so altered by the powers of chaos turned his guts to ice, revulsion and hatred edging his vision with crimson. The sight of his brother before him was as real as anything could be, and yet he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong. He remembered this, as clear as day, but something was wrong. Something Ultramarines and Emperors Children alike flashed by the edges of his vision, armoured bodies locked in desperate combat, partially obscured by the glittering, scent-heavy mists exuded by the fallen Primarch. He could hear the dying cries of his warriors, each sound a dagger of ice in his heart, but there was no time to mourn the fallen now. Face to face, brother to brother. Here and now. At last. He snarled, drawing his sword back in readiness for the fight to come. No more running, Fulgrim. I will put an end to all this here and now. Your corrupt blood shall be spilled in vengeance for the crime of your sedition. For a moment, so brief that the fleeting change was almost lost to him, Fulgrims eternal leer faded. He caught sight of pain in those glowing eyes, of regret and desperation, of a war of dominance and duality. It has to be this way. The Daemon-Primarch hissed, his voice an amalgamation of familiarity and monstrousness. We both know it to be true.

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He drew back his lips in a defiant snarl as sweat ran down his face, the very effort of denying Fulgrims claims sending waves of agony coursing through him. Still the strange duality of the confrontation harried him, forcing him to question the situation. I have hunted you through these stars, Fulgrim, and I will not rest until you lay slain by my hand He heard himself say, the words drifting past his ears as if spoken by another. His brothers expression wavered, but the determination in his eyes did not fade. Around them, the mists drew ever tighter, thickening into a choking, sickly-sweet fog. It has to be this way. Fulgrim uttered again, forcing power and resonance into his voice. Deny this, and you deny Him. Of all of us, could you ever deny Him? Look at me, Roboute. Look what I havehggnnhad to endure. See what my love and devotion has forced me to endure. You cannot know my pain, my isolation. Lower your weapon. Neither of us has much time. You have annihilated my trust. He answered, the hilt of his sword creaking beneath the immense pressure of his grip. You know as well as I that this transcends both of us. Fulgrim said, inching forward. Let go of your pride, Roboute, for our time as kings among men is ended. We both know our place. The long night falls and the galaxy grows ever darker. We cannot prevent that, but we can, we must, prepare for the dawn. There can be no other way. This is destiny, and you know that in your heart. Surrender to fate, and remember this day. He felt his grip begin to weaken then, as slowly his arm began to fall, the heavy weight of acceptance pressing down on his soul. Before him, Fulgrim raised the glittering blade, a bizarre mixture of thirst and sadness in his gaze. He closed his eyes. You know I will kill you, Fulgrim, when this is over. Yes. His brothers voice replied amid the darkness of the coming oblivion. No! His eyes snapped open and he gasped, the fingers of his free hand curling around his neck unbidden. The real world flowed into being around him once again and he became aware of the piercing gaze of his eternal master. You refuse my will? No, my lord. He answered swiftly, relaxing once again. Out beyond the presence of the shining being he could no longer see any sign of Fulgrim or his Ethereal opponent. Indeed, the other Ethereals had begun to move away from the immediate area, many of them hunting through the surrounding buildings in twos and threes. The flow of the war had begun to leave them behind, and this served only to cement his new fate in place. He fought to dispel the strange, somehow alien memory from his mind and instead turned his attention to whatever it was that his master intended of him. II am eager to see your desires fulfilled, my Aun. Tell me what I must do. Rise. The Void Dragon replied, accentuating the command by slowly raising his hand. Guilliman did as commanded, glancing at Berolinus and the Apothecary as he did so.

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Both of them met his gaze with tight, anxious faces, though they remained silent. He turned away from them and looked to the supreme commander of the Tau. The conclusion of this war fast approaches. The Void Dragon announced, ignoring the desperate war raging all about him. Annihilation fast approaches my enemies. In that final conflict, you, Roboute Guilliman, will be my champion. I grant you this boon, and all the unmatchable changes that accompany it. Are you ready and willing to be rewrote, ready to exchange all that you are for the untold glories of my blessing? I am, my lord. Guilliman answered, bowing deeply. I give myself to you, to do with as you will. Very well. The Void Dragon replied. With that he stepped back and raised a hand, the air about it looking to quiver and grow hot. Emerald energies began to leap from his hand, drawing an ever-widening grid in the air itself. All those present looked on in silence as a gateway formed before him, fashioning a pitch-black hole in the fabric of reality. Seconds later something large and silvered pushed its way smoothly through the tear, a machine the likes of which none of them had ever seen before. Its insectoid body hovered silently through the rend, regarding those before it with its many glowing eyes. The machine resembled some manner of large mechanical beetle, its forelimbs sporting large, tri-fingered claws. At its rear it ferried what appeared to be an ornate sarcophagus, the thing attached to its rear section by a thin beam of pulsing green light. The silver coffin was an ornate piece, quite unlike any other example of Tau-designed work. Its main feature was a skeletal face, worked in gold, with flawless emerald eyes. The entire lid was covered in polished squares of jade and gold, edged in strips of blue and gold, those strips decorated with gilded alien sigils and circles joined by intersecting lines. Your reward. The Void Dragon announced, ushering the machine forth with a glance. The flawless form of eternal might. Cast aside your flesh, Kaiguela, and become my perfect champion. It is said that you were created by your Emperor to represent the pinnacle of your species supremacy. Know then that I shall make you more than that, more than you could ever have imagined. Kneel before me, and become invincible. Guilliman did as commanded, taking a step forward to prostrate himself before the Void Dragon. Behind him Berolinus flinched, his arm rising slightly, alarm shining in his eyes. Dont. Bile whispered in his ear, placing a steel grip upon his shoulder. He shrugged the hand from his shoulder, but even as he did so he felt himself hesitate, his own body refusing to comply. The Void Dragon waved a hand in the direction of the sarcophagus and it detached itself from the proximity of the machine to hover forward, slowly tilting into an upright position as it did so. The eyes of the skull began to pulse with an ever-growing light, and the golden sigils surrounding it became bathed in a pure white glow. With that the Void Dragon turned to Guilliman and raised his other hand. Behind him, the lid of the sarcophagus detached itself with a quiet hiss and slid to the floor, revealing the contents of the portable tomb. Berolinus caught but a fleeting glimpse of the skeletal metallic form within and turned his gaze away, his

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breath coming in ragged gasps. Please, no He whispered, shaking his head. He had come so far, sacrificed so much. Now, it seemed, his Primarch would be taken from him once again. He closed his eyes and found himself waiting for the voice in his head, and for the first time he longed to hear Lucius and his mocking tone. This time, however, the phantom in his mind stayed silent. The Void Dragon swept a hand before him and the metal heart of the dormant machine body opened, the cavity aglow with inner power. At that he turned to Guilliman and nodded slowly. A wisp of hazy energy rose form the Primarchs body like golden smoke, twisting and curling its way past the Void Dragon towards the waiting machine-form. The Dragons eyes glowed brighter for a fleeting moment and then the energy was gone, fading back into Guillimans frozen form. The Primarch gasped in shocked pain, his body twitching. Before him, the Void Dragon began to tremble, his mounting rage displayed as a sudden darkening of his metallic skin. What is this? What manner of treachery is this? Bile rose sharply behind Berolinus, defiance writ large across his face. The Void Dragon flinched and in an instant he was before the Apothecary, his hands spread wide. Bile lunged forward and swept his rod out to catch the Void Dragon but he could never have hoped to see victory. The Star God simply closed his fingers and the rod crumpled, twisting back on itself and compressing, as if it were made of paper. Bile hissed in pain as the weapon crushed his hand, dark blood spraying from the wound. The Void Dragons shining form flickered slightly as he regarded the traitor in his ranks, his fixed expression nonetheless radiating hatred. What have you done to him? You have corrupted his flesh. You have wrought the touch of the unclean into his very life-force. You have ruined him. Why? Despite his unavoidable and imminent annihilation, Bile looked into the eyes of the Void Dragon and smiled. Why? To deny you, you stupid, pathetic creature. It does not matter how hard you strive to conquer these stars, you will always be denied. You are so sure of yourself that you are unable to see the truth. You cannot know the forces at work behind all this, for even you are blind to the layers of defiance working against you, even now. I deny you in the name of the Emperor and his son, the blessed Fulgrim. Life will prevail. Life will always prevail. The Void Dragon lunged forward and swept a hand through the smiling Apothecary, his limb passing through Biles body as if it were intangible. Bile lurched back and came apart, his body breaking down into a cloud of glittering energy. There was no blood, no scream of pain or defiance. Fabius Bile simply ceased to exist, his part in the galactic war over and done. A look of horror passed over Guillimans face as he witnessed all this, and a good measure of that horror was due to the revelation of his physical corruption. As the Void Dragon turned to him once more, he averted his gaze, his eyes still wide with shock. II am no use to you, then. What is your wish then, my lord? Tell me my fate. It would seem that you are incapable of unearthing those who seek to undo my plans, even amongst your own select companions. The Void Dragon answered, his reply serving only to set the Primarchs pulse beating harder.

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However, the enemy were lackadaisical in their attempts to undermine me. You still have your uses, Guilliman. You can still serve me. He rose at this, hope shining in his eyes once more. I will serve however I can. Call the Tau to order, then, Kaiguela. It is time for them to receive their ultimate fate. Gather then to this place, for yours is the voice that they cannot deny. Like you, they shall serve me but one last time. Berolinus swallowed hard and looked away, fighting with all his heart to dispel the doubt within his soul. High above him, the skies darkened and began to swim, and though he was unable to see anything except for this phenomenon, he knew in the very depths of his soul that something else was coming. Others, just like this shining, god-like creature. Madness, and death.

Chapter Two Hundred and Five: Viper In The Nest

The Fire Warriors nodded in greeting to one another as their paths crossed, a simple gesture of respect. Both of them continued on their way with no further exchange. It was only as he reached the nearby hatch that one of the warriors suddenly turned and doubled back, his body held low. He slid his pulse rifle from his shoulder and sprinted the last few feet towards his counterpart. The unsuspecting Fire Warrior heard the sound of the footsteps and turned in time to suffer the full force of the rifles stock as it slammed into his chin, sending his reeling back. His attacker leapt on him and smashed the weapon into his head again and again, stopping only when his victim finally fell still. More bodies slid from a nearby intersection and converged around the fallen warrior. The Cadian shouldered the others aside, then reached down and twisted hard on the unconscious warriors neck, ending his life. Get that uniform off fast. He whispered, rising to cover both sides of the corridor with his lasgun. There is an access hatch there. Throw the body in and seal it. It was clear by their manner that the other Tau found the act of disposing of the corpse a horrifying affair, yet none protested. Within a few minutes, the body had been stripped and hidden and the stolen uniform taken and put on. Codian appeared from the intersection, the other Ultramarines in tow. Cover every junction. We are closing on our target area. Maintain ultimate vigilance, every one of you. This is a Tau ship, and its the sentry systems we have to worry about. +Some more than others.+ Tigurius uttered behind him. +I sense that this area is clear, at least for now. We are safe to proceed+ The ancient psykers voice trailed away then, noticeable enough that the Chaplain turned to see what had

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caused the change in tone. What is it, lord Tigurius? What do you sense? +Somethingsomething secret. Something dark. There has been a displacement. Whatever it was, it does not belong on this ship.+ Could it be Qah? Codian asked. The Old One had left them shortly after their arrival, for fear that the Dragon would sense his presence and return. +No. I know Qahs mind well enough by now to recognise him. I cannot place this presence. We must all be wary.+ All the more reason for haste. Ventris warned. We must continue to move. Codian nodded and jogged over to the end of the corridor in order to check the next turn. Here the smooth white tunnels branched off in several directions. One of those passageways looked to lead to a large open area. Beyond that space, he could see what appeared to be several rows of small oval hatches. The deck transition shafts. He turned to see Gormat by his side, the Tau confirming the announcement with a nod. Our best and fastest way of getting where we need to go, Chaplain. I must warn you, though. From this point on, our journey deeper into the ship will only get harder. Security is far tighter around the core of a Tau vessel, especially within the restricted areas. We must expect to encounter an increased number of sentry drones and Shas patrols. We can only rely on stealth for so long. Codian replied. Confrontation is inevitable. In the meantime, the longer we are able to keep our presence secret here up, the better. Patrol. The Cadian hissed then, as if to compound Codians warning. Heading this way. Everyone back. Codian pushed his way through the gathered Tau towards the crouching Guardsman, keeping himself towards the edges of the open doorway. Sure enough, he could see several Tau heading their way. There were five of them in total, led by what appeared to be a squad officer, his rank marked out by the ivory colour of his helmet. We need to get to those shafts. Gormat, take a squad and move to distract them. Find out all you can about the security of this area. Go. With that, he turned back towards the other Ultramarines as the Water Caste ambassador began to select his squad. Brothers, are you sure of your part in this? We have reached the point where stealth will no longer be possible. It is still possible that we could fight through this together, united as sons of Guilliman. Cassius shook his head slowly at this. No, Codian. The salvation of our Primarch is paramount. If we are to meet our end on this ship then there can be no greater honour than to die knowing that we are part of that. You need a distraction if you are to see victory here. Ventris whispered. This is a Tau ship. There is no possible way that a squad of Ultramarines could successfully steal through this vessel undetected. After a moments hesitation, Codian tipped his head in begrudged agreement.

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Very well. I will come for you, brothers. I will not leave a man behind here. The Ultramarines saluted him then and he returned the gesture. There was nothing more to say. Ventris directed his brothers towards the nearest exit and together the warriors passed out of sight, ready to play their part. Codian turned back towards the Tau and saw that Gormat had already selected his squad, and was moving them forward even now. He moved quickly over to the right hand side of the wide corridor in order to join Umbras and the Cadian. We wait here; see how Gormat does with these Tau. Get ready to respond to any hostile activity in a moments notice. Umbras and the Cadian responded to this by readying and checking their weapons, leaving Codian to push past them and take point, his own bolt pistol armed and to hand. Gormat had already made contact with the Tau. He exuded an air of calm and natural authority as he entered into conversation with the officer. From here, even Codians enhanced hearing struggled to catch the conversation, and he realised seconds later that, even if he could hear, he would be unable to understand what they were saying. A small part of him was made uncomfortable by this. After all they had been through, he still found himself unable to completely and utterly trust a member of the species that they were at war with. After a few moments, the officer nodded sharply and then made a salute. With that he ordered the squad to follow him and they headed off in another direction, disappearing from sight in seconds. The ambassador directed a number of the warriors to cover every available exit, and only when he was sure that it was safe, he ushered Codian and his small band of companions forward. We do not have long. He began, gesturing towards one of the shafts. This is the elevator that will take us to the required level. You must understand that we are headed towards the core of the ship, Chaplain. The level of security we will encounter there will be great. Codian tilted his head in understanding. What can you tell us about this area? The core houses the most exclusive areas of the ship. AunVas chambers, for sure. I suspect that this is where the Ethereals reside also, when they are present. Other than that, I am unable to shed much more light on what to expect. Whatever it is that you seek regarding the Kaiguela Ilporrui He paused then, realising that the significance of the name may escape Codian. Guilliman, that is. That which you seek should be found here. He made to turn away then, only to hesitate. After a moments thought, he found the Chaplains gaze once again. Codian, do you trust me? The Chaplain found himself taken aback by the question. Nonetheless, he felt that he owed the Tau the truth. Trusting a former enemy will always be hard, Gormat, but yes. I feel that you have earned my trust through all that we have endured together. Why do you ask me this now?

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The ambassador gestured about him at this. I am here risking my life for you, Chaplain. risking my life to achieve some task I know nothing about. How can we save your Primarch by coming here? I trust you, Codian, and you say that you trust me. Tell me, why are we here? The Chaplains eyes narrowed at this. He found the timing of the question strange. His claim was a genuine one. He did have faith in the ambassador, but still he found himself hesitant to divulge the details of their mission, even to him. There is much to explain, Gormat, and we do not have the time, but you are right, you deserve to know why we are here. He answered, his voice low. The focus of our mission is a man named Fabius Bile. You may not know him, but he is one of Guillimans most trusted companions. He is also largely responsible for my Primarchs current state. Guilliman is lost to us, Gormat, and the only way we can bring him back to the fold is to penetrate Biles personal chambers and locate the key to his salvation. I understand that much already, Codian. What I do not understand is how we can achieve that by coming here. At that, Codian sighed, his eyes roaming across the corridor as he searched his mind for a suitable explanation. When we say that Guilliman is lost to us, we mean that in a literal sense. Thecreature that leads the Tau against the defences of the Imperial Palace is no more Roboute Guilliman than you or I. Whatever he once was, he is now a monster, an amalgamation of many unnatural parts. He still holds the power and the influence of a Primarch, but he is no longer that which he was created to be. Roboute Guilliman, the true Roboute Guilliman, is lost and helpless. He needs to be saved, Gormat, and the only way we can save him is by entering the chambers of the man responsible for this atrocity and locating the key to that salvation. I need you to trust me on this. I need your faith that what we are attempting to do is necessary. Will you trust me? I will. Gormat answered. If you would wait here for a moment, I will ensure that our path is clear. He turned and swept the long sleeves of his cloak aside, gesturing for the rest of the Tau to follow him. The group passed into the wide chamber and crossed over to the shafts, several of the warriors spreading out to check the surrounding area with a whispered command from the ambassador. Gormat himself moved up to the waiting hatches and inspected them, finally selecting one of the central doors. He ran his long fingers over a series of runes inlaid into the wall at the side of the door, the previously hidden panel sliding out to reveal itself to him. Codian flinched then as a strange metallic wail sounded from somewhere inside the chamber. Behind him both the Cadian and Umbras shifted, bringing their weapons to bear. Codian waved them back. Wait. We need to see what is going to happen. Moments later a brace of drones descended from some hidden recess in the ceiling and hovered down to flank the ambassador. Gormat glanced at each of them in turn, calm and unfazed by their sudden appearance. Gormat spoke, and from his hiding place Codian struggled to make out what the Tau was saying. He caught a short burst of unfamiliar alien speech. The Tau that had accompanied Gormat slowly and calmly moved to stand around him, their weapons held at rest.

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For a moment, everything seemed calm and ordered, and Codian found himself daring to believe that their passage through the ship to the target location would run smoothly and without incident. The Umbras whispered in his ear. This doesnt look good. Even as the Apothecary spoke, Codian saw what had prompted this cautious warning. More drones hovered down to sit level with the Tau, spreading out as they did so to cover the group. Gormat was still talking, and though his voice remained level and calm, his words were fast and his hands began to gesticulate. Then, without warning, he turned to face Codians position, and spoke. They will not grant us access. Codian rose swiftly and threw himself into the chamber, his bolt pistol barking. He blew one of the drones beside Gormat into shards and then leapt into the air, drawing the Dawnblade from its scabbard and cleaving through another in one smooth motion. Gormat reached inside his robes and pulled his pistol free. Codians attack was all the distraction he needed to catch the other drone unawares and he fired a pulse round point-blank into its underside, the shot sending it twisting away. All around them, the Tau warriors burst into action. Pulse rifles were swiftly raised and within seconds a net of fire tore through the chamber. The drones responded, firing their double pulse carbines into the shifting Fire Warriors. Two of them fell immediately, torn apart by savage salvos. The drones began to circle as they attacked, pre-programmed patterns of attack firing through their processors. To their credit, not one of the Fire Warriors displayed any sign of panic or terror as they swept their guns after the drones, hunting them through the air. Another warrior fell, a second before the Cadian rolled up onto his feet beneath the last remaining drone and blew its underside in, ending the swift but desperate exchange. We have to move! The crew of the ship have now been alerted to our presence! Codian nodded and activated his vox-stud. Codian to Ventris, Cassius and Tigurius! We have been discovered, I repeat, we have been discovered! Be advised +Understood, Codian.+ Came Ventriss tinny reply. +You timing could not have been better. We are initiating diversionary tacticsnow.+ Even as the last word sang in Codians ear, a low and distant rumble shook the ship around them. The curious dislocated illumination that surrounded them dimmed a little. Umbras looked to the Chaplain and shook his fist, a gesture of satisfaction. Now the response will be split. That at least should but us some time. Time we had better not waste. Codian replied, pointing towards the target shaft. Gormat, get these elevators working. We need to get out of this area as soon as we can. Of course. The ambassador moved over to the panel once again, summoning one of the Fire Warriors with him. Codian looked on as the other Tau began to crouch and aim up at the ceiling. One by one, they put pulse rounds

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into the holes there, gaps that the Chaplain had not noticed until they had drawn his attention to them. No doubt the holes are access ports for the ships complement of drones. The Cadian guessed. I have seen such things before. There will be similar ports all over this ship. The Chaplain watched with some satisfaction as the rounds made a ruin of each hole in turn, the energy fire dislodging the innards of each one, causing them to become blocked. Chaplain. He heard Gormat call. We have access, at least of sorts. He turned in time to see the Fire Warrior prizing the circular hatch the covered the portal open, his handhold on the smooth surface provided by the blackened holes he had made within the smooth white material. Gormat joined him in his efforts as Codian broke into a run towards them, and by the time the Chaplain had covered the space between them, the two Tau had managed to prize the hatch open, revealing a darkened space beyond. They have locked the elevators down. Gormat explained, gesturing at the empty shaft within. Our only option now is to climb. Then we climb. Codian replied, waving the others towards him. I will lead. He sheathed his living weapon once again and entered the space. As he did so, his vox crackled again. +Ventris here. We have located one of the launch bays+ The Ultramarines voice was lost then, as a burst of hammering gunfire thundered through his ears. +countering enemy resistter craft. We will blow thepieces. Good hunting Codian.+ Good hunting brother. He replied. With that he slid his bolt pistol back into its holster and placed his hands in the recesses clearly designed for manual ascent. It was a risk, entering this way. With only one set of climbing recesses to hand, they would have to ascend one at a time, leaving the entire group exposed to attack from above and below. Still, they had no choice. He thought for a moment then, weighing up his options. They had come this far, and though their presence had been discovered, there were enough of them to still present a large problem to the enemy. He had told Gormat that he trusted him. Perhaps now was the time to prove that trust. Ambassador, I have an idea. He said, looking down on the waiting Tau. Perhaps it would be better for us if you maintained the illusion we created. Now that the crew of this ship know that there are enemies on board, there will be a sense of panic and confusion. I am sure that you and the Tau would be able to blend in with the security forces. If you could keep them occupied, we could take number of the Tau and storm the Apothecarys chambers. I think that should be possible. Gormat replied. Like your comrades, we could expend our efforts in creating additional diversions, better to further divide the attentions of the search parties. I will do as you ask, Chaplain. If we must give our lives to see this war ended, then we will do so. We will not leave you behind. Codian replied. You have my vow on that. With that, Gormat bowed his head and then turned to leave the bottom of the shaft, barking out orders in his native tongue as he passed out of sight. Umbras and the Cadian entered in his wake, the Apothecary dominating the enclosed space with his bulk. Behind the both of them, Codian could see a number of the

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Tau crowded around the entrance, ready to follow. We are ready. Umbras said. Codian turned his gaze upwards at that, and started to climb. The ascent was not easy. The inlaid steps were far from weak in construction but they were clearly designed for use by the Earth Caste of the Tau. Codian found the effort of forcing his gauntlet-sheathed fingers and chunky boots into the grooves as he climbed, and in many cases he was forced to drive his feet and hands further into the metal in order to progress. He knew every second that passed brought them closer to discovery, and this drove him on. Finally, after a tense and torturous climb, the hatch above him sank into view. He could just make out the circular bottom of the elevator hanging far above him, thanks in part to the seemingly autonomous activation of whatever served as a source of illumination as they had advanced. We are here. He said in a low voice. Everyone brace themselves. I am going to get this hatch open. I am assist you. Codians eyes narrowed as he heard the unfamiliar voice below him. Who said that? My name is Gyas. I am an engineer, guela. The voice replied. I may be able to override the hatch mechanisms from the inside. Very well. Codian replied. Climb as high as you can. Umbras, pass this engineer up to me. Codian hung from one arm, his free hand hanging beneath him. Moments later the Apothecary grunted and hefted the bewildered Tau up over his head. Codian took Gyas by the collar and hauled him up onto the small ledge before the hatch. The Tau nodded his thanks and then got to work, producing a number of small silver tools from the belt of his borrowed Fire Warrior armour. The hatch has been disabled by the security net of the ship. Luckily for us, it still has power and is able to be opened from the inside. I just need to access this conduitI have it. Gyas nodded to himself and replaced the tools. As he looked down on Codian, there was not a trace of fear or emotion on his face. The hatch will open in but a matter of your seconds, guela. It has been an honour to fight alongside you. Codian did not immediately realise why the Tau had said this. Then, as the circular hatch rolled clear of the access way, Gyas removed the pistol from its holster at his side, armed it and stepped out into the space beyond, firing as he went. Pulse fire cut him down in a second, shredding his body into meaty pieces. Codian reached down and pulled a frag grenade from his belt, primed it with a flick of his thumb and then hurled it into the chamber beyond. The enemy await us! He cried, rising even as the grenade twisted through the air. He pulled his pistol free and began firing as he crested the shaft. The grenade exploded before him, sending a cloud of smoke, fire and metal fragments roaring through the chamber. He rose, taking in his surroundings as he did so. There were many Tau here. He caught sight of bodies running through the smoke, swinging their rifles to bear. He shifted his aim and put one of the shadowy shapes down. A second later the enemy made him.

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Pulse fire zipped through the smoke and rang as it impacted against his armour, leaving behind glowing grooves of molten ceramite. He lurched back beneath the impact and shivered, feeling the influence of the Dawnblade within and around him as the living weapon fought to preserve his life. They were in another large, domed circular chamber, the walls housing many arches and doors. He sprinted to the left, firing as he went, covering the others as they flung themselves out of the shaft one after another. His path took him towards a nearby hatch. The thing rolled open even as he reached it. Codians reactions were many times more honed than any normal human being. He rolled after the hatch so that his back was pressed against the wall to the left of the opening. He slid the Dawnblade free and turned it expertly in his hand. The sentient weapon ran fluid in his grip, transforming into a long, straight blade. The first Fire Warrior that flung himself through the opening found himself impaled on the sword, his own momentum burying the blade deep in his chest right up to the hilt. The push of bodies skewered another warrior behind him, and the sudden cease in the advance brought others crashing into the backs of the unfortunate victims. Codian pulled the blade free with a long wrench of his arm and then thrust his pistol through the doorway, firing the full clip in one fearsome burst. His hands full, he used the insides of his fists to remove another grenade from his personal store. He armed the device and dropped it. It rang as it bounced once and then he kicked it into the corridor beyond. The grenades internal timer ran down to zero whilst the device was still in the air. He knew barely anything of the working of Tau technology, but he had a keen and observant eye. He had noticed the small panel beside the hatch raise itself out beyond the smooth walls slightly at the activation of the door. He hammered his elbow into it and the hatch rolled closed. By now the Dawnblade had returned to its crozius configuration and he smashed the weapon into the panel, utterly destroying it. He did not know if it would be enough to keep the hatch closed, but he had done all he could. He turned back towards the battle, in time to throw himself to one side of a glowing pulse round. The Cadian sprinted into his view, firing from the hip as he charged headlong into an advancing squad. The sheer audacity of the Guardsman took the Tau by surprise. As one they shifted their aim to target him but he was in amongst them, a bloodthirsty cry issuing from his lips. He swung his hellgun like a club, bowling the nearest Tau off their feet. He ducked low under a return swing and kicked out, sending his attacker sprawling. The Cadian seemed fearless as he turned his gun on the Tau and unloaded his rifle from the hip, sending burning las-rounds cascading through them. The attack worked. He drew the gun up to his eye and finished off those few who still had the ability to rise. This way. One of the Tau shouted, gesturing for the others to follow him. We have moments until this area is flooded with security forces. We have to proceed! Codian took in the chamber for the first time. He could see from here that the area they were in was actually raised above what appeared to be a much larger dome. There were open viewing portals all around the chamber, and beyond each one he could see the gently sloping ceiling. He jogged over to one of the portals, his curiosity getting the better of him despite the tenseness of the situation. When he reached the window, he could not help but raise his eyebrows in surprise. The area below was vast. From what he could see it was actually split by huge partition walls into several smaller regions, arenas of sorts. He could see trees down there, a whole forest of them, wreathed in drifting

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mist. He shifted his gaze to another section and saw ruined buildings, grey stone constructions with vaulted roofs and ornate pillars. Another area just beyond his sight looked to contain sand dunes and rocky outcrops. What is all this? He called after the Tau. We have to move, guela. They are coming. Came the adamant reply. Just then, his vox came alive once again. +Brother Codian, take care.+ Ventris warned him. +Tigurius senses+ The link fell dead. He cursed beneath his breath and willed it to activate, but all he was rewarded with was a burst of static. What is it, brother? He whispered beneath his breath, breaking into a jog in order to follow the Tau. Tigurius was trying to warn them of something.

Chapter Two Hundred and Six: Deeper

Codian saw their intended destination before him. At the far end of the chamber the Tau were converging around a large oval hatch emblazoned with Tau runes. Here there were no viewing ports, suggesting that beyond led not into the larger dome but to the target area. Caution, guela! One of the Tau called out to him, waving a hand that held what appeared to be some form of grenade. The Fire Warriors spread out, giving their comrade room. He took a few steps back and then fired into the wall a little to the left of the hatch. To Codians surprise a panel previously hidden in the wall came away, buckled and blackened by the pulse fire. The warrior twisted the grenade at its centre and then jammed it into the recess, jogging backwards as soon as he had done so. The device exploded, but instead of the ball of fire and shrapnel Codian had expected, it instead emitted a bright pulse of energy. The illumination around them flickered and then died away. The light returned moments later, but curiously, the area affected by the grenade remained swathed in darkness. Electromagnetic pulse. The Cadian said matter-of-factly. With the power to the area around the hatch disabled, the Fire Warriors closest to the entrance set to work opening the door manually. It was necessary to disable the power here. One of the aliens called. The intelligent defence systems will be forced to reroute in order to bridge the power loss. We have bought a little time, but beware. We will still encounter resistance. Cover this area! Codian commanded, directing the others into lines of defence. Stay clear of the hatch, and be ready to fire as soon as it is open!

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He sprinted the last few feet and fell to one knee behind the rest of the Tau. He raised his gun arm, his bolt pistol held ready to fire. There will be no retreat! We will not fail here! The three Fire Warriors worked as one, each removing a brace of pulse grenades. They placed the grenades before the hatch and then sprinted clear. One of the warriors twisted expertly on his heel and fired into the small pile. The resultant burst of pulse energy tore through the hatch with the force of a plasma cannon blast, punching the entire slab of circular metal out into the space beyond. The sonic shockwave of the explosion reverberated in Codians ears, fighting to overwhelm his enhanced sense of balance. He shook himself and rose, following the tumbling hatch into the space beyond. Fire erupted out of the smoke, scything past him. A shot clipped his shoulder guard and forced him into a spin, almost knocking him off his feet. The Tau ran in behind him, Umbras leading them from the fore. The Apothecary sprinted towards him, firing his bolt pistol. Chaplain I am unhurt. He replied, bringing the Dawnblade to bear. The chamber here looked to consist of several domes, all interlinked. A long corridor stretched into the distance at his left and he could see scores of Fire Warriors and drones charging towards them from this direction. To his right was where the most resistance was coming from. There were many Fire Warriors here, most of them behind cover. He spied several emplacements also, domed turrets that looked as if they had risen from the floor or descended from the ceiling. Fire crisscrossed the area, driving his own forces into cover. This way! One of the Tau shouted, throwing himself into a headlong run towards the right of the chamber. He targeted the nearest emplacement as he ran, planting an expert shot into the area at the centre of the things twin guns. The emplacement shuddered beneath a series of small explosions and then whined as the power drained from it. The warrior barely had time to shift his aim before another salvo from across the chamber tore his torso apart. This has to end. Codian growled beneath his breath. He took a moment to assess the layout of the enemy. Most of the opposing Tau were secreted behind a net of defensive turrets and the turrets were spread before a large arch. He could see that beyond the arch was a long corridor, and right at the end yet another large sealed hatch. Defence guns tracked and swivelled in the walls there, awaiting the approach of hostile targets. He realised then exactly what was happening. You! He shouted, pointing to one of the nearest Fire Warriors. The Tau turned his head sharply and then ran over. Which way to the ships medical bay? Just as he suspected, the Tau pointed in the opposite direction, towards the left corridor.

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I thought as much. And what of the chamber beyond, to the right? That is where the Ethereals reside, guela. Then they think that we are here to destroy the Ethereals. Codian answered. That is why there is so much resistance in this area. Hold out here as long as you can. What do you have planned..? The Fire Warrior began. The question came too late. Codian was already gone. +++ The darkness peeled away to reveal a dry and dusty landscape. Even as his vision cleared, Codian came to recognise the place once again. This kept happening to him with an increasing regularity. Once again he found himself on the surface of the mysterious barren planet, where he was and why he had been brought here, answers that ever escaped him. I do not have time for this! He called out over the howling winds. He did not need to turn to know that he was not alone. He spun on his heel nonetheless, to be met with a host of waiting faces. The dark Astartes regarded him with faces devoid of any readable expression. One of them, a warrior clad in ivory robes, stepped forward, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword. We are not responsible for your return, Prophet. We merely wait. For me? Codian called, tapping the head of the Dawnblade against his armoured chest. Why? Why am I here again? You are here again, Prophet, because this is your destination. This is the beginning, and the end. Your final journey will be the birth of it all. You hold the knowledge. Another of the warriors said. You alone of all of us know the answers to your questions. You know why you are here. It is but a product of your deepest subconscious mind. It is the pull of your soul. It is your destiny. And again, I say to you that I do not have time for this. Codian replied with a snarl. I have a war to win, and I must go. And we will continue to wait. A third replied. Until you return. Codian said nothing else. He turned away and concentrated, calling his dark abilities to the fore once again. Call to the shadows, Prophet. They will answer! One of the Marines cried above the winds. The voice faded from his ears then, echoing as it died away, and the thunderous darkness closed in to tear him away. +++ He came to be more or less exactly where he had intended. The transition brought him back into the ship directly behind the approaching forces. He turned swiftly and fired, the shot punching through the back of a warriors head at almost point-blank range.

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As one the charging Tau slowed. Drones wobbled on their axis and turned, red lights flaring across their sensor arrays. Codian swiftly shifted his aim again and again, feeling a Tau each time he did so. Within seconds his bolt pistol ran dry and, quicker than thought, he brought the Dawnblade up, ready to enter into close combat. Anaris swelled in his grasp as it prepared to take the lives of the enemy. The reeling Tau redeployed themselves with practised ease, swinging their guns around to face the Chaplain. These were seasoned warriors, fast to react to the new danger. As Codian charged them they opened fire, closing the shrinking gap with streamers of pulse fire. Codian swung the Dawnblade and drew a glittering arc out before him. The magicks within the blade swept the pulse rounds aside, in many cases simply swallowing the energy blasts. He leapt into the air and twisted, bringing the living crozius around once again. The strike cleaved through the packed Tau, smashing heads from bodies and torsos into steaming viscera. His feet touched the floor and he drive himself into the survivors, sweeping the Dawnblade up and to the left. Tau flailed as they were smashed back through the air, their bodies coming apart. To their credit, those that still survived moved to counter him, brandishing their rifles like clubs in an attempt to strike back. Codian weathered those few strikes that found him, his armour turning them aside as if they were nothing. He kicked out and snapped the neck of an opponent and then rammed his elbow into the face of another, shattering the helm like glass. The last surviving Tau rose sharply and turned, choosing flight over a certain death. The las-round rang as it punched through his lens array and turned his brain to hot liquid. He shuddered as he fell to his knees and then onto his face, smoke curling from the deadly wound. The Cadian threw himself into view, his hellgun sweeping the corridor before him, the ivory-armoured form of Umbras filling the space behind him. This way! Codian called, pointing to the waiting hatch. Umbras, order the Tau to make their stand here, at the intersection. This will cover our operations within Biles sanctum. The Apothecary tilted his head and turned to organise the Fire Warriors, assisted by the Cadian, leaving Codian to plan his next move. The entrance to Biles chambers was obviously sealed, as was every hatch in this section of the ship. He did not know if anyone lay in wait beyond, but he guessed that most of the enemy attention would be concentrated upon the Ethereal chambers. Hold them! He called. Hold them for as long as you can! With that he closed his eyes, concentrated, and tore himself from the spot. The very first thing he noticed was the silence. He had passed beyond a single hatch and yet from in here, he could hear nothing of the exchange beyond. The chamber illuminated at his arrival, the air simply growing bright around him. He tensed, swiftly exchanging the magazine of his pistol as he searched the wide space around him for any sign of life. There seemed to no one here, and after a few moments he allowed himself to relax a little. Codian here. He said, willing his vox stud into action. Brother Ventris, can you hear me? He waited for several moments but there was no answer. Cassius? Tigurius? This is Codian. I have reached our destination. Are you receiving this?

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Again, he was met with no reply save for silence. He reasoned with himself that there could be any number of explanations why he had lost communication with his Ultramarine brothers, the most obvious being Tau technology. It was perfectly plausible that the Tau had initiated some kind of ship-wide communications suppression net. Perhaps the others had inadvertently passed beyond the range of his vox, and he had no idea of the properties used in the construction of these vessels. There were many reasons to consider, but he could not help but feel that there was something more to it, something altogether more sinister. The strange and seemingly random leaps into the nightmare world had done nothing to help centre his mind for the task ahead. Though he knew a little of what lay ahead of him on this distant world, he could not understand why he had returned there more than once. To him, the continuing experience was akin to a warrior seeing the events of his life flash before his eyes upon death. Was he dead, somewhere in the murky mists of the future? He found he could barely begin to comprehend the workings of space and time, despite his ability to breach those laws. He was a man in possession of an amazing ability and yet of the truth of that ability he knew very little. All he knew was that he had a destiny there on that world, and that the strange, dead world, and that the shadowy Marines waited there for him still. These thoughts were irrelevant, he reasoned. He still had much to do before he would see the end of this war, and the salvation of his Primarch was paramount now. He realised with some relief that whatever automated defence systems were in place in this part of the ship had stayed thankfully silent up to now. If what he suspected of Fabius Bile was true, if the insidious traitor had done most of his debased work in secret and away from prying eyes, then it made sense that the Tau would consider the Apothecarion a low-level risk area. The fact that the Ethereal chambers were so close to this place had worked in their favour, at least as far as he was concerned. The enemy suspected that they had come for the Ethereals, when all along his true goal lay somewhere within these walls. This part of the ship was unlike anything he had seen since they had boarded her. Though the Tau influence in architecture continued on into these chambers, there was a darker, almost gothic feel to the place. There were tanks and glass tubes everywhere he looked and in every conceivable size. most of them looked to contain specimens of organs, whilst others held complete specimens. In many cases he found that he could not place the species of the preserved creatures he saw all around him, though he did recognise a number of them. He passed by a large tube containing a huge, dark-skinned Ork, the creatures face exuding an air of menace and hate even in death. He turned his gaze away from the alien and continued on, approaching the nearest archway cautiously. As he had hoped, he could see no signs of life in the chamber beyond. To his dismay, the space was even larger than the previous one, and more cluttered. Rows upon rows of specimen tubes and unidentifiable medical equipment stretched out away from him, as far as the eye could see. He realised then how monumental the task ahead of him was. Bile would not have kept his greatest secrets out in display for all to see. The truth of Biles knowledge of the situation was inconsequential to him now, for the insidious traitor would definitely have kept his most secret work away from the eyes of Guilliman. He needed help to locate that which he knew he must find.

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Call to the shadows. The dark Astarte had told him this, but only now did he realise the significance of it. Were those dark Marines really a part of his own subconscious mind? Was that distant planet nothing except for a mindscape, a representation of his own unbidden efforts in turning his gaze inward? Were these mysterious interruptions in transition a method devised by his instinctive self to turn his attention to the answers he sought? Yes or no, the answer was not important, at least not for now. What was important was the goal, and if he was to stand any chance of locating it before the enemy found him, he needed to follow that advice. He slowed, lowering his weapons as he did so. then, glancing around him, he spoke to the silent gloom. I am Codian, the Prophet, and I need your help. His voice echoed away into the distance, the dying reverberations fading into the quiet and ever-present hum of machinery. II know that you are here. I know that you are everywhere. I also know that you are aware of me, aware of who and what I am. I seek your aid here. I need to uncover the truth, and I know that you can help me. You know this ship, these chambers, far better than I ever could. You know this ship better even than the Tau. For the good of the continuation of our shared existence, for the good of life, help me. For long moments he waited, and listened. He had almost given up when the slightest noise attracted his attention. He glanced to his right in time to see what appeared to be a ventilation grille, not much larger than his helm in diameter, detach itself and then sink away into a pit of utter darkness. Something dark and soundless poured itself from the space and slid out into the chamber, landing on the floor with only the softest thud of padded feet. The shape rose into a hunched, humanoid form, and he caught sight of what appeared to be a pair of shining eyes beneath a rotting hood. The thing hissed at him, a feral and animalistic sound. Codian inclined his head in greeting and then gestured out around him. You know all the secrets of this place. Show them to me. +++ Tau! The voice thundered through the clamour of the battle, singing high above the loudest, most thunderous explosions. Hear me! I, Guilliman, command your attention! Roboute Guilliman spread his arms wide as he called out to his legions, his volume of his voice louder and more strident than any mortal could ever hope to manage. That same voice boomed across the communications net, spreading out across the entire Tau army in a matter of seconds. Your god is here amongst us! AunVa demands your presence! On his knees, his face turned to the floor, Berolinus shuddered beneath his Primarchs every word. His disbelief at Biles sudden demise still burned bright within him. Things were happening so fast now, the situation changing beyond his every expectation.

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There was a part of him that railed against all that AunVa was, and yet he could not bring himself to cry out against the immortal master of the Tau. AunVa had intended Guilliman to become something more than he ever was, something dark and corrupt. It had been AunVas wish to see Guilliman destroyed, for all intents and purposes, and replaced with some monstrous and alien machine. It had been the corruption that Fabius had wrought within Guilliman that had prevented this, and he found himself silently thankful for that. In death, it had been revealed that Biles loyalties had lain elsewhere, and yet even as he considered this, he found that he could not label the Apothecary a traitor and a heretic. All along, Bile had been opposed to the rule of AunVa, opposed to the crusade of the Tau. He still understood little of what the Apothecary had hoped to achieve, indeed, what he had achieved already. Had he known of the terrible fate that had awaited Guilliman? What had Bile achieved by preventing this? Why had he even sought to prevent it? All these questions and more coursed through his mind. Each passing moment revealed lies layered upon lies. And now this. The strange machine summoned by AunVa had simply passed back through the shimmering emerald gate and left, closing the swirling breach behind it. Now AunVa sought to gather the Tau to him, even in the midst of the desperate fight against the forces of chaos. What purpose could this possibly serve? His Primarch seemed unwilling or indeed incapable of denying AunVa. Did Guilliman know of the beings intentions? Again, none of this made sense to him. The battlefield had taken on a strange quality with the arrival of the Ethereals. Even now they moved to widen the net around his position, around AunVa, burning and smashing their way deeper into the chaos forces, towers of murderous strength and power. He had yet to witness the demise of any one of them, and he had no idea how many of them existed here. Though it may not be immediately obvious to some, he could see that the Ethereals were not just moving to counter the enemy. They were actually driving them back purposely, leaving the area around their commander free of danger and interference. AunVa himself continued to watch the proceedings with an aloof detachment, as if there was not a single individual, force or weapon here capable of harming him. Berolinus looked upon him and believed that such a thing could actually be true. What is his true desire? He asked himself the question, but really he knew that he needed the answer not from within himself but instead from the dark being residing deep within his soul. He closed his eyes and willed Lucius to answer him. Why would the malevolent spirit not answer? To feed. Came the reply. He flinched, quite unprepared to hear the hissing voice in his thoughts despite his plea. To feed, Berolinus. You had your chance, Ultramarine. You had a chance of true greatness, of survival. Now you are too late. You stupid, pathetic, blind little Astarte. First you pledge yourself to a false Primarch, and then to a false Tau. Still you fail to see the truth behind the fiend before you. The creature you know of as AunVa is much more than you could ever imagine. It is a god of this mortal plane, a creature far darker and more ancient than even the most powerful denizens of the warp. I hope that you enjoy all that you have allowed to happen, Lurom Berolinus, for you will feed that creature. All of you, every last life on this foul world, are fated to become sustenance. A pathetic end for a pathetic

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warrior. Enjoy your fate. Berolinus hissed in anger and despair as he felt the spirit of Lucius sink away, abandoning him to this fate. He vowed then that he would do everything in his power to prevent it.

Chapter Two Hundred and Seven: A Bitter Taste

The dark shapes moved almost soundlessly through the quiet gloom, fluid and cautious despite their gnarled appearance. Codian followed closely behind, his focus centred directly on them. More of the strange Hrud had joined the first creature moments after their meeting, sliding from dark corners and recesses that could have not housed even a human child. The way they twisted and contorted, it was as if their entire body was somehow multi-jointed. Each of the Hrud warriors carried what at first had appeared to him to be a staff, fashioned from some dark metallic substance. On closer inspection they were revealed to be actually some form of rifle, lit just above the trigger area with a pulsing green glow. Within moments of standing in the presence of these rifles he felt his face and body begin to prickle with thick, oily sweat. This was a reaction by his enhanced physiology to whatever matter served as the power source to the strange weapons. Whatever radiation or toxic substance leaked from the rifles did not seem to affect the Hrud. One by one they rounded the corner and passed into another room. This room was much smaller. Over to the far corner Codian could see a simple cot, the surfaces and shelves about it littered with vials and bottles filled with dark, thick liquids. Over by the opposing corner he could see a heavily stained dissection table. The room was filled with yet more specimen tubes and preserved organs. One of the Hrud signalled for him to slow. He did so, watching as the creature stole over to the far wall and placed a glowing crystalline object against the wall. The power in the room flickered and died away, the lights and the runes set into the scattered equipment dulling. The Hrud left the device stuck to the wall and then proceeded to tear a previously hidden panel free of the wall by its side. It reached into the space with long, segmented fingers and tore several conduits free, its actions sending sparks cascading across its mildew-heavy robes. They knew exactly where to look. Codian guessed that the actions of the alien had disabled whatever hidden security systems were built into this room; systems he suspected were put into place by Bile himself. The other Hrud moved forward then, converging around a blank section of the wall. One of them produced another of the pulsing crystals from beneath its robes and placed it against the wall. Is this it? He asked, feeling his dual pulses quicken. Is this the place? The aliens turned to look at him, ever silent, and after a moments pause all three shuffled back. Codian watched as a thin light drew itself across the surface of the wall. Starting from a central point, it cut across the smooth surface at head height and then dropped towards the floor, running parallel until it reached the deck. The large oblong shape sank into the wall with a hiss and then slid out of sight, revealing a hidden space beyond.

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Blessed Emperor Codian whispered. +++ What is happening? Calgar cycled his augmetically-enhanced sight back away from the distant battlefield and shifted the bulk of his torso to look upon the dark figure at his side. Qah met his gaze then, wrapping his shadowy arms tighter around himself as if feeling the chill of some imaginary wind. Drochtyr prepares to feed. He whispered in reply. Calgars unalterable visage masked his confusion at the answer. I dont understand. I refer to the change in the direction of this war, Qah. For all intents and purposes, the Tau look to be in the midst of a full retreat. Only the Ethereals continue to engage the forces of chaos. Forgive me, Warmaster, your observations are correct, for the most part. The Tau are indeed in the midst of a withdrawal, but this is far from a retreat. The Ethereals have power enough to keep the forces of chaos at bay. They do not intend to overwhelm them. They are merely pushing them back. It is as I said. The Void Dragon prepares to feed, and he will feed upon his own legions in order to gain the strength to dominate this war. What can we do to prevent that happening? Calgar asked, managing to force a hint of anxiousness into his mechanical voice. In truth, we can do little, at least for now. We must continue to bolster the strength of these defences until it is time for the enemy to make their push. The Eldar continue to work behind the scenes, readying themselves for the coming of the true enemy. The chaos legions continue to hold out against the Ethereals for now, but they will falter at the arrival of the other Star Gods. Calgar looked out across the immense expanse of the battlefield once again. He had observed the same scene uncounted times, and yet each time he did so, his ancient hearts never once failed to tighten in his chest. The warriors of chaos were legion, even now. Tens of thousands of armoured bodies roved the ruined warscape, hunting the retreating Tau. He looked on as a mass of Iron Warriors swept through the ruins of a burned out cathedral, pouring from doorways and windows out into the wide street. The war machines of the retreating Tau convoy ground to a halt as the chaos Marines attacked. Turrets swiftly cycled around to target the silver bodies, sowing death through the shifting tide. Battlesuits took to the skies, unloading their weapons systems into the surging enemy. Marines threw themselves upon the armoured skimmers, clambering up onto the smooth hulls. Turret gunners were quickly overwhelmed, shot or simply dragged from their raised positions. A host of Khornate berserkers joined the Iron Warriors in their attack from the north. The World Eaters used their screaming axes to tear their way into the laden Devilfish carriers. Tau warriors were dragged from the holds of the vehicles and ripped apart, the insane Marines dancing and whooping in delight as they bathed in the blood of their victims. He shifted his gaze to the right. There he saw a writhing tide of scum. Chaos cultists swarmed around the glowing form of a lone Ethereal, fighting one another in a frenzied desire to hack and slash at the burning figure. They died in droves, immolated by the immortal abomination, and yet they did not seem to care.

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He had been an Astarte longer than most other mortal creatures even lived, and he knew what it was to be free of the fear of death. He knew fear, despite the Astartes most famous claim. His greatest fear was failure. It was the fear of failure that drove a Marine to preserve himself, for when an Astarte died, he could no longer serve his Emperor in the mortal realm. What astounded him here most was the total lack of fear. It was an omnipresent thing. The Tau did not seem to fear death, nor did the forces of chaos. Both factions almost seemed to thrive on the abandonment of facing the other in combat, of destroying as many of the enemy as they could before the inevitability of death claimed them. Let them burn themselves out, Warmaster. Qah said then, and Calgar knew without a doubt that the ancient alien had ensnared his private thoughts. We both know that the war raging out there is but a precursor, a distraction. The real war will begin at the arrival of the other Star Gods. The Ctan are an arrogant and proud kind. Their fight for dominance over their siblings is one that has been played out since the dawn of creation. These other Ctan. I have yet to see any sign of them. Calgar answered, his tone displaying a clear annoyance at having his thoughts violated so. When will we know that they are here? The world will quake at their coming. Qah answered quietly. We will know, Warmaster. I promise you that. +++ Berolinus could feel the ground beneath him quaking softly now as the Tau began to converge in force around him. Everywhere he looked he could see them. Vast swathes of infantry grew ever closer, growing larger by the second beneath the shadow of innumerable war machines. The combined efforts of both the Ethereals and the strange Tau Titans had all but driven the forces of chaos back out of sight. The battle still raged far beyond the range of the naked eye, but it seemed AunVas plans to gather the Tau to him had been successful. He fought to understand the motive behind this. Lucius had warned him that the ageless creature masquerading as AunVa intended to feed, and although he found he could understand little of what that meant, he also fought to understand why the creature had chosen Guilliman do aid him in this. Was it simple, universal arrogance? Was it something more than that? Berolinus ran all the possibilities through his mind. His biggest fear was that, as indeed Aunva himself had said, this would be his Primarchs final task. His swansong. The more he considered it, the more he convinced himself that Guilliman, and indeed he himself, would be added to this feast. He had watched as the Ethereals had come and carved their way through all resistance. In such a short space of time they had punished all those that opposed them more severely than the Tau legions themselves ever could have. He saw then the true duplicitous nature of the Tau command. The uncounted line troopers of the Tau were as nothing, disposable and expendable even to those they served. Guilliman too. Of course, if the Primarch himself was truly as worthless to AunVa as the current situation suggested, then there was no question that he too was as nothing to this evil and deceitful creature. The Tau surrounded him now, already so thick in number that he could see nothing of the battlefield beyond. Satisfaction blazed in AunVas eyes at this, and as Berolinus saw this, he found himself fighting to hate the abomination. His soul roiled with an inner turmoil. He wanted so much to rise and strike at the fiend, to expend his last efforts in defiance of all AunVa was, but he could not. His every cell screamed in

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protest at his seditious thoughts, for his body was a slave to the Tau ideal now, utterly devoted to the Ethereals and their master. You have done well, Kaiguela Ilporrui. AunVa uttered, taking in the endless lines of kneeling Tau around him. You have served me one last time, and for that, you shall receive your reward. He turned to look upon the waiting Tau then and raised his shining arms. When he spoke next, his voice became omnipresent, no louder in volume and yet strident enough to encompass the entire battlefield. All of you shall serve me now, but one last time. You have conquered the stars for me, my Tau. Now you will kneel, and lift me to ultimate ascension with your lives. You will give me all that you are, and in doing so you shall become one with me, so that your memory will live on into eternity. Cries of adulation and rapture rose up from the sea of adoring aliens as uncounted Tau surrendered themselves to their masters whim. Squad leaders raised their strident voices as they ordered the their teams clear of the waiting Devilfish carriers, physically forcing them to kneel where their feet touched the ground. Crisis suits descended from the skies to mirror the genuflections of their smaller comrades. Tau continued to die still, blown apart or punctured by random enemy fire, and yet those that died did not even seem to realise that they had done so, for every single Tau on the battlefield was entranced by their gods command, and by his very presence. Unseen by AunVa, Berolinus managed to force himself to his feet and drag himself over to where Guilliman stood, his Primarch immobile as if cast from iron. Thisthis is wrong, my lord. We cannot let it end this way. He managed to gasp, his own voice fighting to resist him. Guilliman did not respond. He continued to stare ahead to where AunVa bathed in the adoration of his masses, his black eyes burning with unknown emotion. Lord, I beg you, listen to reason. He hissed, his body beginning to quake. You are Roboute Guilliman, and you are better than this. You are the father of the Ultramarines I am no Ultramarine. Guilliman whispered in reply, his face tight with effort and his lips drawn back over his teeth. And I am not your Guilliman. I am better than he ever was. I am supreme amongst the Primarchs and I am a god amongst mortal men. AunVa made me this way. You, Berolinus, are pathetic and weak. You shame me. Now kneel. The last word left his lips and hit Berolinus with all the force of a thunder hammer. It drove him to his knees, as undeniable as death itself. Berolinus had taken the covenant offered by Bile so as to devote himself further to his father and Primarch, and now that covenant found him rendered useless to resist, even when sense and honour screamed denial at his own actions. Please, my Primarch Silence. Berolinus felt his throat constrict at Guillimans word, his voice refusing to boil from his lips. Now he was unable to even protest, let alone act. Now, at last, he could see his death clearly as if it were approaching from the horizon, a visible and corporeal thing. For the first time in his life, he felt utterly helpless. He was

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beaten, and no matter how much of his will he poured into defying his Primarch, he knew that he could not win. It is time. When the Void Dragon spoke, the earth trembled. His eyes became stars set into his face, shining with a radiance and strength that still only served to hint at the unmatchable powers inside him. He looked out at the legions gathered before him, and then he released but a fragment of that power. The bow wave of force thundered through the Tau before him, its very touch turning uncounted bodies to dust and energy. Hundreds died in that first second, their bodies disassembled into glittering atoms by the Star Gods murderous gaze. Those atoms swirled and eddied as they gathered, creating a vast spiral of life force, a phenomenon caught in the gravitational pull of the ancient star-eater. The Void Dragon tilted his silvered head back and opened his embrace to the stolen life force of his murdered legions. Tendrils of twisting energy surged into him, setting his form aglow with its vigour. Without warning his shining form took on a deep crimson glow and he drew himself in, shaking the energy away from him. No longer caught in his proximity the glowing cloud simply dissipated, fading away to nothing. It is corrupt. His voice came as a hiss of burning anger, its sound sending shivers of fear through all those present. The rot of the warp stains them. All of them. They are spoiled. Useless to me. He threw his head back and became like a force of nature then, pouring his boundless anger out into the poisoned Tau. Each howl was a force of destruction, shattering scores of bodies with its might. Light danced from his fingertips and scythed through the masses, bursting Tau as if they were ripe fruit. At his very gaze the machines of the Tau ignited, their systems forced into overload at but a fraction of his will. Reactors reached critical mass, tearing tanks apart. Weapons systems came online to cut down those they had once served. Within seconds, the battlefield became fogged with viscera and blood-mist. At the centre of it all, the Void Dragon blazed, afire with the flames of his own depthless rage. Ethereals! Lay waste to the enemy! He roared. The Tau are lost to us now! They are beneath our attention! We go to tear down the walls of our enemys bastion and claim this galaxy as ours! With that he looked to Guilliman, dark contempt radiating from his eyes. You. Time and again you fail me, Kaiguela Ilporrui. You have failed me one last time. You are beneath my attention. You are nothing to me, Guilliman, and you do not even deserve death at my hand. With that he turned his gaze from the Primarch and began to drift away, following the hunting Ethereals. Guilliman watched him go, his features slack with disbelief. He found himself unable to move, to protest his worth. He had fought his way through the stars to reach this world. He had conquered untold billions and destroyed twice as many again in his quest to bring the Unity to ultimate dominance. He had brought a stability to the galaxy that had not existed in either memory or even history, and he had done all of this with the unwavering belief that he would stand astride the ruins of the Imperial Palace victorious. He had come this far, and he had failed. He had failed his lord and master at the very zenith of the crusade. He had allowed the Tau to become weak, to fall to the corruptive legacy of his wicked brother Mortarion.

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I have failed you. He whispered, turning his gaze to the distant Palace. My father, I have failed us all. Berolinus lifted his head as he heard his Primarch whisper, and he saw then the single tear glistening upon his cheek. Lord Guilliman His Primarch looked to him then, and Berolinus watched as the grief and despair in Guillimans face faded away. Every last trace of emotion drained from his features, replaced instead by a visage devoid of expression. We are done. He uttered, his voice almost autonomous. Berolinus shook his head. No, my lord. Do you not see the truth? We did not fail. We have been betrayed. Every word that left his lips was an effort of supreme will. Fire coursed through his veins at the very act of his seditious speech. Yes, betrayed by our own weakness. Guilliman answered. We were weak and we were foolish, and those flaws allowed the enemy to undo all that we have worked to achieve. AunVa speaks the truth, Berolinus. We have damned ourselves in his eyes and for that, we deserve only oblivion. We must undo the wrongs we have committed against him. We must wipe the slate clean. Berolinus felt a fresh surge of despair course through him at hearing his Primarchs words. Even now, in the face of it all, Guilliman remained spellbound by the false idol commanding the Unity. Only then did the Ultramarine realise the full extent of his own blind foolishness. The discovery that his Primarch still lived and breathed had rendered him spellbound, insensible to the wider situation. Now it was clear that, like the Tau themselves, Guilliman was nothing but a pawn, the irremovable yoke of slavery set forever round his neck. The worst part of it all, Berolinus realised, was that his Primarch was incapable of escaping that slavery. Whether or not he was even capable of changing his mind or his allegiance mattered little. His body would simply not allow him to do so. He began to understand a little more of the events that had led to his Primarchs downfall. Bile had literally infused Tau DNA into Guilliman, and it was that genetic material that had cemented his slavery. Guilliman was unable to raise arms against his Ethereal masters because of this, no matter his most secret personal desires. He too had received Biles foul genetic legacy, and he too was now totally unable to fight the will of AunVa. So it was that his faith in Guilliman had brought him here to this low point. That same faith had seen him betray his brothers and strike out alone, determined to fight by his Primarchs side, no matter the cost. In doing this, in seeking out Guilliman, he had turned his back on everything he had been created to fight for. He had betrayed his oaths as an Ultramarine and he had done so thinking that his way was just, when all along it was Codian and the others who had taken the true path. Just like the ancient traitor Marines of old, he had chosen his Primarch over the one true path, over his Emperor, and only now did he see the truth of his foolish actions. He had to atone, somehow. He had to end this madness anyway he could.

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My lord, enough. We are both held under the sway of xenos influence. Look where that has brought us, my Primarch. Look what we have done to our Imperium. We have to end this. We will. Guilliman replied, his expression ever blank. With that he blinked and then looked out upon the gathered Tau, still legion in number about him. When he spoke, his armours vox carried his voice across the entire Unity force. Tau, we have disgraced ourselves in the eyes of AunVa. There can be no greater failure. Just as you have failed him in allowing your bodies to become corrupted by the filth of the enemy, so too have I failed you, for I have allowed this to transpire. We can do no more now, for we have been cast aside by the greater powers of this Unity. Our lives can no longer be justified, so there can be no other option left to us than that of death. So it is that I will do you all one last service. Throw down your weapons, all of you. For the Greater Good, it is time to meet your end. Berolinus looked on in stark disbelief as his Primarch brought his mighty blade to bear and stepped amongst the nearest Tau. With one vast swing he cut a score of bodies apart. There was no resistance. All about him, Tau fell to their knees, their heads hung in shamed acquiescence. My lord Guilliman, no Guilliman turned his dark eyes to Berolinus then, a snarl playing at the very edges of his lips. Take up your hammer and join me, Berolinus. This will be our last act. Berolinus shook his head. This is madness, Primarch. Even now the Ethereals advance upon the Palace. There is still time to change all this Silence. The single spoken word caused his throat to constrict, dousing his voice. I order you to assist me. Guilliman said, and even as the words left his lips Berolinus found himself rising, his hammer igniting in his grasp. You will not protest this again. This is our duty, and we will see it done. With despair and horror in his heart, Berolinus strode forth amongst the waiting Tau, and began to kill.

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