belonged to, and it was said that the true essence of the warrior could be read in its design.
Marduk’s blade was curved and serrated, while Kol Badar’s was broad and heavy, bereft of
ornamentation. Burias’s blade was masterfully fashioned and elegantly curved, and its hilt was
fashioned in the shape of a snarling serpent.
“Gods of the ether, we offer up our blood as sacrifice to your glory,” growled Marduk, cutting a
deep vertical slash down his right cheek. The gathered warriors echoed his words, mirroring the
First Acolyte’s action. Blood ran from the wounds, running down the faces of the warriors before
the powerful anti-coagulants in their bloodstreams sealed the wounds.
A pair of murderous kathartes flickered into being high above, the skinless daemons circling
down over the congregation, borne upon bleeding, leathery wings, and settled upon the Idolater to
witness the ritual.
With his sacred blood dripping from his jaw and onto his armour, Marduk carved a horizontal
line across his cheek, bisecting the other cut to form a cross.
“Garner us with strength, and let your dark light flow through our earthly bodies,” intoned
Marduk as he made the incision. Again, his words and actions were replicated by the chosen thirty,
and more of the kathartes flickered into being, breaching the skin between the real and the warp.
“We give of ourselves unto you, oh great gods of damnation, and open ourselves as vessels to
your immortal will,” said Marduk, making a third cut that bisected the other two diagonally.
“With the letting of this blood, we renew our pledge of faith to the Legion, to Lorgar, and to the
glory of Chaos everlasting,” said Marduk, completing the ritual and making the final cut upon his
face, forming the eight-pointed star of Chaos upon his cheek.
A flock of thirty-two kathartes had gathered atop the Idolater, silent witnesses to the conclusion
of the ritual. They kicked off from their roost, and circled low over the heads of the Host, blood
dripping from their skinless muscles, and their hideous faces contorted as they screamed. Then they
scattered, filling the air with their raucous cries, and one by one they flickered and disappeared,
rejoining the blessed immaterium.
Again Marduk raised his arms up high, and his vox-assisted voice boomed out across the
docking bay.
31
“The portents bode well, my brothers, and the true gods have blessed this venture; let us go
forth, and kill in the name of Lorgar.”
“For Lorgar,” echoed the Host, their voices raised, and Marduk smiled.
“Let’s get this done,” snapped Kol Badar, and the thirty warriors boarded the Idolater. Darioq
was brought forth from a side-door, having been rightly excluded from bearing witness to the
khantanka blooding ritual, and was marched towards the waiting transport ship. Marduk had
allowed him to reconstruct his servo-harness armatures, though he had ensured that the weapons
systems of the unit had been stripped, and had personally branded an eight-pointed star upon his
hooded forehead.
The First Acolyte was the last to enter the transport ship, and the engines roared as the boarding
ramp slammed shut behind him.
“Gods of the ether, guide us,” he whispered to himself.
The three Firestorm-class frigates of Battle Group Orion sent their sweeps out in front of them,
searching in vain for the suspected Astartes vessel. Every scan came back negative, and attempts to
locate the ship through astrotelepathic means proved equally fruitless. It was as if the ship had never
existed.
“It could be a ghost-image from a jump a thousand years ago,” remarked the captain of the
Dauntless, the lead ship of the patrol. “There is nothing out here.”
With reports of the escalating engagement with the tyranid hive-ships coming in and eager not to
miss out on the hunting, the captain ordered the frigates to come around and rejoin the rest of the
battle group.
Unseen and invisible in the radiation field of the red giant, an Imperial-class transport vessel
blasted from the hangar decks of the Infidus Diabolus and began to make its way across the gulf of
space, heading towards the Imperial blockade and the moon of Perdus Skylla beyond.
32
CHAPTER FOUR
Marduk felt his anger rising as he stared out at the Imperial armada. He could see dozens of ships,
ranging in size from immense battleships bristling with weapons to small civilian transports. The
warships were long, inelegant vessels with thick armoured prows, like the ironclad ships that he had
once seen ploughing the oceans of the Imperial world of Katemendor, before that world had been
put to the sword. Cathedral spires rose behind the giants’ command stations, immense structures that
housed thousands. Marduk clenched his fists in hatred as he looked upon the giant twin-headed
eagle effigies at the tops of the spires, and snarled a benediction to the gods of Chaos.
They glided by the vast and silent Imperial ships, and Marduk stared at the immense cannon
batteries, torpedo tubes and lance arrays. If the enemy suspected them, they would blast them to
pieces in an instant, and nothing could be done to stop them. The shields of the transport vessel were
enough to protect it from showers of small meteors and other space-born debris, but a single
broadside from even the smaller battle cruisers would easily overpower them, and the ship would be
ripped apart.
“This is insanity,” said Kol Badar.
“Have faith, Coryphaus,” said Marduk mildly, masking his own unease.
At the dawning of the Great Crusade, before the Warmaster Horus had led his divine crusade
against the Emperor of Mankind, the Legion had been outfitted with hundreds of Stormbird
gunships, impressively armed and armoured transport ships that doubled as attack craft. Borne
within the Stormbirds, the Word Bearers had sallied forth from the docking bays of their strike
cruisers, bringing the word of the Emperor to the outlying planets on the fringe of the empire. As the
crusade ground on, many of the Stormbirds were replaced with the newer Thunderhawk gunships,
which were less heavily armed and had a smaller transport capacity, but had the benefit of being
quicker and cheaper for the forge-worlds to manufacture.
With the advent of the crusade against the Emperor, the Adeptus Mechanicus forge-worlds that
had thrown their weight behind the warmaster produced more of the Thunderhawks for his Legions,
and the Stormbirds were all but fazed out within the XVII Legion. However, with the shocking
defeat of Horus, and the subsequent retreat to the Eye of Terror, the majority of the forge-worlds
that supplied the Legions of Horus were virus bombed, and thus the Word Bearers Legion had no
way of replacing its lost attack craft.
Few original Stormbirds remained in service within the 34th Company Host. Those that
remained had had their hulls patched and repaired a hundred times. Many of the original
Thunderhawks were still serviceable, though they had been altered and modified over the millennia
to fit the needs of the Host and as a response to limited manufactory facilities.
The flotilla had also been increased with vessels stolen from enemies. One Thunderhawk
gunship, a new model fresh from the forge-worlds of Mars, had been claimed from the loyalist
White Consuls Chapter, out on the fringe of the Cadian Gate, and an ancient, near fatally damaged
Stormbird that had been claimed from the cursed Alpha Legion in a raid upon one of their cult
worlds was currently being refitted for use.
As well as these original Astartes-pattern attack craft, there were dozens of recommissioned
civilian transports, assault boats, refitted cargo ships and auxiliary vessels that had been captured by
the Host, rearmed and armoured for use as makeshift assault craft. These had all been modified and
refitted by the chirumeks of the Host, and some of them barely resembled their original model.
33
Marduk and his hand-picked entourage of Word Bearers were aboard one of these salvaged and
refitted vessels as they made their way towards the Imperial moon of Perdus Skylla.
It was an ugly brute of a ship, a squat, stub-nosed vessel that the Host had crippled and boarded
centuries earlier. Dubbed Idolater by its new owners, it had been part of a small convoy used by
smugglers running the blockades of Imperial space, rogue traders that had been circumventing
Administratum taxes on the outskirts of the Maelstrom. The Infidus Diabolus had scattered the
convoy, emerging from the darkness behind a shattered planet and ripping two of the ships apart
with full broadsides. The Idolater had been crippled with lance strikes, and a single dreadclaw had
been launched from the Infidus Diabolus. The boarding pod latched onto the hull of the Idolater like
a limpet, cutting through its armour with ease, and a boarding party of Word Bearers, led by Kol
Badar, had stormed aboard. The crew were slaughtered, and the reeling vessel claimed by the Host.
Marduk stood with Kol Badar looking out through the curved blister portal of the bridge of the
Idolater. Behind them, serfs of the Host were guiding the ship to its destination, directing it in
towards the Imperial moon. They had once been men, but their humanity had all but abandoned
them. Their flesh was stretched and covered in vile, cancerous blemishes and the hands of the pilots
had become fused to their controls. Tears of blood ran down their cheeks.
The bridge was dim, the only light coming from the crimson-tinged sensor screens, bathing the
room in a hellish red aura.
The Coryphaus glared balefully out at the Imperial vessels, and he clenched and unclenched the
bladed fingers of his power talon unconsciously.
“If they realise what we are, all the faith in the warp will not save us,” he snarled.
“They will not,” said Marduk calmly. “We are but another transport vessel, aiding the
evacuation efforts.”
“Such deception is beneath us,” said Kol Badar. “It belittles the Legion. We are the sons of
Lorgar; we should not need to conceal ourselves from the enemy.”
“Were we to have an armada of our own, I would joyfully engage them,” said Marduk, “but we
do not. Have patience, Coryphaus; we will take the fight to the cursed Imperium soon enough.”
One of the Imperial cruisers, not one of the larger vessels by any stretch, though it dwarfed the
Idolater, rotated on its axis and moved above them, throwing them into deep shadow as it blotted
out the system’s dying sun. Its port weapons batteries came level with them, and Kol Badar hissed.
The cruiser continued to turn, and its weapon arrays slid away from the Idolater. They passed
beneath its mass, and though hundreds of kilometres of empty space separated the two ships, it
seemed that every intricate detail of the cruiser could be made out. It felt close enough that Marduk
had but to reach out his hand to touch it, and he wondered if people aboard it looked even now upon
the Idolater. Did any of them realise that their mortal enemy was passing beneath them so close?
The shadow of the cruiser passed, and Marduk nodded his head to the Coryphaus. Kol Badar
barked an order, and the Idolater turned onto a new bearing. The engines were fed more power, and
the ship pushed through the blockade of the Imperial cordon and began to power towards Perdus
Skylla.
It looked so insignificant from here: a tiny white moon circling in the orbit of a green gas giant.
“Five hours until planetfall,” said Kol Badar, consulting a glowing data-slate built into the
command array of the bridge.
“See that the warrior brothers are ready. I want to move out as soon as the landing is made,” said
Marduk, not looking at the Coryphaus.
Kol Badar’s lips curled back, and his ancient eyes burrowed into Marduk’s face.
“What?” asked Marduk, turning to face the larger warrior brother. “I am your master now, Kol
Badar. Be a good dog and do as you are told.”
Kol Badar struck with a speed that belied the bulk of his Terminator armour, wrapping his
power talons around Marduk’s throat, his eyes blazing in fury.
34
Marduk laughed in his face.
“Do it,” he barked. “Do it, and be cursed by Lorgar.”
Kol Badar released Marduk with a shove.
“Know your place, Kol Badar. Jarulek is dead. This Host is mine now, mine alone,” said
Marduk. “Just as you are mine.”
“The Council of Sicarus will repudiate your claim over the Host,” growled Kol Badar. “They
will strip you of your brotherhood, flay the flesh from your bones and have your eyes burnt from
your sockets. Bloody and blind, you will be cast out into the corpse-plains, where the souls of the
condemned will torment you, and the kathartes will strip the muscles from your limbs. You will
wander in agony for ten thousand years, unable to die, your mortal body a wretched shell, your soul
stripped and gnawed upon by the denizens of the darkness. All this awaits you, Marduk. Such is the
punishment for one who plots against his Dark Apostle.”
“Jarulek groomed me as a sacrifice,” said Marduk, “and I know that you were party to his
schemes, but I do not hold a grudge against you for that; you were following your Dark Apostle’s
orders. The gods of Chaos chose for Jarulek to fall, however, and for me to flourish. They
abandoned him in favour of me.”
“You fear to return there, and that is why we have not gone back,” said Kol Badar.
Marduk laughed, genuinely surprised.
“I fear to return there? I think not, my Coryphaus. I yearn to return, but I will not return without
the secrets of the Nexus unlocked. I thought that you merely wanted me to return a failure, with a
lifeless hunk of xenos metal, with no knowledge of what it did or how it is activated. I had no idea
that you thought that the council would punish me. Punish me?” Marduk laughed. “The council will
honour me.”
“You are a dreamer and a fool, then,” said Kol Badar, turning away.
Marduk moved in front of the Coryphaus, standing in his way. He stared up at the older warrior,
the light of fanaticism in his eyes.
“Look into my eyes, Kol Badar, and tell me that the gods do not favour me. Ever since we left
Tanakreg, I have felt their favour upon me. My skin is crawling with their power. I can feel it
writhing within me.”
Something moved beneath the skin of Marduk’s face.
“I am the favoured of Lorgar, and the council will embrace me. Tell me that you do not see the
gods’ favour upon me. Even you, who can barely feel the touch of the warp or the gods, must surely
