across much of the land. Temperature indicators marked the planet as being far below a temperature
that was able to sustain life. A light flashed beneath the hovering image of the planet. It was a date,
in standard Imperial time, and it indicated that this was the representation of a planet almost two
thousand years in the past.
With a twist of his mechadendrite, Darioq caused a second planet to be projected alongside the
first. This was a world dominated by water, seas covering the length and breadth of the sphere, but
two continent. With a further twist, Darioq brought the two glowing planets together, so that they
overlapped each other perfectly. The mountains of the two images locked together like pieces of a
puzzle. They were a perfect, identical match.
He rotated the overlapping spheres and magnified the image tenfold, zooming in on the northwestern
tip of the larger continent. The mountain plateau above the sea level rose to a point and then
dropped off beneath the oceans. The cliff faces were almost sheer and fell into a series of deep
undersea valleys, thousands of metres beneath the ocean. He zoomed closer, focusing on one
particularly deep, abyssal chasm.
He abruptly retracted his mechadendrite and the green, three-dimensional depiction disappeared.
Only the after image of the overlapping planets remained for a fraction of a second, along with a
small line of digits beneath the spheres: c6.7.32. A moment later, they too faded.
It was almost midday, though it may as well have been midnight for all the light that penetrated the
thick, roiling, black storm clouds. Torrential, blinding rain still lashed the high peaks of the
mountains, and ravines and cracks were flooded with streaming water. In the valley below, vast
moving rivers of water cut across the landscape, seeking the lower ground of the surrounding flat
lands. Even the highly attuned sensors of the Word Bearers were becoming blocked by the high
amount of water and electricity that coursed through the air.
The battle raged on, frenzied and devastating, and the bodies of Guardsmen floated through the
mire. The wrecked shells of burned out vehicles and tanks were dragged through the rising waters.
The Word Bearers strode through the shallower, knee-deep waters, firing into the massed ranks of
the enemy.
Experimental weaponry of the Adeptus Mechanicus crackled and roared, ripping apart traitor
vehicles and Dreadnoughts, and shells fell among both battle lines, causing torrents of water to
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explode into the air along with shattered bodies and armour. Coalescing arcs of energy streamed
from the weapons borne upon the backs of tracked crawlers that inched forward through the mire of
bodies and rain water.
Kol Badar had seen some of those weapons before. Many were weapons developed to be borne
by the colossal war machines of the Titan Legions. Without the technology to continue to construct
these behemoths of war, many of which were over a hundred metres in height, the Adeptus
Mechanicus had clearly deemed it fit to mount these artillery pieces upon tracked crawler units, but
the effectiveness of the weapons remained awesome.
Missiles streamed through the rain, exploding in white-hot blasts of super-heated energy. The
ground was ripped apart in deep furrows that were instantly engulfed with water as other esoteric
batteries fired, throwing warriors and vehicles aside as if they weighed nothing at all. Giant gouts of
liquid flame roared through the darkness, engulfing scores of soldiers on both sides and heating the
streaming waters of the valley to boiling point.
Casualties were rising, though the Imperials were losing scores of warriors for every Word
Bearer that fell. The fervour, or impatience, of the Imperial commanders was strong. Despite their
air raids being almost neutralised by the worsening weather conditions, they drove their forces ever
onwards in a grinding battle of attrition, desperate it seemed to push the Legion back.
The Coryphaus had ordered the reserve of the Host forward, to reinforce the line of Word
Bearers holding the valley. He had also demanded that Marduk leave the command of the ridges to
the Warmonger, and for him to bolster the valley. While the lighter Imperial aircraft had been forced
to pull out by the buffeting, gale force winds and lightning that had ripped many of their fighters
from the air, the heavier Thunderhawks and Stormwings of the Word Bearers were able to remain
airborne, albeit for only short flights before they retreated from the heart of the storm.
Marduk had fumed at the condescending tone of the order, but could recognise the danger.
Holding the Imperials back was imperative, or the losses that they had already suffered were for
nought, and the determined drive of the Imperials threatened to push through the Word Bearers’
defence.
Roaring barrages continued to rain down from the ridge-tops, and lascannons and missiles
lanced out of the darkness from the cliffs, targeting the tracked vehicles of the Mechanicus and the
battle tanks that were rolling into the fray. Soaring missiles and rockets returned fire against the
warriors under the Warmonger’s command high above, but there was little that could truly reach
them, high in the rocks. Nevertheless, it seemed not even to slow the ponderous advance of the
Imperials, as ever more troops and vehicles filtered into the valley.
Chimera APCs spat sharp bursts of las-fire from their turret mounted multi-lasers, and strong
waves were created as they ploughed through the deeper rivers that flowed across the battlefield.
Easily as capable in the deep water as on land, the vehicles churned through the corpse-strewn mire
to unload their cargoes of Guardsmen. Smoke-launchers fired, cloaking the battlefield behind white
smoke that blocked even the auto-sensors and targeting arrays of the Word Bearers, but Marduk
laughed as the smoke almost instantly dissipated in the gale. Several of the Chimeras were halted in
their tracks as missiles and autocannon fire raked their hulls. The men scrambling to vacate the
sinking metal coffins were gunned down by bolter fire. Another of the Chimeras was lifted into the
air as it reached more solid ground when a Dreadnought struck its side with a massive siege ram
before unleashing a flurry of missiles into another vehicle.
A formation of tracked units advanced through the gunfire, bolter fire pinging off their armoured
forms. Humanoid upper bodies were integrated into the mechanised units and cannons protruded
from the stumps of their arms. Marduk hacked through the metallic torso of a servitor warrior,
spraying oil and blood, and broke into a loping run towards the strange, centaur-like creatures.
He felt the presence of Burias-Drak’shal at his side, the daemon soul of the warrior burning
hotly. Two coteries of Word Bearers launched themselves forward in support of the First Acolyte
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and the Icon Bearer, bolters barking as they tore through the Skitarii warriors towards this new
enemy.
Their movements jerky, the tracked centaur units fired controlled bursts from their rotating
cannons as they rolled forwards. Their bodies were a mass of augmetic, metal body plating, and
their heads were almost completely hidden in dark metal encasings, the only exception being the
dead, staring left eyes that peered out from white flesh.
The lead unit turned its head jerkily in Marduk’s direction and he felt the warning buzz from his
auto-sensors as the mass of targeters arrayed over the servitor’s right eye fixed on him.
With a snarl, Marduk threw himself into a roll as the mechanical warrior jerked the rotating
barrels of its weapon in his direction and bullets began to spray towards him. They clipped his
shoulder pad, taking chips out of the thick ceramite plating, and he fired his bolt pistol as he rose.
Two bolts slammed into the face of the mechanised warrior, blowing a crater out the back of its
head.
The other machines fired into the Word Bearers with short, sharp bursts. Marduk saw the chest
of one warrior-brother ripped to shreds and the head of another pulverised.
With a roar, Burias-Drak’shal leapt onto one of the tracked machines as it rolled slowly
forwards. He drove the daemon talons of one hand into the side of the Skitarii’s head with such
force that it punched through metal and bone, and pulverised the fused brain-hemispheres within. A
burst of fire slammed into his lower back and the daemonically possessed warrior staggered. With a
bellow that came from the pits of the Immaterium, Burias-Drak’shal spun and hurled the icon of the
Host through the air like a spear. It slammed into the chest of the tracked creature that had shot him,
impaling it on the large spikes that made up the eight-pointed star. Fluids ran from the wound and
sparks engulfed the torso of the tracked machine, and it began to twitch convulsively. At a barked
command from Burias-Drak’shal the icon ripped free of the malfunctioning machine and flew back
to its master’s hand.
Marduk launched into the Catechism of Hate and raising his daemonic chainsword high into the
air, led the Word Bearers forward into the enemy. He pumped shot after shot into the mechanised
torso of one of his foes, scoring deep craters across its armour. His chainsword bit through the thick
tracks of the machine, and it floundered. Its expressionless face looked down upon him as it brought
its weapon to bear, but Marduk moved swiftly around the immobilised machine, holstering his
pistol. He pulled a krak grenade from his belt, pressing its igniting rune, and thrust it into the
spinning cog-wheels of the damaged track unit.
He drew his pistol again as he charged towards the next machine, and the grenade detonated
behind him. Flames washed over another machine, liquefying its flesh, but it fought on, its spinning
cannon ripping the legs from a charging warrior at Marduk’s side.
The press of the enemy was heavy, as other cohorts moved inexorably to support their kin, and
Guardsmen pushed desperately forwards, vainly trying to drive the Word Bearers back. Las-bolts
struck Marduk’s armour and flames washed over him. Rapid firing rounds from the tracked
machines raked him and he hissed in pain as one cracked a chink in the armour of his chest-plate.
His fiery words drove the Word Bearers on and they fought deep into the enemy formations.
Blood flowed freely as he carved his screaming chainsword through the head of a Guardsman. A
man stumbled towards him, his arm missing from the elbow down, and Marduk smashed him to the
ground with the butt of his pistol before putting a round through the back of his head.
He felt savage joy as he slaughtered any who drew near him. He stumbled suddenly as a las-bolt
pierced the armour of his thigh, searing the muscle beneath. He shot another man in the chest, his
ribs exploding outwards as the explosive bolt detonated within.
An explosion tore the life from a pair of Word Bearers, and Marduk was rocked by the sudden
blast, staggering to keep his footing as shrapnel scored across his armour. He saw a battle tank
advance, the barrel of its turret smoking.
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A heavy blow from his side smashed him to the ground and he felt the blessed ceramite of his
shoulder pad compress as it absorbed the force of the blow. A servo-arm clamped around his torso
as he tried to rise and he hissed in pain under the pressure. Power assisted pistons hissed as the
clamps of the servo-arm tightened, and Marduk felt his ancient ceramite begin to buckle beneath the
force.
He swung his chainsword into the neck of the servitor, and flesh and mechanics were ripped
apart by the whirling teeth of the weapon. The fused bones of his ribcage strained as the pressure
increased and he tried to bring his bolt pistol around for a shot, but the hold the combat servitor had
on him made it impossible. Marduk pushed with all the force of his arm, driving his chainsword
deeper into his foe’s neck, but the crashing force did not relent.
A combi-bolter was placed into one the armature joints of the servo-arm, and bolts tore into the
weak point, severing the limb. The combat servitor reeled backwards, the stump of its servo-arm
spraying oil and milky liquid as it waved ineffectually, before another blast from the combi-bolter
tore the servitor’s head from its shoulders.
“One day the pleasure of killing you will be mine, and mine alone,” came a snarling voice.
“None will steal that prize from me.”
Marduk looked up at Kol Badar, standing over him. He could just imagine the smirk on the
whoreson’s face beneath his quad-tusked helmet, and he rose to his feet quickly, his face burning
with shame and fury. His hand tightened around the grip of his chainsword, and he felt the daemon
Borhg’ash willing him to lash out at the Coryphaus.
Kol Badar laughed as he turned away from the First Acolyte, his combi-bolter tearing another
enemy to shreds. With a swat of his power claw he sent one of the tracked units toppling onto its
side, where an Anointed cult member turned its head to molten metal and liquid, burning flesh with
a searing blast from the meltagun slung beneath his bolter.
Simmering with anger, Marduk watched as Kol Badar grabbed the track unit of the battle tank in
his massive power talons, ripping it clear in a shower of sparks and smoke. As the tank jerked to a
halt, the warlord of the Word Bearers clenched his talons into a fist crackling with energy and, with
a roar, smashed it into the armoured plating of the vehicle. The reinforced armour buckled under the
power of the blow. The second blow punched straight through the armoured hull and Kol Badar
wrenched his fist free, tangled metal screeching horribly. Placing the muzzle of his combi-bolter
through the hole, he unloaded his clip inside the tank. The bolt-rounds ricocheted around the
enclosed space deafeningly and there were screams from within.
As if feeling Marduk’s gaze, Kol Badar turned towards him, and pointed at the First Acolyte
with one of his crackling power talons. The message was clear: your time will come.
I welcome that time with open arms, thought Marduk, flushed with anger and bitterness.
The Imperial forces were being butchered. Despite their efforts to drive against the traitor Legion,
they were making no ground. Worse, they were losing ground, being slowly pushed back by the fury
of the Chaos Space Marines’ resistance.
