With a nod, Kol Badar quickly ordered the Cult of the Anointed into positions around the edge
of the circular dais, guarding the corridor entrances, forming a protective circle around the Dark
Apostle, facing out. “The shadow wraiths seem unable or unwilling to enter this room,” said
Marduk.
The Dark Apostle made no response, his eyes fixed on the expanse vacated by the diamond that
had come to a halt, hanging ten metres above them. The green light had dimmed and from the
smooth, black sides of the angled hole that the diamond fitted perfectly into, wide steps appeared out
of the seamless, black stone. A section of the black stone sank away and a gateway was revealed at
the foot of the steps, green light spilling from the same sun and light-beam icon that had appeared
on the outside of the pyramid.
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There was a shout for silence from the Coryphaus, and Marduk ripped his eyes away from the
newly exposed gateway. A dim, rhythmic and repetitive sound could be heard in the silence that
followed, something akin to metal striking stone. He realised that it was getting louder and he turned
around, trying to get a lock on where the sound was emanating from. It seemed to be coming from
all around.
“What in the name of the true gods is that?” he said.
“Something comes,” hissed Burias.
He could see nothing at first, but then he saw green lights, eyes of the enemy, appearing within
the darkness of one of the corridors, no, from all of the corridors. They were completely surrounded.
His first thought was that the shadow wraiths had returned, but these creatures were not ethereal
shadows; their bodies were very real.
They were the walking dead and Marduk jolted as the force of his recurring vision entered his
head. Assailed by the dead, long dead, and they claw at my armour with skeletal claws. This was his
vision come to life.
But it was different. These creatures were not formed of bones held together by desiccated, dried
skin. Their skulls glinted with a metallic sheen and their eyes glowed with baleful green light. That
light matched the coiling, green energy that was contained within the enemies’ weapons, held low in
their skeletal hands as they trudged forward. The creatures were formed of dark metal and the green
glow spilling from their weapons was reflected upon their ribs and bony arms. The first were
smashed apart by the guns of the Anointed, falling silently to the floor where they were stepped over
by others of their mechanical kind. There were scores of the creatures spilling from each corridor,
marching in perfect unison, shoulder-to-shoulder, silent except for the sound of their metal feet
clanking rhythmically on the stone floor.
On and on they came, walking slowly into the torrent of gunfire laid down by the Anointed, and
still they did not raise their weapons. Marduk saw one of the fallen creatures, its head shattered by
autocannon rounds, begin to rise to its feet once more, its eyes, which were black moments before,
glowing once again. The damage done to its cranium repaired before his eyes, the metal knitting
back into shape. Its skull was smooth and immaculate, and it stepped back into line with its
companions.
Liquid promethium from heavy flamers roared as it was unleashed, as the walking corpsemachines
drew ever nearer to the Terminators, but the flames did nothing to halt their progress.
As one, the front rank of the corpse-machines raised their weapons and blinding, green light
roared from their barrels. Marduk saw the thick Terminator armour of one warrior-brother flayed
instantly to nothing beneath the searing light. Skin was torn away, exposing first muscle tissue then
inner organs then nothing but bone, before even that was seared away.
Several of the Anointed fell beneath the blasts, though return fire smashed the first line of the
foe away. The second line stepped forwards, lowering their weapons, and a second barrage of green
light spewed from the barrels of their potent weapons.
“First Acolyte, we are entering that gateway. Hold them here, Kol Badar.” Jarulek said into his
comm unit.
Kol Badar broke away from the circle of Terminators and approached the Dark Apostle, the
armour of his left shoulder pad sheared away from a glancing shot, exposing servos and insulation
beneath.
“My lord, the Cult warriors can hold here. I shall accompany you,” said the Coryphaus.
“No, you will not,” said Jarulek, stepping close to the big warrior.
Marduk turned away from the pair, scanning the area. There seemed to be no end to the undead
warrior-machines entering the room. The Anointed were the finest fighting force within the Host,
but he could see that even they would eventually be slaughtered by this relentless foe.
This will be our tomb, he thought.
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“My lord?” said Kol Badar. Always he had fought at the side of the Dark Apostle. He was his
champion, his protector. To allow the holy leader to face some unknown enemy without him was
unthinkable. The life of a Coryphaus who allowed his master to fall in battle was forfeit. The
Council would see him dead were Jarulek to fall.
“What I go to face is not for you to be a part of,” hissed Jarulek, his voice low, his eyes resolute.
“This is one battle that you cannot win, Kol Badar, and it is one foe that you cannot face.”
Doubt plagued the Coryphaus.
“My place is at your side, my lord,” he said. “You would take the wretched whelp with you, but
not me?”
“I am telling you that, for now, your place is not at my side. Hold the line here. The Anointed
need you. This battle will not be easily won. Await my return.”
“As you wish, my lord,” said Kol Badar, fuming. The Dark Apostle stepped in close to him,
looking up at him with eyes ablaze with faith.
“If we both return, then you may kill Marduk, my Coryphaus. Your honour will be fulfilled.”
A surge of pleasure ran through Kol Badar at the Dark Apostle’s words and he smiled beneath
his quad-tusked helmet. At last his hand that had once been stayed was free of constraint. At last, he
would kill the whoreson whelp, Marduk.
“We shall hold, my lord. I await your return with great expectation.”
“The blessings of the dark gods upon you, my Coryphaus.”
“And with you, my lord. May the gods be at your side as you walk into darkness.”
Kol Badar watched as the Dark Apostle and the First Acolyte descended the stairs. The panels of
the gateway slid aside soundlessly and the pair of Word Bearers stepped inside, disappearing into
the inky blackness as if consumed. The panels flicked back into place. There was no way of
following them now, he thought. He just had to wait and hold off these forsaken corpse-machines
long enough for him to be able to kill Marduk.
He rejoined his warriors, racking the underslung mechanism that activated the meltagun attached
to his bolter.
“They are gone, Coryphaus?” asked Burias as he fired his bolt pistol into the head of an enemy,
knocking it back a step.
“They are, Icon Bearer. The fate of the Host hangs in the balance.”
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CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The panels slid shut behind them, cutting off all noise of the raging battle, and they stood in absolute
darkness. Not a sound pierced the pitch-black night that descended on them. The silence was heavy,
claustrophobic and dense. Marduk was utterly blind. Never before had he experienced such allencompassing
darkness.
He felt lost, adrift, his connection to the warp severed, and he panicked for a moment as his head
reeled as if with vertigo, though it was impossible for him to experience such a sensation.
Marduk wobbled, though his senses came back to him in an instant, and his faculties returned.
He saw a dim light, though perhaps it had only just begun to shine. It reached out towards them
from below, a slowly pulsing beam.
He looked at Jarulek beside him, whose face showed tension and wariness.
“It felt as though we just travelled an infinite distance in the blink of an eye,” said Marduk
quietly, unwilling to break the oppressive silence. The gateway they had come through was sealed
shut, though the sun icon emblazoned upon it glowed dimly with light. He pushed against it, but it
would not budge. As the pulsing light increased, he saw that the black stone wall in which the
gateway was positioned rose impossibly high above them. They stood on a bridge of black stone
that seemed to hang in the air. There were sheer drops to either side, and it was joined by dozens of
black staircases. These in turn were linked to other bridges, gantries and platforms, all formed of
black stone and all hanging in the air without any clear support. “This place is insane,” he hissed. “It
is madness.” Marduk had encountered many landscapes and worlds that most would consider
maddening within the warp, where the rules of the physical world held no sway, but here he felt no
touch of Chaos. Far from it, this place felt like it actively kept Chaos out. It was sterile and lifeless,
devoid of any touch of the warp.
“Is it some trick of the Changer?” asked Marduk, speaking of Tzeentch, the lord of the twisting
fates and one of the greater gods of the Ether. He knew as he spoke that it was not, for even the great
Changer of the Ways would surely be unable to create such a place, so cut off from the essence of
magic.
“Far from it, First Acolyte,” said Jarulek. “This is the antithesis of the Great Changer and indeed
of all of Chaos.”
“And what you seek is here, in this place? It would seem that anything here would be better
destroyed than utilised.”
“Much can be tainted and changed by Chaos, Marduk. Turning an enemy’s weapons against
them is the greatest strength that we have.”
“And you have foreseen this place in your dream visions?”
“This place, no. It has always been hidden from my sight. I foresaw our entrance through the
gateway, but never what transposed beyond it, only what occurs afterwards.”
“You have seen our return from this place?”
“Sometimes. The future is fickle and unclear. In some twists of what may come to pass we
return with our prize. In others, we do not and the Anointed are destroyed. The guardians assailing
them return to their eternal rest. In others I have seen just myself return. In others, just you.”
“I would not abandon you here, Dark Apostle,” said Marduk. Jarulek chuckled.
“We need to move,” he said.
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“Which way?”
“Down.”
It seemed that they had been walking for days on end, or perhaps it had been but minutes. Marduk
was not sure anymore. This place was maddening in its power to disorient, and he had long since
lost a sense of his bearings. They had walked down stairways only to find themselves walking up,
had crossed straight walkways only to find themselves somehow turned around and walking back
the way they had come, and more than once they had descended staircases only to find themselves
higher up than they had been before the descent.
“This place affects our connection with the blessed Ether,” said Jarulek.
“It does,” replied Marduk. “It is as though this place muffles it. I can still feel it, but it is distant,
and faint.”
“It is an unholy place,” said Jarulek. “What do you feel from your daemon-blade?”
“I feel… nothing,” said Marduk, placing his hand around the thorn-covered hilt of his
chainsword. There was none of the tingling sensation that usually announced the essence of the
daemon Borhg’ash merging with his own. There was no indication of its presence at all.
“It is as though the daemon has escaped its binding, but that is not possible.”
They continued their descent towards the slowly pulsing light below. After what seemed an age,
they could discern a circular platform beneath them, though it was certainly not the bottom of the
expanse. Marduk wondered if there truly was a base to this maddening place, or if it extended
forever. Or perhaps if they continued down they would find themselves back where they had started.
Shaking his head, he concentrated upon the circular platform. It seemed that it was covered in
silver waters that rippled with movement. As they descended, he realised that it was not liquid.
Thousands of tiny, crawling insect creatures swarmed away from the Word Bearers as they stepped
down from the last of the maddening steps onto the slick, black, circular platform. The creatures
scuttled away on metallic, barbed legs, making a sound like gentle ocean waves crashing, as their
metallic carapaces scraped and millions of tiny metal legs scrambled for purchase. Their glistening
carapaces were dark and the smallest of them was no larger than a grain of sand.
Marduk bent and grasped one of the larger, scuttling beetle creatures, lifting it up between his
thumb and forefinger for closer inspection. Dozens of glowing green eyes were arrayed upon its
segmented head and its wickedly barbed mandibles clicked as it tried vainly to bite him. Its eightspiked
legs kicked and pushed at him, surprising him with their strength as it tried to get free. Its
carapace was of dark metal and a golden emblem, the now familiar sun circle with light beams
streaming from it, was emblazoned across it.
He turned it over in his hand to get a look at the creature’s underside, but its sharp mandibles bit
into him, gripping onto the ceramite protecting his finger. It could not pierce his armour, but it
would not let go. He flicked his wrist as he lost interest and patience with the creature, sending the
mechanical bug flying. It unfurled wafer-thin membranes of metal from beneath its thick carapace
and flittered through the air to join its fleeing companions. It landed amongst the scuttling mass of
creatures moving like a living, metal carpet away from the intruders who had entered their realm.
They streamed towards a sunken, circular pit that lay before the pair, crawling over its lip and down
into its protective darkness.
There must have been tens of thousands of the creatures, and they swarmed towards the pit from
all directions. Marduk stepped forwards and the living mass of mechanical insects surged away,
parting before him.
Stepping to the edge of the hole, he looked down into the darkness. It was impossible to guess its
depth.
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He felt a presence behind him and quickly turned, moving away from the edge of the abyss,
seeing Jarulek smirk at his discomfort. Marduk glared hatefully at his master from within his
helmet. Not long, he thought.
