Astra Militarum

by David Annandale, Justin D Hill, Toby Frost, Braden Campbell (epub)

  He picked up his hammer and walked away. We stood there, my men and I, feeling abandoned as babes. We had endured eight months of siege warfare, weeks of cold and starvation and, now, a day of unrelenting loss. To be told we would not be allowed to see things through, to make the suffering and sacrifice actually count for something, was unthinkable.

  My hand curled around the crumpled page from the Infantry Primer, recalling Lantz’s penultimate words. ‘He provides for those who remain fervent in his service,’ I muttered.

  Unfolding the tattered page, I began to read aloud. ‘Most powerful and glorious Emperor, Who commands the winds and eddies of the galaxy, we are miserable men adrift in peril. We cry unto thee for help, save us or we will perish.’

  Isaias stopped and slowly turned back to face us. He cocked his head slightly.

  ‘We see how great and terrible Thou art. We fear you, and offer You our awe. We fear naught but Your wrath, and beg a chance to prove ourselves…’ The remainder of the prayer had been torn away, but my point was sufficiently made.

  ‘The Prayer for the Lost and Endangered,’ Isaias said to himself.

  ‘I will stand for these men. I will be their spiritual centre.’

  Verevya Basilica had once been beautiful, a sweeping structure of white-washed rockcrete and stained glass windows, but now it was a monument to evil. Blood dripped from the eaves and ran down the walls in rivers, staining everything red. The colourful scenes of Verevya’s life had all been smashed to pieces. Torches and bonfires burned in their place. We also discovered where the severed heads of Rycklor’s citizens had been taken. The skin and flesh had been removed from each and every one, leaving only a gleaming white skull. The stairs leading up to the enormous double doors were littered with them. They were clustered in piles along the window sills and hung on brass wires from the corners of the bell tower. It was defilement on a scale that none of us had ever seen.

  Our part in the mission was largely complete. We had, despite the losses, guided the Templars to their destination with their precious Land Raider completely unscathed. Now, it was their turn to take the lead.

  Before the church was a spacious courtyard, paved with flagstones and lined by statues of Zhenyan saints and religious leaders. The heads had all been lopped off and replaced by piles of burning coals. Cultists filled the space – it seemed as if the entire population of Ryklor was concentrated in this one spot. They gathered around roaring bonfires and piles of salvaged equipment, gibbering and moaning. They gouged at themselves, or one another, with pieces of rusted metal and branded their chests with twin circles of iron.

  Integuma surged forward, leaving us behind as its bolter racks unleashed a hurricane of shells into the assembly. The cultists fell in droves, and many who were not shot were ground to a pulp beneath the Land Raider’s treads as it mounted the cathedral stairs and plowed through the entryway.

  We ran to catch up, taking the steps two at a time. Through the smashed doors lay a narthex filled with yet more skulls. Ahead of us, the Land Raider continued into the nave, its weapons mowing down cultists with impunity. It pitched forward as it descended down a flight of steps into the main sanctuary. Pews, handcarved and made of polished Zhenyan pine, utterly priceless, were ground to splinters beneath it until it finally came to rest.

  We came to a stop at the top of the landing as a horde of cultists suddenly began to pour out of every doorway. Like those who had attacked us on the bridge, their eyes were filled with blood and their bodies bore signs of mutilation. They screamed incoherently as they tried to attack Integuma. The machine responded by powering up its assault cannons to thin the horde. Chunks of flesh filled the air and the floor of the basilica became awash with blood. Steam rose as it cooled in the winter air.

  We did our part by adding lasbeams to the fray, but this moment truly belonged to the Space Marines. Minutes went by and still the people came. Spent shell casings piled in drifts around the base of the Land Raider, and I smiled to think that Integuma carried more ammunition than I had seen in the past year.

  Suddenly the tank’s assault ramp dropped open and the Black Templars poured out with their Castellan in the lead. They no longer bothered to fire their boltguns, but threw themselves immediately into close combat, pummelling the enemy with short and precise movements, breaking bones and caving in skulls with every blow.

  At last, the tide slowed to a trickle and stopped. Integuma’s weapons ceased their din and came to rest. Smoke drifted up like incense towards the vaulted ceiling.

  Isaias nodded to me, signalling our position to be secure. Now, we had to begin the search for Samnang Margh, a lengthy and exhausting endeavour.

  Or so we thought.

  All at once, the space was filled with peals of laughter and Lantz’s face went pale. Somewhere in the shadows came a voice.

  ‘Isaias, Isaias. It certainly took you long enough.’

  The Templars looked every which way. Integuma’s weapons moved back and forth, unable to identify a target.

  ‘Show yourself, Margh!’ Isaias roared. ‘Come within my reach, and I may grant you a quick death.’

  A figure stepped forward from the shadows of a choir loft set high into the wall above the central altar. It was a man, huge across the chest and shoulders, and dressed in power armour, much as Isaias, but in shades of reddish-brown. Spikes jutted out from his shoulders, elbows, and knees. And his misshapen face was dominated by a black, cross-shaped tattoo that covered his left eye and cheek.

  ‘Clever of you to conscript a psyker, Isaias,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think you would be able to get over your prejudices so easily. No, my old adversary, it is you who should surrender. For you see, Zhenya is set to fall, along with the seven other planets in this system. And once they belong wholly to the Blood God, the false emperor will have no power here. Real space will give way to the immaterium, and the full fury of my lord’s daemonic will be unleashed upon your precious Imperium.’ The Traitor Space Marine laughed. ‘In the years to come, they will say that the great tide of blood began here and that the eight worlds of the Krandor System were the undoing of all that you hold holy.’

  ‘Fire!’ Isaias cried, but the machine-spirit within Integuma was already in motion. The hurricane bolter racks swivelled to the right, elevated in unison, and destroyed the place where Samnang Margh was standing. The choir loft exploded into chunks of wood and stone and tumbled to the floor in a cloud of dust.

  I had difficulty seeing past Isaias and the Templars as they converged on the place where the Chaos Space Marine had fallen, but I could hear him cough and sputter. Isaias gestured to his men, granting them some kind of permission, and they descended on Margh. Each of them was eager to land at least one blow against this renowned enemy, exorcising his traitorous spirit by beating his body into a pulp.

  Finally, Isaias raised his hammer high above his head and the Templars cleared out of the way. I caught a glimpse of Samnang Margh as he struggled to stand. Emperor help me, he was not only still alive, but sporting a smile despite the bloody ruin of his face.

  ‘In the name of the God-Emperor of mankind,’ Isaias proclaimed, ‘to whom every knee shall bow and every sin be revealed, I condemn you, Samnang Margh, to an eternity in torment and darkness.’

  ‘No pity! No remorse!’ the Templars cried.

  The hammer began its final, crushing, death blow, but it somehow never arrived. I’m not sure what Margh did in those last few seconds, but there was a flash of light and a concussion wave that tossed the Templars backward. I threw an arm across my face to shield it from a hail of tiny stones and splinters. When I looked again, Margh was surrounded by a swirling cloud the same rusted-blood colour as the miasma. Noises emerged from it: awful sounds that brought to mind images of snapping bones and tearing skin.

  The Space Marines fired their boltguns into the cloud to no effect that I could see. Isaias launched himself towar
ds it, only to be thrown back once more the moment he made contact. He smashed through a row of pews and leapt back to his feet just as the cloud dispersed.

  Samnang Margh was gone, but he had transformed into – or perhaps, been replaced by – a towering daemon.

  To describe it was nearly impossible. It had the general shape of a man, but was colossal in stature. Its head was like that of a snarling dog, and brass plating covered its chest, shoulders and upper legs. In one hand, it held an axe, whose edge was composed of jagged teeth. In the other hand was a whip made of living fire. It shook the building with its birth cry, and as it spread wide its leathery, bat-like wings, pieces of masonry plummeted from above and crashed around its hooved feet.

  It radiated such evil, such hatred, that my eyes began to water. It took every ounce of strength I had to stop my knees from giving out. Behind me, I was certain that I heard at least one man whimper. I didn’t blame him one bit.

  The first thing it did was to stomp Integuma with all its might and its assault cannons crumpled and split.

  The Templars were back on their feet, charging fearlessly towards the daemon who swept its axe into their midst. Two Space Marines were immediately decapitated, and a third was sliced cleanly in half.

  I was stunned. After seeing their armour take more punishment in a day then some tanks endure in a month, I had begun to think of the Templars as being nearly indestructible.

  The surviving Space Marines unleashed a fury of blows upon it, but were given no reward for their efforts. The thing that had been Samnang Margh was completely unharmed.

  Then, Isaias leapt into the air and drove his hammer into the daemon’s chest plate. In the confined space of the basilica, the sound of the impact was enough to crack the very walls. The Castellan landed heavily, crouching low, and spun around for another attack. This time the hammer caught a leg, and a hunk of daemonic flesh tore free. The daemon howled, stumbled and fell against the back of the church, turning two support columns into powder.

  Isaias’s men regrouped and brought up their bolters. Explosive shells rained into the creature, but failed to find any purchase. The daemon screamed and sent the pommel of its axe through the helmet of the nearest Templar, tearing him in half. Its whip lashed out, wrapping itself around four of the Templars with lighter armour. The ceramite plates instantly liquefied and gave way, tearing the four Space Marines in two. The flaming halves of their corpses filled the space with a sickening stench.

  Isaias swung his hammer in a horizontal arc, catching the daemon across the face. It should have been a killing blow, but instead of collapsing, the monster rose up again to its full height.

  A cold, unnatural terror had nested beneath my ribs, stopping my breath and freezing my heart. This creature was simply beyond anything that I had ever encountered or been trained to face.

  I turned my head as a hand came to rest on my shoulder. Velez and other troopers were gathered behind me. I saw in their faces the same fear and grim resolve as they fixed their bayonets for a charge. We said nothing. There was no need. Our duty in this matter was clear. With its attention focused singularly on the Templars, the daemon seemed certain to emerge victorious from this fight. Though, if its attention could be divided, then perhaps the Space Marines could destroy it.

  I gripped the rosarius that I had taken from Lantz’s corpse and held it up for the others to see. The golden pendant, worn only by the Emperor’s ministers, felt warm in my hand. The men nodded with reassurance. Behind us, part of the ceiling began to shift, and a huge plascrete beam came crashing down.

  Velez raised a palm towards the daemon, and then curled his fingers inward. I had no idea what he was doing, but it caught the attention of the beast. Its head whipped around, and it roared.

  I suddenly recalled one of Lantz’s favourite inspirational quotes. ‘Fear not, men! We go to the Emperor’s side to fight at the end of time!’ At that moment we hurled ourselves down the steps, leaping over broken pews and shattered pieces of masonry. The daemon’s axe barely missed me and to my left there came a collection of stifled cries. A wash of hot liquid flowed across my legs, and I knew without looking that half of those behind me were dead.

  The whip of fire descended towards us like an infernal judgement. I dropped and slid down the last few stairs, but Velez was not so fast. He screamed horribly as his skin burst into flame, and his right arm was severed. Then, the daemon kicked him across the room. Velez struck one of the upper balconies and plummeted like a discarded doll into a heap of tumbled rockcrete.

  The last four of my men and I joined Isaias and his surviving Templars who once again tried to defeat their foe in a melee. We cut and stabbed, slashed and pounded, but to no avail. The axe swung again and, in a single motion, caught myself and those beside me with its tooth-lined edge. Their flimsy armour did nothing to protect them, and they were torn apart in a wash of red. But I had something they did not: the rosarius. Built into the pendant was a conversion field, a personal energy barrier powerful enough to stop me from being instantly killed. Even so, the impact of the blow sent me reeling.

  I fell against the steps. My ribs ached, and my mouth had started bleeding again. Through a gathering haze of agony, I saw Isaias’ hammer finally punch through the daemon’s brass armour. Its face flashed from confusion, to realization and then fury. Deep cracks appeared across its body, widening to pour forth both a sickly red light and rivers of steaming blood. It howled with an infinite rage and collapsed in on itself. There was an explosion from somewhere inside its chest, and then it was raining on us. Bone and flesh flew out in all directions, and an ocean of blood came crashing down into the once sacred space of the basilica.

  After some time, I pulled myself into a sitting position. The daemon was gone, sent back at last to whatever netherworld it had come from. I was suddenly more tired than I had ever been in my life. I watched as the Templars gathered their dead and carried them back into Integuma’s hold. Though damaged, the Land Raider was apparently still quite operational. Finally, Isaias came and stood before me as I struggled to get back up on my feet.

  ‘Captain Kervis, our mission is complete. We will now take our leave of you.’

  I continued to grip my sword. ‘How will you get safely out of the city? There’s no one left to guide you.’

  ‘There is no need now that Samnang Margh is dead.’ He gestured upwards. Half of the basilica’s roof had caved in during the battle. In the cold sky above, the miasma clouds were beginning to thin and break apart. ‘Our Thunderhawk is already on its way to rendezvous with us in an open area nearby.’

  I leaned forward and spat bloody saliva from my mouth. I wanted to ask if I could trouble him for a ride, either back to my original post or perhaps even off-world, but I couldn’t think of how to do so without sounding like some lost child. Besides, Space Marines surely had more important things to concern themselves with than the welfare of a single Cadian shock trooper.

  ‘Where will you go now?’

  ‘Margh was not the last of the bloodlords,’ Isaias said without further elaboration.

  ‘Of course. My condolences about your men,’ I said.

  Isaias looked puzzled. Did Space Marines even have a concept of what sympathy was? I had no idea.

  ‘They have earned the rest and peace that only death in the Emperor’s service can bring,’ he said at last. ‘There can be no greater achievement. Did you not learn this during your childhood seminary studies?’

  ‘Never mind,’ I sighed.

  Isaias placed his fist over the place where his heart presumably lay. It took me a moment to understand that he was saluting me. I returned the gesture of respect in the traditional, Cadian way, fingers pressed against my temple and palm facing forwards.

  Just then, the gulf between Space Marine and shock trooper was not quite so vast. Isaias dropped his arm and turned to board the Land Raider. The front ramp slowly close
d behind him as the engine rumbled to life, and the machine made an exit through a gaping hole in the west wall.

  I stood alone for a moment. There was nothing to hear but my own breathing.

  No, there was something else. A faint groaning. I followed the sound, carefully picking my way over piles of rubble until I came upon Velez. It was obvious from the way in which he was lying that his back had been broken. He looked at me with glazed eyes.

  ‘I heard… what he said. About the Emperor’s peace. Do you… do you think I’ve earned it, abomination though I am?’

  It was a good question. I wasn’t sure.

  ‘Of course you have,’ I said softly.

  Velez shut his eyes, and smiled weakly. ‘Then, give it to me.’

  ‘What?’

  He opened his eyes again. ‘Give me the Emperor’s Peace. I mean, you’re qualified now, yes?’

  I looked down at my sword. The rosarius gave a pale glow.

  ‘Or weren’t you serious about taking on Lantz’s mantle?’

  I paused for a moment. ‘I was serious.’

  Relief washed over Velez’s face, and he once again shut his eyes. I impaled him through the heart in a single motion and did not remove my blade until I was certain that he was gone.

  ‘Emperor,’ I whispered, ‘this man was a fine soldier and a trusted friend. I hope that counts for something in Your eyes.’

  I sheathed my sword, adjusted my hat, and shoved my hands into my coat pockets. The crumpled prayer from the Infantryman’s Primer was my only companion as I began to forge a path back out of the city.

  I sincerely prayed that I would make it.

  The aircraft came out of nowhere, roaring from the skies on supercharged engines, making the world shake. Major Luka ducked. They were so low he thought they might take off his head. Then they wheeled over the causeway, spewing white contrails from their wing-slung rocket pods, the side gunners raking the ground with heavy bolter-rounds. Salvos of missiles exploded in the air, shredding the lead squads of blood-maddened Anckorites, stemming the tide for a brief moment.