by Andy Clark
‘You’re going to flood the level,’ said Dysorian, closing his eyes for a moment.
‘Yes,’ replied Pavras, coughing again. ‘I’ve built the cycle-pressure until the alert runes burned out, and overridden the saviour protocols. The water will tear through this level with such force, the heretics will think we detonated barrage bombs. We should be able to stem the flow of enemies from below.’
Dysorian shrugged off his sorrow, kept his expression as unfeeling stone.
‘The primarch would commend your sacrifice, brother,’ he said.
‘I’d like to think so,’ said Pavras. ‘But captain, before we do this. We’ve had two empyric breaches down here since we sealed ourselves in. The veil is thinning, old friend. There are daemons abroad.’
‘Thank you for the warning, Pavras,’ said Dysorian, sharing a grim look with Levinia. ‘Your courage and sacrifice will–’
Dysorian’s words were cut off by a sudden roar of gunfire at the other end of the vox, and a terrible, screeching roar.
‘No time,’ said Pavras. ‘They’re coming again, cursed unclean warpspawn! Brother Doryal, blow the charges! Now, now, now!’ A thunderclap of sound filled the vox, then was replaced by hissing static.
‘Captain,’ said Levinia. Dysorian looked down, realising that he had crushed the headset in his fist. Disgusted, he dropped the mangled device and rose.
‘How has it come to this?’ he asked angrily. ‘When the enemy fell upon us, we tore them from the skies. Even when Khordas smashed his ship in Endurance’s flank, we contained the assault. Where is your Saint in all this? Why didn’t she warn us?’
‘The Saint goes where the Emperor commands,’ said Levinia. ‘Even now she stands before the beacon with blade drawn, our last line of defence should all else fail. As to our enemies’ victories, you know as well as I that this has been a desperate battle from the beginning. But the Emperor does not give his gifts to the unworthy. He is testing us, and we shall prove ourselves equal to the trial. Have faith.’
Dysorian grunted.
‘Death by a thousand cuts,’ he said. ‘Misfortune piled atop the idiocy of blinkered priests. I fear that faith has done much to bring us to this pass, but it goes no further. They will not cross this line. They will not have the beacon. This I swear by the primarch and the Emperor.’
Levinia nodded stiffly.
‘Very well, captain. Then let us prepare. I trust you do not object if I remain at this station, to coordinate our defence?’
‘No, canoness,’ said Dysorian. ‘You know these warriors better than I. This is your city, they are your people. I will spread my battle-brothers through the key defensive positions, and gather my elites to provide a counter-strike when it is required.’
‘Very good, captain,’ said Levinia as a flight of Valkyries roared overhead, missiles streaking away to explode amidst the burning parkland. ‘Then let us be about the Emperor’s work, and may He watch over us all.’
‘He and Dorn both,’ said Dysorian, staring out at the sprawling firefight pushing deeper into the grounds below them. ‘The enemy are at our gates.’
For over an hour, scattered warbands of Khorne worshippers had been spilling into the Elysial, breaking through its armoured gateways from the shrineplexes, high-commercia and Administratum cloisters beyond. Ragged cultist mobs, possessed Heretic Astartes and speeding bands of Khornate bikers had struck at the lines of the Tsadrekhan Third, Sixth and 18th, but each time they had been hurled back.
Now a concerted attack wave flowed in from several sundered gateways at once, spearheaded by lumbering daemon engines and howling bands of Khorne Berzerkers.
‘Khordas!’ they chanted, voices melding into a ragged roar. ‘Khordas! Khordas!’
Seated in the troop bay of the Land Raider Unstoppable, re-equipped and surrounded by the Terminators of Squad Alydo, Dysorian watched the fight unfold through optic feeds and gunbox footage.
The Tsadrekhans were deployed in a long, shallow curve that stretched from one banner-hung wall of the chamber to the other. Eight thousand fighting men and women, give or take, supported by forty-two battle tanks and armoured personnel carriers.
Amongst ornamental groves of olidarne trees on the right flank, a mass of mutant cultists and writhing spawn surged into the Tsadrekhan gunfire. Explosions hurled clods of earth and broken corpses into the air, and the nodding trees burned. Hundreds of Khorne worshippers died in minutes, annihilated by withering volleys, but still they came on until they were clambering up and over the Tsadrekhan earthworks.
On the left, Dysorian saw that the Imperial defenders were faring better. Much of the Tsadrekhan armour had massed there, amidst ornamental fountains and open contemplation gardens. Khorne Berzerkers came at them in a charging mass, only to be blown apart by whistling cannon shells. Infernal war machines spat fire at the Tsadrekhans, but lascannon beams reached out to detonate them one at a time.
‘The centre,’ Dysorian muttered, watching intently. ‘They’re going to punch right through.’
Sure enough, with both flanks engaged and the Tsadrekhan reserves moving up to support them, the Khornate hordes struck at the centre of the Imperial line. Engines gunning, red-hulled Rhinos and heretic battle tanks roared up the Sainted Road, which led from the Elysial’s edge to the base of the Ascension Path. Their guns thundered, blasting holes in the Tsadrekhan barricades. Return fire flashed around the Khornate vehicles, crippling or destroying several, but the rest ploughed on, smashing aside the burning wrecks of their fellows. The tanks’ guns spoke again, mowing down Tsadrekhan weapons teams and forcing the militia squads to dive for cover.
‘Levinia,’ voxed Dysorian.
‘I know, captain,’ she replied. ‘I see it. Colonel Hespus is leading the reserves to reinforce the centre. Valkyries and Exorcists standing by.’
The armoured spearhead ground over the remains of the Tsadrekhan barricades. Assault ramps slammed down, yawning like the maws of beasts, and bellowing World Eaters charged out. These were elite killers, festooned with skull trophies, many bearing the stigmata of unholy mutation. Vicious talons and barbed tentacles snaked out to rip through panicked Tsadrekhans. Dysorian saw a roaring commissar stride into the fight, bolter blazing, power sword held high. A hulking champion in Terminator plate met him head on, smashing the blade from his hand then goring him with the snarling chain-tusks of his helm.
‘They’re going to break,’ said Dysorian.
It began slowly, Tsadrekhans turning and fleeing in ones and twos. Like a dam bursting, those first trickles became a sudden flood as panic took hold. Tsadrekhans ran from the blood-drenched murderers in their midst. They screamed in terror, dropped weapons, stumbled over one another and died messily as the traitors continued their slaughter.
More Khorne worshippers were pouring into the parkland from the sundered gates, wave upon wave of renegades, cultists and madmen. Huge engines of destruction came in their midst, Titan-class daemon engines that rolled forward on tracks and spiked wheels. Rotary cannons in their maws spun up to speed, spewing streams of shells into the fracturing Imperial lines. Friend and foe alike were slaughtered as the firestorms ripped up the soil in ragged lines, chewed defences to cratered wreckage and shredded bodies in sprays of blood.
‘The Tsadrekhans can’t stand against that,’ said Levinia. ‘I’m ordering the retreat. The reserves are to pull back before they get caught amidst the rout. We’ll preserve what armour we can.’
‘The Tsadrekhans don’t have the discipline to break off cleanly, canoness,’ warned Dysorian. ‘Say the word, and we will strike against the traitors’ centre.’
‘Not yet, captain,’ replied the canoness over a background hubbub of relayed orders and voxed commands. ‘The Tsadrekhans will suffer beneath the traitors’ blades, but their sacrifice will not be in vain. I believe that, at the sight of our outer lines collapsing, the Arch Heretic will
join the fight to lead what he believes to be the killing blow. Then shall you be the Emperor’s blade, captain, to strike down the lord of the unrighteous and tear the heart from their attack.’
The Tsadrekhans tried their best to fall back in good order, but they were hardly Cadian shock troops. With their centre reduced to a bloodbath and their right flank being swiftly overrun, discipline collapsed. Junior officers strove to coordinate the rout, but as Dysorian listened to the cacophony of conflicting orders, gabbled prayers and storm-whipped static, it became clear they were not up to the task.
On the right, reserve formations that had been about to charge to their fellows’ aid were instead ordered back. Some forged ahead regardless, their blood up, and fed themselves into the carnage for little gain. Others milled, confused by contradictory commands, blocking the path of those trying to retreat in good order.
As more and more cultists poured over the breached earthworks, the Tsadrekhans found themselves beset. When packs of loping daemon engines crashed through to join the fight, discipline broke down altogether. Barely a third of the Tsadrekhan troops committed to that flank managed to disengage, and many of them came away at a panicked run.
The centre was even worse, with the World Eaters and their battle tanks driving the Tsadrekhans like cattle to the slaughter. Men fell by the dozen. Armoured personnel carriers burned by the roadside, and as the traitors mounted into their vehicles again, they roared forward over a carpet of headless corpses. Colonel Hespus’ Chimera was left in their wake, just another blazing tomb full of corpses.
Only on the left did the Tsadrekhan retreat hold together, their battle tanks reversing in a staggered line, pouring shots into the oncoming foe while the infantry fell back around them. Tank commanders hung out of their vehicles’ top hatches, barking orders as they strafed the enemy with storm-bolter fire. The tanks bucked on their tracks as they fired shell after shell, and one of the immense daemon engines shuddered to a halt, flames pouring from it.
‘Covering elements deploy,’ voxed Levinia. ‘Save those you can.’
As one, the Exorcists drawn up at the foot of the Ascension Path began firing. Their operators worked the pedals and keys of their strange weapons, eyes closed and lips moving rapturously as they wrought the battle hymns of the Imperial creed. With every keystroke, another missile was primed, cycling into the organ pipes before streaking away upon trails of blessed smoke. Dozens of warheads arced up and over the fleeing Tsadrekhans, spearing down into the oncoming Khornate horde. Tanks detonated. World Eaters ripped their way out of their burning transports, only for successive volleys to blast them limb from limb.
At the same time, the Tsadrekhan Valkyries struck again. They sallied out from eyries built high in the walls above the Sacrosanct Arch, streaking low over the battle with rocket pods hissing. Explosions stippled the traitor advance.
Goaded, the Khornate horde surged forward all the faster. They poured across the burning parklands, guns thundering to knock Valkyries from the air and tear through the retreating Tsadrekhan ranks, until they neared the foot of the Ascension Path itself.
‘Sisters,’ voxed Levinia. ‘Now.’
At her command, dozens of Rhinos and Immolators awoke. They had drawn up to either side of the ramp, shrouded in camo netting and concealed by the shadows of the Ascension Path. Now their engines roared and they churned mud beneath their tracks as they raced into battle.
‘You never meant the Tsadrekhans to hold, did you, Levinia?’ asked Dysorian.
‘I did not, captain,’ said Levinia. ‘There can be no victory without suffering.’
The Order of the Crimson Tear enfolded the strung-out heretic advance from both sides. Even as the black-and-bone tanks slewed to a halt and squads of Battle Sisters leapt from within, Retributors upon the ramp set up a punishing firestorm that ripped into the Khornate ranks. Intercessors, Hellblasters and Devastators added to the fusillade. The Exorcists continued to fire, even as they retreated up the Ascension Path.
‘Their assault stalls,’ said Dysorian. ‘Well done, canoness, your Sisters are holding them back.’
‘For now,’ replied Levinia. ‘See, they are already spilling out around the flanks, trying to overrun them. The enemy’s numbers are great, their hate greater. We shall need all our faith to endure.’
‘Where’s Khordas?’ said Dysorian. ‘Surely he must show himself soon, or lose face.’
‘I believe that your prayers may be answered, captain,’ said Levinia. ‘Look, in the centre of the line.’
Dysorian’s expression broke into a dangerous smile as he saw a mountainously huge battle-tank bulling its way through the fight with a diabolical figure enthroned atop its spiked hull.
‘There he is at last.’ Dysorian switched vox-channels to address his strike force. ‘Brothers, Lord Khordas has shown himself. Now let us strike him down in Dorn’s name, avenge our fallen, and break the spirit of these murdering scum. To the glory of the primarch!’
‘To the glory of the primarch!’ echoed his brothers, and the Imperial Fists’ counter-attack began.
A trio of yellow-hulled Land Raiders roared down the Ascension Path. Overhead skimmed a squadron of Land Speeders, while Primaris Inceptors bounded alongside the armoured gauntlet, their heavy jump packs roaring.
They made straight for Lord Khordas’ position. It was not hard to locate.
‘He has a Stormlord,’ said Dysorian.
‘Aye, but what has he done to it?’ said Sergeant Alydo.
‘Profaned it, as they do everything, sergeant,’ replied Dysorian grimly.
An enormous slab of armour and tracks that resembled a rolling fortress, the Stormlord was a monstrosity. Spikes sprouted from its hull, many with skulls rammed onto their points. Brass chains dangled from its flanks, and skull-fuelled braziers of black flame burned on the top. Where the vehicle’s open troop compartment would normally be, there instead rose a huge brass throne, set on a mountain of brass skulls. Lord Khordas the Slaughterer sat atop this remarkable structure, bellowing at his warriors.
‘Dorn’s teeth, he’s enthroned as though he were a god!’ breathed Dysorian. ‘The arrogance!’
Shrugging off heretic fire, Unstoppable reached the bottom of the ramp and bulled into the midst of the fight. Khorne Berzerkers vanished beneath the tank’s racing tracks. A Helbrute was rammed aside, smashed onto its back like some freakish crustacean. The rest of Dysorian’s strike force followed in his wake, the two Land Raiders Resolute Defender and Hammer adding their firepower to that of Unstoppable. Their Land Speeders raced ahead, engines flaring as they performed weaving attack runs to clear the tanks’ path. Meanwhile, the Inceptors soared in huge bounds, their assault bolters thundering.
The tainted Stormlord loomed before them.
‘Cripple its tracks,’ ordered Dysorian. ‘Force the traitor down off his throne.’
Dropping low, the Land Speeders whipped along the Stormlord’s flanks. Bolt shells whined off their cowlings as they opened fire, strafing the goliath tank with multi-meltas. One of the speeders was clipped, spinning out of control and smashing into the burning trees. The other two scored palpable hits.
The Land Raiders, meanwhile, poured everything they had into their target. Lascannon beams strafed both track units, blasting and melting link after link. Smoke billowed from the Stormlord’s drive units as its left track seized completely, causing it to slew sideways as it ground to a halt.
The immense Vulcan mega-bolters on the Stormlord’s hull opened fire, pummelling the Resolute Defender until the Land Raider shuddered to a stop with flames pouring from it.
‘It’s halted,’ voxed Dysorian. ‘All squads, disembark and engage. Land Speeders, cover pattern. Inceptors, lead us in.’
Unstoppable’s assault ramp whined open, and Dysorian and the Terminators of Squad Alydo advanced onto the Elysial. The super-heavy loomed above them, its guns stil
l roaring, and Squad Alydo stepped forward to protect Dysorian with their storm shields. A lascannon blast struck one, staggering the Terminator who bore it, but doing no worse.
They began their advance, the Terminators of Squads Dethyan and Lynon to their right and left.
‘Khordas is moving,’ voxed Sergeant Alydo. ‘Now there’ll be a reckoning.’
Lord Khordas had indeed leapt up from his throne, bellowing in fury. He stormed down the mound of skulls, a towering monster of a warrior taller than a Dreadnought. His musculature was so warped and swollen that he wore no armour above his waist, save oversized shoulder guards lashed on with heavy chains. His ruddy hide was covered in scars, while his bestial features were mutated and canine. He carried two huge axes, one in each fist, their blades burning with unnatural flame, and as he leapt down from the side of his tank he pointed both weapons at Dysorian while roaring a challenge.
Berzerkers spilled from the hull of the damaged tank, only to meet a wall of fire hurled by flanking squads of Battle Sisters. With a howl of turbines, Dysorian’s Inceptors soared overhead, landing before the onrushing heretics and letting fly with their assault bolters. A slew of Khorne Berzerkers were smashed from their feet before the Inceptors leapt away to safety. Most made it, but one unlucky Primaris warrior was not quick enough. Lord Khordas leapt high, even as the Inceptor lifted off, and hacked him in half at the waist.
The Khornate lord slammed down, hard enough to shake the ground. His victim’s legs fell with him, the Inceptor’s torso boosting away, its innards spilling in a gory wake behind it.
‘You will pay for the brothers you’ve slain,’ snarled Dysorian, and broke into a run.
His Terminators came with him, pounding the ground with their heavy footfalls. Khordas ran to meet them with fire burning in his eyes.
‘Your skulls belong to Khorne,’ he roared, his voice that of a monstrous beast. ‘Your blood shall soak the soil.’