Dark Vengeance

by C Z Dunn

  Following the trail of blood, Orion and I take point and lead our squad further into the dense undergrowth.

  Company Master

  Balthasar

  What would Zadakiel have done?

  Heskia feels the loss of his battle-brothers keenly, that much I know. He is still young and very much a stranger to losing a squad member. He probably blames himself for the death of Selaphiel despite doing everything within his power to prevent it, but now that sense of grief is what is driving him on. My decision to have him and Orion spearhead the formation is not just a tactical decision, it is one of morale too. Heskia needs to know I haven’t lost faith in him, that his squad haven’t lost faith in him. Is that what Zadakiel would have done or would he have left it to Raphael to make the call?

  The undergrowth begins to thin out again and, with Heskia covering him, Orion advances ahead to the next clearing. He disappears from view and seconds later the bark of his bolter breaks the silence of the forest, followed by the intense noise and heatwash of Heskia’s plasma cannon.

  ‘Situation report?’ I ask over the vox-link, already on my feet and headed towards the edge of the new clearing. The initial response is the sound of bolter and autogun shots in answer to Orion and Heskia’s fire before Orion’s voice breaks over the link.

  ‘Traitor Astartes,’ he rasps, as if the words were a poison he was ejecting from his body. ‘Three of them along with the handful of cultists we didn’t wipe out.’ The rest of Squad Raphael take up positions in cover behind the treeline and commence firing. Turmiel draws alongside me and our pistols begin raining death on the enemy’s position.

  There are more than three,+ Turmiel’s voice echoes in my head.

  ‘You’re certain?’ Again I vocalise my response over the vox.

  Absolutely. There are at least five more souls in this forest and… something else.+

  ‘What do you mean “something else”?’

  It is unclear to me at the present. I sense great rage and confusion. Something that is but should not be.+

  ‘Arion?’ I say switching vox-channels.

  ‘Company Master.’ His response is near instantaneous.

  ‘We’ve come under heavy fire. Orion is reporting that there are three Traitor Astartes along with the cultists we’ve already encountered but Turmiel is convinced that there are more. Get down here now and be ready with the teleport homer.’

  ‘Already on my way. We started converging on your position the instant we heard the gunfire.’

  ‘And Arion?’ I turn to face Turmiel. ‘Be careful. Our Librarian thinks there’s something else out there too.’

  ‘Understood,’ the Ravenwing sergeant says before killing the link.

  ‘In the name of the Throne I hope you’re wrong, Turmiel,’ I say, switching channels once more.

  In this instance, I concur.+

  Sergeant Arion

  The forest rushes by in a green blur, the noise of my bike’s engine masking the sound of branches snapping and the undergrowth tearing beneath me. Behind me, Arias maintains a safe distance, ready to react should I make a sudden swerve or turn at high speed to avoid a tree or other obstacle barring our path. At the rear of our convoy Gethel rides one-handed, a teleport homer primed in his other ready to be planted in the ground once we reach our objective. Both are ready for the coming battle but I know that, like me, they yearn to be hunting different prey.

  Though we share bonds of comradeship and brotherhood in much the same way as other Dark Angels, my squad and I share something much deeper, a secret that our Chapter has kept for ten millennia. We are keepers of the knowledge that when Horus and the Traitor Legions rose up against the Emperor and embraced Chaos, many Dark Angels did likewise.

  With the war for the Imperium raging across the galaxy, our great primarch, the Lion, headed out from our home world of Caliban to make war against those who would betray his father, the God-Emperor of Mankind, leaving behind almost half his Legion. Luther – leader of the knights of Caliban before the coming of the Lion – was left in command but, as the Lion cut a swathe across the Imperium, liberating the worlds of man from Horus’s forces, Luther became jealous and twisted. Cut off from the rest of the Imperium by violent warp storms, those Dark Angels left behind took to strange practices and dalliances with the Ruinous Powers, the very planet itself being corrupted by the dark energies they invoked.

  Griefstricken at the death of his father, the Lion returned to Caliban only to be fired upon by the planetary defences. Incensed, the Lion led his half of the Legion against the other and, though Horus’s heresy had been halted, brother once again fought brother on the home world of the First Legion.

  While the Dark Angels fleet pounded the planet from orbit, the primarch hunted down his traitorous brother and engaged him in a duel. Both men were near-equals in terms of combat prowess but in turning to Chaos, Luther had been granted many boons and he unleashed dark magicks upon the primarch, mortally wounding him.

  Life rapidly draining from his body, the Lion’s final act was to run his brother through with the Lion Blade but the Chaos powers had one card left to play. Enraged at the slaying of their chosen one, they opened a warp rift which tore our home world apart, taking with it our traitorous brethren and the body of our primarch. Of Caliban, only our fortress-monastery remained, floating in space upon an asteroid – the Rock – and in time this would once again become our home.

  As the centuries passed, we came to realise that the Fallen Dark Angels had not all been killed when the warp rift opened but were still at large within the Imperium, living reminders of our Chapter’s darkest hour. With the liberation of the worlds Horus conquered almost complete, the Dark Angels now found themselves with a new mission: to hunt down the Fallen and return them to the Rock for our Interrogator-Chaplains to make them repent their sins against the Legion.

  This is the tale that Interrogator-Chaplain Seraphicus told to me upon my ascension to the Ravenwing and the same tale I passed down to Arias and Gethel upon theirs. This knowledge spurs us on and though we reserve especial zeal for hunting down those traitor Dark Angels, we seek to smite the foes of the Imperium in whatever form they may take.

  ‘Sergeant Arion. Up ahead.’ Arias’s warning cuts across the vox-link just in time as the trees in front of me disintegrate in a blinding flash.

  I swerve to avoid driving on through the now blazing vegetation and the two bikes behind me open fire at the melta beam’s point of origination. Several bolter rounds fly in their direction by way of reply and they too are forced to swerve to avoid being hit. Another melta beam strikes the ground, so close this time that it strips the paint from the front wheelguard of my bike. I too return fire in the direction of the beam but the thick black smoke that now fills the forest makes it impossible to tell whether I hit anything.

  ‘Arion? We hear combat. Is that you?’ Master Balthasar’s voice crackles in my ear.

  ‘Affirmative. Melta and bolter fire. I can’t see the enemy through the smoke but I’d estimate about five or six from the rate of fire.’ More bolter shells spang off my bike’s armour plating as if to punctuate the sentence.

  ‘You need to make it to our position in the clearing otherwise our brothers in orbit won’t have a safe teleportation zone.’

  An inaccurate technology at the best of times, teleportation requires a large, clear transit site to reduce the risk of the teleportee materialising in the same space as a pre-existing object. ‘Acknowledged. We’ll take the long way round,’ I say, signalling to the other two Ravenwing.

  Another melta beam scores a hit in the spot I’ve just vacated, and my rear tyre blisters under the intense heat. Kicking up a thick cloud of dust from the forest floor, all three bikes turn and head back in the direction we just came from, doubling back to speed around the enemy blocking our path and deliver the teleport homer. A barrage of bolter fire sends us on our way,
and Gethel takes a round to the shoulder but does not relinquish his grip on the beacon.

  Twisting the throttle as far as it will go, I glance back over my shoulder. From the forest, crimson-clad Traitor Marines are emerging, futilely attempting to give chase. I am just about to vox a report to Master Balthasar when something behind them draws my attention. Above the pall of smoke that has settled at ground level, tree canopies are collapsing at an alarming rate, as if the ground beneath them is disappearing and swallowing them up. As the falling trees get closer to the Traitor Astartes position a shadow forms in the smoke, growing ever larger until at last it emerges from under the grey blanket and bellows an unnatural cry.

  I reestablish the vox-link to the Company Master. ‘Confirmation. Five Traitor Astartes, one of them possibly a Chaos Lord judging by the wargear.’

  ‘Good work, Sergeant Arion. Make haste to our position and we’ll make sure these traitorous scum have a surprise waiting for them when they get here.’

  ‘There’s one other thing, Master Balthasar.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘A Helbrute is with them.’

  Company Master

  Balthasar

  Arion’s words cut me to the marrow. A Helbrute – just like the one that killed Master Zadakiel on Stern’s Remembrance. The same one, perhaps?

  Of all the vile abominations the arch-enemy fielded few were as debased as the Helbrute save perhaps the denizens of the daemon realm. Similar to Adeptus Astartes Dreadnoughts, Helbrutes are the armoured tombs in which warriors are placed so that they may continue to serve their gods. Unlike Space Marine Dreadnoughts, though, which are the vessels by which great heroes may live on beyond grievous wounds, zealous Traitor Astartes willingly inter their healthy bodies within them where the warp can ravage and reshape them. Unable to comprehend their new condition, most are driven completely insane and become as much a danger to their own side as a threat to the opposition.

  More fire rakes my position from the opposite side of the clearing and I am forced to shelter behind the thick trunk of a tree. Splinters of bark shower me as the autogun rounds bite into the shell of the tree and, when the shooter ceases firing to reload, I emerge from cover and retaliate with a shot from my plasma pistol. The cultist screams in pain as the left side of his body melts away, filling the clearing with the stench of burnt meat. The remaining cultists and Chaos Marines divert all of their fire to me and the distraction gives Squad Raphael the time to make it to the other side of the clearing.

  A Traitor Astartes with twin lightning claws springs from behind cover and tears vast rents in the chestplate of Tennin. The Dark Angel staggers backwards but before the red-armoured Traitor has a chance for a follow-up strike, Kerael puts a shot from his plasma gun into the heretic’s upper body, melting his right pauldron to slag. Two more red figures emerge from the lush forest and their combined fire forces Kerael and Tennin back before either can deliver the killing strike to the clawed Traitor. All three dive for cover a second later as Heskia opens up with his plasma cannon, felling all the trees on one side of the clearing.

  The white-haired cultist in the storm coat makes to fire his shotgun into the side of Heskia’s head but my enhanced physiology means I am able to raise my plasma pistol and shear his arm off at the elbow before he has time to depress the trigger. He falls to his knees, fumbling for the dropped rifle, but I cross the distance between us before he is able to locate it. I draw my power sword from its scabbard and activate it. Aiming the thrumming blade at his heart, I notice the two dark patches in the shape of the Imperial aquila on the shoulders of his coat. I look down at him and he stares back at me defiantly.

  ‘Dying holds no fear for me. I embrace it in the same way I have embraced all the horrors in my life.’ He spits a gob of red phlegm at me. It lands on my ivory robe and slowly slides down it, leaving a bloody streak in its wake.

  ‘Perhaps not,’ I say, disengaging the power stud of the sword. The humming ceases and the blue corona of energy dies like a guttering flame. ‘But let’s see if you develop some as you bleed to death.’

  With a single stroke I take his remaining arm off at the shoulder, and then both legs at the knee. He opens his mouth to scream but the shock of amputation is too great for him to handle and no sound emerges. He lies there thrashing wildly on the floor of the clearing, rapidly bleeding out through his three uncauterised wounds.

  Heskia nods his thanks as his weapon spools up again and, once fully charged, he sprays the treeline with molten plasma, turning the Crimson Slaughters’ cover to smouldering kindling. The three newly exposed Traitors pull further back into the forest and Squad Raphael move up.

  Turmiel draws up alongside me, his force sword slick with Traitors’ blood, and at the same instant our Lyman’s ears kick in and filter out the noise of the battle and rapidly approaching Ravenwing bikes. There, on the very edges of normal perception, a noise like thunder. No, not thunder, an earthquake.

  In the middle distance, the canopy cover is collapsing to the forest floor, driving native bird life skywards, and as the crashing of felled trees gets ever closer the looming form of the Helbrute hoves into view.

  ‘Arion, where are you?’ I whisper, without activating my vox-link.

  Sergeant Arion

  My bike’s engine screeches in protest as I push it to its limit, the dials on its fascia pointing all the way to the right. I swerve at the last second to avoid a tree that looms up on me as if from nowhere but in doing so, drag my damaged rear wheel over sharp rocks. The back end shudders violently and slides away from me but the tyre holds and I recover before I’m thrown from the bike.

  Arias and Gethel take evasive manoeuvres and the latter takes the opportunity to slingshot past me and be the first to reach Master Balthasar’s position. As he does so, the trees begin to thin out and seconds later we emerge from the gloom of the forest into the relative brightness of the clearing. The roar of engines causes three red-armoured figures to spin on their heels to face us but before they can react, a coordinated burst from our twin-linked bolters shreds one of them where he stands and sends the other two sprawling to the floor.

  Gethel is off his bike before it has even come to a halt, the vehicle sliding sideways before coming to rest at the edge of the clearing, wheels still spinning. He flips the top cover of the teleport homer and begins to key in the activation sequence.

  Three digits in, the lower half of his body turns to vapour and his torso and the beacon come crashing to the ground. Seconds later, the crimson bulk of the Helbrute emerges from the forest and bellows a hellish warcry.

  Instantly it is met by a wall of fire, but the bolter shells bounce off harmlessly while the plasma bursts cause the beast’s armour to undulate and bubble unnaturally without inflicting any lasting damage. Seemingly oblivious to the presence of hostile forces, the Helbrute scans the clearing until it finds what it seeks.

  Though mortally wounded, Gethel is clawing his way agonisingly towards the fallen beacon. Realising that it hasn’t finished him off, the Helbrute is across the clearing in a couple of strides and, with Gethel less than a metre from the homer, raises a gargantuan foot over him. With a defiant scream, Raphael emerges from cover and charges it, chainsword raised above his head, but with a desultory swat the Helbrute smashes the veteran sergeant away, his crumpled form coming to rest against a charred tree stump.

  More bolter and plasma fire rain down on the Helbrute but it is already set upon its ferocious path and the foot drops with a sickening crunch.

  Unfazed by the death of his squadmate, Arias revs the engine of his bike, circling the clearing in an effort to build up speed. Attracted by the roar of the engine noise, the Helbrute begins to twist this way and that, attempting to keep the bike within sight, unsure as to Arias’s intentions.

  After circling the clearing for the fourth time, Arias rapidly spins the handlebars and, locking the throttle, diver
ts the bike at full speed towards the Helbrute. Waiting until the very last moment, Arias jumps clear of the speeding vehicle and rolls across the clearing as the improvised missile finds its target.

  At close to two hundred kilometres per hour the full force of the Space Marine bike strikes the Helbrute in the left leg, fuel tanks igniting in a violent outburst of flame as Mechanicus-forged ceramite grinds against warp-tainted armour plates. As bright orange flame washes over its crimson bulk, the Helbrute lets out an unnatural wail but, despite rocking precariously backwards, the behemoth maintains its balance.

  Arias curses audibly over an open vox-channel and picks himself up from the ground. The still revving engine of the bike catches the Helbrute’s attention again and, with it distracted, Squad Raphael emerge from cover to attempt to retrieve the homer, but are beaten back as the cultists and Traitor Astartes open fire on them.

  Realising that the Helbrute is between himself and the enemy shooters, Arias uses the cover to dash over to the beacon but, just as he is about to retrieve it, five more Crimson Slaughter traitors enter the clearing. Arias draws his bolt pistol and his first two shots hit a Traitor Astartes square in the head, sending him sagging to the ground, blood spilling from the two holes in his horned ceramite helmet. Re-aiming, he doesn’t make his third shot as a blue-cloaked traitor snaps off a single shot with a plasma pistol and opens a hole in the Ravenwing’s chest. Arias looks down at the gap where his twin hearts used to be but before he can come to the realisation that he has been unmade, another traitor decapitates him with a power maul.

  Seemingly focused by the arrival of these newcomers, the Helbrute diverts its attention from the Ravenwing bike that had been used as a weapon against it, back to the Dark Angels shooting at it from the edge of the clearing.