Word Bearers

by Anthony Reynolds

  ‘When can Boros expect the first of these reinforcements, noble lords?’ said Ostorius. ‘I have already mobilised the defence fleet, and it is closing on the expected warp translation location of the enemy fleet even now. If the enemy attempts to push through towards the core worlds, my fleet could engage as it emerges from the Trajan Belt, but it will not last long in a full engagement without support.’

  ‘We are relatively close, Proconsul. With time adjustment, we will be there in approximately…’ the co-Chapter Master’s voice trailed off as he received information off-screen. He snorted and shook his head in wonderment. ‘Truly the Boros Gate wormholes are a marvel. We will be there within the hour, Boros real-time. It will take us seven weeks of warp travel once we have mobilised, yet it will take less than an hour in realspace until seven full White Consuls companies make transference.’

  ‘My thanks for the swift mobilisation, my lord,’ said Ostorius with a bow of his head. ‘And it pleases me that my brothers of 5th Company, aboard the Implacable, will be joining the armada.’

  He wishes he were onboard the Implacable, realised Aquilius, hearing a note of bitterness in the Proconsul’s voice. He would rather be out there with their brothers of 5th Company, taking the fight to the enemy, than standing here, impotent, watching the battle on the holo-deck of the Kronos Star fort.

  ‘Why are they attacking here?’ said Proconsul Ostorius. ‘We know they covet the Boros Gate, and yet while the Word Bearers are many things, they are not stupid. They know of its defences. They know that even now we will be moving against them. They will be obliterated before they get within hours of the core planet, and yet still they come.’

  ‘You overestimate them, White Consul,’ snarled the Iron Talons 7th Company captain. ‘The Word Bearers are fanatics. Perhaps their daemon-gods tell them to die. Who can predict them?’

  Aquilius was not certain that he agreed, but he did not voice his concerns. The Word Bearers were known zealots, but they were not fools.

  ‘You do not give them enough credit, captain,’ said Chapter Master Harkonus of the Knights Unyielding. ‘Don’t let you hatred blind you. The Word Bearers would not sacrifice themselves needlessly. If they are attacking here, it is because they believe they can win.’

  ‘I agree,’ said Cymar Xydias. ‘We must assume that they have a plan to bypass our defences. We must proceed with caution.’

  A handful more hololiths had appeared during the conference, including more Astartes upon the lowest tier. Two of those were White Consuls, the captains of 5th and 2nd Companies. Aquilius stood straighter beneath the gaze of his direct superior, Captain Marcus Decimus of 5th Company.

  The flickering holo-image of the Subjagators Chapter Master had materialised alongside the other brothers of the Adeptus Praeses. Blood was splattered across his face, and his armour bore evidence of recent battle.

  Nevertheless, it was the last arrival that made Aquilius’s breath catch in his throat.

  ‘Throne,’ he muttered, eyes widening.

  The newcomer was bedecked in ornate Terminator armour of a style unique to his order, and this Grand-Master of the daemon-hunting Grey Knights bore an immense force halberd and appeared truly ancient. A devotional tattoo was plastered across his forehead and he introduced himself as Grand-Master Havashen. He spoke only briefly, informing the caucus that a full company of his brethren would rendezvous with the others in the Boros system forthwith to combat the Word Bearers threat. With that, his hololith promptly disappeared.

  The Adeptus Praeses Chapters swore their oaths of support, pledging what companies they could. Battlefleet Gorgon was to be re-directed to bolster their strength, and the details of the defence were finalised.

  The Boros Defence Fleet, bolstered now by the strike cruisers of the White Consuls 2nd and 5th Companies, was already ploughing at full speed towards the thick band of asteroids, the Trajan Belt, which divided the Boros Gate system. The enemy were expected to make translocation through a warp exit beyond the belt. If the enemy did not attempt to breach the Trajan Belt, then the Boros fleet would wait for the bulk of the Astartes Praeses fleets, and the devastating power of the Darkstar fortress that accompanied Battlefleet Gorgon, before pushing through to engage. If the Word Bearers attempted to breach the Trajan Belt, which was riddled with mines and defence installations, then the Boros Defence Fleet would engage, punishing them as they emerged piecemeal through the notoriously hazardous asteroid band.

  With the stable wormholes, the exact moment of the supporting Fleet’s arrival had been calculated, and so the Boros Defence Fleet could engage the enemy with confidence, knowing the precise moment when help would arrive. If all went to the meticulously detailed and coordinated plan that had been agreed upon by the caucus, then the enemy would engage the heavily outnumbered Boros Defence Fleet, confident of victory.

  The full force of the Imperial reinforcements would hang back, massing just beyond the gate until the enemy was fully engaged. Then they would emerge from the warp and fall upon the flanks of the enemy.

  It required perfect timing and was a dangerous ploy, placing the defence fleet of Boros Prime, and the accompanying White Consuls strike cruisers of the 2nd and 5th, in a precarious position.

  It was deemed a worthy risk, however. By showing its full strength too early, they risked scaring the enemy fleet off, losing the chance to destroy a sizeable force of the hated Word Bearers.

  ‘Good hunting, brothers,’ said Chapter Master Titus Valens at the conclusion of the caucus, and Aquilius felt a thrill of excitement run through him at the prospect of the forthcoming battle, even though he would only be able to view it from afar.

  It would be glorious.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Like a monster rising from the depths, the Infidus Diabolus broke from the warp, its hull creaking and groaning as reality crashed in upon it. Phosphorescent waves of warp energy cascaded along its bow. Shimmering void shields blurred the edges of its outline as fragments of debris and wreckage battered against them.

  ‘What in the name of the Urizen?’ snarled Marduk from his command pulpit on the bridge as a chunk of twisted metal the size of a hab-block glanced off the prow of the ship with an unnerving squeal of the forward shields. ‘Report.’

  ‘Systems coming online,’ drawled a servitor hardwired into the control hub of the ship. It was little more than the armless torso of a skeleton, with a thick bundle of pulsating tubes, wires and cables protruding from its ruptured skull, connecting its exposed brain to the cogitation units in front of it. It drooled yellow syrup as its blackened lips moved. ‘Scanning in progress… scan complete at 10.342… 13.94…. 18.2343…’

  ‘Plasma core at 85% and rising,’ barked another servitor unit, a thrashing creature that jerked back and forth, pulling at the leaking plugs that connected its limbless torso to the humming banks of sensor arrays to either side of it.

  ‘Internal comms established, external pulse ignition in five,’ intoned another in a mechanised voice.

  ‘Port battery cognition online.’

  ‘Establishing fleet contact.’

  Screens of data-flow filled with scrolling diagnostic reports and internal mechadialogue as the systems of the Infidus Diabolus slowly came online. A ship was always at its most vulnerable before its navigational and comms arrays were up and running.

  Scanning the bewildering array of codeform and binaric data inloading across dozens of screens, Kol Badar frowned.

  ‘Well?’ said Marduk.

  ‘I’m reading heat signatures and plasma bleed. Something is wrong,’ growled Kol Badar.

  ‘Is it us?’ said Burias.

  ‘No,’ said Kol Badar. ‘Our readings are fine.’

  ‘Where did all this come from?’ said Marduk in rising concern as the grating squeal of the shields continued. ‘We were meant to realise two hundred thousand kilometres from the asteroid belt.’

  ‘We did,’ said Kol Badar, scanning the inloading data being transferred onto the console i
n front of him. ‘This is something else.’

  ‘Where is the Mortisis Majesticatus?’ said First Acolyte Ashkanez, accessing the in-flood of data via a nerve-spike inserted into a plug in his left vambrace.

  Marduk looked out through the viewing portal that dominated the bridge. The Infidus Diabolus was positioned towards the rear of the fleet, and he could see the shapes of the other Word Bearers ships beyond, flickering immaterium residue still clutching at their hulls. They had come through in battle formation, wary of potential attack, with the crude proselyte slave ships on the outside, and the hulking monstrosity that held the Legio Vulturus protectively in the centre.

  Ekodas’s immense Infernus-class battleship, the Crucius Maledictus, was located to the fore, but of the Dark Apostle Sarabdal’s strike cruiser, the Mortisis Majesticatus, he could see nothing.

  Kol Badar’s brow furrowed, and he studied the data floods, eyes scanning quickly.

  ‘Well?’ snapped Marduk. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘It’s not here,’ said Kol Badar.

  ‘It didn’t make realisation?’

  Kol Badar shook his head.

  ‘It came through before us. It should be here.’

  ‘Could it have veered off course?’ said Burias. ‘Made realisation elsewhere?’

  ‘Not possible,’ said Marduk. ‘Well, my Coryphaus? Where in the name of the nine hells of Sicarus is Sarabdal and the 18th Host?’

  ‘The Moribundus Fatalis is here,’ said Kol Badar, stabbing a finger against a data-slate showing the positioning of the fleet. ‘So half of Sarabdal’s Host is with us. Wait…’

  Kol Badar traced the flow of information with one ceramite-encased finger, before turning to face Marduk. His face was grim.

  ‘Spit it out,’ snapped Marduk.

  ‘The Mortisis Majesticatus is all around us,’ said Kol Badar finally.

  ‘What?’ said Burias.

  Marduk leant backwards and licked his lips as more wreckage was repelled by the shields of the Infidus Diabolus.

  His mind reeled. He had not thought that even Ekodas would go that far, at least not so blatantly. He realised how much he was relying on his alliance with Sarabdal. Without him, he felt exposed and vulnerable. Worse, whatever secret that Sarabdal had uncovered regarding Ekodas’s plot had died with him.

  ‘The murderous bastard,’ he hissed.

  ‘Surely you do not suspect one of our own being responsible, my Apostle?’ said Ashkanez.

  Marduk glanced over at his First Acolyte, but did not say anything.

  ‘I’m reading heat discharge from the cannons and torpedo tubes of the Crucius Maledictus and the Anarchus,’ said Kol Badar.

  ‘Ekodas and his wretched toad, Ankh-Heloth,’ murmured Marduk.

  ‘No, First Acolyte,’ he said, his voice thick with derision. ‘I would never dream of suspecting one of my brothers.’

  ‘The Mortisis Majesticatus had been destroyed?’ said Burias.

  ‘Very good, my Icon Bearer,’ said Marduk. ‘As you can see, Ashkanez, I keep Burias around for his cutting, fierce intellect. Nothing gets by him.’

  Burias scowled, and Marduk felt the daemon within the Icon Bearer straining to be released.

  ‘Is there such disunity within the XVII Legion that brother fires upon brother?’ said a deeply resonant voice, and all hostility within the room was suddenly directed towards this newcomer. First Acolyte Ashkanez flexed his fingers, and Marduk knew that he longed to reach for his weapon; he felt much the same way.

  Kol Badar, ignoring the sorcerer, continued to survey the incoming data.

  ‘There is an Imperial fleet moving towards our position from co-ordinates X3.75 by 9 from the inside the asteroid belt. Advancing at engagement speed.’

  ‘Warmaster Abaddon would be disturbed to learn that his favoured brother Legion was fractured,’ continued the new arrival, the Black Legion Sorceror Inshabael Kharesh.

  ‘If there was any disunity within the XVII Legion,’ said Marduk coldly, ‘then it would be the business of the XVII Legion, and no one else, sorcerer.’

  Kharesh merely smiled in reply, a thin-lipped grimace exposing his bloodstained teeth.

  ‘Incoming transmission,’ said Kol Badar. ‘From the Crucius Maledictus.’

  ‘Bring it up,’ said Marduk.

  The crackling image of Ekodas filled the view-screen. The comm-link was dropping in and out, perhaps as a result of the shrapnel interference surrounding the Infidus Diabolus.

  ‘…brothers… regret to inform you of the tragic loss… Mortisis Majesticatus… suffered catastrophic… destruction at the hands… enemy… mine-field… tricks, dishonourable and ignoble. Sarabdal and all hands… joined with Chaos almighty.’

  ‘A minefield, of course,’ said Marduk mockingly. He saw Ashkanez’s frown deepen.

  ‘…advocate that the remainder of…’ continued Ekodas’s broken transmission. ‘…Host be transferred under… Belagosa’s wing, becoming… brothers of the 18th.’

  ‘He’s disbanded the 18th,’ said Kol Badar. ‘He’s amalgamating them into Belagosa’s Host.’

  ‘A bribe?’ said Burias.

  Marduk did not answer. His mind was whirling. Ekodas must have learnt that Sarabdal was close to uncovering his plotting, and taken measures to silence him. The Brotherhood, Sarabdal had said. Marduk had believed that the Dark Apostle had been misled somehow, for the Brotherhood had not been in existence since the cleansing of the Word Bearers ranks, before Horus had turned. Why would it have been reformed? He realised now that Sarabdal knew something. Marduk had lost the support of that powerful Dark Apostle. He was alone.

  ‘…arduk, the Nexus Arrangement… ready to be activated on my command?’

  ‘Yes, Grand Apostle,’ said Marduk, sending the vox to all receiving channels. His words would be broadcast to the bridge of each Dark Apostle within the fleet. Each remaining Dark Apostle.

  ‘Good… Continue as planned…’ came the crackling order from the Maledictus Confutatis. ‘…in attack formation, penetrating the… belt at co-ordinates FZ3.503.M… combat speed…’

  ‘No turning back now,’ murmured Burias.

  The ships of the Word Bearers fleet began to advance, engines burning with the white-hot intensity as they moved towards the asteroid belt in the distance. The outer region of the binary solar system was in perpetual shadow, for such was the density of the asteroid belt that it virtually blocked out all light from the two suns at the system’s epicentre.

  ‘What is your order?’ said Kol Badar, belligerently.

  ‘You will refer to the Dark Apostle by his Council-ordained title at all times, Coryphaus,’ rumbled Ashkanez.

  ‘Or what, First Acolyte?’ snapped Kol Badar, glaring down at Ashkanez.

  ‘Or you will be duly chastened,’ said Ashkanez, his gaze unwavering.

  ‘By who?’ snorted Kol Badar. ‘You?’

  ‘If such is the Dark Apostle’s will,’ said Ashkanez. Marduk could smell the adrenaline coming off the First Acolyte’s skin as his body readied itself for combat.

  ‘Enough,’ snapped Marduk, conscious of the cynical smile that had appeared on the pale face of the Black Legion sorcerer as his underlings bickered. ‘This is not the time. The Infidus Diabolus shall continue on course. Maintain formation. But re-route additional power to the shields. A precaution against… further enemy attack.’

  ‘The disposition of the enemy defence fleet has been confirmed,’ said Kol Badar, consulting his information feed. ‘They have been bolstered by two Astartes strike cruisers. White Consuls.’

  ‘Good,’ said Marduk. ‘It has been too long since I have killed any sons of Guilliman.’

  ‘Those two cruisers will be just the start,’ said Kol Badar. ‘The defence fleet is heavily outnumbered – they will be hoping that we plough headlong through the asteroid belt like blood-crazed savages to engage them. As soon as we do, their reinforcements will drop in via the wormholes, coming through en masse. That is what I would do. There will be no c
hance of retreat. We will be annihilated.’

  ‘Except it will not be us who are annihilated when their reinforcements fail to appear,’ said Marduk.

  ‘I shall believe that when I see it,’ said Kol Badar.

  ‘Have faith, my Coryphaus,’ said Marduk.

  ‘My faith in the gods is not in question,’ said Kol Badar. ‘It is my faith in the magos and that xenos device that is weak.’

  ‘The engagement is beginning,’ said the Black Legion sorcerer. He was staring through the viewing portal. Marduk followed his gaze.

  A thousand kilometres in front, the lead elements of the Word Bearers fleet had reached the immense wall of asteroids. The hulking slave ships were expelling vast clouds of smaller craft, poorly armed shuttles and transports for the most part. Like a swarm of insects they entered the asteroid belt, urged on by the whim of their Word Bearers masters. The first explosions lit up the darkness.

  From within the asteroid belt, scores of self-powered mines accelerated towards the intruders, drawn to their heat-signatures like flies to a corpse. Each was half the size of a Thunderhawk gunship and easily capable of inflicting catastrophic damage to even a well-armoured ship. They attached themselves to the hulls of the cult ships before detonating with catastrophic effect, coronas of red fire flaring across the battlefront. The larger slave hulks were ripped apart as dozens of mines clamped onto them.

  Cannon batteries erupted, targeting incoming mines as the slave ships continued to plough ever deeper into the asteroid belt. Scores of mines detonated prematurely, their explosions prickling the darkness, but others weathered the storm of incoming fire, zoning in on the invading ships and blasting them into oblivion.

  Lance batteries hidden within the hollowed out centre of the largest asteroids began to fire, concentrated beams searing through shields and cutting slave hulks in two. Asteroids exploded into dust and scores of ships were ripped apart as more white-hot beams of light speared through the mayhem, and more explosions deeper into the asteroid belt erupted as the ships pushing ahead drew more mines to them.