A niggling doubt remained, buried deep within his consciousness, that the malevolent sentient being had allowed him to leave its realm. Always, Marduk had refused to entertain the errant thought, but now, seeing this immense vessel descending down towards the city, the whisper of doubt returned. Instinctively, he knew the malign intelligence that commanded this vessel was the same as that he had encountered beneath the alien pyramid. Doubtless it came to reclaim what had been stolen from it.
The immense xenos vessel was now so close that Marduk imagined he could almost touch its obsidian underside, yet it was still at least a kilometre above the city.
It is not my fate to die here, Marduk thought, defiantly. Nothing in the portents had spoken of his death.
The immense alien vessel had come to rest some two hundred metres above the city, looming claustrophobically low overhead. No hint of the sky beyond it could be glimpsed now. It felt as if the planet had an unsupported low roof that might drop to crush those beneath it at any moment.
Green-tinged lightning arced across its underside, dancing across its obsidian surfaces. Geometric designs throbbed, growing brighter and then dimming, like a heartbeat, and thousands of alien hieroglyphs flared into glowing, green life.
‘Where are the Stormbirds?’ hissed Marduk.
‘Incoming, one minute,’ said Kol Badar. He pointed into the distance. A flock of dark craft could be seen hurtling in their direction, flying low over the city. ‘There.’
A high frequency electronic whine that made Marduk’s skin crawl sounded in the distance. Its pitch ascended sharply, and as it moved beyond the range of Astartes hearing, a column of ghostly light as wide as a city block stabbed downwards from the alien vessel, perhaps two kilometres away to the north. Arcs of electricity danced along the shaft’s ethereal edges. The light of the column did not dissipate, but stayed firmly targeted on the city, like some immense, motionless spotlight.
‘What in the hells of Sicarus is that?’ said Ashkanez.
A second whine sounded and another spotlight stabbed downwards, this time appearing perhaps five kilometres south of their position. Further whines heralded more columns of ghostly light, until there were a dozen of them projected blindingly downwards, linking the alien craft to the city below. They shone like divine pillars in the darkness, as if holding the xenos vessel aloft.
A further electronic whine began to sound, piercing in its intensity, louder than any other so far. Gazing upwards Marduk saw a ring of light burning brightly on the underside of the xenos vessel, directly overhead. It grew steadily more intense, and while the auto-reactive lenses of his helmet compensated for the sudden, white-hot light, dulling it back to a manageable level, he nevertheless raised an arm to shield his eyes. If it were some form of weapon, a lance-beam of monstrous scale, Marduk realised that he and his brothers would be directly beneath the blast.
Setting his feet firmly, Marduk roared his fury at the heavens. If he were to die, then he would do so defiant and unrepentant to the last.
Blinding, diffuse light surrounded Marduk and his brethren, and the air crackled with a powerful electrical charge. It took Marduk half a second to realise that he lived still, that the column of light was not destructive in nature, and he gave a short prayer of thanks to the gods of the æther.
The moment’s respite did not last.
The air around him shimmered and crackled with intensity, as if the particles of the air were vibrating violently, and sparks of bright light danced across the armour plates of the uneasy Word Bearers.
‘Energy readings are off the scale,’ said Sabtec, his brows furrowed, looking at the daemonically-infused auspex in his hands.
‘Something is making transference,’ hissed Kol Badar, the bladed lengths of his power talons clenching and unclenching reflexively. ‘I can feel it in my bones.’
‘Stand ready!’ said Marduk, hefting his crozius.
‘Something is coming through,’ shouted Sabtec, turning around on the spot, eyes locked on the throbbing red blister-display of his auspex. He stopped abruptly, and his eyes lifted. ‘There! Three hundred and twenty metres! Elevation 3.46!’
Marduk looked where his champion pointed. At first he saw nothing. Then a ball of crackling energy blinked into existence, hanging perhaps twenty metres above the city. It was positioned in the centre of a wide boulevard that led up towards the square. The Word Bearers began to back away, weapons raised. The air around the sphere of flickering energy wavered, and sparking electricity stabbed outwards from its centre.
‘What–’ began Ashkanez, but he never finished.
With a deep whoosh, the crackling ball of light expanded suddenly to a hundred times its former size. Coronas of lightning sparked madly within it, and the Word Bearers fell back a step defensively as the blast overtook them. It lasted only a fraction of a second before it contracted sharply once more, accompanied by a deep sucking sound like air being vented into a vacuum. It shrank in upon itself, collapsing to something the size of a pea before exploding.
With a deafening crack, blinding white light burst out in all directions, and the sphere of energy was gone. In its place was a slowly spinning flat-topped pyramid roughly the size of a super-heavy tank, hovering ten metres above the ground. It was formed of light-absorbing black stone, and green electricity played along its blank, sheer surfaces.
It hung there in the air, turning lazily, and then its form began to alter. Glowing green lines appeared upon its smooth surfaces, and four oblong pillars of black stone rose from the corners of its top, rising like battlements atop a fortress. Rib-like sections of the prism’s sides slid upwards, forming a hollow cage atop it. A single wider arc, like an architectural buttress of unearthly design, glided smoothly upwards to position itself over the hollow cage.
A massive dark green crystal, easily three metres in height, rose up from within the prism until it was hanging unsupported within this hollow cage-like formation. This crystal was perfect in its angular symmetry, and flickered with inner light. Sparking green electrical impulses darted between it and the rib-like buttresses enclosing it, tentatively at first, then building in frequency and power. The light within the crystal intensified, until it was glowing brightly, and the shower of sparks coalescing around it crackled like sheet lightning.
Hieroglyphs and pictograms pulsed into life upon the sheer sides of the prism, and weapon-turrets emerged from crenellations that appeared upon the four corners of the pyramid. They began to rotate mechanically, and green lightning flickered along the length of their barrels. Targeting reticules within Marduk’s helmet flashed, locking onto these weapons.
‘Take it down!’ he roared.
Coadjutor Aquilius emerged with his brethren from the service elevator. They stood upon the high crenulated battlements of the designated landing pad the incoming Thunderhawk was aiming for, high atop of the Temple of the Gloriatus. A golden dome rose behind them, topped with a gleaming statue of the Emperor. How it still remained intact among the destruction was a minor miracle in itself, Aquilius thought.
Standing nearly thirty metres tall, it was to view this that so many of the devout made the pilgrimage to Boros Prime. It was said that to look upon the statue was to look upon the divine. So skilled had its artisans been that the sublime expression upon the statue’s face brought tears to the eyes of all who looked upon it. Aquilius felt some comfort to be standing beneath its gaze.
One of the injured Sternguard veterans was lowered to the ground. The battle-brother propped himself up with his back to the crenulations and Aquilius stood, looking out over the battlements across the square below. What he saw made his breath catch in his throat.
The Word Bearers below firing upon a slowly revolving black pyramid hovering above the ground. Where the xenos thing had come from, Aquilius knew not.
Missiles detonated ineffectively upon the structure’s sheer, black surfaces, and he watched as autocannon rounds stitched across its sides. The heavy-calibre shells ricocheted harm
lessly off the dark stone, causing not so much as a crack in its surface. Lascannon beams struck its angled sides, yet the energy was merely absorbed into the alien structure, making its hieroglyphs momentarily glow brighter.
A widening circle was cleared before the alien prism as the Word Bearers spread out into cover as it descended towards the ground. It came to rest a metre above the marble square, and began to return fire.
An arc of lightning erupted from one of its rotating armatures, striking a cluster of Word Bearers who had taken cover behind a low balustrade. There was a blinding explosion of light and half a dozen of the traitor Space Marines were sent flying, their bodies blackened and smoking. They hit the ground hard, their bodies twitching as remnants of green electricity flickered across their armour. The marble balustrade was completely obliterated, and a circle of smoking ash marked where the potent arc had hit.
The other rotating armatures fired, causing destruction to all and sundry, striking anything within a thirty metres radius. A Predator battle tank, a crucified White Consul nailed to the front of its armoured chassis, was reversing away from the deadly xenos prism, its turret-mounted twin lascannons firing desperately and ineffectually. A lightning arc whipped out and struck the Predator, sending it flipping backwards, end over end, a blackened shell flickering with sparks.
A doorway of shimmering light appeared within one side of the black prism, and Aquilius watched in horrified fascination as a pair of deathly, robotic skeletons marched from within, stepping down onto the marble surface of Victory Square, their movements in perfect synchronicity.
Their gaunt, skeletal bodies appeared to be formed of dark metal, and glowing green light oozed from their empty eye sockets. They held long-barrelled weapons across their hollow chests, and the light of gunfire and electricity reflected sharply off their silver craniums and bones.
In pairs, skeletal soldiers marched from within the prism in a steady stream, and they began to form a phalanx. Several of them were felled by concentrated Word Bearers fire, but many of the undead warriors simply rose back to their feet seconds later, the damage they had sustained repairing itself seamlessly. Severed limbs reattached themselves and craters caused by detonating bolt rounds in heads and chests disappeared as if they had never been.
Still more skeletal warriors stepped through the doorway of flickering light, far more than could have possibly fitted within the prism, moving steadily, their pace unhurried and relentless. Aquilius realised the prism must be acting as a form of gateway, linking to the immense ship hanging in low orbit overhead. His mind boggled as he imagined the number of humanoid sentinels that a vessel of such size might contain.
More of the black-sided prisms blinked into existence above Victory Square, spinning lazily as they descended slowly towards the ground. Each began undergoing the same transformation that the first had, glowing crystals rising from their centres and rib-like buttresses sliding up their sheer sides as they powered up.
A krak missile struck the crystal emerging from the inside of one of the xenos prisms before it had come fully to life, and it exploded into a million shards. Like a marionette with its strings cut, the prism dropped like a stone, its glowing hieroglyphs fading to darkness. By the time it hit the square below, it was nothing more than an inert, lifeless hunk of stone.
Smaller spheres of light glimmered in the air, like a host of sparking fireflies, before contracting sharply, and other shapes blinked into reality.
Spider-like robotic constructs the size of Dreadnoughts appeared, looming above the Word Bearers, their arachnid, metal legs clicking beneath them. Clusters of glowing green eyes blinked and locked onto the milling traitors below. Binaric clicks issued from their silver mandibles, and they descended upon the enemy’s ranks, huge metal pincers snapping Traitor Astartes in two.
Other xenos beings materialised, resembling some kind of bizarre, mechanised centaur. From the waist up they were the manifestation of horrific skeletal humanoids, while their lower bodies were some form of anti-grav skiff. Their right arms had been replaced with multi-barrelled cannons, pulsing with intense, green electrical currents. Moving with unhurried grace, their movements conducted in perfect unison, these new arrivals hovered several metres above the heads of the Word Bearers. They began to unleash the power of their alien weaponry, and Aquilius felt a mixture of horror and awe as he witnessed the beams of light passing right through the bodies of the Traitors, leaving gaping holes in ceramite armour and flesh alike.
Victory Square was now a chaotic warzone, with traitors battling furiously with the xenos constructs.
A flight of traitor Stormbirds and Thunderhawks, their gore-splashed hulls hung with chains and daemonic symbology, came screaming in low over the rooftops, engines spewing orange flame. One of them was instantly struck by a whiplash of discharging electricity, sending it into a spiralling death spin. It came down hard, one wing ripping off as it struck a soaring buttress of the Temple of the Gloriatus. The fifty-tonne piece of masonry came crashing down in a shower of marble, and the Stormbird ploughed into the square, killing dozens of traitors and skeletal xenos warriors as it exploded into a towering fireball.
The other shuttles dropped down through the mayhem, weapon systems firing, and the Word Bearers began streaming towards them as their assault ramps slammed down onto the square.
‘Thunderhawk inbound,’ said one of the blue-helmed Sternguard veterans, his white crest shivering from the amount of electricity pulsing through the air. ‘Three minutes.’
Aquilius wondered briefly what the point was anymore. Ostorius had failed. There was no hope of salvation.
He felt a hand on his arm, and looked down into the strong face of the Imperial officer, Verenus of the Boros 232nd.
‘As long as the White Angel is with us, there is always hope,’ said the solder, with a smile.
Aquilius shook his head, smiling despite himself.
Then Verenus’s head disintegrated, ripped apart molecule by molecule as an arc of green energy struck it.
Aquilius swore and fell back, scrabbling for his bolter.
A trio of skeletal constructs hove into view, flying along at the same level as the temple’s battlements. Aquilius was dragged backwards as the xenos constructs fired again, and a head-sized chunk of the battlements disintegrated, right where he had been standing a fraction of a second earlier. One of the Sternguard veterans fell, a gaping hole torn through his body.
The veteran that had pulled Aquilius back fired his plasma pistol, taking one of the mechanoids in the head. Its leering skull face was replaced with a molten crater as the white hot burst of plasma struck it, and it dropped out of sight, falling to the ground thirty metres below the wall.
Bolts pattered off the chests of the other two, and the Imperials fled before them, retreating inside the temple precinct. Aquilius glanced back over his shoulder to see the fallen construct rising from the ground, its skull reforming before his eyes.
‘Emperor above,’ breathed Aquilius.
‘How long till that Thunderhawk arrives?’ barked Liventius.
‘One minute, Epistolary!’ came the reply.
It seemed like a lifetime.
‘Hurry, revered one!’ bellowed Marduk, urging the Warmonger up the ramp of the Stormbird. The Dreadnought clomped its way into the shuttle’s assault bay, even as more warrior brothers bolted up the ramp to take their seats.
‘Full!’ shouted Sabtec, and Marduk nodded.
‘Go!’ roared Marduk.
He was standing in the doorway of the Stormbird, firing his bolt pistol. He slammed his fist onto a panel on inner wall, and the embarkation ramp began to close. Retro thrusters roared, and the heavy assault craft lifted off.
He could see First Acolyte Ashkanez and his Icon Bearer, Burias, some distance away, boarding another Stormbird. He raised his hand as Burias looked in his direction, but the Icon Bearer turned away.
All the Word Bearers within the square were streaming towards the assault shuttle
s that were touching down. Rhinos accelerated up embarkation ramps, tracks skidding, and Land Raiders and Predators were grasped by coupling claws beneath Thunderhawks, ready for transportation
Before Marduk’s Stormbird could pull away, a giant mechanical pincer tore into the closing assault ramp, punching through the reinforced plasteel. In one violent motion the entire hatch was ripped off its pneumatic hinges, and Marduk came face to face with one of the immense, robotic spider-constructs, hovering outside. Its cluster of green eyes glimmered with malign intelligence. Its mandibles quivered and it emitted an indecipherable torrent of electronic clicks and whistles. It lifted its other slender fore-claw, which ended in a long barrel flickering with energy.
Marduk swore and threw himself sidewards as the mechanised construct fired into the cramped interior of the Stormbird. Three Word Bearers were consumed in the blast, and they roared in pain. The searing beam took apart their power armour molecule by molecule, before setting to work on the flesh, flaying skin and muscle exposing the skeleton beneath. In turn, even the warrior brothers’ bones were atomised. It was a deeply unsettling sight, even to one such as Marduk.
Kol Badar planted his feet wide and unleashed a burst of fire into the spider’s head, and a dozen of its glowing eyes darkened. It twitched, gliding backwards in the face of the fusillade, and then the Stormbird’s engines fired at full power, lifting the assault craft away from the corpse-strewn square, which was still bathed in cold diffuse light projected from above.
As the Stormbird rose, it passed through a thick cloud of dust that manifested out of nowhere amid a million tiny flashes of light.
No, not dust, Marduk realised. The particles were too large, and shone with reflective light. It was a cloud of tiny metallic insects, he realised, a million buzzing, robotic scarabs.
They swarmed in a tight-knit cloud that obscured his vision as the Stormbird rose through it. Hundreds of them swarmed through the gaping rent left in the side of the Stormbird where the assault ramp had been torn loose, tiny metal wings buzzing and thoraxes vibrating. Marduk staggered back away from the opening, keeping his centre of gravity low and swatting at the massed insects.
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