Dark Apostle (word bearers)

by Anthony Reynolds

  As his breathing became more regular in conjunction with the quickening beat of his heart, he began to use too much oxygen, and there was not a lot of that remaining in his suit. He settled his breathing and his heart slowed until once again it almost stopped.

  'What was that? You picking something up?' asked the weary Elysian trooper, looking back at his companion. The half-sphere of the heavy auspex disc was a weight in his arms. Trust him to get stuck doing the lifting rather than the easy job of keeping an eye on the data-screen on the attached feedback unit.

  'I thought there was something for a second, but its gone now. Must have been a glitch.'

  'Time for us to swap, eh?' he said hopefully. His team member laughed out loud.

  'Not a chance. You lost, fair and square. Come on, let's move on. There's nothing here.'

  Kol Badar's consciousness was roused as the cavern shook and crumbling salt dust dropped down upon him. There was a pause of almost thirty seconds before there was another booming sound like thunder, closer than the first, and more dust rained down. His yellow eyes flickered and he powered up his suit's basic functions. He reasoned that after the enemy had swept the area and declared it clear there would be little in the way of further scans, so powering up his Terminator armour was but a slight risk. Air began to circulate once more, stale and dry, and he breathed in deeply flooding his oxygen starved body. His senses came instantly to their full capacity.

  His prey was near.

  He took in his surroundings, turning his head from side to side as he familiarised himself once more with his situation as his suit's diagnostics ran. The cavern was cramped and demolitions had caused cave-ins in several places, where chunks of rock lay strewn across the uneven floor. Massive blocks leant against several of the Anointed and parts of their blessed ceramite were chipped and dented. Many of his brethren were half-buried beneath the collapse, but it mattered not.

  The cavern branched off a deep chasm that split the cliff face of the main valley. He had seen the narrowing of the valley and noted its suitability as a place to face the enemy, but he would never have discovered this cave system in the limited time that he had to prepare the ambush. One of the cultists had brought it to the attention of the Chaos Marines, one of the wretched dogs that doted on the First Acolyte.

  Branching off the sheer-faced chasm, the entrance to the cave system was hidden from view, and unless someone knew of its location it would be nigh on impossible to discover. Still, the flames of the enemy's weaponry had found the entrance, even if their bearers had not, and his armoured suit was blackened from the blasts of blazing promethium.

  The demolitions that had followed had completely caved in the chasm as the seismic charges shook down rock from above. No exit from the cavern could be accessed by a warrior in Terminator armour. But if the enemy became complacent because they believed their flanks were secure, then all the better.

  There was another booming sound and the ground shook. Though the area was most likely not being scanned, it would be too much of a risk to chance vox communication. The First Acolyte whelp should be moving the cultists forwards. If he mistimed the advance, the Anointed would be left terribly exposed to the guns of the cursed enemy. He ground his teeth. Were the whelp to fail in his duty, he and his brethren would almost certainly be annihilated. Not even the upstart Marduk would knowingly leave the Anointed to perish, though he was certain the thought had crossed the bastard's mind.

  Still, this was the only chance the Legion had of destroying the Imperator class Titan without the loss of hundreds of warrior-brothers. It was a risky venture, but Kol Badar found a glimmer of excitement at the prospect. He had thought that such battle hunger was long lost to him, faded over the great expanse of time he had been fighting for the glory of Lorgar. He welcomed the feeling like a long-lost comrade.

  Dozens of sharp, red lights began to flash against the cavern wall as the ground once again rumbled beneath him. The shifting of rock caused another avalanche of stone and dust to fall, and Kol Badar smirked as he realised that there was every chance that the whole cavern might cave in at any moment, trapping him and his warriors beneath thousands of tonnes of mountain. That would be an inglorious death indeed, and he could just imagine the derision that would be heaped upon him by the bastard Marduk if such a fate was his destiny.

  There was yet another crashing impact nearby. He estimated its distance. It was difficult to determine, but he judged that after two more impacts, it would be time to detonate the impact charges.

  The red lights of the charges blinked rhythmically in the darkness. They were designed to explode outwards in one direction only, and he had organised their placement carefully. An expert in siege demolitions, he had spent several hours studying the fault lines and angled layers of the rock face so that the powerful explosives would have the desired effect. Just one misplaced charge would bring the mountainside down upon them, and he would allow his fate to be determined by none but himself.

  With his savage anticipation building, Kol Badar listened for the heavy impacts that would signal the launch of the ambush.

  The command Chimera rambled forward slowly in the shadow of the Exemplis. No matter how many Titans Brigadier-General Havorn had seen, he was still awed by the sheer scale of them, and this, an Imperator class no less, was amongst the largest Titans ever constructed. From his position in the cupola of his Chimera, he had a good view of the massive war machine as it strode forward. He could understand why the twisted adepts of the Mechanicus worshipped it as an avatar of their god, for it was a powerful, primal thing of epic proportions.

  From behind, he could see many of the oiled workings of the god-machine, as its rear was not as well armoured as its front. Pistons the size of buildings rose and fell as the behemoth lifted its huge, bastion legs, and eddies of super-heated smoke and steam blasted from the exhausts in its back. Higher still, pennants were whipped by the bustling breeze atop the arched architecture of the fortress that the Titan bore upon its massive shoulders. Battle cannons and siege ordnance was housed there, along with temple shrines to the Machine-God and mausoleums that held the remains of past princeps.

  The narrowness of the ravine made him tense and uneasy. It was more like a chasm than a valley, the sides sheer and close. They seemed to loom in threateningly, and if the enemy moved onto those ridges, they would be able to rain fire down upon the convoy with impunity. Still, Laron's 72nd held those regions and were pushing forwards along the ridge tops ranging out ahead. The point of the Mechanicus forces was moving forward slowly through the ravine and it seemed that the enemy were content to wait for them up ahead. Still, he half expected something to happen, some ploy to be launched, and he had learnt long ago to trust his instincts.

  'Rachius,' he called down into the Chimera, 'run another sweep.'

  'In progress, sir,' said his communications officer.

  The Chimera was outfitted with an array of sensors and powerful vox-units to allow the brigadier-general's commands to be conveyed to his captains, and tall aerials and dishes rose from the rear of the APC.

  'I'm picking up faint radiation from the cliff face, sir. The exact position is unclear.'

  'Damn it!' he said. He felt his tension rise. This was the critical moment. The diminishing width of the pass had forced the Imperial regiments to spread out in a long, unwieldy convoy. If an attack was launched it would be difficult to bring up support and the rest of the regiments behind would grind to a standstill.

  'From the cliff face you say? The demolition teams didn't leave any chasms clear, did they Rachius?'

  'No, sir. My reports say that all were collapsed. Could just be geothermals.'

  'Try to pinpoint the location. And order the Chimeras to close formation. Tell the commanders to be ready for action.'

  The hyperefficient officer swiftly carried out his orders. Donal Rachius was a fastidious man, utterly fixated on his appearance. A crease in his uniform upset him, and he was exact and precise in everythi
ng he did. Havorn tolerated his eccentricities because the man was exceptional and his perfectionism, though irritating on a personal level, made him ideal for his role.

  The Chimeras behind his command tank revved their engines and advanced, drawing level with his own. There was not room in the ravine for even twenty of the vehicles to advance alongside one another. Still, they kept a wary distance from the Titan. One descending foot of that monster would easily crush a tank flat.

  When the attack came, it was almost a relief. But it came at the front of the armoured column, the strongest point in the Imperial line.

  He heard scattered bombardments up ahead and saw the column slow.

  Instantly, Havorn dropped his lanky frame down through the cupola, swinging his legs around beneath him as the powered semi-lift lowered into the Chimera proper. It was cramped with communications equipment, a small team of officers and a very large ogryn hunched in a specially constructed bucket seat, his head stooped but still pressed against the roof.

  'Report,' he ordered.

  'The techno-magos informs us that his Skitarii units have engaged the foe.'

  'What, the enemy has advanced to meet us?'

  'It would seem so, sir. They have rounded the bend here,' said Rachius, pointing to a data-slate with a simplified overhead map that glimmered with points of light that indicated troop formations.

  'But that makes no sense. They will be butchered without the support of their bigger guns, which are all positioned back here, are they not?' replied Havorn, pointing along the ridge tops some kilometres around the bend in the ravine.

  'They are. We have received no intelligence to indicate otherwise.'

  'They want us to engage, halting the column.'

  'The Mechanicus have already halted, sir. The Exemplis is readying its weaponry.'

  'Tell the magos to advance. Tell him his god-machine is in danger,' said Havorn as he climbed once again into the cupola to survey the situation.

  He raised the hatch of the Chimera to see the Titan's legs planted firmly, and support pinions locking into place as it readied its weapons. The air was charged with power as its plasma reactors burned hot, making ready to unleash a fusillade of destruction. He lifted a pair of long-range crys-scopes to his eyes, scanning along the cliff walls ahead. There was nothing there, no entrance from which a hidden force could emerge.

  'We have enemy movement, sir! They are pushing forward along the ridges! And more of the enemy are moving along the ravine at pace! They are moving for a full attack!'

  What the hell are they doing? thought Havorn. They will be slaughtered in their droves by the massive guns of the Exemplis. Still, this new development gave him no comfort and his unease rose.

  'Forward!' roared Marduk. 'The eyes of the gods are upon you and their judgement awaits. Prove your worth before them, and take your hatred to the infidel corpse worshippers!'

  The cultists advanced before his fiery oratory, but Marduk despised them, every one of them. The gods were watching, it was true, and they would laugh as these wretches were led to the slaughter to accomplish the goal of the true favoured ones, the Word Bearers.

  'Onward, warriors of the true gods! Glory and ascension awaits you! Fear not the guns of the enemy. Embrace destruction, for with your deaths the aims of the gods are accomplished. Give up your mortal bodies unto Chaos, and your souls will soar in the realms of the deities this night!'

  Five thousand cult warriors advanced into the tight ravine, towards the waiting guns of the looming Titan in the distance. They screamed their devotion as they marched forward.

  Leaving a considerable gap behind the Cultists of the Word, Marduk ordered the remainder of the Host forward, giving up on any further pretence that they were going to wait for the enemy to come to them.

  He saw the Imperator Titan plant its feet as the cultists drew within range of its weaponry, just as Kol Badar had predicted. Now was the time for the Coryphaus to act. His gambit needed to work, else the entire Host would be at the mercy of the Titan's guns.

  'I still think we should have held back,' snarled Burias. 'Let that bastard Kol Badar face the enemy alone and blast him back to hell.'

  'Burias,' laughed Marduk, 'your choler is in the ascendant. You speak these words because you believe they are what I wish to hear?'

  'A statement of my feelings, First Acolyte, nothing more. The bastard ordered a retreat against the foe. He deserves death.'

  'Maybe, my Icon Bearer, but you would have us abandon the Anointed?'

  'The Anointed are Kol Badar's pets. They worship him with nearly as much fervour as they worship the Dark Apostle.'

  'And you are bitter at having not been indoctrinated into the cult,' said Marduk. The Icon Bearer made no reaction, save a slight tension in the muscles of his neck, which Marduk observed. He laughed.

  'You are an ambitious, black-hearted one, aren't you, dear Burias. And you hold some resentment towards me, is it not true?'

  'First Acolyte?' asked Burias in a slightly hurt tone. 'I am your devoted warrior, always.'

  'But you blame me for your not having been embraced into the cult of the Anointed. You think it is a subtle insult directed at me from Kol Badar, an insult that you must pay the price for because of our comradeship.'

  'The thought… had crossed my mind, First Acolyte.'

  'It pleases me that you can at times be honest, Burias,' said Marduk lightly. Before the Icon Bearer could respond, he continued, 'Is it the lure of Slaanesh, your endless desire to raise yourself, to better yourself?'

  'It is not perfection I seek, First Acolyte, as you know. I don't need perfection to attain that which I desire.'

  'No, you just need to be on the good side of one who would become a Dark Apostle. Do not become complacent, dear Burias. When the time comes for me to take on the mantle of that position, I will choose only the most suitable warrior to become my Coryphaus.'

  'My suitability is in doubt?' questioned Burias, trying to keep his pristine, handsome, pale face devoid of emotion, but Marduk saw a flash of Drak'shal's fury in his eyes.

  'No, Burias, but nothing beneath the gaze of the gods is certain. Do not allow your hubris to one day shame you.'

  'Nothing will bring shame upon me, just as I will never bring shame upon the blessed Legion of Lorgar,' said Burias severely.

  Marduk smiled and placed his hand upon the Icon Bearer's shoulder.

  'I believe you may be right, Burias, old friend. You said the same words on Calth while we battled the cursed warriors of Guilliman.'

  'And you said that one day you would lead one of the grand companies, with me at your side,' said Burias.

  'That is true.'

  'If this… trick of Kol Badar's goes badly, then there will be too few warriors within the Host to justify splitting it, as the council on Sicarus ordered, especially after the casualties we suffered against the Titan. There will be little need for a second Dark Apostle.'

  'That thought had crossed my mind,' snarled Marduk, his mood darkening. 'Regardless, one way or another, I will become a Dark Apostle.'

  'Always I have fought at your side, First Acolyte, long before I called you such. And I will fight there, always, whatever may come.'

  Marduk placed a hand upon Burias's shoulder.

  'I would expect nothing less of you, my friend. Now, order the last of the Host to advance. We fight them here, and pray to the gods that Kol Badar succeeds, else we will all be slaughtered and seeing them sooner than expected.'

  'What if it is the will of the gods for us to die here, First Acolyte?'

  'Then it is their will, but that is not what I have foreseen. The twisting paths of the future are never set, but of the thousands of coiling threads that I have followed in my dream visions, we were slaughtered here in less than half of them.'

  'That is of… great comfort, First Acolyte,' said Burias dryly.

  Marduk laughed again, his black mood evaporating in the blink of an eye.

  In the distance, the Titan
's guns flared brightly as they were unleashed, followed half a second later by the cacophony of the barrage as it echoed up the narrow ravine. Hundreds of cultists were instantly slain in the devastation. The timing for the Word Bearers' advance was critical. If Kol Badar timed it wrong, it would result in the destruction of hundreds of the Legion's warriors. If he timed it just right, then the slaughter of the enemy would be great.

  Gods of the Ether guide me, he prayed, and he closed his eyes. A waking vision assailed him the instant he closed his eyes, the image sharp and painful, leaving a dull ache in his temples. He wiped a droplet of blood from his nose and watched as it instantly congealed to a dried crust upon his finger. He would need to discuss this vision with the Warmonger at battle's end, for its meaning was obscure and disturbing.

  'Come,' he said, 'let us release our anger upon the foe.'

  'I've got a lock, sir!' shouted Rachius. 'Emperor damn them, there are more than fifty of the bastards in there! Vector 7.342.'

  Havorn swore and swung his crys-scopes around towards the location that Rachius had indicated. 'Get the Chimeras moving,' he shouted, but the words were lost as a series of detonations ripped apart the mountainside, rocks exploding outwards spectacularly. One sizeable chunk of rock smashed onto the front of his Chimera, denting the thick armoured plate, and others smashed harmlessly against one of the massive feet of the Exemplis, no more than thirty metres from the explosion. At such a range its void shields were useless. They were only effective from a certain distance, and anything within them would be able to attack the god-machine directly.

  With this thought running through his mind, he swore again and slammed his fist down onto the top of the Chimera as he saw the dark shapes emerging from the cloud of dust surrounding the point of the explosion.

  Clattering gunfire erupted from weaponry as the figures stamped heavily through the rubble. They were huge individuals, their armour plate thick and nigh on impervious to harm: Terminators, the enemy's elite.