Galaxy in Flames (18 page)

‘Warheads?’ asked Tarvitz.

‘Yes, captain,’ said the adept. ‘All bombardment cannons are loaded with air bursting warheads loaded with virus bombs as specified in our order of battle.’

‘Virus bombs,’ said Tarvitz, fighting to hold back his revulsion at what the adept was telling him.

‘Is everything all right, captain?’ asked the adept, noticing the change in his expression.

‘I’m fine,’ Tarvitz lied, feeling as if his legs would give way any second. ‘You can return to your duties.’

The adept nodded and set off towards one of the guns.

Virus bombs…

Weapons so terrible and forbidden that only the Warmaster himself, and the Emperor before him, could ever sanction their use.

Each warhead would unleash the life eater virus, a rampant organism that destroyed life in all its forms and wiped out every shred of organic matter on the surface of a planet within hours. The magnitude of this new knowledge, and its implications, staggered Tarvitz and he felt his breath coming in short, painful gasps as he attempted to reconcile what he knew with what he had just learned.

His Legion was preparing to kill the planet below and he knew with sudden clarity that it could not be alone in this. To saturate a planet with enough virus warheads to destroy all life would take many ships and with a sick jolt of horror, he knew that such an order could only have come from the Warmaster.

For reasons Tarvitz could not even begin to guess at the Warmaster had chosen to betray fully a third of his warriors, exterminating them in one fell swoop.

‘I have to warn them,’ he hissed, turning and running for the embarkation deck.

NINE

The power of a god

Regrouping

Honour brothers

T
HE STRATEGIUM WAS
dark, lit only by braziers that burned with a flickering green flame. Where once the banners of the Legion’s battle companies had hung from its walls, they were now replaced with those of the warrior lodge. The company banners had been taken down shortly after the speartip had been deployed and the message was clear: the lodge now had primacy within the Sons of Horus. The platform from which the Warmaster had addressed the officers of his fleet now held a lectern upon which rested the
Book of Lorgar
.

The Warmaster sat on the strategium throne, watching reports coming in from Isstvan III on the battery of pict-screens before him.

The emerald light picked out the edges of his armour and reflected from the amber gemstone forming the eye upon his breastplate. Reams of combat statistics streamed past and pict-relays showed the unfolding battles in the Choral City. The World Eaters were in the centre of an epic struggle. Thousands of people were swarming into the plaza before the Precentor’s Palace, and the streets flowed with rivers of blood as the Astartes slaughtered wave after wave of Isstvanians that charged into their guns and chainblades.

The palace itself was intact, only a few palls of smoke indicating the battle raging through it as the Emperor’s Children fought their way through its guards.

Vardus Praal would be dead soon, though Horus cared nothing for the fate of Isstvan III’s rogue governor. His rebellion had simply given Horus the chance to rid himself of those he knew would never follow him on his great march to Terra.

Horus looked up as Erebus approached.

‘First chaplain,’ said Horus sternly. ‘Matters are delicate. Do not disturb me needlessly.’

‘There is news from Prospero,’ said Erebus, unperturbed. The shadow whisperers clung to him, darting around his feet and the crozius he wore at his waist.

‘Magnus?’ asked Horus, suddenly interested.

‘He lives yet,’ said Erebus, ‘but not for the lack of effort on the part of the Wolves of Fenris.’

‘Magnus lives,’ snarled Horus. ‘Then he may yet be a danger.’

‘No,’ assured Erebus. ‘The spires of Prospero have fallen and the warp echoes with the powerful sorcery Magnus used to save his warriors and escape.’

‘Always sorcery,’ said Horus. ‘Where did he escape to?’

‘I do not know yet,’ said Erebus, ‘but wherever he goes, the Emperor’s dogs will hunt him down.’

‘And he will either join us or die alone in the wilderness,’ said Horus, thoughtfully. ‘To think that so much depends on the personalities of so few. Magnus was nearly my deadliest enemy, perhaps as dangerous as the Emperor himself. Now he has no choice but to follow us until the very end. If Fulgrim brings Ferrus Manus into the fold then we have as good as won.’

Horus waved dismissively at the view screens depicting the battle in the Choral City. ‘The Isstvanians believe the gods have come to destroy them and in a way they are right. Life and death are mine to dispense. What is that if not the power of a god?’

‘C
APTAIN
L
OKEN
. S
ERGEANT
Vipus. It is good to see you both,’ said Sergeant Lachost, hunkered down in the shattered shell of a shrine to one of Isstvan III’s ancestors. ‘We’ve been trying to raise all the squads. They’re all over the place. The speartip’s shattered.’

‘Then we’ll re-forge it here,’ replied Loken.

Sporadic fire rattled through the valley, so he took cover beside Lachost. The sergeant’s command squad was arrayed around the shrine ruin, bolters trained and occasionally snapping off shots at the shapes that darted through the shadows. Vipus and the survivors of Locasta huddled in the ruins with them.

The enemy wore the armour of ancient Isstvan, tarnished bands of silver and black, and carried strange relic-weapons, rapid-firing crossbows that hurled bolts of molten silver.

Tales of heroism were emerging from the scores of individual battles among the tomb-spires as Sons of Horus units fought off the soldiers of the Sirenhold.

‘We’ve got good cover, and a position we can hold,’ said Vipus. ‘We can gather the squads here and launch a thrust into the enemy.’

Loken nodded as Torgaddon ducked into cover beside them, the Sons of Horus he had brought with him joining Lachost’s men at the walls.

He grinned at Loken and said, ‘What kept you, Garvi?’

‘We had to come down from the top of the wall,’ said Loken. ‘Where are your warriors?’

‘They’re everywhere,’ said Torgaddon. ‘They’re making their way to this spire, but a lot of the squads are cut off. The Sirenhold was garrisoned by some… elites, I suppose. They had a hell of an armoury here, ancient things, looks like advanced tech.’

Loken nodded as Torgaddon continued.

‘Well, this spire is clear at least. I’ve got Vaddon and Lachost setting up a command post on the lower level and we can just hold this position for now. There are three more Legions in the Choral City and the rest of the Sons of Horus in orbit. There’s no need—’

‘The enemy has the field,’ replied Loken sharply. ‘They can surround us. There are catacombs beneath our feet they could use to get around us. No, if we stay put they will find a way to get to us. This is their territory. We strike as soon as we can. This is a speartip and it is up to us to drive it home.’

‘Where?’ asked Torgaddon.

‘The tomb-spires,’ said Loken. ‘We hit them one by one. Storm them, kill whatever we find and move on. We keep going and force them onto the back foot.’

‘Most of our speartip is on its way, captain,’ said Lachost.

‘Good,’ replied Loken, looking up at the spires around the shrine.

The shrine was in a valley formed by the spire they had come down and the next spire along, a brutal cylinder of stone with glowering faces carved into its surface. Dozens of arches around its base offered entrance and cover, their darkness occasionally lit by a brief flash of gunfire.

A tangle of shrines littered the ground between the towers, statues of the Choral City’s notable dead jutting from piles of ornate architecture or the ruins of temples.

Loken pointed to the tomb-spire across the valley. ‘As soon as we have enough warriors for a full thrust, that’s what we hit. Lachost, start securing the shrines around us to give us a good jumping-off point, and get some men up on the first levels of this spire to provide covering fire. Heavy weapons if you’ve got them.’

Gunfire echoed from the east and Loken saw the forms of Astartes moving towards them: Sons of Horus in the livery of Eskhalen Squad. More warriors were converging on their position, each fighting their own running battles among the shrines as they sought to regroup.

‘This is more than a burial ground,’ said Loken. ‘Whatever happened to Isstvan III, it started here. This force is religious and this is their church.’

‘No wonder they’re crazy,’ replied Torgaddon scornfully. ‘Madmen love their gods.’

T
HE CONTROLS OF
the Thunderhawk were loose, the ship trying to flip away from Tarvitz and go tumbling through space. He had only the most rudimentary training on these newer additions to the Astartes armoury, and most of that had been in atmosphere, skimming low over battlefields to drop troops or add fire support.

Tarvitz could see Isstvan III through the armoured glass of the viewing bay, a crescent of sunlight creeping across its surface. Somewhere near the edge of the shining crescent was the city where his battle-brothers, and those of three other Legions, were fighting unaware that they had already been betrayed.

‘Thunderhawk, identify yourself,’ said a voice through the gunship’s vox. He must have entered the engagement envelope of the
Andronius
and the defence turrets had acquired him as a target. If he was lucky, he would have a few moments before the turrets locked on, moments when he could put as much distance between his stolen Thunderhawk and the
Andronius
.

‘Thunderhawk, identify yourself,’ repeated the voice and he knew that he had to stall in order to give himself time to get clear of the defence turrets.

‘Captain Saul Tarvitz, travelling to the
Endurance
on liaison duty.’

‘Wait for authorization.’

He knew he wouldn’t get authorization, but each second took him further from the
Andronius
and closer to the planet’s surface.

He pushed the Thunderhawk as hard as he dared, listening to the hiss of static coming from the vox, hoping against hope that somehow they would believe him and allow him to go on his way.

‘Stand down, Thunderhawk,’ said the voice. ‘Return to the
Andronius
immediately.’

‘Negative,
Andronius
,’ replied Tarvitz. ‘Transmission is breaking up.’

It was a cheap ploy, but one that might give him a few seconds more.

‘I repeat, stand—’

‘Go to hell,’ replied Tarvitz.

Tarvitz checked the navigational pict for signs of pursuit, pleased to see that there were none yet, and wrenched the Thunderhawk down towards Isstvan III.

‘T
HE
P
RIDE
OF
the Emperor
is in transit,’ announced Saeverin, senior deck officer of the
Andronius
. ‘Though the vessel’s Navigator claims to be encountering difficulties. Lord Fulgrim will not be with us any time soon.’

‘Does he send any word of his mission?’ asked Eidolon, standing at his shoulder.

‘Communications are still very poor,’ said Saeverin hesitantly, ‘but what we have does not sound encouraging.’

‘Then we will have to compensate with the excellence of our conduct and the perfection of our Legion,’ said Eidolon. ‘The other Legions may be more savage or resilient or stealthy but none of them approaches the perfection of the Emperor’s Children. No matter what lies ahead, we must never let go of that.’

‘Of course, commander,’ said Saeverin, as his console lit up with a series of warning lights. His hands danced over the console and he turned to face Eidolon. ‘Lord commander,’ he said. ‘We may have a problem.’

‘Do not speak to me of problems,’ said Eidolon.

‘Defense control has just informed me that they have picked up a Thunderhawk heading for the planet’s surface.’

‘One of ours?’

‘It appears so,’ confirmed Saeverin, bending over his console. ‘Getting confirmation now.’

‘Who’s piloting it?’ demanded Eidolon. ‘No one is authorized to travel to the surface.’

‘The last communication with the Thunderhawk indicates that it is Captain Saul Tarvitz.’

‘Tarvitz?’ said Eidolon. ‘Damn him, but he is a thorn in my side.’

‘It’s certainly him,’ said Captain Saeverin. ‘It looks like he took one of the Thunderhawks from the planetside embarkation deck.’

‘Where is he heading?’ asked Eidolon, ‘exactly.’

‘The Choral City,’ replied Saeverin.

Eidolon smiled. ‘He’s trying to warn them. He thinks he can make a difference. I thought we could use him, but he’s too damn stubborn and now he’s got it into his head that he’s a hero. Saeverin, get some fighters out there and shoot him down. We don’t need any complications now.’

‘Aye, sir,’ nodded Saeverin. ‘Fighters launching in two minutes.’

M
ERSADIE WRUNG OUT
the cloth and draped it over Euphrati’s forehead. Euphrati moaned and shook, her arms thrashing as if she was throwing a fit. She looked as pale and thin as a corpse.

‘I’m here,’ said Mersadie, even though she suspected the comatose imagist couldn’t hear her. She didn’t understand what Euphrati was going through, and it made her feel so useless.

For reasons she didn’t quite understand, she had stayed with Kyril Sindermann and Euphrati as they moved around the ship. The
Vengeful Spirit
was the size of a city and it had plenty of places in which to hide.

Word of their coming went ahead of them and wherever they went, grime-streaked engine crewmen or boiler-suited maintenance workers were there to show them to safety, supply them with food and water and catch a glimpse of the saint. At present, they sheltered inside one of the engine housings, a massive hollow tube that was normally full of burning plasma and great thrusting pistons. Now the engine was decommissioned for maintenance and it made for a good bolt-hole, hidden and secret despite its vast dimensions.