[Word Bearers 03] - Dark Creed Read online

  The other thirty figures standing on various tiers around the room were all hololiths, the monochromatic projections of those that could not be present because of their distance. There were many gaps upon the tiers; those gathered were only the ones that were available at such short notice, and all were high-ranking individuals. There were admirals and lord high commanders, all positioned only a step or two from the floor, and high-grade officers of the commissariat and Ecclesiarchy positioned higher up.

  Some of the images were clearer than others. At a glance, some appeared completely solid, excepting their monochrome colouring. Others were like ghosts, transparent and incorporeal, while others were thick with static and jerky with time-lapse, their mouths out of synch with their speech.

  Upon the lowest tier were Adeptus Astartes, the Emperor’s angels of death. All belonged to the Adeptus Praeses, the fraternity of Chapters that had been created for the sole purpose of guarding against incursions from within the Eye of Terror. They formed the first line of defence against the inhabitants of that hellish realm, responding to any threat with bolter, chainsword, unshakeable faith and the fury of the righteous.

  Once there had been twenty Chapters of the Adeptus Praeses; now there were eighteen. The Archenemy had annihilated one Chapter and, more shocking still, another had been branded Excommunicatus Traitorus.

  Aquilius’ gaze strayed around the circle of these august Space Marines.

  Chapter Masters, senior captains, Librarians, Chaplains; all were present here, members and representatives of the Adeptus Praeses. Never had he been in the presence of such prestigious individuals.

  The Chapter Master of the Marines Exemplar, twin scars ritually carved down his cheeks, stood alongside captains of the Iron Talons, barbarous-looking in their skin-draped power armour, yet utterly devoted to the Imperium. The Chief Librarian of the insular Brothers Penitent stood alongside the captain of the First Company of the Knights Unyielding, his ornamental armour plastered with purity seals and oath papers. A hooded member of the Crimson Scythes stood apart from the others, as was the way of his Chapter. Aquilius could not discern his rank.

  Finally, Aquilius’ gaze came to rest upon the last two Astartes warriors, the revered Chapter Masters of the White Consuls, Cymar Xydias and Titus Valens.

  Unusually amongst the Adeptus Astartes, the White Consuls had not one but two Chapter Masters. While one patrolled the fringes of the Eye of Terror or partook in holy warfare, the other was located back at the Chapter’s home world, Sabatine, governing the Chapter from its fortress-monastery high in the mountains. The Consuls were spread far and wide, battle-brothers and companies located across more than fifty systems at any one time, and it had served the Chapter well to have its pair of co-rulers, for the Chapter Master engaged in the theatre of war was able to concentrate his attentions fully upon the task at hand, confident that the Chapter was being run efficiently.

  The Chapter Masters were a dramatic contrast in both appearance and demeanour.

  Cymar Xydias, who had reigned as Chapter Master for almost twelve hundred years, and currently oversaw the Chapter’s movements from Sabatine, was a severe warrior with an angular face. With a piercing gaze and cutting insight, Xydias was a strategic genius; his understanding of both the flow of battle and the politics of the systems the White Consuls oversaw was masterful and inspiring. He wore a long cloak and a metal wreath of ivy upon his balding head.

  Xydias had won countless wars for the White Consuls over the centuries, glorious victories that had been forever documented in the annals of the Chapter. His perfectly executed stratagems were studied by White Consul neophytes and initiates, and he was renowned for his ability to outthink the enemy, always a dozen moves ahead. Weaving an intricate and often bewildering web of attack and counterattack, of feint and rapid redeployment, his strategic ploys had achieved unlikely victory time and again. His strategic acumen was far beyond the ken of any regular battle-brother, and Aquilius had studied every battle that Xydias had overseen.

  Where Cymar Xydias was lean and hawk-like, Chapter Master Titus Valens was a thick-necked warrior, his massive frame encased in an exoskeleton of Terminator armour that made his bulk even greater. His face was broad and blunt, his short-cropped hair sandy blond and speckled with grey where Xydias’ was white and sharply receding. His left shoulder plate bore the Crux Terminatus, the holy icon that every suit of revered Terminator armour bore, each containing a tiny fragment of the golden armour worn by the God-Emperor himself ten thousand years earlier. The Chapter symbol, a resplendent blue eagle’s head, was emblazoned upon his right, and a gleaming double-headed eagle was sculpted into his chest plate, every feather carved in immaculate detail.

  Xydias’ strategic brilliance came from a combination of natural talent, intense tutorage under the finest minds of the White Consuls and the Ultramarines in his youth, and a lifetime of study and experience. Valens’ strength lay in his instinctive comprehension of the ebb and flow of battle.

  While Chapter Master Titus Valens was as highly educated and classically trained as the most learned of the White Consuls, his true talents, as Aquilius understood it, lay in his innate understanding of warfare and its psychology. Valens always seemed to know the exact moment to press the assault in order to demoralise the enemy, the exact moment when a line was close to breaking and needed bolstering. He led the Chapter from the fore, an inspiring and prominent figure capable of turning defeat into a resounding victory with one well-timed charge.

  Aquilius idolised Xydias, emulating his logical, strategic mind. Proconsul Ostorius was a fervent supporter of Titus Valens.

  Aquilius had listened intently on the odd occasion that Ostorius spoke of the battles he had fought alongside the Chapter Master. Ostorius’ eyes would shine with passion then, and Aquilius could picture the battle in his mind’s eye as if he had been there himself. He felt the thrill that Ostorius had experienced as Valens had hurled himself into the breach at Delanok Pass time and again, heroically rallying the thirty White Consuls battle-brothers as they held for sixty-two days against a force of over ten thousand, desperately holding the line until reinforcements from the 6th and 9th Companies arrived and flanked the enemy, cutting them down mercilessly between their controlled lines of fire.

  “Give your report, Proconsul Ostorius,” said Chapter Master Titus Valens.

  The room descended into silence, every present member of the caucus listening to the Proconsul intently.

  “Honoured brethren,” said Ostorius in a loud clear voice, addressing the gathered personages. “Twenty-three minutes ago a considerable Chaos fleet was detected transferring from the warp. It is predicted that it will realise in thirty-five minutes’ time, emerging on the dark side of the Trajan Belt. I request the aid of the Adeptus Praeses to defeat this threat.”

  “From the incoming information, I see that this fleet consists of between eleven and fifteen warships of cruiser size or larger,” said Chapter Master Absalon of the Marines Exemplar. “Do we have any ship recognition yet?”

  “We do,” said Ostorius. “Archive scouts have found two matches, with more pending. The first, the battlecruiser Righteous Might, which disappeared from Imperial records in 473.M32. Its last transmission announced an attack from an unidentified raider fleet, attacking from the Maelstrom.”

  “And the second?” said one of the captains of the Iron Talons, in a thick, guttural accent.

  Ostorius nodded to the commodore of the Boros Naval Fleet, who cleared his throat before speaking.

  “A positive match on an Infernus-class battleship,” said the commodore, which caused an outbreak of muttering and consternation. “One of only seven ever launched from the forge docks of Balthasar XIX. An inefficient design. Monstrously powerful, though. We have matched the call-signature of this Infernus to that of the Flame of Purity. According to our records, the Flame of Purity turned traitor during the Heresy and suffered grievous structural damage during its aftermath care of the White Scars—your
father Legion, noble captains,” said Ostorius, nodding towards the two Space Marines of the Iron Talons.

  “We know this ship,” snarled the First Captain of the Iron Talons. “We pledge our oath to support Boros Prime. We send six companies.”

  Ostorius bowed to the Iron Talons before continuing.

  “Since 089.M33 the Flame of Purity has had confirmed sightings in eighty-four documented confrontations,” said Ostorius. “It has since been redubbed the Crucius Maledictus.”

  “The Word Bearers,” spat the warrior brother of the Crimson Scythes.

  “So it would appear,” said Ostorius.

  “Between eleven and fifteen battleships,” said the Chapter Master of the Knight Unyielding. “A sizeable force.”

  “The Crucius Maledictus was present during the destruction of the Black Consuls,” said Chapter Master Xydias. “Undoubtedly, the Word Bearers know that Boros is under the control of the White Consuls.”

  “The bastards have a taste for your bloodline,” growled one of the Iron Talons captains.

  “It would seem so,” said Chapter Master Xydias.

  “From the number of ships we are reading, I would hazard that there are around five or six Word Bearers Hosts bearing down on Boros,” said Ostorius.

  “If that is true, we may be facing anywhere between five and fifteen thousand Word Brother zealots,” said Chapter Master Valens. “Plus whatever foul allies they have brought with them.”

  “Engines?” said a senior Imperial Guard warmaster.

  “Highly likely,” said Chapter Master Xydias. “The traitorous Legio Vulturus has been codified as fighting alongside the Word Bearers on dozens of occasions, often in the same systems in which the Crucius Maledictus has been sighted. It would be wise to expect to face Titans if the enemy was to make planetfall.”

  “Pray it does not come to that, brother,” said Absalon of the Marines Exemplar.

  “With the Emperor’s grace, it will not,” said Chapter Master Valens. “But we must be prepared for the eventuality.”

  “I will notify Lord Commander Horacio and the Princeps Senioris engaged in the Thraxian campaign,” said the Chapter Master Absalon. “I shall request that they spare some of the Princeps’ Legios, upon the off-chance that the Archenemy makes planetfall. I am certain that the Legio Gryphonicus would relish the opportunity to exact their revenge upon the engines of their dark kin.”

  “My thanks,” said Chapter Master Xydias, graciously. “I need not remind you all of the importance of the Boros Gate. If the enemy were to claim it, then they would have an open path into Segmentum Solar and the heart of the Imperium. All available White Consuls battle-brothers will be marshalled to meet this threat head on. The only warriors of our Chapter who shall not answer this call are those officiating as Proconsuls and Coadjutors of our protectorate systems, and the Praetorian squads of Sabatine itself. The 8th and 9th reserve Companies are already mobilising here, for immediate transference. Brother Valens?”

  “The war here in Bellasus VII is almost done,” said Co-Chapter Master Valens. “Astartes presence is no longer required to complete the pacification. I shall disengage and lead the four battle companies with me to the Boros Gate immediately. The Divine Splendour shall lead my armada.”

  Aquilius was impressed. The White Consuls were a fleet-heavy Chapter with three immense battle-barges and more than a dozen strike cruisers at their disposal. Fully two-thirds of the fleet was always scouring the fringes of the Eye of Terror, ever vigilant for incursion. That two of the Chapter’s three hallowed battle-barges, the Divine Splendour and the Righteous Fury, were being re-routed to the Boros system, together with virtually the entirety of the White Consuls Chapter, spoke of the level of threat that the enemy posed.

  “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 realtime. It will take us seven weeks of warp travel once we have mobilised, yet it will take less than an hour in real-space 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’ 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. Battle-fleet 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, w
hich 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.