Tiny pinpricks of light, countless thousands of them, marked the soul fires of the mortal worker slaves who toiled over the physical construct of the Gehemehnet. They were like tiny burning suns. Some burnt bright and fierce, their spirits strong, while others grew pale and faltering. Carrion daemons of the warp clustered around each burning soul fire, along with an endless myriad of daemons of other bizarre and horrific forms. They clumped around the souls of the living like cold children around a campfire in winter, straggling against each other to be the closest to the blaze. The mortals were completely unaware of the attention that they received, save perhaps for an occasional feeling of coldness, or a flicker of movement in the corner of the eye.
The kathartes were there, clustered around the bright soul lights, and they raised their beautiful, pristine and predatory feminine faces at his approach. They kicked away from their vigils and soared towards him upon glowing feathered wings. In the Ether they were angelic and alluring - it was only when they breached the material plane that they became twisted hag furies.
As he drew nearer the pulsating Gehemehnet, he saw the soul fire of one of the slaves flicker and dim as the man gave up his hold on his mortal body. Instantly, the pale light of the spirit was set upon by the daemons huddled around it and its light was hidden amongst the dense ball of daemons that were wild in their ravenous feeding frenzy as they consumed the unfortunate soul.
The soul fire of one slave drew his attention, for it was different from the others. It was bright and fierce, with a grand cluster of over a thousand ethereal denizens of the warp around it, and Marduk could feel their expectation. This one was favoured indeed, he thought.
A sudden tug upon his spirit pulled at Marduk and he allowed himself to be drawn towards the calling. In an instant he had passed through the walls of the shattered palace of Shinar and hovered before the Dark Apostle. He was infused with light, a strong presence in the warp as in reality. He turned his earthly eyes to look at Marduk and smiled.
'Welcome, my First Acolyte. I thought I felt your questing spirit lurking nearby.'
I wished to see the glory of your Gehemehnet with more than the limited faculties of my mortal being, my lord.
'Of course. Its power waxes strong.'
It does, my lord. It is nearing completion?
'It is close, but I need your strength, First Acolyte, to complete the rituals of binding. This is why I recalled you from battle.'
The battle fares poorly. It is shaming.
'I would sacrifice the entire Host in order to fulfill the will of the Dark Council, if such was needed.'
And the warrior-brothers of the Legion will lay their lives down if that is what is required of them.
'Yet you struggle, First Acolyte. Why is that?'
The Coryphaus must be punished for his failures.
'Must? You would make demands of me, First Acolyte?'
No, my lord.
'I have faith in my Coryphaus, First Acolyte. To doubt his abilities is a reflection of your doubt of me, for he is my chosen representative in all matters of war. You would insult me in such a way, dear Marduk?'
No, my lord.
'Do not defy me, young one. You are no Dark Apostle yet, and I hold the key to your future within my hand. I can destroy you at my will.'
It will be as you will it, Dark Apostle, said Marduk, and took his leave. His spirit soared high into the upper atmosphere. Hundreds of daemons were drawn to him, feeding upon the hot emotions of hate and anger flowing from his spirit.
The tent flap was thrown open and Havorn stooped to enter the shelter. The air was heavy and cloying with the stale smell of sweat. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloom before he could make out the three medicae officers standing over the cot in the corner. One of them approached him, saluting, and he recognised the man as Michelac, the chief surgeon of the 133rd. His black rimmed eyes were tired.
'It's not good, sir,' he said.
'What the hell happened?' asked Havorn.
'Astropath Klistorman collapsed late yesterday afternoon, as you know. He was ranting and was suffering severe convulsions, and he was bleeding from the nose. I suspected an internal haemorrhage within his brain: such a thing could have been building there for months. But he seemed to regain his strength this morning and he seemed to have suffered no ill effects.
'This afternoon, however, he has had a series of episodes. He is sleeping now, but they are getting worse.'
'There are other astropaths with the fleet. This is war, medic, and people die. Why did you call me down here?'
The medicae officer licked his dry, cracked lips.
'His ranting has disturbed me. He has spoken of things that chill my soul.'
'You fear possession?' asked Havorn sharply, his hand falling to his holstered weapon.
'No sir, not that, thankfully,' said the man hurriedly. 'But… I know that astropaths are powerful psykers, sir. I am no expert in such things, but I am of the understanding that they are able to see things that humble men like I cannot. In my opinion, that is not a blessing but a curse.'
'So what has he been speaking of?'
'When his words are decipherable, he has been speaking of some construction of the enemy. It will erupt with power when the "Red orb waxes strongest" I believe were his words. Given that there is a damned big red planet hanging in the sky, I thought that you might wish to know what he said.'
Havorn walked to the side of the cot and looked down upon his astropath. The man was skeletally thin, his skin ashen. He wore a metallic, domed helmet over his head and his eyes were concealed beneath it, though there were no eye slits or visor. Pipes and wiring protruded from the back of the helmet, disappearing beneath his high-necked, sweat soaked robes. He was bound with leather straps, holding him firmly upon the cot.
'I didn't want to remove any of his accoutrements. I feared that I might harm him, or me,' muttered the medic. 'I ordered him restrained so that he did not harm himself if he had another seizure.'
Havorn nodded.
'Did he say what would happen when this power he talked about was unleashed?' he asked.
'He was not particularly lucid, sir. Most of his words were gibberish. He did, however, talk of hell being unleashed and of this world being turned inside out.'
The astropath coughed suddenly, blood and phlegm on his lips, and then he began to go into severe convulsions. The muscles in his neck strained as his entire body went rigid and shook, and the medic pushed a piece of leather between his teeth to stop him from biting though his own tongue. He twitched spasmodically for thirty seconds before going limp, his breathing heavy and ragged. He spat the leather from his mouth and turned his sightless gaze towards Brigadier-General Havorn.
'It draws near!' he said in a coarse whisper, flecks of foam spitting from his mouth. 'As the red orb waxes strong, it will erupt! Damnation! It will awaken Damnation! Destroy it before the time comes. It is…' The man's words dissolved into unintelligible gargles as another fit took hold of him.
'See to him as best you can,' said Havorn and he took his leave. Walking out of the tent, he raised his gaze to the giant red planet Korsis looming overhead. He had been told that it would be at its closest to Tanakreg in five days time.
Five days to wipe the enemy clear of the planet before whatever it was that the astropath had seen would occur. He wished that he could discount the man's fevered words as those of a diseased mind, but he felt that there was something in them.