Damn it, was he getting superstitious in his old age?
His gaze turned towards the insane construction that rose like a needle into the atmosphere. It was hard to believe it was over a thousand kilometres away.
It had to be destroyed. Five days, he thought.
'I am withdrawing the Host back to the defensive earthworks and bunkers outside the ruins of the city, my lord,' growled Kol Badar. He squeezed the trigger of his combi-bolter and ragged fire ripped apart the chest of yet another enemy trooper. There were thousands of them advancing all along the battle front and the Coryphaus's armour was slick with gore and the foul, milky, nutrient-rich blood of the Skitarii.
'I cannot hold them at the mountains with the valleys destroyed and our numbers are too few to halt them on the salt plains,' he said as he gunned down more soldiers advancing relentlessly into the Word Bearers' fire. The ground was liberally littered with the dead, yet the enemy continued to advance, stepping over the bodies of their fallen comrades. Others were crushed beneath the rolling tracks of battle tanks and mechanised crawlers. Earth and bodies exploded around him as shells from battle cannons pounded the line. Searing lascannons silenced a Leman Russ tank, blowing its turret clear of its chassis and Kol Badar heard the roars of the Warmonger nearby as the revered ancient one relived some long past battle as it killed.
The voice of his master, the Dark Apostle, throbbed in his head.
The time of the Gehemehnet's awakening draws near. Allow it to be interrupted and your pain shall know no bounds, my Coryphaus.
'I would gladly give my life in sacrifice for my failures, my lord,' said Kol Badar as he stepped slowly backwards, snapping off sharp bursts of fire left and right.
'Seventh and eighteenth coterie, close ranks and give covering fire,' he ordered, switching his comm-channel briefly. 'Twenty-first and eleventh, disengage and back off.'
You have a duty to perform, Kol Badar, and you will have no such release while it remains unfulfilled.
'Burias, ensure they do not encircle us with their light vehicles. Engage and destroy them,' he ordered before closing the comm once again.
'My lord is merciful.'
No, I am not. Your failure will not go unpunished, nor will it be forgotten. Allow none to assail the Gehemehnet. Sacrifice every last warrior-brother before you allow a single enemy to launch an attack against it. Do this and the Dark Council will be pleased. Fail again and eternal torment will be yours.
'I will fight them every step of the way, my lord,' swore Kol Badar. 'I have ordered Bokkar and the reserve to strengthen the defences, preparing for the arrival of the Host. We will hold.'
Succeed in this, my Coryphaus, and I will give you what you most desire. I will give you the First Acolyte, and you can finish what you once started.
Kol Badar blinked his eyes in surprise. He clenched his power claw tightly, the talons of the mighty weapon crackling with energy as he slew another pair of enemy soldiers, his fire cutting through their midsections. He chuckled in anticipation and felt a savage joy fire within him.
'I will not fail, my lord. I swear it before all the great gods of Chaos. I will not fail.'
BOOK THREE:
ASCENSION
'With victories over others, we conquer. But with victories over ourselves, we are exalted. There must always be contests, and you must always win.'
- Kor Phaeron - Master of the Faith
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The Imperial Dictator class cruiser Vigilance moved soundlessly through the void of space as it rounded the war-torn planet, dropping into close orbit. The calculations had to be absolutely precise and the logic engines housed within the bridge had been working constantly to provide the complex algorithms calculating the exact moment for the barrage to be unleashed.
The area of jammed communications was broad: to risk the Vigilance entering the field was testament to the severity of the threat. All sensory equipment was rendered useless as soon as they entered the zone. Even the astropaths were unable to pierce the gloom projected up from the planet's surface. Once within the field, the Vigilance was utterly cut off from the outside world. The only guiding light was that of the Astronomican, which Navigators could still thankfully perceive.
Nevertheless, to launch an orbital bombardment essentially blind was highly unorthodox and the risks were high. However, the Admiral had been insistent and the cogitators had been consulted to predict the exact mathematics required to plan such an endeavour.
The approach of the cruiser was painstakingly enacted. If it were but a fraction of a degree off its angle of approach, if its speed was slightly out and the tip of the massive cruiser off by the smallest fraction then the bombardment would miss the planet altogether, or would fall far from the target. Worse, it could fall upon the Imperial Guard on the planet's surface far below.
With its holo-screens blank and its sensor arrays rendered inoperative, the Dictator cruiser advanced into position. Muttering prayers to the Emperor that the algorithms he had been provided with were accurate and that his team of logisticians had coordinated them exactly, the ship's flag-captain breathed out slowly as the gunnery master initiated the launch sequence. The port battery, housing hundreds of massive weapons that could cripple a battle cruiser, were activated. Thousands of indentured workers slaved to match the exact range and trajectory initiated by the gunnery crew as they readied to fire. The gunnery captain prayed that his barrage would fall against the target.
His worry was in vain, for the Vigilance never had a chance to unleash its orbital bombardment.
A surge of warp energy from the infant Gehemehnet surged from the tower, creating an opening to the Ether for the smallest fraction of a second. In that brief flicker, the darkness of space was replaced with the roiling, red netherworld, a place of horror where the natural laws of the universe held no sway, and the nightmares of those of the material plane were given form. It was filled with screams and roars and the deafening, maddening blare of Chaos. It lasted but the blink of an eye, but when it passed, the Vigilance had gone with it, dragged into the realm of the Chaos gods.
Without the protection of its Gellar field, which it had no time to erect, the cruiser was overran with hundreds of thousands of daemonic entities, its structure turned inside out. The physical forms of those unfortunates within the Dictator cruiser were driven instantly insane at the exposure to the pure energy of the warp, their bodies mutating wildly as Chaos took hold. Their souls were devoured and their screams joined with those of countless billions who had been consumed to feed the insatiable gods of the realm. Within the blink of an eye the Vigilance was no more.
Marduk was rocked as the fledgling strength of the Gehemehnet surged. Such staggering power!
Only once before had he witnessed the birthing of a Gehemehnet, for to construct one of the potent totems was a draining experience. Only the most powerful Dark Apostles would even attempt to create one, and the process would often leave them shattered wrecks, weak shadows of their former selves.
Jarulek's presence was evidence of the truth of this. Marduk had been shocked by the appearance of his master when he had arrived back at the rained shell of the once prosperous Imperial city.
Jarulek seemed to have aged several millennia. His skin was sunken and wasted, and bones and spider-web lines of veins were clearly visible beneath translucent, script inscribed flesh. His lips were thin and drawn back from his teeth like those of a long-dead corpse. Deep, dark, sepulchral sockets surrounded his eyes, though they flashed with defiant strength.