Galaxy in Flames (34 page)

‘Now, Solathen!’ shouted Tarvitz. ‘Kill him! He betrayed us all!’

He watched as Lucius turned towards the dome’s entrance, seeing the warriors Solathen had rallied and brought to him. Solathen obeyed Tarvitz’s command instantly, as a good Emperor’s Children should, and the dome was suddenly filled with the bark of gunfire. Lucius dived out of the way, but even he wasn’t quick enough to avoid a volley of bolter shells.

Lucius jerked and danced in the fusillade, sparks and blood flying from his armour. He rolled across the floor, scrabbling for a hole in the wall blasted by the months of battle as the gunfire of the loyalist Emperor’s Children tore into him.

‘Kill him!’ yelled Tarvitz, but Lucius was faster than he would have believed possible, diving from the dome as shells tore up scorched frescoes around him.

Tarvitz pushed himself to his feet and staggered over towards where Lucius had escaped.

Beyond the dome, the outer precincts of the palace were a nightmarish landscape of craters and blackened ruins. A pall of smoke hung over the battlefield the palace had become and he smashed his fist into the wall in frustration as he saw that the swordsman had vanished.

‘Captain Tarvitz?’ said Solathen. ‘Reporting as ordered.’

Tarvitz turned from his search for Lucius, pushing his frustrations aside and focusing on the more immediate matter of counter-attacking Eidolon’s warriors.

‘My thanks, Solathen. I owe you my life,’ he said.

The warrior nodded as Tarvitz picked up a fallen bolter and checked the magazine to make sure he had a full load.

‘Now come on,’ he said grimly. ‘Let’s show these bastards how the real Emperor’s Children fight!’

SEVENTEEN

Winning is survival

Dies Irae

The end

‘B
ETRAYER
,’
SAID
L
OKEN
, stepping into the parliament house.

‘There was nothing to betray,’ retorted Abaddon.

Even after all that had happened on Isstvan III, the word betrayal had the power to ignite the ever-present anger inside him.

‘I envy you this, Loken,’ continued Abaddon. ‘To you the galaxy must seem so simple. So long as there’s someone you can call enemy you’ll fight to the death and think you are right.’

‘I know I am right, Ezekyle!’ shouted Loken. ‘How can this be anything but wrong? The death of this city and the murder of your brothers? What has happened to you, Abaddon, to turn you into this?’

Abaddon stepped down off the stage, leaving Aximand to stand alone at the lectern. In his Terminator armour Abaddon was far taller than Loken and he knew from witnessing the first captain in battle that he could still fight as skillfully as any Astartes in power armour.

‘Isstvan III was forced upon us by the inability of small minds to understand reality,’ said Abaddon. ‘Do you think I have been a part of this, and that I am here, because I enjoy killing my brothers? I
believe
, Loken, as surely as you do. There are powers in this galaxy that even the Emperor does not understand. If he leaves humanity to wither on the vine in his selfish quest for godhood then those powers will swamp us and every single human being in this galaxy will die. Can you understand the enormity of that concept? The whole human race! The Warmaster does, and that is why he must take the Emperor’s place to deal with these threats.’

‘Deal with them?’ said Torgaddon, shaking his head. ‘You are a fool, Ezekyle, we saw what Erebus was doing. He has lied to you all. You have made a pact with evil powers.’

‘Evil?’ said Aximand. ‘They saved the Warmaster’s life. I have seen their power and it is within the Warmaster’s ability to control them. You think we are fools, that we are blind? The forces of the warp are the key to this galaxy. That is what the Emperor cannot understand. The Warmaster will be lord of the warp as well of the Imperium and then we will rule the stars.’

‘No,’ replied Loken. ‘The Warmaster has become corrupted. If he takes the throne it will not be humanity that rules the galaxy, it will be something else. You know that, Little Horus, even if Ezekyle doesn’t. He doesn’t care about the galaxy; he just wants to be on the winning side.’

Abaddon smiled, slowly approaching Loken as Torgaddon circled towards Horus Aximand. ‘Winning is survival, Loken. You die, you lose, and nothing you ever believed ever meant anything. I live, I win, and you might as well have never existed. Victory, Loken. It’s the only thing in the galaxy that means anything. You should have spent more time being a soldier, maybe then you would have ended up on the winning side.’

Loken held up his sword, trying to gauge Abaddon’s movements. ‘There is always time to decide who wins.’

He could see Abaddon tensing up, ready to strike, and knew that the first captain’s taunting was just a cover.

‘Loken, you have come so far,’ said Abaddon, ‘and you still don’t understand what we’re doing here. We’re not so far from human that we’re not allowed a few mistakes, but to fight us instead of realizing what the Warmaster is trying to achieve… that’s unforgivable.’

‘Then what’s your mistake, Ezekyle?’

‘Talking too much,’ replied Abaddon, launching himself towards Loken with his bladed fist bathed in lethal energies.

T
ORGADDON WATCHED AS
Abaddon charged towards Loken, taking that as his cue to attack Little Horus. His former comrade had seen the intent in his eyes and leapt to meet him as Loken and Abaddon smashed apart the pews along the nave.

They met in a clatter of battle plate, fighting with all the strength and hatred that only those who were once brothers, but are now bitter enemies, can muster. They grappled like wrestlers until Aximand flung Torgaddon’s arms wide and smashed his elbow into his jaw.

He fell back, blocked the right cross slashing for his face, and closed with Aximand, cracking an armoured knee into his opponent’s midriff.

Little Horus stumbled and Torgaddon knew that it would take more than a knee in the guts to halt a warrior such as Aximand. His former brother was powerfully built, his strength, poise and skill the equal of Torgaddon’s.

The two warriors faced one another, and Torgaddon could see a look of regret flash across Little Horus’s face.

‘Why are you doing this?’ asked Torgaddon.

‘You said you were against us,’ replied Aximand.

‘And we are.’

Both warriors lowered their guards; they were brothers, members of the Mournival who had seen so many battles together that there was no need for posturing. They both knew how the other fought.

‘Tarik,’ said Aximand, ‘if this could have ended another way, we would have taken it. None of us would have chosen this way.’

‘Little Horus, when did you realize how far you had gone? Was it when the Warmaster told you we were going to be bombed, or some time before?’

Aximand glanced over to where Loken and Abaddon fought. ‘You can walk away from this, Tarik. The Warmaster wants Loken dead, but he said nothing about you.’

Torgaddon laughed. ‘We called you Little Horus because you looked so like him, but we were wrong. Horus never had that doubt in his eyes. You’re not sure, Aximand. Maybe you’re on the wrong side. Maybe this is the last chance you’ve got to end your life as a Space Marine and not as a slave.’

Aximand smiled bleakly. ‘I’ve seen it, Tarik, the warp. You can’t stand against that.’

‘And yet here I am.’

‘If you had just taken the chance the lodge gave you, you would have seen it too. They can give us such power. If you only knew, Tarik, you’d join us in a second. The whole future would be laid out before you.’

‘You know I can’t back down. No more than you can.’

‘Then this is it?’

‘Yes, it is. As you said, none of us would have chosen this.’

Aximand readied himself. ‘Just like the practice cages, Tarik.’

‘No,’ said Torgaddon, ‘nothing like that.’

T
HE ENERGISED CLAW
swung at Loken’s head, and he ducked, too late seeing it for the feint it was. Abaddon grabbed him by the edge of his shoulder guard and drove his knee into Loken’s stomach. Ceramite buckled and Loken felt pain knife into him as bones broke.

Abaddon released him and punched him in the face. He was thrown against the wall of the parliament, scorched plaster and brick falling around him.

‘The Warmaster wanted me to bring the Justaerin, but I told him it was an insult.’

Loken saw his sword lying on the floor beside him and slid down the wall to grab it. He pushed off the wall, pivoting past Abaddon’s slashing fist, swinging the blade towards the first captain’s face.

Abaddon blocked the blow with his forearm, reaching out to pluck Loken from his feet and hurl him towards the parliament building’s wall. The world spun away from him and suddenly there was pain.

His vision blurred as he smacked into the ground and shards of stone flew up around him. The pain within him felt strange, as if it belonged to someone else. It felt as if his back was broken and a treacherous voice in his mind whispered that the pain would go away if he just gave up and let it all go away in a fog of oblivion. His grip tightened on his sword and he let his anger fuel his strength to fight against the voice in his head that told him to give up.

A long time ago, Loken had sworn an oath to his Emperor, and that oath was never to give up, even as the moment of death approached. His vision swam back into focus, and he looked up to see the hole in the parliament house’s wall his body had smashed.

Loken rolled onto his front as Abaddon’s massive armoured form charged towards him, smashing aside the blackened remains of the breach.

He scrambled to his feet and backed away, letting Abaddon’s fist swing past him. He darted in, stabbing with his sword, but the thick plates of his enemy’s armour turned the blade aside. He scrambled back up the steps of the parliament house, hearing Torgaddon and Little Horus fighting within and knowing that he needed his brother’s strength to triumph.

‘You can’t run forever!’ roared Abaddon as he turned to follow him, his steps ponderous and heavy.

S
AUL
T
ARVITZ GRINNED
like a hunter who had finally run his prey to ground. The warriors he and Solathen led cut a bloody swathe through Eidolon’s warriors, killing them without mercy as they themselves had been killed so recently. What had once been an attack that threatened to overwhelm them utterly was now in danger of becoming a rout for the traitors.

Gunfire echoed fiercely through the palace as the loyalists unleashed volley after volley of gunfire at anything that moved. Loyalist Space Marines surrounded Eidolon’s assault force and, attacked on two fronts. The lord commander’s force was buckling.

Tarvitz could see warriors with missing limbs or massive open wounds struggling in the desperate fight, jostling to get a position where they could kill the traitors who had so nearly overrun them. His own sword reaped a bloody tally as he killed warriors he had once fought with and bled alongside, each sword blow a cruel twist of fate that brought aching sadness as much as it did cathartic satisfaction.

He saw Eidolon in the centre of the battle, smashing warriors to ruin with each swing of his hammer and fought his way through the battle to reach the lord commander. His own body ached from the duel with Lucius, but he knew that there was no point in calling for an apothecary. Whatever wounds he was suffering from would never have a chance to heal. It would end here, Tarvitz knew, but it would be a hell of a fight and he had never felt more proud to lead these brave warriors into battle.

To have such noble fighters almost undone by a supposedly loyal comrade’s betrayal was a galling, yet somehow fitting end to their struggle. Lucius had very nearly cost them this battle and Tarvitz swore that if he lived through this hell, he would see the bastard dead once and for all.

The lord commander was almost within his reach, but no sooner had Eidolon seen him than the traitors began falling back in disciplined ranks. Tarvitz wanted to scream in frustration, but knew better than to simply hurl himself after his foe.

‘Firing line across the nave!’ shouted Tarvitz at the top of his voice and instantly, a contingent of Astartes formed up and began firing disciplined volleys of bolter fire at the retreating enemy.

He lowered his sword and leaned against the broken wall as he realised that, against all odds, they had held once more. Before he had a moment to savour the unlikeliness of their latest victory, the vox-bead chimed in his ear.

‘Captain Tarvitz,’ said a voice he recognised as one of the Luna Wolves,

‘Tarvitz here,’ he said.

‘This is Vipus, captain. The position on the roof is sound but we’ve got company.’

‘I know,’ replied Tarvitz. ‘The Sons of Horus.’

‘Worse than that,’ said Vipus. ‘To the west, look up.’

Tarvitz pushed through the remains of the battle and scanned the sky above the crumbling, smoke wreathed ruins. Something moved towards the palace, something distant, but utterly huge.

‘Sweet Terra,’ he said, ‘the
Dies Irae
.’

‘I’ll make the Titan our priority target,’ swore Vipus.

‘No, you can’t hurt it. Just kill enemy Space Marines.’

‘Yes, captain.’

‘Enemy units!’ a voice yelled from near the temple entrance. ‘Armour and support!’

Tarvitz pushed himself from the wall, drawing on his last reserves of energy to once again muster his warriors for the defence of the palace. ‘Assault units by the doors! All other Astartes, fire at will!’

Tarvitz could see a huge strike force of enemy forces, boxy Land Raiders and Rhinos massing on the outskirts of the Precentor’s Palace. Beyond them, Sons of Horus, World Eaters and Emperor’s Children set up fields of fire to surround the temple.

The
Dies Irae
would soon be in range to blast them with its enormous weaponry.

‘They’ll be coming again soon,’ shouted Tarvitz, ‘but we’ll see them off again, my brothers! No matter what occurs, they will not forget the fight we’ve given them here!’