Lucian and Alec were there to greet Verian as he emerged from the transport. They smiled at the sight of him returning under his own strength, walking unaided. Brother-Apothecary Karl had patched him up as best as he could be at the time. Still, he had caught the weary looks exchanged between them before they had fully seen him properly.
On the way back up to the ship, Verian had caught sight of a Black Ship, one of the mighty cruisers manned by the Sisters, hovering in orbit close by the Emperor's Fist. Though they were some of the most useful and loyal warriors in the Imperium, the Sisters of Silence never failed to unnerve those in close proximity to them, the Imperial Fist Astartes being no exception. They were supposed to project an aura around them that nullified psychic powers but it seemed even those without those special abilities were put off-balance when around them.
The hairs on the back of Verian's neck pricked up and he turned to see the Sister who had saved him back at the communications tower was emerging. As she drew nearer, he noted that she stood head and shoulders shorter than him yet a sense of unease filled him as she regarded him coolly before turning and walking away towards the bridge.
Sieur Voltan and his attendants were being carried to the infirmary by servitors and the members of the two Imperial Fist Tactical squads disembarked, removing helmets and looking mostly relieved to be back on the familiar ground of their ship. The events down on Aretus Beta had disturbed some of them; the nature of their enemy and the idea of once again purging some lost sector of human inhabitancy.
"That was quite something, Verian," Lucian began, watching as the procession of troops moved off. "We were starting to get worried. Something seems to have been happening on the surface on the planet. If you'd seen it from where we were, you'd have been worried too. After we lost communications, we thought it was going to be all over. Kesian was all ready gearing up to lead the Terminator squads down to spearhead an assault on the planet."
"And then those psycho women showed up." Alec glanced up the way the Sister had gone, confirming she was gone before continuing. Verian frowned at Alec's disparaging description of the Sisters but remained silent. "A Black Ship, out of nowhere… We were hailed and well…one does not refuse hails from them. A few moments later, a squad of those Sisters turned up and one of them decided to take one of our ships to the planet surface to where your homing beacon had just become active. It looks like she succeeded, whatever she went down there for."
Verian pondered this. If the Sisters of Silence were here, it meant psyker activity. It meant that the Imperial Fists were to encounter things which might require more than a chainsword, bolter and courage in the heart. Recalling the battles that had raged down on the surface of Aretus Beta, thinking back to how resilient the enemy had been when they should have crumbled before their assault, he figured now some sort of psychic activity must have been active, strengthening them beyond human limits.
When he had been having the life choked out of him by that creature back on the top of the communications tower, it had drawn back, repelled by the other woman. What had she been doing down there? To save him? Unlikely… Maybe…
Verian's comlink flashed, as did Alec's and Lucian's. They were wanted on the bridge; emergency meeting. He exchanged nods with them and headed there with all haste. Something big was about to happen and the three captains' presence was needed. Verian felt like he was in great need of rest but it seemed that would have to wait, for what seemed like a very long weight. Such was the life of an Astartes…
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"You took your time again, Verian." He saluted and marched up to Captain Efried on the bridge. The other captains gathered around the main holodisplay, Lucian and Alec on either side of him, Kesian opposite, gazing into the projection of the planet. At a distance, standing in the shadows, Verian caught a glimpse of a small group of golden armoured warriors; Sisters of Silence, more of them… Among their number, he caught the eyes of the same warrior on him and he looked away, looked left out the main viewport looking down on the planet and blinked.
The sight was…interesting. Where before the planet had appeared to be nothing remarkable at first, now he could see vast flames had spread across the surface, three great circles blazing through the sea of green forestation, meeting where the city centre lay. He hadn't noticed it as he was evacuating but now he saw it, he understood the worry that had marked the faces of his battle-brothers.
Captain Efried cleared his throat and silence fell throughout the bridge, but for the low humming of the ship's machinery working. He paced before them, before pointing at a point on the map, zooming in to show the city. "The inhabitants of Aretus Beta have finally shown their hand, thanks to the efforts of Captain Larcius and Sieur Voltan. Their intentions have been shown to be both hostile and dangerous. Furthermore, the observations from orbit and information from the astropaths have revealed the Aretans to be building up a vast quantity of psychic energy. Their purpose and objectives are unknown but we should have the advantage in this conflict."
The commander looked over at the group of women briefly before looking away, just as unnerved as the rest of them though suppressing his discomfort by a grimace. "We will be aided by a force of Sisters, led by Lady Laurana. The main target is the focal point of the psychic buildup; the palace. Kesian and the Tenth will lead the assault on this objective point, supported by Lady Laurana and Captain Larcius' company. Captains Aurelius and Scipio are to take their companies and secure the palace from external assaults. There have been vast movements of the population since Captain Larcius returned and we have reason to believe they may have turned hostile. They need to be repelled so the main objective can be accomplished. That is all. My company will be held back in reserve should you require reinforcements."
The holodisplay deactivated, leaving them all in darkness as the company captains dispersed to tend to their troops. As they were leaving, Verian felt as if there were eyes upon him. He had a suspicion at the back of his mind as to where the stare was coming from but he tried to ignore it, kept walking. It was only when he was out in the corridor that Alec leaned over. "You might want to look out, Verian. You seem to have attracted the attention of someone and she looks like the kind whose attention you don't want."
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Verian stood on one of the observation decks, gazing down on Aretus Beta, soon to feel the wrath of the Imperium. His body was still weary from the previous battles but he found he couldn't rest. It tended to be like this at every war zone; he'd only be able to rest properly when the campaign was over and they were in transit to the next theatre of war. He'd normally roam his living cell, pacing back and forth in the confined space or be in the training halls, practicing motions he'd done a thousand times already. This time instead, he stood here, still, his massive form encased in his beaten yellow battle armour.
The overhead chronometer told him that in six hours, he had to return to main preparation zone to attend to his company. This time, they were going in hard; a full infantry strike to force their way inside the palace and destroy the leader of Aretus Beta, along with all his guard. Hopefully that would break the hold over the people…or make things worse. They'd have to find out…
And the Sisters of Silence were here. Despite the added strength that lent to the Imperial forces, their presence usually spoke of a much deep danger than the ones the Astartes were used to. The Sisters were psychic-blanks, witchseekers, projecting an aura around them that nullified all psychic powers. This repelling nature extended to their very demeanour so that they didn't even speak, sworn to silence in their duties. Their presence made psykers recoil in fear and agony. It made even non-psychic users like Verian uncomfortable to be around.
The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as that same feeling overcame him and though he heard not a sound, he knew that one of the Silent sisterhood stood right behind him. He revolved slowly on the spot to find the familiar figure of the Sister he had seen on the rooftop of the communication tower. Her helmet was held under one arm, revealing beautiful features beneath. Her golden armour shone in the low-level lights, a long power sword sheathed at her side, bolt pistol on her other hip. Behind her stood a smaller figure, a younger girl in black robes with a cowl drawn over her head.
He inclined his head in a show of respect as he watched her. Returning this action, the Sister made a few signs with her hands. Verian looked, confused for a moment as to what she meant. As if in answer to this, the girl behind spoke up suddenly. "Lady Jaina Hakuria wishes to greet you in the name of the Emperor. You fought well in his name and do honour to your Legion."
The captain was slightly taken aback but inclined his head again in acknowledgement. So…the other girl spoke for the Sister, articulating the words that the silent one was forbidden to by oath. He addressed the Sister directly, looking her in the eye as he spoke. "Thank you, my lady. But why did you come personally to the surface? It was unnecessary for you to accompany the Thunderhawk down when the others of my Legion."
More hands signs. The Sister cocked her head to one side as she regarded him, unblinking, eyes scanning him up and down as if taking measure of him. The novice behind her spoke again, voice quiet and secretive. "The Imperial Tarot was cast on Luna. Great danger to the Imperium lurks beneath the surface of Aretus Beta, danger that requires you to defeat…"
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Back in the dropship again… Twelve hours had passed since he had returned to the Emperor's Fist but now it was back into the field. Verian sighed and redonned his helmet, sealing it up, hands running through the weapon checks with the effortlessness of countless previous repetitions. The words of the Sister still worried by but he tried to force those thoughts down. He had a mission ahead of him and he needed to be focussed.
Squads Iovius and Laevinus were onboard with him, the members who were too injured to fight having remained behind on the ship. Both Sergeants were eager to get back down and start avenging their fallen comrades with fire and flame. They moved down the line, checking on each of their men before the action.
The eight other squads of the Twentieth company were also onboard; Tactical squads, Assault squads, equipped with jump packs and armed with chainswords and bolt pistols, Devastator squads, hefting heavy lascannons and heavy bolters. This time, they were better prepared for the enemy they faced. The Aretans would rue the day they thought to challenge the might of the Imperial Fist Legion and the Sons of Dorn.
The descent to the planet's surface was much faster than before, the Thunderhawks racing for the earth. As they drew nearer, the sounds outside increased, a roar erupting from the wings as heavy bolters opened up and showered the landing area with heavy rounds, shattering the armour of the Aretans like dry egg shells. They were near to the landing zone where the envoy ship had first landed. The wreckage had been cleared away and it lay open for them to land in now.
Out of the viewports, Verian could see two other Thunderhawks sweeping low to deliver Alec and Lucian's companies to hold off the population. From this distance, he could see a tide of bodies, a horde of civilians surging forward with no more than crude hunting equipment, sharp tools and brands of fire. A ragged cry rose from their masses and the Imperials responded with bolter fire and flame.
Verian looked away. This was not what should happen; Imperials having to turn their weapons on their fellow man. But even he could remember the blaze of fanaticism in the eyes of these traitors and knew that if they didn't fight, they would be killed. Something was very wrong on this planet and they were sorting it out in the only way left available to them.
They were fifty metres off the ground when a fork of lightning stabbed down from the heavens and smashed into the Thunderhawk. Alarms went off all around Verian. The ship was suddenly jinking wildly, shaking violently so much that it felt like the ship was coming apart. The nose of the ship dropped and the ground rose rapidly up to meet them. Verian watched in slow motion as their Thunderhawk nose-dived for the earth. "Frak…"
The next moments happened as blurs. It felt like Thunderhawk was caught in a tornado, Astartes reaching for hand holds to grip hold on to lest they be sent flying by the wild piloting of the crew. Proximity alarms joined the chorus of screeching and with a resounding crash, the ship struck the earth. The hull around them was shredded, ripped apart as if by some great giant of old, extinct mythology. It peeled back, revealing its precious cargo as flashes of lasers opened up from above. Verian took a headcount of the survivors. Most sounded off without difficulty, kept safe in their power armour. Casualties had been thankfully low considering the state of the ship.
Imperial Fists piled out rapidly, bolters blazing as the squads fanned out, sending the black armoured palace guard flying back from their posts as heavy rounds found their mark. While before the honour guard had been on the defence with few numbers and weapons, now, the Astartes laid down withering, overlapping fields of fire that pulverised their enemies. Aretan soldiers were on the high walls around them and a swarm on the courtyard below, charging forward to try and overwhelm the Imperials swiftly by weight of numbers. Verian leapt out, power sword flashing as he hacked aside the few Aretans who charged at him with clawed hands or bayonets lowered.
More guards poured out of the palace but with a scream, the second Thunderhawk landed, disgorging its contents; Captain Kesian Scarus, bedecked in the great Terminator plate armour, and his Terminator squads. He was bare-headed, face unprotected as shots flew all around him, scorching the massive pauldrons emblazoned with the symbol of their legion; the black fist of Dorn. He seemed unperturbed by this, eyes coolly surveying the battlefield before him, weighing his thunder hammer in one hand. With a signal, he sent troops forward, an impenetrable wall of ceramite and Astartes flesh.
Heavy weapon fire turned on them but the shots rebounded and rang off their battle armour as they raised their own weapons and returned fire, scything down the enemy like wheat. Kesian's thunder hammer lashed out, crackling energies engulfing the head as he struck left and right, shattering bones and hurling corpses flying across the courtyard as he made his way over to Verian.
"There's no time to waste, Verian. Let's get moving." He paused. There was a flash of gold as the lithe figures of the Sisters slid between the towering figures of the Astartes warriors, wielding bolters and power swords, slicing their way through the Aretans with skill and grace that seemed to remind Verian of Elder. One of them spun in a graceful spin, blade beheading two Aretan soldiers with a flourish. As she completed her rotation, she looked back at Verian and through the golden helmet, he had he uncomfortable impression he recognised the eyes behind them.
"Move it, Verian." Kesian charged forward, heavy Terminator battle absorbing a heavy hail of fire as he lashed out with his thunder hammer, demolishing the recently repaired palace gates with one great blow. With a roar, the Imperial Fists charged, racing inside the palace to start purging the traitors. In contrast, in utter quiet, the Sisters of Silence followed in their wake, bolters and swords held at the ready.
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Every step of the way was a severe punishment, hundreds of black-armoured palace guard surging forward in a tide to try and halt the Imperial advance in the main foyer. Balconies rose high above them on either side. The towering doors, forged from the same black marble as the rest of the structure, carved with intricate runes and symbols, stood before them, leading to the leader of the Aretans, standing in obstacle to them, guarded by a horde of black armoured palace guard, rank upon rank of them standing there, bearing heavy assault rifles with bayonets, swords and heavy-bladed halberds.
In the vast chamber, the Imperial Fists formed a battle line, Verian standing with Kesian at the centre, weapons at the ready. A line of power-armoured battle brothers dropped to one knee, taking aim with bolters in front of them, unleashing a hail of devastating firepower as the Aretans came at them. The terminators braced themselves, immovable rocks against the tide of enemy before them. Power fists crackled to life and the second line of bolter fire ripped into the palace guard as they came on.
Verian met the charge, armoured fist smashing one soldier aside before catching the flashing blade of another on his drawn power sword. These guards were stronger, more skilful. Their seniority seemed to be marked by the same…mark they had seen burning on the planet from orbit; the three circles branded on their helmets. These soldiers seemed to move a lot slower, dragging their feet as they advanced…but how much more resilient were they? He stabbed his enemy in the chest but he didn't go down. Reversing the stroke, Verian struck off his head, and only then did the body drop, slain.
He watched as a volley of bolter rounds crash into the front rank, explosive shells blasting chunks of armour and flesh apart…and they still came, seemingly unhindered. Shots that should have blown them off their feet failed to even wrong-foot them. He could see the beating heart in the exposed chest of the lead warrior, a blackened organ, rotting almost but still beating and keeping the…creature alive. His helmet had been removed and a cruel grin creased the Aretan's face, a face the like of which filled Verian with dread.
Truly he had been right when comparing the bodies of the Aretan soldiers to long-dead corpses. The soldier's face was pale, sallow and waxy. The teeth were rotten and the eyes a jaundiced yellow. Signs of disease covered his flesh, festering wounds and strains of disease that should have killed him several times over, just like the weapons of the Imperial Fists…and yet he lived. An Astartes charged at him, powerfist sweeping down to crush him but the Aretan commander swayed aside, sudden alacrity initially hidden by his slow gait.
He drew a sword at his side, a black longsword that seemed to be forged from the same stone as this very structure. Runes seemed to burn along its length as he thrust it into the Astartes warrior, blade punching through power armour without resistance and coming out the other side, spraying those behind in a rain of blood. Inhuman strength… The body of the Astartes warrior fell to the bloodstained floor with a crash and his helmet came off, rolling away into the mass of battling bodies. 'Iovius…'
Verian felt a surge of hatred as he saw one of his oldest comrades fall; Iovius, who had been elevated to Sergeant when he'd been promoted to Captain of the Twentieth company. They'd fought together on so many fronts together, battled side by side against every type of enemy the Imperium had encountered…and now he was gone. Battle raged all around him but Verian's fury carried him in one direction alone, ignoring the fighting that didn't directly influence him. He wielded his sword two-handed, cleaving one Aretan in half from shoulder to waist, spinning and kicking another with enough force to crush his breastplate and ribcage.
The commander saw him coming, watched his progress as he struck left and right, each blow driven by rage, lending strength that decapitated each time an Aretan sought to hinder him. His boots stamped down on those two lay dying at his feet, finished them off lest their unnatural constitution allow them to rise again. Bolt pistol levelled, he opened fire riddling his enemy with explosive rounds before casting it aside and lunging, a mighty leap that carried him several metres forward, sword levelled.
Their swords met, Terran-forged steel against black rune sword. Astartes-enhanced muscle met inhuman, decaying muscle and sinew. They struck again and again, each time sparks flying as they blocked and parried back and forth. Verian snarled, lashing out with his fist, a powered strike that sent the commander stumbling despite his resilience. He struck once, twice, his power sword gouging two deep holes into the enemy's rotting flesh, crackling flames blazing through black armour and ripping into the torso. The man grunted, a very suppressed sound when considering the magnitude of the wounds. A yellowish, viscous fluid flowed from the gaping holes.
With a wet sound, Verian wrenched his sword free, ducking beneath a two-handed swing and driving his blade upwards, splitting the man's head down the centre. Wrenching down, he parted the body in two, foul-smelling entrails spilling out across the polished black floor. Still caught up in his killing frenzy, he lashed out again, decapitating the nearest Aretans as they drew too near, sword cleaving through decayed flesh and bone without stopping.
He whirled around, beheading one black armoured giant, continuing in the same spin and taking down another at the knees, reversing his sword and plunging it down through man's skull. All around him, Imperial Fists took heart from his example, redoubling their efforts and hurling the Aretans aside, bolters firing at point-blank range and slashing left and right with their combat blades. His sword was alive in his hands, a force of destruction as Verian advanced, step by step, scything a path through the mass of blackness, leaving a trail of blood and corpses in his wake.
Despite the overwhelming numbers, the Imperial forces pressed up, driving a wedge deep into the Aretan ranks. Kesian was suddenly at Verian's side, his thunder hammer swinging around in a great arc that pulped several bodies in one fell blow, hurling their remains into the faces of the enemy behind them. With terminators moving to the forth, their power-armoured brethren guarding their flanks, the Astartes drove their way towards the vast door that barred their way to the ruler of this corrupted planet. The Sisters darted in and out of both ranks, hacking and slashing with their powered blades and letting loose hails of bolt rounds and flames from hand flamers.
Kesian swung his thunder hammer in a mighty arc and the obsidian portal shattered, crumbling and collapsing, great chunks of stone crushing Aretan soldiers around them. They were in… With a roar, the battle cry tearing from the throats of almost two hundred Astartes warriors, they piled in, trampling black armoured foes under foot as they stood in their way.
There, on a raised dais, the lord of Aretus Beta stood; a tall figure, as large as an Astartes warrior and suited in black iron and robed in shadows. In one clawed and mailed fist, he held a massive sword, black stone engraved with fell runes, which writhed with ethereal energies. As the Imperial soldiers burst into the chamber, his helmeted head seemed to swing around and lock on to Verian, burning embers for eyes within the dark metal. All around him, his guards surrounded him, still more heavily armoured and imposing. The stench of decay struck Verian as he advanced and fought down the revulsion he felt as to what could lurk beneath the armour.
"For the Emperor!" With a war cry, the Astartes surged forward, meeting the guard with flashing blades and swinging bolters. The Aretans closed tight to form a wall of metal and flesh between them and their lord, holding firm as the Imperial Fists struck their line, casual sweeps of energised halberds curving through Terran power armour like paper. Power fists punched Aretans off their feet and chainswords slashed in bloody arcs, decapitating traitors, even as bright yellow battle plate gave way before piercing obsidian blades.
The path taken by the Imperials was littered with corpses, a sea of yellow and black left in their wake. Still, the carnage wrought in the lord's chamber was far greater than what they had endured and enacted up to that point. Verian's yellow plate was stained red by the blood of his enemies, the surface scarred from attacks it had turned away in his furious charge. His sword was starting to feel heavy in his hands and he had lost count of the number of enemies he had struck down, the battle a single merged blur of bloodletting. His body was moving on instinct now, reverting to the endless hours of training to move him through the motions that parried blows aside and lash out in counters to take off the heads of his enemies or drive his blade through their chest.
Ahead, a lone Sister of Silence vaulted over the wall of black iron, sprinting towards the Aretan lord. Two of his guardians closed in but her sword flashed, a cold flash of blue-tinged energy that felled them effortlessly. She bounded gracefully over a low halberd strike, taking the man's head off with a careless backwards swipe before her boots touched the stone floor. One reached for her, clawed hand seizing her by the helmet, fist closing around the long red plume of hair on the top. It came free, revealing the face of Lady Jaina, her eyes burning with rage, teeth drawn in a silent snarl.
Her boot caught the offending guard in the chest, followed by an armoured strike to the man's throat, dropping him, the breath stolen from his lungs. A looming shadow fell across her. She spun around, just as the lord's sword flashed down, the blade as long as her body. Jaina dived, evading the sword, which split the earth in half where she'd stood a second before. Two more strikes, desperately parried. Jaina weaved back and forth, her sword a blur as she evaded and countered, the lord's speed impossibly fast considering his size. Each blow caused the whole chamber to reverberate with violent clashes.
Verian looked around to see how the battle was going. It seemed a drawn conflict so far, even numbers of Imperial Fists and Aretan elite guard. Kesian was locked in combat with a warrior with gold runes embellished upon his armour and wielding a mighty glaive, recognisable as the leader of the Aretan praetorians. Their movements were almost too fast to follow, their weapons flashing back and forth, slaying lesser warriors all around them without breaking step. Lady Laurana, Oblivion Knight of the Silent Sisterhood, guarded the Tenth captain's back, her sword carving a bloody ruin in all the guards that drew within striking distance.
High on the raised dais, Jaina was still clashing with the lord. She wielded her sword two-handed, meeting each blow head one, stumbling under the force of each strike from the heavy runeblade. As they blades met, the obsidian blade flared, runes glowing with a bloody glow. Jaina's face was illuminated by the icy chill of her own sword, pale blue energy seething from the core of the weapon. But the might of her blade and her own considerable swordsmanship was being overwhelmed by the sheer strength of her foe. As Verian watched, a heavy slash hurled her back, her sword slipping from her hand as she fell.
Verian charged, sword levelled in both hands. He shoulder-rammed his way past Aretan warriors, taking the stairs up to the raised platform two at a time. This close, he found that the lord of Aretus Beta truly was a giant, standing a head and shoulders over Verian himself. The man stood with one boot placed on Jaina's chest, pinning her to the floor, his sword raised high to deliver the finishing blow. He leaned heavily on the one foot holding Jaina down and the Sister opened her mouth in a silent cry of agony.
The runes on the sword seemed to burn with even more intense light as if sensing the impending death. With a roar, the lord stabbed down, blade punching down with enough force to shatter terminator armour. Two bounds and Verian lunged forward, power sword arcing around to behead the Aretan ruler. He gritted his teeth, eyes narrowed in fury. At the last moment, the giant spun, sword knocking aside his attack and shattering his helmet with a glancing blow that dropped the Imperial Fist captain.
The ceramite protection crumbled, suddenly exposing Verian's face to the open, blood in his mouth, a trickle running down the side of his face from where his forehead had been opened up. Even then, the force of the Astartes continued onwards, driving into the warrior and forcing them both to the ground. Blood ran into Verian's eyes, staining his vision red. His hand felt his sword, lifting it only to find it split, half the blade snapped off by the force of the runesword. He was on top of the lord of Aretus Beta, both lying there where he had tackled him. Acting on instinct, Verian reversed his grip on the weapon, punching down with it before his enemy could react.
Blackened blood spilled out as the remnants of the sword sank into the throat of the lord of Aretus Beta. He opened his mouth to scream but the gaping hole in his neck left his cry as silent as that of Jaina's. Eyes locked on to Verian's own and for a moment, he thought he could see beyond the burning gaze, into the mind of… Something far older than even this world… Then the traitor's eyes closed and it was over. Or at least that's what Verian thought…
The earth rumbled. Verian's brow furrowed. What was happening…? He looked over and met Jaina's gaze where she lay, wounded. Then her eyes widened in shock and the earth gave a roar as the dais split down the centre, fissures running from end to end. There were shouts of alarm from all around them. The ground rocked and debris began to fall from the cracking ceiling. Kesian was shouting his name, telling him to get clear. Imperial Fists were pulling back, withdrawing back to the entrance. This place was going to hell…
Verian staggered over to Jaina. He made to help her up so they could get out of there…when the dais opened up beneath them both and they were both plunged into the depths of Aretus Beta to the shouts of warriors and the howls of daemons.