Noctem Oritur Chapter 41
The thunder of bolters filled the stairwell as streams of bolt rounds hurtled down at the mobs of cultists climbing upwards, bodies were torn apart by the mass reactive rounds and fell down to impede those behind. Still they pressed forwards for their sheer numbers made it impossible to hold them back forever. They kicked aside their dead and ran upwards again and again each time making it a few steps higher. Standing behind cultists was Vorshaan the Dusk Prince and he was seething in frustration. This delicate minaret was home to the loyalist's Chapter Master and he had intended to personally lead its capture. This was not just a symbolic gesture; the Chapter Master's chamber would house critical intelligence on Imperial dispositions for the entire Sector, not to mention potent relics. Capturing it would reveal many secrets unto him.
It should have been an easy mission, but a squad of Loyalists had decided to make a fight of it and had made his forces bleed for every step. Ahead Vorshaan could see seven Storm Heralds manning a barricade, four armed with bolters and a Sergeant with a Thunder Hammer and Storm shield. The Imperials would lay down barrages of fire as his mutants pressed upwards and whenever a knot of them closed the Sergeant would smash them apart with weighty blows of his hammer. Yet the real danger came from another pair of loyalists, who bore massive Grav-canons, the rare and temperamental weapons proving lethal to heavily armoured Chaos Marines. He had already lost a half dozen of his murderers to the heavy weapons, graviton distortions crushing them into paste before his very eyes. Vorshaan had not survived for ten millennia by being stupid and had decided to let his worthless cultists absorb the brunt of the fighting, before committing himself.
Vorshaan saw a thick knot of cultists finally make it close enough to assault the barricade but the loyalists were not waiting to greet them. The sergeant was instead waving his Marines back and in pairs the defenders broke away. They did so in staged waves, to provide covering fire for each pair to disengage. Swiftly the squad withdrew over the angle of the stairs to the next barricade in an efficient orderly manner. This had been the pattern from the start, the loyalists refusing to be tied down and using the teachings of their blasted codex to turn what should have been a straight forward assault into a bloody meatgrinder. Vorshaan despised the Codex Astartes for its prescriptive teachings, he held it in contempt for its dull, unimaginative strategies, but most all he hated it for how bloody efficient it made the Imperials at killing his troops.
But at last Vorshaan grinned as mobs of mutants ran up the steps, for this was the very top of the tower and now the Imperials had nowhere else to fall back to, they were finally trapped. Still he took care not to run, the Loyalists had demonstrated surprising levels of cunning so far and he was not about to fall for some last ploy, it proved a wise precaution. As the first mutants crested the top of the stairs they were ripped apart by a devastating volley of fire, a hurricane of devastation that was beyond the capacity of humble bolters. Vorshaan's grin widened as his instincts were proven right, the Imperials did have one last card to play, that concentration of firepower could only be produced by Centurions.
Vorshaan signalled his retinue of Astartes to prepare, they knew the coming charge would be bloody but each one was undoubtedly plotting to make sure that it was his fellows who would pay the butcher's bill. The Dusk Prince wasted no time on pompous speeches but instead yelled "charge!" and together twenty Night Lords rose over the top of the stairs to sprint into the hail of enemy fire. They emerged into a long atrium, with one whole wall made up of an armourglass panel that gave a stunning view of the wreckage of the Fortress. Loitering at the far end of the gallery were the loyalists, who were finally trapped with nowhere to go, but before them loomed three Centurion warsuits. The exoskeletons were half again as tall as conventional Marines and had thick reinforced plates facing front, each warrior bearing a pair of heavy bolters and their chests were covered in the barrels of hurricane bolters.
The Night Lords charged as a mob, each Marine trying to keep one of his kin between himself and the oncoming fire as Heavy Bolter rounds fell upon them. The weight of fire was impressive yet they made swift progress anyway but then the hurricane bolters opened fire. A veritable blizzard erupted from the Centurions, tracers so thick it seemed the air was bisected by horizontal streaks of fire. Vorshaan's Marines were inundated by the fusillade, ancient baroque armour shattering under the fury of the barrage and Astartes after Astartes collapsed as their insides were blown apart. Vorshaan snatched up a falling body and held it up before him as an ablative shield as he ran. He saw fallen bodies and a quick count told him eight of his murderous kin had fallen to the Loyalist's fire. Yet despite the cost he had successfully closed the distance and at last he could bring the fight to the Centurions.
Vorshaan dropped his meat shield and drew his twin curved blades, leaping forwards to slash at the first Centurion's armour. He could barely reach the abdomen yet his cursed swords easily tore apart reinforced plates to spill guts and entrails to the floor. He saw the rest of his retinue engulf another centurion, dodging behind to hamstring the warrior and make him topple, where their knives could reach the vulnerable joints. The last Centurion was swinging his arms about, laying down torrents of fire from his heavy bolters but above the roar Vorshaan heard the warrior shouting, "Sergeant Zeax, fall back now, I will buy you time!"
From the corner of his eye Vorshaan saw a panel disappearing in the wall, to reveal a gap, and as he watched the Imperials dived into the space and dropped away with the distinctive whoosh of a Grav-chute bearing them to safety. Vorshaan snarled in anger, it seemed the loyalists had not intended to die here after all and the last one out was the Sergeant, who saluted his doomed brother with his thunder hammer before disappearing. Vorshaan roared in frustration at his prey's escape and he leapt at the last Centurion, beating his wings to lift himself higher. With one scything blow he decapitated his opponent. The rigid exoskeleton stood for a moment, as blood fountained from the severed neck, and then it toppled over like a felled tree, hitting the floor with an almighty crash as Vorshaan landed gracefully on his feet.
The Dusk Prince took a single moment to assess his victory then bounced forwards, intending to pursue the Storm Heralds down the grav-chute and finish the fight, yet he was stopped when an unexpected vibration ran through the floor and a distant boom echoed up from deep below. Before anyone could react the entire minaret swayed drunkenly, everybody staggering as they tried to understand what was happening, everybody except for Vorshaan who was already in motion. As everyone stared stupidly about the Dusk Prince was running full pace straight at the armourglass window and slashing his twin swords before him to create a cross shaped incision, then he dived head first at the weakened pane. He crashed through to the outside and plummeted towards the ground for long seconds before his wings caught the wind and he soared free, the unlight of the Warp shimmering around him to lift him far higher than such flimsy membranes could have done alone.
He rose to a great height then curved around to look behind and what he saw made him snarl furiously as the Chapter Master's minaret imploded, brought down by seismic charges laid in the foundations. Even as he watched thousands of tonnes of masonry collapsed into choking dust, like a great ship sinking bow first beneath the waves and taking thousands of his troops down with it. Vorshaan howled in frustrated rage as he realised the whole edifice had been turned into one giant trap, he had just wasted thousands of cultists and a score of precious Chaos Marines for nothing. No doubt the Storm Heralds who had escaped were laughing at him even now; safe deep below the surface. Not even the thought that their Chapter Master would undoubtedly be furious with them when he returned was any solace to Vorshaan's ire. Then the Dusk Prince started in surprise as he realised that he was thinking he actually might not win this battle.
Vorshaan's anger grew as he circled the thick haze of stone dust billowing out from the demolition site and he opened a Vox link to yell, "Beta, Beta come in or I will skin you alive!"
The vox snarled with static but a distant tinny voice came in saying, "Lord Vorshaan I hear you. Fighting is heavy beneath the Fortress, how goes the war on the surface?"
"It's going backwards, Killorn is dead and the Storm Heralds are demolishing their own home around our ears," barked Vorshaan, "Where the hell is Alpha?!"
Beta paused then replied, "There has been no contact from him for some time."
Vorshaan growled, "Then he is dead."
"Surely not," protested Beta, "Alpha is a patient hunter, he may just be biding his time."
"No," snapped Vorshaan, "The lapdog's defences are too well organised and efficient, somebody out there is still giving orders, which mean Alpha failed us. If he is not dead already I will kill him myself."
Beta didn't seem troubled by the thought and said, "So what now?"
Vorshaan snarled, "Now we get serious, the lapdogs are seeking to bleed us by a thousand cuts so it's time to stop playing their game and end this once and for all. Summon the Warlords and tell them we are making our big push; we will drive right into the heart of the Fortress and shatter them with one crushing blow."
Beta replied, "There is a problem, Jubila's army has abandoned the fighting, they are just looting all they can."
"Typical of the Emperor's Children, this is the siege of Terra all over again," snarled Vorshaan, "What of Yuikai?"
"Disappeared and I suspect he is dead," stated Beta frankly, "His cultists are milling about uselessly without him, the only Warlord actually doing what he's supposed to is Thessus."
Vorshaan began circling down to the ground as the dust settled and ordered, "Go tell him the greatest slaughter can be found in the centre of the Fortress and let him do what he does best. Then find Jubila and get him back into the fight, if he doesn't start making himself useful you can tell Gamma to take his head."
"And what will you be doing?" asked Beta casually.
"I am going to gather my personal retinue and seize the gene-seed repository," said Vorshaan.
Beta cautioned, "My Lord your Night Lords are scattered all over the Fortress, gathering them will take time."
"That's why Thessus will go first," growled Vorshaan, "I will finish off whatever's left if he fails, one way or another its time these Storm Heralds died."