Noctem Oritur Chapter 47

Over the length of the Fortress Monastery the Emperor's Storm beat down, smiting everything that stood above the ground. Lightning flashed and massive waves crashed high onto the island, drowning any who had not sought shelter regardless of allegiance. The tempests typically waxed and waned in strength but this was by far the worst storm in living memory and even had the Fortress not been ruins it would have been battered by the hurricane. As it was every living being who could move retreated into the deepest parts of the broken structure, fleeing into the depths where the tempests could not reach but there they found a different and even deadlier threat awaiting them. In the darkened corridors men and mutants fell upon each other, frantically hacking with blades and bayonets as the last acts of the drama played out.

Down the length of the deep corridors raced the surviving Storm Heralds, battling their way past tangled knots of enemies, filled with the knowledge that the end was in sight. At their head ran Captain Toran who was leading his Marines unerringly to their destination and the final confrontation. His men were battered and bloodied but they still kept pace, even Bylan who was struggling to keep up with his injuries.

As the group ran Persion drew level with the Captain, even running full pace his voice was calm and measured as he said, "I wish Ajax was with us."

Toran had lost his helm and grunted, "Wishing is for fools and dreamers. Ajax would slow us down and besides he needed urgent repairs, Hevostan would not let him move until he fixed the honoured ancient's Sarcophagus."

Persion commented, "I don't know who was more outraged at being left behind, Ajax or Nimodes."

"Nimodes has his own mission."

Persion said, "I know, but only two-score scouts survived the fight with the Raptors, do you really think they can pull off your plan?"

Toran answered, "Trust in Nimodes, he will not fail us."

Novak interjected, "But what of Vorshaan?"

Toran replied calmly, "There is only one place he will be headed, if we can get to gene-seed repository first we can cut him off and crush him at last."

Persion glanced at his Captain and said suspiciously, "How can you be so certain he is headed there?"

"I just know," replied Toran evasively.

"That filthy infiltrator told you didn't he?!" said Persion in disbelief, "Have you considered he might have been lying, that this might be a trap?"

Toran said, "Despite everything he showed remorse at the end, I don't know if he was more Alpha or Halis in that moment but either way his words were sincere."

Persion was stunned and argued, "You can't believe anything the Traitors say, we should..."

Toran cut him off firmly saying, "The decision is mine and I have decided our course."

That put a stop to the conversation, Toran was a Captain and to an Astartes orders were sacrosanct. So the group raced onwards taking corners and intersections with great haste as they pressed onto their objective. As they ran they passed battling knots of serfs and mutants who were fighting furiously in their desperation to survive. The group intervened where necessary to force passage but Toran refused to let them scatter and led them past as many fights as they joined, all that mattered now was killing the Traitor's leader.

The Marines pressed onwards, determined to end the Dusk Prince, but still Novak said, "Damnation, I thought we broke the foe so why are they still attacking?"

Furion answered, "We broke one army but this horde has many disparate warbands, the war will not end until they are all dead."

Persion spoke up to say, "They are pressing forwards on all fronts and our serfs can't fight them everywhere at once. We pulled too many men off the line to save the Forges, it's a numbers game now and they have more."

Jediah interjected, "So we won one battle but in doing so lost the war?"

Furion barked, "Enough of that talk, the Emperor has given us strength and weapons enough to break his enemies, we will not rest until this foe is obliterated utterly!"

Toran was glad his dauntless Sergeant was with them and as they approached another corner he agreed, "Trust in Nimodes my brothers, he goes to summon the Emperor's judgement itself upon the foe."

So quickly were the group moving that as they barrelled round the next corner they were shocked to see another group coming down the corridor right at them from the other direction. These ones were midnight-clad and bore grizzly trophies all over their plate. Their macabre garb declared to all they were Night Lords and there must have been over sixty of them running straight into the loyalists in the most unexpected of places. Catching an Astartes off-guard was practically impossible, before their minds even had time to process their surprise weapons were already in clenched hands and bolts were flying as the two foes charged at each other.

Furion claimed first blood as he blasted away with his special Vengeance rounds and shattered a pair of charging Night Lord's chests into splinters, but the rest pressed forwards regardless. Hacking screaming bodies slammed into each other and the fight descended into a brutal brawl of stabbing frenzy amid the crush of armoured bodies. Lorath's squad instantly locked shields and stepped forwards as one but the Night Lords hit them in an avalanche of fury and in the carnage Brother Mika went down with a serrated knife buried in one eye lens.

Mylos' squad drew blades and leapt into battle, stabbing and slashing like the most viscous of gangers as they cut and stabbed Traitors, but the fight did not go entirely their way for Brother Avead was caught by a pair of Night Lords who grappled him down so a third could stab him in the hearts. Meanwhile Priyar's squad fought back to back, each brother covering his partner as they fended off murderous killers in midnight hues. Their defiance was remarkable to see but the odds against them were great. Elsewhere Zeax's devastators were faring poorly, their heavy weapons unsuited for such close quarters and in the madness Brothers Kugh and Faed were borne down along with their doughty Grav-Canons. Zeax avenged them swiftly with wide swings of his Thunderhammer that blasted armoured forms into gory kindling, as each blow unleashed a burst of arcing lightning.

In the heart of the melee Toran was fighting with his command squad, their blades and axes reaping a fearful tally. Novak was to his side, fighting with sublime skill while the others fought with brutal strength and determination. Even Bylan was making his presence felt, using the Banner haft as a polearm to bludgeon foes and leave them vulnerable to the energised blades of his kin.

Toran confronted a pair of Night Lords and effortlessly drove the Sword of Thiel into the hearts of the first, yet while he was distracted the other pounced and tackled him off to one side, trying to wedge a knife into the gap under the Captain's arm. Toran met the heretic with an elbow to the face, that knocked his helm back, but the Traitor held on tightly, too close for the Captain to effectively wield the longblade of his sword. Toran grimaced and let go one hand from his weapon then flattened his fingers into a blunt wedge, he twisted around then with all his strength drove his hand down under the Traitor's mouth grille to punch him in the throat. The weaker fibre bundles between the ceramite plates gave way and in one hit the Night Lord's larynx was crushed, totally collapsing his airway. The Chaos Marine was fully genhanced and theoretically his third lung should have kept him alive for several minutes but he made the mistake of letting a hand stray to his throat and that was all Toran needed to lever his sword's hilt up and awkwardly stab the blade down into the Traitor's hip, carving off a leg. The Night Lord fell down silently as he slowly died and Toran looked about to see that he had been cut off from his squad and was momentarily alone.

It was in this moment that Toran spied a foe he knew all too well, a dark shape with two curving swords and a pair of mutated wings behind him, the Captain instantly launched himself at the Dusk Prince from the side crying, "Face me Traitor!"

Vorshaan effortlessly caught Toran's strike on one blade before glancing to see who was attacking him, he growled in anger, "You! Why aren't you dead yet?"

Toran roared with rage and swung hard to break the Dusk Prince's guard, but Vorshaan moved like lightning and deflected the blow before counter attacking with a blitz of thrusts and slashes. Toran was aghast at the skill displayed, he had fought Vorshaan three times now and each time had been staggered by the filth's speed and grace but this was something else. The Dusk Prince was moving like liquid lightning, his onslaught utterly devastating and even with his genhanced mind Toran struggled to follow the moves. He was shocked to realise that up till now Vorshaan had been holding back.

The Captain refused to be cowed by the display, he ducked a blurring strike and felt a shudder as the blade tore the banner pole from his back but when he rose it was Toran on the attack. The Captain abandoned all thought of strategy or reason, focusing his entire being on the moment and the movement of his sword. He let his hatred surge to fore, energising his body and brought everything he had into the fight, all his ardour, all his pain and his contempt, he channelled it all into fuelling his zeal. Toran had never been so swift or so deadly and his frenzy of attacks battered at Vorshaan's guard, forcing him back a step. Yet despite all that the Dusk Prince still met and deflected every blow with sublime skill, equalling his rival in every particular. The pair were stalemated and the slightest thing could tip the balance either way.

As Toran raised his blade for a furious lunge there was an tremendous roar and the whole Fortress shook as the situation changed. A ferocious wind suddenly raced down the corridor bringing with it the taste of salt air and the tang of lightning. The wind blasted the struggling combatants, dragging their limbs off balance and turning their precise bows into clumsy bashes that deflected off ceramite armour. The fighting paused for a moment and Toran took satisfaction in knowing that this was a sign that Nimodes had completed his mission. That his remaining scouts had raced to the most distant parts of the Fortress, opening every blast door, wave baffle and storm shutter they could find.

It seemed that the whole world was consumed by the shrieking of the wind and the depths themselves trembled as for the first time in history the Emperor's Storm entered the Fortress Monastery, filling it with the raw power of a hurricane. Into the confusion Toran bellowed loudly for all to hear, "Hold Fast Brothers, the Emperor sends his judgement on the wings of the Storm!"