Exitus Ultima Chapter 14
As Arvael probed the murky underworld of Sacellum other Chapters were far from idle. Squads of Astartes swept the city-states and orbits, furiously searching for traces of their elusive enemies. Shocked outrage met them, the powerful and influential protesting having their doors kicked down but the Space Marines cared nothing for their bleating. Transhuman warriors, desperate for answers and given free rein to find them by any means necessary, it was a bad combination. Blood was spilled and lives ended as they shook the corridors of power with their tread.
With so many Chapters acting at cross purposes it was inevitable that conflicts would arise. The Salamanders and Marines Malevolent found themselves at odds when both Chapters tried to detain General Ubaram of the Geno-99-Terran, threats soon broke into fistfights, which in turn became bolter fire as a bitter enmity surfaced. The Hawk Lords and Destroyers came to blows over a gruelling campaign from three centuries earlier, both sides blaming the others for lives lost unnecessarily. The Fire Lords spied the Smoke Jaguars sneaking into the tomb of Saint Germina and subsequently suffered a 'misfiring' Whirlwind that sent an incendiary missile into the tomb. When the firestorm died down they swept for survivors but found not a single body. When they returned to their vehicles they were shocked to find the tracks broken and engines spiked, honoured vehicles of many centuries service shamed and defiled. The feuding Chapters of the Crusade had been kept in order by Guilliman's sheer presence alone, with his eye lifted old grudges reigned supreme.
In the confusion of the day a genuine battle against the Traitors went almost unremarked. A force of Steel Confessors was chasing shadows through the catacombs and by sheer dumb luck ran into an Alpha Legion enclave. The loyalists seemed almost stunned by their chance discovery, but their instincts remained keen and they pressed the attack with the utmost vigour. The Alpha Legion for their part fought hard, making the attackers pay in blood, but the odds were against them. They met the advance of steel and black with disciplined bolter fire, falling back among the tombs where in danger of being overrun, never allowing themselves to get bogged down. Their withdrawal was precise and coordinated, a sinuous motion that saw them keep ahead of the Steel Confessors, despite being outnumbered two to one.
Beta stood among his warriors and directed their fire. His autosenses were being battered by the hammering of bolters, sharp cracks echoing off the stone walls and ringing loud under the arched roof. The air was filled with stone dust, blown from doughty sarcophaguses in the tombs and craters riddled the stone faces of worthies long dead. The flash and thunder of battle were all-consuming, but Beta had endured ten millennia of war and was not fazed.
He saw Talgor hunkered down behind a bier, leaning out to let off a burst of fire. Whoever he was firing at was not killed, for a flurry of bolts slammed into the stonework, showering him with chips. Beta sensed a build-up of power from afar, the actinic tang of plasma coils charging and knew a blast was about to disintegrate his comrade. The Sorcerer drew upon his powers and a sphere of green energy formed about his fingertips. He rose from cover and waggled his fingers, sending forth coiling serpents of glowing energy, crossing the chamber in an instant. A Steel Confessor leaned out of cover at the exact moment his spell was cast, plasma rifle glowing. The serpents struck him before he could pull the trigger, burrowing into flesh and turning his bones to ash in an instant.
Talgor broke cover and ran to Beta's position, throwing himself into cover as he barked, "This could be going better!"
"Ferrus Manus' bloodline were always hard bastards," Beta agreed.
"I count fifty," Talgor hissed, "A full Demi-company. If they're following the Codex Astartes they will keep firing for thirty seconds to suppress, then charge en masse."
"We'd better not be here when they do," Beta concurred.
"Is Epsilon in position?"
"He has to be, else this will bleed us," Beta growled, "All squads fall back to position lambda on my mark... mark!"
As one the Alpha Legion rose from cover and sprinted back. It was a risky move, one the tactically moribund Ultramarines would never countenance, where they would have fallen back in pairs and provided covering fire the Alpha Legion counted on speed and surprise to carry the day. It almost worked. A score of azure clad warriors fell back to the rear of the catacomb and dove into cover, but a pair of them didn't make it. Hurtling bolt rounds bracketed them and blasted their rears. Ceramite chips flew far and wide as explosives riddled their plate, boring through to explode guts everywhere.
Beta snarled under his helm at the sight and knew time was running out. The Steel Confessors were already moving up, eager for the kill. Epsilon was late, this was a problem. "We're going to be overrun," Beta hissed.
"We need to buy time," Talgor retorted as he slotted a fresh magazine into a bolter and opened fire.
"Then we play to their egos," Beta snarled.
The Sorcerer lent a timbre of power to his voice and cried, "I am the Lord of Serpents, the poisoner of Primarchs! Who among you has the iron to face me in combat!"
A harsh voice cried aloud, "We give you no quarter Traitors!"
"Your Primarch was a weak wretch, too slow and stupid to see he was beaten. I watched him die crying, pleading for mercy on his knees. Ferrus Manus died like a little bitch!"
The thunder of bolters ceased as Talgor asked, "Did you really see Ferrus Manus die?"
Beta scoffed, "Of course not, but they don't know that."
Suddenly the voice snarled, "You offend our honour! For that you shall die slowly. I Iron Father Faeron challenge you to single combat!"
"Face me and die," Beta retorted as he rose from cover.
It was a foolish move, but he knew loyalist lapdogs were so tediously uptight about honour. No hails of bolt rounds came forth as he gripped his twin-bladed staff in both hands and stepped forward. A lone warrior came to meet him, glowering with anger. Tall was he, with a face half-metal. Augmetics made up his legs and forearms and his backpack was heavy with mechanical tools. His right arm bore a crackling lightning claw, with thick talons extended over his hand and the other hand was a clenched fist of metal. He stepped forward with a heavy tread, moving to meet the Sorcerer.
Beta was tempted to blast him with magics, but knew the rest were only holding back to honour the duel. Beta would have to engage him hand to hand, thankfully he was no slouch in a fight either. He gripped his staff in two hands, holding it low to sweep upwards. Faeron clomped forward, mouth opening to make a preposterous declaration, but then he was in motion. The Steel Confessor threw himself at Beta, leading with the claw, tips angling to scythe his hearts out. Beta however had been tensing to make his own surprise thrust and reacted with blinding speed, lashing the staff about as he dove aside.
Faeron's blow was knocked askew and he stumbled past, overstepping. Instantly Beta swung low, tearing the tip of his staff across a flank. Ceramite parted but the Iron Father was not slowed, he swung on his heel, tearing diagonally upwards, trying to rip out Beta's spine. The Sorcerer wove about the blow, letting the talons pass as he swung high. Faeron was already within the reach of the blades but the haft of the stave clanged off the metal of the Steel Confessor's head.
Faeron seemed enraged. He advanced in a ponderous charge, swinging wildly as he carved the air apart. He was indomitable, fury filling his being, every blow a Deathstroke, his breath rasping like an angry grox. Relentless, unyielding, never pausing in his attack, never giving a moment of respite. Beta fell back, deflecting and dodging blows. No master of the blade was he, but he was faster and more experienced. Thousands of years of combat let him foresee every blow before it was made, and he kept the talons from touching his scaled plate.
A flex of an arm and Beta saw his chance. The Talons swung wide, exposing the hand and Beta lifted his staff the block. The length of it caught the wrist, inside the arc of the talons and Beta grinned as his foe was left exposed, yet he was the one to be surprised. Augmetic gears whined as Faeron unlocked his hand, spinning the wrist in a fashion no organic soldier could match. Beta's staff was wrenched from his hands, sent spinning away to clatter on the ground. He was left unarmed and could only back up frantically.
Desperately he reached for his powers, screw the duel, but Faeron wasn't done. Rather than pursue he opened his other hand and revealed a spinning drill-bit buried in the palm. He shoved forward and the drill bit shot away, trailing a length of cable behind. Beta dove to the side and sensed the spiked head pass inches from his neck. It flew past and buried itself into a wall, grinding deep as the bit sank into stone. Faeron wrenched back and the drill came away, trailing a chunk of stone with it.
He cast it aside and retracted the drill, ready to strike. Beta was trapped with nowhere to go, but then he saw something behind. From the rear came a wave of mutants and cultists, racing into the tomb. Epsilon's reserves, come at last. The Steel Confessors spun to engage, bolters mowing down scores but these troops were specially fitted and sworn to the moment. They raced through the fire and threw themselves upon the Astartes, not trying to fight but merely to get close enough. Bulky packs strapped to their chests ignited on contact, exploding with the booms of demolition packs. Suicide bombers, made mad by Chaos taint and filled with hate for the slaves of the Golden Throne.
Ceramite and blood painted the walls as Steel Confessors were blown to bits, the catacomb shaking with the violence of the detonations. Beta took advantage of the distraction to dive for his staff, scooping it up as he ran to Talgor's position. "Where's Epsilon?!"
"Here, I was delayed," Epsilon cried as he closed.
"Gather close, we are getting out of here!" Beta commanded as he drew forth his powers.
Faeron however wasn't done, he chased them through the thunder, throwing out his drill bit once more as he snarled, "Get over here!"
Talgor's hand flashed and caught the drill in mid-air as he sneered, "You'll have to do better than that!"
"Very well then," Faeron growled.
Suddenly the cabling came alive with Motive Force, crackling energy coursing through the metal fibres, setting it alive with crippling power. Talgor jerked as his frame was blasted with bolts of lightning, energy enough to kill a mortal thrice over, tearing along his nerves and making muscles convulse in agony. The turncoat was riddled through, knocked insensate and dropped to the ground in a stupor.
Faeron closed with a roar of hatred but was too late. Beta had bought enough time to summon his power and recite the necessary incantations. He saw the Iron Father charging them, claw ready to strike but the Sorcerer slammed his staff to the ground and a green flash wiped out his vision. Space and time contorted, a sense of falling into infinity and the chattering of Daemons in the ear. The world spun in a mad swirl for an instant and when it passed they were somewhere else.
Reality asserted itself as they emerged into another tomb, thousands of kilometres from where they had been. The catacomb, the mutants and Steel Confessors, all were left behind as the Alpha Legion made its escape. Five Brothers they left behind, dead or soon to be, a high cost, but they lived to fight another day.
The rest staggered away, heads reeling but Beta breathed out, "Talgor..."
"He'll live," Epsilon stated as he checked, "Only stunned, but that was too close. How did they find us?"
"Sheer dumb luck, with so many loyalists roaming about it was bound to happen. Faeron was damned good, but I imagine he's cursing every stone and star from here to Terra. "
Epsilon snorted, "We made a fool of him for sure."
"No thanks to you," Beta snapped, "Where were you?!"
"Dealing with other problems," Epsilon growled, "This wasn't our only setback."
Beta was angry but his attention was caught, "What's happened?"
"Mandor's squad has failed to report back," Epsilon reported, "They were sent to dispose of loose ends in the Vettia. We may have a security breach on our hands."
"That's not good, till Guilliman is confirmed dead we can't afford any slip-ups. We need to know who's poking about."
"Operatives report spying a Storm Herald gunship flying about the scene, plus psychic traces of a Librarian at work," Epsilon stated.
"Those nobodies, of course, who else would it be?" Beta growled, "Harbinger warned they would come looking."
"We should destroy them immediately," Epsilon proposed.
"Not so hasty," Beta deflected, "An opportunity arises, one we cannot ignore. A chance to undermine Harbinger and seize the reins of destiny."
Epsilon sounded wary, "Whatever you're thinking, it's risky. A Daemon is not to be crossed lightly."
"I agree," Beta affirmed, "We need to level the playing field, and gain an advantage of our own."
"You mean it's time?"
Beta declared, "Indeed, the time has come to awaken the Glykonae."