Exitus Ultima Chapter 29
Arvael was in agony, every heartbeat a torturous exertion against a tide of abomination. The Warp seethed, pressing against the walls of his mind. To draw upon such roiling horror was the act of a desperate madman, but Arvael had no choice, he needed his powers now more than ever. So he held to his teachings, allowing only the smallest sips of energy into his mind, siphoning off droplets of power while holding back a tidal wave. It was like drinking engine grease, so torpid and vile, and yet he persisted.
It was not only Arvael who suffered, for reality itself was attacked. The veil between Warp and realspace grew thin, as empyreal nightmares pressed themselves against the barrier, trying to find the smallest chinks to slip through. The sky broiled with fury, the ground shook like a newborn colt, the air grew hot and black lightning struck across Dramacus city-state, mutating and changing all it touched.
Arvael knew the power of Daemonkind but also their limitations. Such conjuring should not be possible, Daemons could not just skip across reality on a whim, they required ritual and summoning, hosts willing or made available so by infernal rite. A Psyker was typically favoured but any living thing could become a host under the proper circumstances. By everything Arvael knew this storm should not be possible, but then the wiles of a Greater Daemon were not to be underestimated. Harbinger was behind this, he knew it to be true, ever since the Alpha Legion had revealed his presence Arvael knew the entity would make its presence known.
Arvael was a step behind Captain Toran. The officer was fighting freakish things with his shining relic blade, denying their approach. At his side Jaric Phoros, Phalros, K'inich Yux, Faeron and Agrippa formed a line of defiance, forging ahead step by step as they fought to clear a path. Behind Cato Sicarius led the Victrix Guard, carrying their gene-father on their shoulders. Those Lesser Daemons that made it past the officer's guard were hacked to pieces by broad axes, and not one fiend had laid a hand on the Primarch. The mortals were gone, every medicae and chirurgeon who fled the Apothecarion struck by black lightning and mutated by Daemonic power. The Space Marines had killed them quickly, before the threat became unbeatable.
A gibbering fiend came at them from the left, slipping past the Captain's guard. Arvael moved to intercept. The Neverborn scampered on back-jointed legs like a bird's, its body swollen and covered in feathers. It could have been a predator from some feral world, save that it had two heads, with serrated beaks. A lowly thing in the estimation of the Warp, an emanation from the idle thoughts of Tzeentch, but still dangerous.
It bounded at Arvael with a snap of twin jaws. The Librarian was forced to draw upon his power to defend himself, though the act sank knives of agony into his skull. His Force-Morningstar swept wide, nearly taking its right head off. It rolled to the side, skittering on its legs as he stepped after and swung again. Once more it evaded, hissing in mockery as it tried to get past. Arvael wasn't about to let that happen, he summoned his mind's strength and pulled at the carpet under its feet, causing it to bulge. The Daemon tottered and in that instant the Librarian struck. His weapon slammed into its body and power flowed, blasting it apart. Flesh exploded as the host was destroyed, and the Neverborn within fled back to the Warp, jeered by its kin yet waiting to find hosts.
A moment's distraction but in that second the rest pressed in. Arvael found the Captains and Chapter Masters beset. Toran was fighting a creature that floated on an undulating disc, fending it off with his relic blade. Faeron met the foe with vicious slices of his claw, dicing anything that came within reach. Phalros crushed gibbering horrors with his power fist, every blow destroying a fiend but never enough to stem the tide. K'inich Yux fought with twin claws, transonic in nature, buzzing loudly with every slash of stolen flesh. And Jaric Phoros swung a doughty Thunder hammer in broad sweeps, slamming horrors away with every stroke.
"Press on!" Phalros howled, "The stairs are in sight!"
"They seem determined to stop us," Toran snarled as he dispatched one foe only to be beset by another.
"Let them come, my thirst or battle is not sated!" Jaric roared.
"Your hunger pales compared to mine, my honoured nemesis," K'inich snarled, "The river Styx flows, bloody and red!"
Despite their bravery the few officers were about to be overwhelmed. Arvael saw their plight and decided to act. He dared to draw more deeply on the warp and threw out a wave of Telekinetic force. The bow wave slammed into immaterial horrors, bowling them over like leaves in a wind. Creatures of the Empyrean were vulnerable to psychic might and Arvael threw them aside, though the act made him retch.
His moment of distraction nearly killed him. A fiend with arms longer than its legs came at him, raking claws for his heart. It had two heads, one square and stupid, the other stuck out of its chest and was sly and cunning. Blue fire licked along its form and both tongues waved, dripping poison. Arvael was reeling from his use of power and stumbled, falling to one knee as he tried to recover. Too slow, too damned slow. The Daemon reared high, preparing to bring its arms down upon him and end his life in one blow.
A wet thunk stopped it in its tracks. From its chest erupted a snarling chainsword, tearing through with a spray of viscera. Captain Agrippa loomed behind, sawing the creature in half with a downward slice. The Daemon fell in two chunks, steaming blackly from the weapon's touch. Arvael stared at that sword. A chainsword, so humble a weapon for a Captain, but the Marine Malevolent wielded no ordinary blade. Ancient it was, dating back to the dawn of the Imperium, steeped in murder and stained by the blood of millions. All weapons owned a saga and this one's was dark indeed, a slice of death cutting across history. To Daemonkind it was more deadly than the finest artifice of Mars and its length was engraved with the name 'Gnasher'.
"My thanks," Arvael wheezed.
"Don't thank me," Agrippa hissed.
"But you saved my life."
"Only so you could fight, get off your frakking knees and get stuck in!" Agrippa barked.
Arvael heaved himself up and threw himself into the fray. His force-morningstar reaped a fine tally, exploding fiends left and right. The killing was great, for the Neverborn were still recovering, scattered and stunned, easy prey for a Space Marine. With the Daemons weakened the officers made short work of the fallen, finishing them all. More would come, but the way down the stairs was open and the Victrix Guard hastened down it, bearing their liege lord. The rest kept pace, weapons ready as they hurried down endless flights of stairs.
"How can this be?" Phalros hissed as levels came and went.
"Harbinger," Arvael blurted, "The Greater Daemon summons a warp storm."
"How can it be Daemons manifest without ritual invocation?" K'inich pressed.
"Harbinger brings the warp close to the surface of reality and mortal flesh becomes putty in his hands."
Faeron hissed, "You mean any mortal we meet is Possessed?"
"Potentially," Arvael affirmed.
"Sodding wonderful," Jaric muttered, "What wouldn't I give for a cluster of incendiary warheads right now."
"This all happened so fast," Toran gasped, "Has Harbinger this kind of power?"
"He is mighty in the Warp, but not that powerful. Ether his dark god lends aid, or he has weapons we know not. Yet despite that he can and he has, this city-state is drowning in warp energy."
"Only the city-state?" Phalros pressed.
"For now, the heart of the storm is located here, but it will spread," Arvael explained.
Cato Sicarius barked, "Then we must get the Regent to safety, faster brave Marines, may your feet fly!"
Down and down they ran, descending levels fast. Every step of the way Arvael felt the shaking of the Cathedral increase and worried about how long its structure could hold. The Warp storm was focused on this building, Harbinger's intention to level it made plain. Blessed were the stones, steeped in the faith of billions across centuries, Arvael suspected that was the only reason it had not collapsed instantly, but it would not last long.
Minutes crawled by then the party burst into a courtyard. Before the great doors of the Cathedral it dwelt, vast enough to hold thousands when gathered to hear bishops preach. Statues of Imperial Heroes dotted the square, but they could hardly be seen for the packed masses. Huddled crowds of the faithful, packed in cheek to jowl. They had been here for days, praying for Guilliman's survival, but now they clung to each other as the sky unleashed its fury. They saw the Space Marines emerge and cried aloud, "The God-Emperor's angels! He sends salvation! Save my family, save my son, save us, save us!"
"Oh crap," Agrippa hissed.
"Back up, find another way," Cato ordered.
"Too late," Arvael breathed.
From the sky the lightning came, flurries of black bolts striking among the crowd. People were struck everywhere, bodies coursing with infernal energy. Mortals had no way to resist the power of the storm and their souls were flayed, as Daemons rode the lightning and took residence in host bodies. Bones swelled and elongated, mouths yawned wide to navels, fresh eyes grew in abundance and claws slid from fingertips. More lightning, more, shaking the world with thunder until none remained untouched. In moments the crowd became a seething mass of flesh, thousands of lesser Daemons set against a handful of Space Marines.
"Cato fall back," Toran yelled, "We'll hold them back and you buy time."
"You won't last a minute!" Cato barked.
"Then we die fighting," Agrippa hissed, "Gnasher will reap a fearful tally."
"No," Phalros stated, "That will not be necessary."
From behind the crowd came the roar of bolters firing, followed by the wet thumps of flesh exploding. The rear of the crowd was decimated, cut down in droves as scores of bolter thundered, hundreds, scything apart all in their way. Arvael could not see who was attacking but the Daemons turned to meet this fresh challenge regardless, only to be cut down by vicious volleys of gunfire.
The air grew wet with sprayed blood and when the rain faltered he beheld glory manifested. Storm Heralds advanced in lockstep, Third Company accompanied by the Fifth, Sixth, Seven, Ninth and elements of First. Five hundred Space Marines in blue, and they weren't alone. Three hundred Fire Lords marched to the left, a hundred Marine Malevolent to the right, and a pair of Steel Confessor squads, few in number but marching with pride. Along the flanks Smoke Jaguar prowls crept, catching the Daemons in a crossfire. There must be a thousand Space Marines marching into the square, determined to kill anything that opposed them.
"Well met kinsmen!" Toran called as the Third came close.
"We heard you needed a hand!" Furion replied as they closed.
"Mind telling us what the Frak is going on!" Novak yelled as he stomped nearer.
"Daemons seek to prevent our escape," Arvael replied, "They know we saved our lord, and seek to reverse it."
"Then let's get him the hell out of here," Jediah snapped.
"Well said," Phalros stated, "Bring up our vehicles, we must reach the landing fields and evacuate." The squads parted as Rhinos, Repulsors and Land Raiders rolled into the square. Blue and red, grey and steel, and yellow, machines enough to carry all. The various squads hastily embarked, ducking inside as the masters spilt up to take charge of their respective forces. Cato Sicarius led the Victrix Guard to mount a gloriously bedecked Land Raider, the Primarch's personal conveyance, carrying him into its hold as the ramp whined closed.
Toran led his brothers to Pride of Lujan. Novak had to walk alongside but the rest ducked into the hold. Arvael was the last to board and paused to see the Cathedral in its death throes. The storm battered it mercilessly, tearing gargoyles away and ripping free flying buttresses. Lightning blasted through every stained-glass window, leaving it as a rotten mouth filled with black stubs. The spires above were crumbling, spewing mortar dust as stone twisted out of true. All within were doomed, condemned to be possessed or crushed utterly, and there was nothing that could be done to save them.
Arvael turned away as the ramp slammed shut. Engines roared and then the Space Marines set off, desperate to reach their gunships and evacuate. Land Raiders took point, Rhinos behind and Repulsors took up the rear as the Imperials fled, leaving behind destruction and woe. None saw the Cathedral finally lose its fight with the storm. Spires toppled, soaring domes collapsed inwards and the foundations crumbled to dust as the entire edifice imploded. The heart of Dramacus was dead and if the Space Marines didn't get out of the city-state fast they would follow suit.