2 comments/ 942 views/ 1 favorites Heresy Bk. 02: Istvaan V By: Betrayer_of_Skalathrax It is a time of legend. The armies of the Emperor of Earth have conducted a Great Crusade and conquered the galaxy, the Emperor's elite warriors crushing the myriad of alien races from history. Human supremacy has reached new heights. Gilded citadels of marble and gold have been raised to celebrate the many victories of the Emperor, triumphs held on a million worlds. The epic deeds of his most powerful and deadly warriors recorded for all time. The greatest of these are the Primarchs, superhuman beings who have led the Emperor's armies of Space Marines to victory a thousand, thousand times. They are the pinnacle of the Emperor's genetic knowledge, unstoppable and glorious. The Space Marines are the mightiest human warriors in the galaxy, each able to best a hundred normal men in combat. Tens of thousands make up each Space Marine Legion. They along with their Primarch leaders conquer the galaxy in the name of the Emperor, bringing the Imperial Truth with them. Chief among the Primarchs is Horus, the favored son of the Emperor, the brightest star. He is the Warmaster, the commander-in-chief of the Emperor's military, vanquisher of a thousand times a thousand worlds, conqueror of the galaxy. He is a warrior and diplomat without peer. The flames of war begin to spread, the treachery is revealed. ~Dramatis Personae~ -The Primarchs- Horus, Primarch and Warmaster, Commander of the Sons of Horus Fulgrim, Primarch of the Emperor's Children Mortarion, Primarch of the Death Guard Angron, Primarch of the World Eaters Vulkan, Primarch of the Salamanders Ferrus Manus, Primarch of the Iron Hands Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard Lorgar Aurelian, Primarch of the Word Bearers Konrad Curze, Primarch of the Night Lords Alpharius Omegon, Primarch of the Alpha Legion Perturabo, Primarch of the Iron Warriors -The XVI Legion "Sons of Horus"- Ezekyle Abaddon, First Captain "Little" Horus Aximand, Captain, Fifth Company Maloghust, Equerry to the Warmaster -The III Legion "Emperor's Children"- Julius Kaesoron, First Captain -The XIV Legion "Death Guard"- Calas Typhon, First Captain -The XVIII Legion "Salamanders"- Artellus Numeon, First Captain, Firedrakes Cassian Dracos, Lord Commander, Dreadnought Xa'ven, Captain, Thirty-Fourth Company Guldor, Sergeant, Thirty-Fourth Company Atesh Tarsa, Apothecary, Thirthy-Fourth Company Jo'Phor, Member, Thirthy-Fourth Company Hae'Phast, Member, Thirthy-Fourth Company Donak, Member, Thirthy-Fourth Company Go'Sol, Neophyte, Thirthy-Fourth Company -The X Legion "Iron Hands"- Gabriel Santar, First Captain Ulrach Branthan, Captain, strike cruiser Sisypheum -The XIX Legion "Raven Guard"- Agapito Nev, Commander -Non Astartes Personae- Kris Delphene, Princeps, Warlord Titan Retribution Hektor Jericho, Moderatii Primus, Warlord Titan Retribution Kaleb Andus, Moderatii Primus, Warlord Titan Retribution Esau Turnet, Princeps, Imperator Titan Dies Irae Jonah Aruken, Moderatii Primus, Imperator Titan Dies Irae ~Prologue~ Warmaster Horus stood on the bridge of the Vengeful Spirit, staring intently at the world below, the wound in his left shoulder still producing a dull ache. As he gazed at the blue-grey world spinning below, he thought back to the events that got him here. He still mourned the loss of Hastur Sejanus; his most favored son and closest friend, cut down during diplomatic negotiations by the personal guards of the ruler of Sixty-Three Nineteen. The man had fancied himself the Emperor, believing he was ruling Terra. When Sejanus had explained that he was not the ruler of Terra and mankind, Sejanus had been killed. With Sixty-Three Nineteen brought to compliance, Erebus of the Word Bearers had informed the Warmaster about a rebellion in the Davin system. The planetary governor Eugen Temba had cast off his oath to the Emperor, a personal insult to Horus, who had hand picked Temba for the job. Eugen Temba had been killed, his rebellion quashed and order restored, but not before Horus had been wounded. The blade he had been stabbed with, an Anathame, was designed to kill whomever the wielder names. After he had been stabbed, even his highly advanced Astartes physiology couldn't prevent his impending death. He had been brought to a native healer on Davin, where he fell into a fevered sleep. His dreams had been strange, filled with visions of the future, a future in which the Emperor had become a god and the Astartes were reduced to simple police, fit only to keep order along the fringes of humanity. Now, that insolent swine Vardus Praal had started a rebellion in the Istvaan system, drawing the attention of the Emperor. Horus had been ordered by his father to suppress the uprising and return order by any means necessary. Horus had taken council from Erebus, who suggested bringing together those who would stand against the Warmaster's plans. Forces of the Emperor's Children, World Eaters and Death Guard had joined the Sons of Horus over Istvaan III, the capital world of the system. "My lord," Maloghust said as he approached, bowing as far as his twisted body would allow him to. "Hello Mal," Horus said to his old friend. "Come, join me." "Sir, the forces you've chosen have all made planetfall, however..." "However what?" Horus asked forcefully. "An Emperor's Children thunderhawk was stolen, it's headed for the surface," Maloghust informed him. "Who took it?" "A Captain, Saul Travitz I'm told is his name." "Well he won't be around much longer," Horus mused. "What of the rest of the fleet?" "Awaiting your orders lord," Maloghust said. "The Eisenstein reports weapons malfunction and reactor troubles. It has begun moving to the outer perimeter." "Who is in command there?" "Ignatius Grulgor, Captain of the Second Company of Death Guard. He is watching over the Seventh Company Captain, Nathaniel Garro." "Send orders to the Terminus Est, have them investigate and report back," Horus said, smiling a little as he stared through the armorglass at Istvaan III below. The Warmaster had hand picked the units and men to lead the attack, selecting only those staunchly loyal to the Emperor to bring his fury upon those who turn from him. Initial reports put the battle for the Choral City almost over. "Mal," Horus said, "have all weapon batteries report readiness. When they all are ready, begin the bombardment." "As you wish, lord," Maloghust said with a bow, his hunched and twisted form turning to leave. The largest capital ships were issued a compliment of virus bombs and other methods for exacting exterminatus; the complete destruction of worlds when the forces required to bring them back to compliance outweigh the value of the planet. The Vengeful Spirit was armed with virus bombs, filled with the Life Eater Virus. The virus consumes all organic matter in moments, turning it into decaying, gelatinous ooze. Anyone caught outside would meet a painful end, their bodies beginning to decay before their heart stopped beating. The use of virus bombs requires permission of the Emperor, or the Warmaster. "Lord Warmaster," Maloghust said upon return. "All batteries report ready. Awaiting your order." The Warmaster smiled, cold and calculating. "Mal, contact our forces on the surface, inform them the order has been given." "Yes my lord." "Wait one minute after informing our forces, then unleash our fury." "As you wish, lord." Maloghust turned and left the room, leaving Horus still watching the world spin below. Two minutes later, hundreds of red and black streaks hurled toward the planet below. The warheads headed for their destination, carrying the most lethal virus mankind has ever produced, trailing red a d orange as they entered the atmosphere of Istvaan III. "Let the galaxy burn!" Horus called. Horus's treachery revealed, the virus bombing had killed millions, including several thousand Astartes, in the opening minutes. The color of the planet changed as the virus spread, consuming anything organic and turning it to ruin. The once blue-grey planet became a sickly green-brown mixture, the very air turned flammable with so much decay. "Lord," Maloghust said, joining his Primarch. "Word from the Emperor has come." Horus smiled. "What news from my father?" "It would seem that your brother Magnus has violated the Council of Nikaea, using his sorcerous powers to damage the Imperial Palace." "I knew the Crimson King wouldn't be able to resist using his powers," Horus said. "Let me guess, Leman Russ is going to bring him to Terra in chains?" "Those were the orders, lord." "Change those for me mal," Horus said. "Tell the Wolf King that Magnus is to be eliminated." "It shall be done," Maloghust said. The Warmaster knew that word of his actions would reach his father, and that his father would send his brothers against him. He would need to be ready to repel their assault, and he would have to begin preparations soon. "Mal, before you go," Horus said as Maloghust turned to face him. "Send word to Fulgrim that his men are to proceed to Istvaan V and set up defensive positions." "Of course my lord," Maloghust said as a naval officer approached him and whispered something in his ear. "My lord, I seems as though the Eisenstein has been commandeered by Garro," Maloghust explained as the Warmaster's expression turned to black rage. "They managed to outrun the Terminus Est and have translated into the warp." Horus took a few breaths to calm himself. This news would mean that word would get back to his father much faster than he would have liked. "Thank you Mal," Horus said. "Let's finish this." ~Part 1~ The First Wave ~Chapter 1~ ~Raven Lord ~Flamewrought ~Council Betrayal. It was unthinkable what Horus had done, but it was true. The Emperor had dispatched seven legions to deal with the treachery of the Warmaster, and they were headed straight for the Istvaan system. The Raven Guard, Salamanders, Iron Hands, Word Bearers, Night Lords, Alpha Legion and Iron Warriors all were coming to end this before it got out of hand. A great tear in the fabric of reality appeared, the veil between dimensions ripped open in streaks of blues and purples. The sleek forms of ships reentering real space from the immaterium, dozens of craft of all shapes and sizes, each bearing the white raven against black and gunmetal hulls. The Raven Guard had arrived, led by their flagship, Shadow of the Emperor. Corvus Corax, Primarch of the Raven Guard and gene father to his men, stood on the bridge, hovering over the mindless servitors that were slaved to the ships sensor arrays and cogitators. His face was hard and unemotional, born from years of guerrilla warfare on his homeworld of Deliverance. "Report," Corax said as the sensory officer approached. His voice was like sweet music, yet soft as a whisper. "Airspace appears clear lord," the officer said. "No sign of the Warmaster's fleet." "What of the surface? Any sign of them?" Corax asked, his voice becoming angry as he spoke of the traitor legions. "Life signs detected around the Urgall Plateau, lord, no other life forms detected." "That must be the Warmaster's forces. Any news on when the other legions will arrive?" "Lord Vulkan will arrive within the hour," the master of astropaths informed him. "Lord Ferrus Manus is another hour beyond Lord Vulkan." "And the other four legions?" Corax asked. "Six or more hours away my lord," "Thank you," Corax said, patting the man on the back with a giant gloved hand before turning to leave. He headed for the arming chambers, his mind formulating plans of attack and disruption. Growing up on Deliverance, Corax had become a master of hit and run tactics, reconnaissance and ambush. The world, originally known as Kiavahr, was wrought with criminals, political opponents and others that the ruling class had deemed unfit. They were used as slaves in the forges, as free and expendable labor. Corax had changed that using shadow tactics and soon after was reunited with the Emperor and his legion. He had found that they too had taken to hit and run tactics, striking from the shadows before the enemy was aware of them and gone before the enemy could mount a retaliation. The Warmaster had put them to use as a reconnaissance force, much to the ire of Corax. The two had several arguments, almost coming to blows on one occasion, which eventually ended with Corax leaving the Warmaster's forces. He knew they would meet again, this time not as brothers, but as enemies. The Emperor was quite clear on his orders. The rebellion was to be put down at all costs. The Flamewrought and the other ships in the Salamanders fleet translated from the warp expecting to meet heavy resistance. Weapons batteries along the flanks of the Gloriana Class Battleship bristling like spikes on a Nocturne Firedrake, ready to fire at a moments notice. Yet the only thing they found were the vessels of the Raven Guard. The dull forest green hulled ship pulled along the Shadow of the Emperor, its size dwarfing the battle barge of the Raven Guard. Vulkan stood on the bridge, his stoic, patrician features searching for signs of battle. When he found none, he called for his vox officer. "Open a channel to the Raven Guard, alert my brother that I will be on my way to him shortly," Vulkan ordered, his voice deep and rich. "Also, scan for ships and life on the surface. I want to know where they are." "Aye lord, it shall be done," the officer replied. Vulkan stood in the launch bay of the Flamewrought, his retinue of Firedrakes clad in their Terminator armor beside him, as they flight crew of the Hammerblow made preparations for launch. It was his personal Thunderhawk, its armor plates were shapes as scales, and layered to match. Captain Artellus Numeon joined him, his forest green Terminator armor covered in the teeth of the Drakes of Nocturne he had personally slain. "My lord," Numeon said, bowing to his Primarch. "Preparations are almost complete and I'm told that lord Ferrus Manus will be arriving in system momentarily." His face lined with years of battle scars, his voice deep, his tone one of caring. "Thank you Artellus," Vulkan said. "It pains me greatly that my brothers and I must reunite under such terrible circumstances." "My men and I as well lord. We have each fought beside members of the legions as brothers, and now this." Numeon shook his head, the words still too hard to fathom. "It will take the combined might of all seven legions to bring the Warmaster's forces down, I can only hope that Ferrus Manus is calm enough to wait," Vulkan thought aloud. Ferrus Manus and Fulgrim were close before this betrayal, he hoped beyond hope that Ferrus Manus would listen to reason. "My lords," the ships flight officer said as he approached. "The ship is ready for departure at your command." "Thank you, we will be along shortly," Numeon replied, dismissing the man. "How could this have happened?" Vulkan asked. "Horus was the best and brightest among us. What could make him turn from our fathers light?" "I couldn't begin to know my lord," Numeon answered, "but when you ask him, I'd love to hear his answer." The Iron Hands fleet had arrived without incident, bringing with them a contingent of Legio Atarus Titans. Ferrus Manus had made his way to the launch bay after finding local space uncontested. The Ferrum wasn't as grand of a vessel as the Fist of Iron had been, but it served its purpose. Ferrus Manus was still angry about the loss of the Fist of Iron during an engagement with the Emperor's Children, where Fulgrim had attempted to sway Ferrus Manus to the Warmaster's banner. Thoughts of the loss of the Fist of Iron only served to make Ferrus Manus more upset. How could his brothers turn from the Emperor, he wondered. How could they cast aside their own father and turn their backs on everything they had fought and bled for? Gabriel Santar and his Morlock Terminators joined their Primarch, set to depart to the Shadow of the Emperor and meet with his brothers, their gunmetal Terminator armor matching that of Ferrus Manus. The Lord of the Iron Hands calmed his thoughts as they drew near, not wanting to show how mad he really was just yet. "My lord," Santar said with a bow. "As requested, the Morlocks are prepared to join you." "There is no other fighting men I would rather stand beside," Ferrus Manus said, his voice like iron; his face was hard, weather-beaten from his life on Medusa. "Come, let us not keep them waiting." The men had gathered on the command deck of the Shadow of the Emperor, the respective retinues mingling while their Primarchs discussed their plan of attack. Ferrus Manus was met with more ill news upon his arrival. "Why have we not begun the assault?" He asked. "Calm yourself brother, come and join us," Vulkan told Ferrus Manus. "Corax, what do we know of their defenses?" "Scans indicate they have fortified a section of the Urgall Plateau, complete with command bunker for the Warmaster. My scouts tell me they also have the support of Legio Mortis," Corax explained. "Let's just bombard them from orbit and be done with it then," Ferrus Manus growled. "If we could, I'd agree to that, however they have equipped their fortifications with void shields. Our guns won't break through I'm afraid," Vulkan said. "So a ground assault is the only option we have?" Ferrus Manus asked grudgingly. "Yes brother, we will have to dig them out the old fashioned way," Vulkan said, sounding slightly more excited than he should have. "Then what are we waiting for? Let us begin the assault!" Ferrus Manus exclaimed, pounding one iron fist into the palm of the other hand. "It will take the combined might of seven legions to finish this," Corax reminded him. "Don't be so hasty brother." "How far out are the other legions?" Vulkan asked. A ships officer scanned his screens. "Appropriately three hours, lord." The man's voice was shaky, having heard the anger in a Primarchs voice. "Let us deploy now, the others can join us when they get here," Ferrus Manus stated. "I disagree," Corax said. "We should wait until they have arrived and form a plan." "I'm with Corax on this one," Vulkan admitted. "Strike as one combined power. Hammer and anvil." "Allow me to rephrase," Ferrus Manus said calmly. "I'm going to personally lead an assault. Your support would be invaluable, however we can hold our own for three hours or more if needed." "Slow down brother," Corax said. "Their fleet is absent, where are they going to go? They have had weeks to prepare defenses, another few hours won't give them anything they don't already have." "Fulgrim and his Emperor's Children destroyed my flagship, betrayed our father and killed their own brothers. I cannot sit idly by and wait any longer. I hope to see you on the battlefield brothers." Ferrus Manus turned and, with his retinue, made for the launch bay. He had to return to the Ferrum and prepare his sons for war. "Artellus," Vulkan said. "When we return to the Flamewrought, wake Cassian Dracos. We will need his skill and firepower in the coming battle." "Of course Lord," Artellus replied. ~Chapter 2~ ~Final plans ~Launch ~Traitors Hundred of guns from dozens of ships came to life, tracking several different targets along the defensive line. He had been told that the barrage wouldn't do much good, but it never hurt to try. Each gun was to fire a single shot along the Warmaster's position. Heresy Bk. 02: Istvaan V "Standby all batteries," Ferrus Manus's voice came over the fleetwide vox. "Fire!" Hundreds of shells, missiles and lances streaked towards the planet below, each one finding its mark. Plumes of light blossomed on the rock below, each a chance that one more loyal Astartes would not have to fall. As the sensor reports came back, that hope was quickly dashed. "Lord, the void shields below are reading intact," the sensor officer informed him. "Our bombardment was ineffective sir." "What about their air defenses?" Ferrus Manus asked. "Anti air platforms are offline lord," the officer reported. "Open a channel to the other Primarchs, we don't have long," Ferrus Manus said. Once the channel had been established, he addressed his brothers. "We must be quick, I will take my forces up the middle, which flanks will you be on?" He asked. "I'll take the right flank," Corax said. "I have the left," Vulkan answered. "Very well, I'll see you on the surface brothers," Ferrus Manus said. He turned and left the bridge, heading for the drop pod launch bay to meet his Morlocks. Ferrus Manus looked even larger than he already was inside the drop pod, the grav harness not being designed for someone the size of a Primarch. He had stowed his massive thunder hammer, Forgebreaker, in its clamp and waited for the launch. Ferrus Manus smiled coldly, his thoughts drifting to the swift vengeance he would bring. He had to laugh at the irony of the situation. Fulgrim had crafted Forgebreaker for him years ago, it was only fitting that the traitor be ended by it. Klaxons had alerted Captain Xa'ven and his command squad to the upcoming drop, his men quickly climbing aboard their drop pod. With weapons stowed and his men strapped into their grav harnesses, he hit the activation rune which closed the last of the five petal ramps, each held in place by an explosive bolt. As the ramp lifted into place, Xa'ven strapped himself in. A familiar excitement coursed through him, the thrill of another combat drop not lost due to the purpose of the drop. "I can't believe they let you come along Go'sol," Guldor said. "You've been with us for all of five minutes and suddenly you're fit to come on missions? What is our legion becoming?" "Guldor, I'll have none of that," Xa'ven said. "He has yet to become a full Astartes, but he is as much a part of the legion as you or I. Besides, he may save your life down there." The men burst into laughter. It was a custom among the Salamanders to tease the initiates. Self reliance and self preservation were highly regarded within the legion and this was just another trial for Go'sol. The drop pod was slowly lowered into the firing tube, the sound of the hatch closing above them bringing them back to the grim reality that lay before them. They would soon engage brothers in combat. Each man of the Thirty-Fourth Company had proven themselves in hundreds of war zones, some even as far back as the Unification Wars, but Xa'ven feared that nothing would prepare them for this. He looked around at each man; Guldor rambling about past battles, Atesh Tarsa in his white armor fooling around with his Narthesium gauntlet, the standard tool of the Apothecarion. Jo'Phor, Hae'Phast and Donak taking bets on how long it will be before they return to the ship, and Go'sol reciting words from his training. Each man had been tested, and each would be tested again. The holding clamps unlocked and the drop pod slid down the firing tube, the distinctive whine of the jet engine growing louder as the drop pod entered the final launch stage. With a jolt, the drop pods engine kicked on and hurled the capsule towards Istvaan V. The bombardment had been heavy, but he expected as much. The Warmaster stood with Fulgrim, Mortarion and Angron inside the command bunker. Final plans were being drawn up and some of Horus's brothers were none too happy about their assignments. Fulgrim stood looking out the firing slit, gazing upon the rust colored rock of Istvaan V. His thoughts were of Ferrus Manus, his brother who had crafted his sword Fireblade. He knew Ferrus Manus would come to kill him, or at least try to. Mortarion, The Death Lord, stood with Horus, both men trying to calm Angron's bloodlust. The psycho-surgery he had undergone before the Emperor had found him gave him an almost insatiable appetite for bloodshed. "This will be over in moments," Angron bellowed. "Just let us loose and we will tear through them like lambs before the butcher." "Patience brother," Mortarion said calmly. "If Corax and his Raven Guard get on our flank our plans may be for naught. We need you and your men to set up in ambush positions along the right flank." "How can you know he will take the right flank?" Angron asked angrily. "That's where all the cover is," Horus replied. "Hard to strike from the shadows when there are no shadows." "And if you're wrong?" "Then charge Vulkan with everything you've got," Mortarion told him. "How can you be positive the Gorgon won't be in a flank?" "Because," Fulgrim said without looking away from the firing slit. "He will be coming for me. I destroyed his flagship, damaged several other vessels and got away cleanly. He will want blood, and he will seek it out." Angron stormed off, still not happy with his assignment. Horus looked at his remaining brothers, each had followed him this far, and would follow him unto death. Deep down he knew he could win this battle, just like he knew he had chosen the right path. The Death Guard and Sons of Horus would form lines along the left and right flanks, with the Emperor's Children holding the center. The World Eaters would set up ambush positions along the right flank and all heavy support units would remain in the rear, able to respond as needed. The Imperator Titan Dies Irae would be the only exception, remaining close to the front to provide close in fire support. It had proved instrumental on Istvaan III and now it would prove just as helpful. ~Chapter 3~ ~Contact ~Dies Irae ~Flanking Maneuvers The retro jets on Xa'ven's drop pod activated, easing their descent before slamming them into the hard rock and dirt of Istvaan V. The explosive bolts blew out with a pop and the petal ramps fell to the dirt. Xa'ven and his squad raced ahead to form a defensive line, his brothers doing the same all up and down the line. Taking in the scene around him, Xa'ven could see that battle had been joined. Ferrus Manus and some of his Iron Hands had landed within two hundred feet of the Emperor's Children line and were advancing slowly under the weight of punishing fire. Closer to him, he saw other green drop pods of the Salamanders, each forming up in good order, marching to meet the Sons of Horus and Death Guard. Beyond the Iron Hands, he could make out the black drop pods of the Raven Guard, the huge form of Corax leading them up the right flank, his winged jump pack unmistakable. As his squad marched forward, he heard more drop pods coming in. Looking up be saw a mixture of the three legions, each streaking towards their predetermined positions. Several hundred feet from them landed the scaled drop pod of Vulkan, his Firedrakes quickly taking up position around him. Xa'ven felt a surge of pride at the sight of his Primarch, his gene father coming to shed blood with them in the name of the Emperor. Rarely had this happened, and only in the most dire of circumstances. There has been rumors that Artellus Numeon had even awoken Cassian Dracos, the first Lord Commander who had led the legion before Vulkan had been found. In those days he had been known as Cassian Vaughn, until he was mortally wounded during an Ork invasion in the Taras Division. Vulkan had arrived with three thousand new recruits, his presence inspiring those still able to fight to press harder. The Orks had been destroyed, the severed hand of their leader presented to Cassian Vaughn as a trophy. For his service to the legion and for his knowledge, he was chosen to be interred in the sarcophagus of a dreadnought, his broken body suspended in amniotic fluid and his mind linked with the controls of the dreadnought. The chosen sarcophagus was one personally forged by Vulkan, called the Dracos Revenant. Over the centuries, he began to suffer from the mental dilution which is common to those entombed as a dreadnought. Now he is only awoken in the most dire of circumstances. The distinctive whistle of artillery overhead shook Xa'ven from his thoughts. Without being prompted, his squad hit the dirt; a standard reaction to even the most inaccurate of artillery. The shells burst further down the line, sending up plumes of smoke, dust and rock, leaving behind several small fires in the craters they created. Looking up, he saw his beloved Primarch and his Firedrakes step through the smoke, their Terminator armor scarred and pitted. As motivating as it was, Xa'ven knew that not all of them had been so fortunate as to shake off such fury. He scanned the line again, seeing Ferrus Manus charging up toward the traitor line, his Morlock Terminators only steps behind him. Sons of Horus and Death Guard had begun to move in to engage him. Corax was nowhere to be seen, and Vulkan raised high his hammer and charged. Esau Turnet felt like a god; the neural connection through the Mind Impulse Unit allowing the Princeps to see the battlefield through the eyes of the Imperator Titan Dies Irae. The mighty engine watched the fighting below like a human watches ants go about their labors. He knew nothing could harm them, that nothing down there was a threat to his power. The Warmaster's orders had been specific enough, with just enough leeway to improvise as needed. "Make them pay for every step," the Warmaster had said, and Esau Turnet was not going to disappoint. As the Iron Hands battered their way through pockets of the Warmaster's forces, he saw an opportunity, one he wouldn't miss. "Moderatii," Turnet said. "Spin up the Vulcan Mega-Bolter. Teach them the error of their ways." With a nod, Moderatii Jonah Aruken worked his panel, sending commands and signals to the servitor slaved to the carapace mounted weapons. The massive barrels quickly began to spin, their soft whirring barely audible within the armored head of the Titan. The Iron Hands were moving forward slowly, the weight of resistance keeping them from a full on charge. With a laugh, Turnet flicked the manual fire button; the ground below turned to a cloud of dust and death at three hundred rounds per second. Turnet began to walk the punishing fire back towards the drop zone, attempting to weaken the loyalists as much as possible. As the dust cleared, Turnet could see the ragged corpses of Iron Hands legionaries, as well as some black and green armored bodies of the Raven Guard and Salamanders. Each corpse riddled with holes, their insides turned to pulp from the high caliber mass reactive shells detonating within them. He saw several Sons of Horus using the Titan as cover, firing behind the massive columns of adamantium that made up the Dies Irae's legs. Turnet smiled, knowing that with every kill, with every man he saved from death just by being there and doing his duty, he was earning the Warmaster's favor. The firing stopped, the barrels of their weapons overheating. Turnet's smile faded, fearing his favor with the Warmaster would be based on his performance. He felt he was held to a higher standard because he wasn't an Astartes, and this bad deeply troubled him for months. Since the bombing of Istvaan III, he had tried his hardest to stay in the good graces of the Warmaster. He was bound and determined not to disappoint. Corax had watched in horror as the traitor Titan had ripped into the Iron Hands, knowing his brother was now hurting for reinforcements. Every bone in his body told him to divert his troops and support Ferrus Manus's charge, yet he knew deep down that a frontal assault against a fortified position and against superior numbers was suicide. He had to stay on mission. Corax had taken several hundred of his finest veterans around the extreme right flank, hoping to gain access to the void shield generators in the rear of the bunker. He knew it was a long shot, but even if he couldn't reach them, he could at least attack from the rear. His men moved with practiced efficiency, each step purposeful, each decision made from experience. They skirted boulders and ducked from cover to cover, keeping a watchful eye for enemy troops. Corax knew from reports that Horus had several hundred thousand army troops at his disposal. While that wouldn't be enough to stop him, they might get a warning off or drown them in sheer weight of numbers. Corax halted his men, the sound of aircraft overhead making them take cover. Looking to the sky, he saw ships of the Raven Guard, Iron Hands and Salamanders bringing down supplies and equipment. Tanks of every size, trucks, medical supplies and Imperial Army troops. His heart was overjoyed to see a large red cargo hauler with the skull and cog symbol of the Mechanicum. It carried a cargo that would be vital to the coming battle. "Keep moving, we need to get in position before the Iron Hands next push," Corax said over the vox. No reply was needed, his orders were obeyed without question as his men began to move forward. Soon they would be in position, or fighting to get there. ~Chapter 4~ ~The Gorgon Unleashed ~Strike From The Sky ~Retribution The Iron Hands were hurting, having taken the brunt of the Dies Irae's fire, but that would not deter Ferrus Manus. He fought like a man possessed, the Sons of Horus and Death Guard units sent to stop him having met a quick and brutal end from Forgebreaker. Their broken bodies leaving a trail of destruction in his wake. As the Iron Hands pushed deeper into the heart of the enemy, Ferrus Manus swung Forgebreaker two handed, shattering bone and crushing armor with every swing. His Morlock bodyguards had given him a wide berth, trying to stay out of the arc of their Primarchs swings. "Morlocks, to me!" Ferrus Manus shouted over the cacophony of battle. "Lets show them what becomes of traitors!" Ferrus Manus and several hundred Morlock Terminators charged headlong into the Sons of Horus, not breaking stride as the enemy opened up with their bolters. Some returned fire with their storm bolters, firing from the hip as they ran at the enemy. The only thing they were concerned with was bringing the Emperor's justice to these traitors. A dozen Morlocks fell to concentrated bolter fire, each one down a terrible loss. When they reached the Sons of Horus, they hit like an anvil, running down those at the front, leaving them to be trampled by those still charging forward. The freight train of destruction that was Ferrus Manus's charge came to a halt as they reached the middle of the line. Energized power fists, Thunder Hammers and Forgebreaker swinging hastily with practiced assurance that a connecting strike would kill. To his left, the Primarch of the Iron Hands could see Ezekyle Abaddon and Horus Aximand shouting words of inspiration to their men, killing any Morlocks who got within striking distance. The anger he felt was only subsided by the appearance of Fulgrim. His brother easily stood out among his men, being easily a head taller than those around him. He was only a hundred feet in front of Ferrus Manus, yet between the two were hundreds of men, mostly Sons of Horus and Emperor's Children. "Push through brothers!" Ferrus Manus yelled. "Crush them beneath our iron fury!" His words had some effect, but what motivated his men onward was the sight of their beloved Primarch easily killing those who stood between him and his prize. They pushed harder, determined to see victory this day. From his position on the flank, Corax could see the battlefield clearly, his brothers wild charge making good headway into the enemy. While it looked good, Corax knew deep down that it was doomed to fail, born of pride and hubris. "My lord," a sergeant said, "we stand ready." "Thank you brother, we will begin the assault momentarily," Corax replied. He focused on the damage Ferrus Manus was doing, the punishment he was dealing to the enemies of the Emperor. It was incredible, Corax thought. "Ready jump packs," Corax said over the vox. "Jump on my mark." With the flick of an activation rune, Corax and his Raven Guard soared into the air, propelled forward on wings of fire. They landed hard within one hundred yards of the Death Guard flank, charging the last few paces on foot. As Corax engaged his lightning claw, his charge slowed, a new threat appearing. Angron stood on a rise toward a plateau, directing a contingent of World Eaters into the Raven Guard flank, the Red Angel shouting words of inspiration and calling for blood. Moments later, more World Eaters poured from all directions, their yelling and laughing nearly drowned out by the revving of their chainswords. The blue and white of the World Eaters armor was covered in the blood of Raven Guard Marines who quickly fell to their brutal onslaught. Corax dodged low beneath the wild swing of a chainsword and slashed up with his lightning claw; the energized weapon easily slicing through the power armor, flesh and bone. Spinning on his heel, he slashed again, beheading another. He punched with his free hand, crushing the chest of another World Eater. With a momentary reprieve, he looked around. The melee had become a bloodbath, armor of both sides covered in blood. Corax's own armor was flecked with blood, the bright red color showing well on the black plates of ceramite. Another group of World Eaters charged him, driven by the same psycho-surgery that Angron had received before the Emperor found him. He activated his jump pack, sailing forward into them before they could strike. He stabbed through two of them, ripping open wounds in their chest before breaking the neck of the final assailant. Corax knew what had to be done, though he hated to do it. By doing so meant failure on his part, a failure he would have to live with for the rest of his life. "We can't hold against this fury," Corax voxed to his men. "Fall back to defensive positions." Red light bathed the interior of the Retribution in a sickly glow, as if blood coated the interior. Princeps Kris Delphene liked to think of it as the blood of traitors. They had landed safely behind the Iron Hands, running their final system checks on the void shield generators and plasma reactor. Though the Dies Irae was larger, the Retribution had agility on its side. Delphene laughed at the thought of something the size of a Titan being considered agile. His thoughts were interrupted by his Moderatii giving status updates. "Plasma reactor stable, reactor compartment reports ready Princeps," Hektor Jericho announced. "Void shields at full capacity, generators are stable," Kaleb Andus reported. "Thank you gentlemen, lets go to war," Delphene said with a smile. The Titan moved forward, each stride shaking the earth. In the distance, they could see the Dies Irae firing at incoming aircraft, hoping to shoot as many down as possible with few results. "Gentlemen, this may very well be our last mission together," Delphene said calmly. "Have faith in the Emperor and do not falter in your duties. We will be victorious. Bring the Plasma Cannon online, full power. Target the Dies Irae." "Plasma Cannon ready sir," Andus said. "Target locked." "Fire." A white hot beam of superheated plasma erupted from the barrel of the plasma cannon, striking the Dies Irae in the left leg section. As the air cleared, it was obvious their void shields had taken the impact, with not even a burn mark to show for it. Heresy Bk. 02: Istvaan V "Fire when ready," Delphene said with some urgency. "Bring it down!" Another blast of plasma cut through the air, the noise of the blast causing those outside to cover their ears in pain. Even the Astartes, who have a special implant that reduces deafening noises, showed outward discomfort. The blast hit in roughly the same spot, leaving a dark scorch mark on the leg of the Titan. The Dies Irae was now focused on the Retribution, making its destruction top priority. "Emperor's blood," Delphene breathed, seeing the larger enemy Titan bringing its Plasma Destructor online and spooling up its Hellstorm Cannon. "Fire! Bring it down!" Another blast of plasma arced towards the Dies Irae, the white hot plasma streaking towards its leg for the third time as the Dies Irae backed up. ~Chapter 5~ ~Cassian Dracos ~The Phoenix And The Gorgon ~New Arrivals Xa'ven was in the fight of his life, pressing hard against the traitor line. He was glad he had forced his company to not only practice against servitors, but to spar each other. Their armor was covered in blood, torn and pitted from the constant bolter fire. Hot beams of plasma had arced overhead, drawing everyone's attention, then they stopped. The traitor Titan had started to back up, surely to bring its massive firepower to bear. The whistle of artillery shells sounded overhead, followed quickly by explosions along the legs and torso of the traitor Titan. Something was wrong though, their shields were not protecting them. As this new information processed for him, Xa'ven was brought to his knees by a deafening roar from the traitor Titan. Its plasma weapon firing towards the Retribution. Distant explosions told Xa'ven it had found its mark. Another concentration of bolter shells whizzed by him, several ricocheting off his armor. He quickly returned fire, with little success. He saw his Primarch out of the corner of his eye, the twin flamers on his gauntlets coating traitors in burning promethium. The vox network was full of chatter; squads calling for reinforcements, artillery support, apothecaries and more. One transmission caught Xa'ven's ear that made him swell with pride. "Ancient Cassian Dracos is inbound on your position lord Vulkan." The telltale rush of retro jets signaled his arrival moments later, his modified drop pod slamming into the ground only feet from Xa'ven's position. His men moved to take up defensive positions around the tear drop shaped capsule. The ramps dropped and the large armored form of Cassian Dracos stepped out, his green boxy hull covered in names of battles fought and brothers who had fallen. His right arm was mounted with a powerful Assault Cannon, the double headed eagle with crossed lightning bolts expertly painted on the side, showing his service during the Unification Wars. His left arm was much like a human arm, ending in a powerful grasping hand, a built in flamer attached to his wrist. "Greetings brothers," his deep, metallic voice said from his built in vox unit. "Into the fires of war, unto the anvil of battle we go." Ferrus Manus had devastated the Sons of Horus before him, leaving the way open to the Emperor's Children. His rage grew greater as he saw his brother come out from the bunker, the look of pure joy on his face almost too much for Ferrus Manus to take. With a roar, the Primarch of the Iron Hands charged for his brother, swinging Forgebreaker at anyone who got in his way. His rush was slowed by the mass of bodies in front of him, most of which were expert swordsmen. Swords cut and slashed at his armor, but none could pierce it, glancing and reflecting back the way they had come. Many died by the hands of Ferrus Manus, but many more filled their place. His Morlocks had drifted back, weighed down by Fulgrim's troops, their bulky suits of Terminator armor unable to keep pace with those in standard power armor. As Ferrus Manus fought his way to Fulgrim, he saw Gabriel Santar engage one of the Emperor's Children that he had known from many years ago, Julius Kaesoron. He was just a line officer back then, but was deadly with a blade. His skill was the equal of many First Captains, second only to Fulgrim himself. Ferrus Manus struck an enemy hard with Forgebreaker, his crumpled form flying a short distance across the battlefield. He turned and see Santar duck under a swipe of Kaesoron's sword, the blade missing his head by inches. Santar struck back with his hammer, but Kaesoron was faster. A quick downward chop cost Santar his hand, and the hammer with it. The next blow severed his head from his shoulders. Ferrus Manus flew into a rage, the loss of his First Captain and close friend hitting him hard. He looked to the man he once called brother, pushing his way through the maelstrom of battle towards him. He took one last look around, seeing Corax and his Raven Guard bolstering his troops. "Fulgrim!" Ferrus Manus called. "Face me!" A wide berth was given as the two Primarchs met as enemies for the second time, and what Ferrus Manus knew would be the last, one way or another. Horus was busy in the command bunker, his vox link to the fleet full of chatter. He had his combined fleet anchor just outside the Istvaan system, the distance being their disguise. They had moved, as ordered, to approach Istvaan V after three hours, just long enough to lull the loyalist fleet into complacency. His fleet was reporting more vessels entering local space, bearing the symbols of the Word Bearers, Night Lords, Alpha Legion and Iron Warriors. Horus picked up the transmitter and hailed Calas Typhon, First Captain of the Death Guard and commander of the Terminus Est. "Yes Warmaster?" Typhon asked. "You have command of the fleet, when their forces have deployed, engage at your discretion," Horus ordered. "It shall be done, lord." Horus opened a vox to Angron, Mortarion and Fulgrim, his brothers acknowledging his intent. "The other legions have arrived, pull your men back as soon as possible, reestablish the defensive perimeter." Each voiced their affirmation, with all except Fulgrim complying immediately. Horus looked at where Fulgrim and Ferrus Manus dueled, none having the upper hand. Fulgrim' Emperor's Children began to fall back in good order, the Morlocks not pursuing in favor of guarding their Primarch. As the others joined Horus, watching the battle between demi-gods, Horus spoke softly. "The others have arrived, right on time." "This should be interesting," Mortarion said. "Very," Horus replied with a smile. ~Part 2~ The Second Wave ~Chapter 6~ ~Raven's Claw ~Passing The Word ~New Orders "Sir, multiple ships translating from the warp," the sensory officer reported. Commander Agapito Nev sat in the command throne aboard the Strike Cruiser Raven's Claw, his face scarred from many battles, his general disposition grim and unforgiving. "Weapons online, I want firing solutions now!" Nev demanded. His voice was cold and hard, years of fighting having taken their toll. "Aye lord," the weapons officer said, relaying the commands to the gunnery decks. Flashing indicators a few moments later indicated their readiness. "Gun decks report ready Commander." "Who has come to join us?" Nev wondered aloud. He was expecting reinforcements from four legions, but it wouldn't do to be unprepared. "Sensors indicate several capitol ships sir. Fidelitas Lex of the Word Bearers, Nightfall of the Night Lords, Iron Blood of the Iron Warriors and Beta of the Alpha Legion. More craft arriving as well." Nev breathed a sigh of relief. "Stand down all batteries, they're friendly." The Fidelitas Lex hailed Raven's Claw, Lorgar himself speaking. "Well met Commander, we will begin our deployment momentarily. My brothers have been instructed to fortify the plateau opposite the Warmaster's forces." "Thank you lord, you sure are a welcome sight," Nev replied. "Shall I inform lord Corax of your arrival?" "Please do, and tell him we look forward to seeing him on the field of battle." "Of course lord." The vox went silent, followed shortly by dropships of every size bringing materials to the surface. Most distinctive were those of the Iron Warriors, their pre constructed fortifications being sent to the planet on giant cargo haulers similar to what the Mechanicum used for Titan deployment. "Open a link to the Primarch," Nev ordered. Corax responded happily, the sounds of war carrying on in the background. "Commander Nev, it's good to hear from you," Corax said. "Likewise lord, reinforcements will be joining you momentarily." "Thank you Commander, I'll pass the word along." Nev sat back in his command throne, the battle below seemingly turning in their favor. He silently hoped he would get a share of the glory, but knew that Corax never did anything without reason. If Agapito Nev was to stay with the fleet, it was because he was the most capable Commander for the job. "Sir, tracking multiple vessels inbound on our position," the sensory officer said. "Identify them, spin up weapons batteries and scramble tactical fighters. No other friendlies should be coming," Nev said hastily. Something was wrong here, very wrong. Xa'ven and his squad fought beside Cassian Dracos, the Venerable Dreadnought laying down fire support for their advance. As they reached the enemy, Jo'phor and Hae'phast charged into the Death Guard together, fighting back to back as they pushed closer to their Primarch. Go'sol had proven to be a great asset, the young neophyte sticking close to apothecary Tarsa and Sergeant Guldor. More than once Xa'ven had seen Go'sol deflect a killing blow aimed at one of the two he was with. He fought with all the bravery of a seasoned veteran, yet with the speed and agility of someone half his age. Donak slid in beside Xa'ven, tapping him on the shoulder guard to get his attention. "Captain, our brothers have come!" Donak yelled. He had ditched his helmet after a bolt round scrambled his internal sensors, preferring to fight the old fashioned way. Xa'ven looked to the sky, seeing drop pods and aircraft entering the atmosphere. The Iron Warriors had already begun establishing fortifications on the high ground in the center of the ridge, with the Word Bearers below them. Night Lords and Alpha Legion took the left and right flanks respectively, each preparing their own crude battlements. "Thank the Emperor, I'll inform lord Vulkan." Xa'ven quickly called for his Primarch on the vox. "Lord, your brothers have come, they are setting up as we speak," Xa'ven said. "Thank you Captain, I shall convene with Corax on this matter," Vulkan replied. The battle may be turning, Xa'ven thought. The traitors, along with their Titan, had pulled back, the sight of additional troops making them reform for the next assault. "Form up a battle line," Xa'ven ordered. "Thirthy-Fourth, hold position and await word from the Primarch." Swiftly, the remaining men of Xa'ven's company formed up, the gunfire dying down as both sides readied for the next push. Corax met with Vulkan to discuss their next move, the arrival of the other legions adding additional supplies as well as fresh troops. Ferrus Manus however, wouldn't listen to them, deciding instead to press the advantage. "Corax," Vulkan said. "Have you gotten ahold of Ferrus Manus?" "Our brother will not be pawed at. He has turned off his vox and is pressing on," Corax answered. "Very well, how are your men?" Vulkan asked. "Bloodied and hurting. We are low on ammo and have many needing to see an apothecary. How are yours?" "In the same shape, unfortunately. We should pull back, resupply and return with fresh troops. Perturabo can hammer them as we fall back." "A sound strategy, I'll try and bring Ferrus Manus to reason." Corax made for Ferrus Manus's position, the Primarch of the Iron Hands having pushed further towards Fulgrim's command post after Fulgrim had pulled back. He was easy to find, the trail of broken bodies led straight to the hammer wielding giant. "Brother," Corax shouted over the roar of combat. "We should pull back, resupply and regroup. We can win this, but we have to work together!" "Go then," The Gorgon replied. "Send us aid when you can, we will celebrate our victory inside Fulgrim's command post!" "Listen to reason, you will be cut off and surrounded by the time we get back!" "Then we won't be able to miss, will we?" Corax knew his brother wouldn't listen to him, his pride demanded he kill Fulgrim for what he had done. With a heavy heart, Corax turned and headed back to Vulkan. "So he is staying then?" Vulkan asked, knowing the answer before he asked. "His pride demands it. After what Fulgrim did to his fleet, after all they have been through, he won't stop until one of them is dead." "Very well, lets make for our defenses." Both Primarchs gave their orders; fall back by squads to resupply and regroup. Vowing to return with fresh troops to support Ferrus Manus and his reckless charge. ~Chapter 7~ ~Ready ~The Unthinkable ~Betrayal Alpharius stood by the defensive wall they had created, his face obscured by the helm he wore, decked out in bas relief serpents. His teal armor was also covered in serpents, the symbol of his legion. As he watched the Salamanders and Raven Guard fall back towards their position, he called for Lorgar. Lorgar's tall, slender form approached, his skin almost gold in color, accentuated by his gunmetal armor with gold trim. He carried the Illuminarium, a tall sceptre-power maul that was made for him by Ferrus Manus. Though it functioned as a weapon, it was more a symbol of his religious zeal. "They come to us brother," Alpharius said, his voice masked by a vox unit. "Good, it's about time. Are the men ready?" "I cannot speak for the others, but my troops are more than ready." "Good, pass the word to have all available units ready to deploy. They will need all the help they can get." "By your command," Alpharius replied. Lorgar gazed at the men approaching his position, seeing many were injured and obviously low on ammo. He could see the huge forms of Corax and Vulkan as they aided several squads in pulling back. They looked like they had been in battle, but didn't look injured. "Lorgar," Alpharius said, dragging him from his thoughts. "Yes," Lorgar replied. "Perturabo reports ready and waiting, but Konrad Curze isn't responding." Lorgar sighed, "Night Haunter likes to be on his own program, doesn't he?" "I'd be concerned if he wasn't," Alpharius said with a laugh. "I'll go find him," Lorgar said. "Knowing him he is setting up for an ambush." Lorgar found Curze outside his command post, going over battle plans with his Captains. The midnight blue of his armor draped in the skins of those he had killed in battle. His skin was abnormally pale, having grown up in the perpetual darkness of Nostramo. "Here you are," Lorgar said. "Why haven't you answered our calls?" "I've been planning, can't fight a war without a plan," Curze replied, his voice dripping with venom. "True. You would do well to remember that this is a war, not one of your terror campaigns." "My brutal tactics, as you call them, have seen me bring planets to compliance without deploying a single man," Curze retorted. "And yet you cover your armor in the skins of slain adversaries, your men cover their armor in runes and icons to inspire fear." "What's your point?" "My point is, you rule with fear, where many of us believe you should do the opposite." "That's not how I was raised, you know this. You were there when the Emperor found me, you saw where I came from. This is all I know." Lorgar sighed, knowing how Nostramo had been before Curze had taken over. Crime was the law of the land, the population was poor and downtrodden, the rich only got richer off the labor of the poor. Konrad had changed that, killing criminals and villians, bringing order back with vigilante justice. His work had earned him the nickname Night Haunter, with mothers using threats of him coming in the night for children who misbehaved. "Are your troops ready?" Lorgar asked. "More than ready," Curze replied. "Very well, we move soon, listen for the order." Lorgar said as he left. Xa'ven and his squad were some of the last to pull back, providing the rear guard as the other groups pulled back. He was a bit surprised to see several dozen Iron Hands moving with them, heading for the newly established defenses. When Xa'ven had asked one group why they were leaving their brothers, they had told him they were out of ammo. Xa'ven could see those first few groups up ahead, their shapes looked close the safety of the defenses. He was inwardly happy that the Iron Warriors had come, their siege expertise would no doubt prove invaluable. He could see the steel and yellow guns aimed at the traitor forces, oddly silent, yet menacing. Xa'ven and Go'sol bounded back to a boulder, Atesh Tarsa and Jo'phor right behind them. Guldor had taken Hae'phast and Donak with him to aid several Raven Guard in dragging some Iron Hands back to safety. Cassian Dracos lumbered up behind them, his Assault Cannon providing a base of fire to move under. He moved on past them, shaking the ground beneath their feet as his massive adamantium hull kept moving. "Captain Xa'ven, you must keep moving," Cassian said. "We won't leave you lord," Xa'ven returned. "Nothing can pierce my armor, go!" While he wasn't sure how sturdy his armored body was, he did know that Cassian could fire on the move, able to swivel his torso around completely. "We won't be far ahead, call us if you need assistance," Xa'ven said. "I may be old, Captain, but I still have a lot of life left in me. Go!" The Captain couldn't help but laugh at his sentiments, knowing he was right. His mind had started to go, but his body and soul would live on for centuries, much like the many other Dreadnoughts throughout the legions. Bolter shells pinged off of Cassian's armored hull, his large body used as mobile cover for the Salamanders. Xa'ven and Go'sol pushed ahead, only two thousand feet between them and the Iron Warriors strong point. As they came up beside Vulkan who was laying down suppressive fire for his men, something strange happened. The vox went dead. Agapito Nev was in trouble, the first impact had destroyed the comms array. Next went several gun batteries on the lower decks, the compartments venting to the void and those not killed in the blast were killed by explosive decompression. "Helmsman, get us out of here!" Nev commanded as the damage reports came flashing across his screen. "Make for the jump point, full ahead. Secure forward batteries, prepare for warp translation as soon as we hit the jump point." How could this have happened, Nev wondered. The Warmaster's fleet, led by the Terminus Est, had appeared shortly after the other legions, but they didn't engage. The combined fleets of the Iron Warriors, Word Bearers, Night Lords and Alpha Legion had turned their guns on the Raven Guard, Salamanders and Iron Hands. The Raven's Claw was crippled, doing more harm than good. Her smaller size meant that she had maneuverability, but didn't pack the punch of the Shadow of the Emperor. Nev knew he only had one course of action, to run like hell and carry the warning of this new development. More explosions shook the ship, venting more compartments on the lower decks. The ship was turning hard, trying to angle itself towards open space, away from the gravity well of the planet below. Heresy Bk. 02: Istvaan V "Three minutes to warp translation sir," the helmsman called. "You have two, make them count!" Nev returned. "Sir, will we survive the jump?" "If we stay here, we die. I told you all about the daring escape the Eisenstein made, if they can make it, so can we." Captain Nathaniel Garro had also been crippled by the Terminus Est, bravely entering the warp with an unstable Geller Field, a bubble of real space projected around the ship to protect it from the various daemons that inhabit the raw energy of the warp. They had been picked up by Rogal Dorn of the Imperial Fists and brought to Terra, warning the Emperor of Horus's treason. "But sir, the warp has become very unstable," the helmsman said before Nev cut him off. "We are in better shape than the Eisenstein, if you refuse my orders, I'll have you shot. Is that clear?" "Yes lord," As the ranking Astartes on board, Nev was in command, regardless of Imperal Navy personnel on board. Each Astartes officer is given advanced Naval training, making them able to take command. "Thirty seconds to warp translation lord," the helmsman said. "Spin up warp drives, I want a quick translation," Nev commanded. The ship was hit with more impacts, the command deck shaking violently. Several officers were thrown from their chairs. "Jump point reached, we are clear of the planets gravity well sir," the navigator reported. "Translate to the warp, now!" Rending a tear in the material universe, the Raven's Claw slipped into the warp, its Geller Field projecting as the ship entered the immaterium. ~Chapter 8~ ~New Plans ~A God Falls ~The Raven Xa'ven couldn't figure out why the vox was dead, trying everything he knew to reset it. He saw others doing the same, a great sense of being alone suddenly flooding the loyalists. Xa'ven turned towards Cassian Dracos, intending to use hand signals to communicate. Touching his hand to his ear, he shook his head. Cassian, lacking proper shoulders shook his whole upper body side to side. Xa'ven took off his helmet, clipping it to his belt and settling to yelling, as he had done many times before. Others around him were doing the same, choosing voice communications over battle sign. As Xa'ven checked his ammo and Go'sol's, their green armor reflected a red light. Looking to the sky, he saw the source, a flare. A single flare. "What's with the flare?" Go'sol asked. "No idea," Xa'ven replied. "Usually they are only used during rescue missions or when..." "When what?" "When reinforcements are expected. We use flares to show our position." Xa'ven's mind gripped the sudden realization. The flare could only mean one thing. "Find cover!" Xa'ven yelled as the four legions sent to aide them suddenly opened fire on them. Great clouds of smoke billowed from the guns of the Iron Warriors, sending dirt, dust and bodies flying with the impact of the shells. Men in the midnight blue armor of Night Lords rushed in from the left flank, hitting the Salamanders hard and fast. Many fell in those opening moments, but many more were able to fight back. Vulkan was moving to the right, looking for Corax through the fog of war. His large body was a prime target, bolter shells bouncing off his armor and hitting the dirt. Xa'ven could see Corax hunkered down behind a large piece of metal tall enough to conceal him without him bending down. Xa'ven realized what it was, the leg of the Retribution. "Well," Atesh Tarsa said, making his way to Xa'ven with the others of his squad. "We know what became of the Titan." The vox network came back to life, the sounds of battle projecting from the collar of his armor. He slipped his earpiece in, hearing the screams of the dying and the calls for apothecaries. Tarsa rushed to help the wounded Raven Guard and Iron Hands, leaving Xa'ven and the others to fight their way out. Over the vox, Xa'ven could hear the two Primarchs talking. "We should fall back to the dropships and dig in, wait for reinforcements," Vulkan said. "Negative, we need to leave. Evacuate by any means necessary," Corax insisted. "If we secure a small zone, we can hold out. I'm sure other legions are on their way." "Doubtful. I've lost contact with the fleet, probably because they are fighting their own war." "Fine, we evacuate." Vulkan spoke directly into the vox this time. "All loyalist units, evacuate, I repeat, evacuate by any means necessary. May the Emperor watch over you." Ferrus Manus had reached Fulgrim again, the two gods locked in combat. Both had taken hits, bled from wounds that would kill a normal man, and both fought on. Fulgrim swept low with Fireblade, striking for the knee. Ferrus Manus blocked his swipe, the final contact of weapons too much for them to bear. Fireblade shattered, but not before sending the two halves of Forgebreaker flying across the field, killing one of Fulgrim's men on impact. Ferrus Manus produced a large pipe wrench, activating the energies with a flick of the activation stud. Fulgrim produced another blade, one he had picked up after the Cleansing of the Laer. It was long and silver, shining brightly from its razor sharp edge. The two fought, ducking and dodging, striking and blocking each other, neither one showing any signs of giving up. Fulgrim ducked below a swing and stabbed for Ferrus Manus, who spun around it, punching for Fulgrim. "Look what you've become," Ferrus Manus said. "Turning your back on everything we built." "Our father turned his back on us when he left the Crusade to return to Terra," Fulgrim retorted, slashing again for his head. Ferrus Manus ducked, still hoping against hope that his brother would see the error of his ways. Another strike came for his waist and Ferrus Manus jumped back, batting the blade towards the ground with his own weapon. "You know our father wouldn't abandon us," he said. "Where is he now brother," Fulgrim spat. "He allows officials on Terra decide what happens, not those who win glory on the field, not those who spill their blood to conquer worlds." Fulgrim swiped at Ferrus Manus, his silver blade coming within centimeters of his armor. He responded by striking for Fulgrim's head, the Primarch dodging low. "Horus is the true leader," Fulgrim said. "He leads from the front, winning glories and bringing worlds into the fold alongside those who he commands. You would do well to follow him." "Never," Ferrus Manus replied. "Then there is no hope left for you," Fulgrim said calmly. Ferrus Manus swung for Fulgrim, aiming for his chest. Fulgrim never gave him the chance. In a flash Fulgrim sliced clean through, separating Ferrus Manus's head from his shoulders. The severed head rolled, stopping when it hit Fulgrim's boot. His body crumpled on the ground, the sight sending those remaining Iron Hands into a frenzy. Those close enough charged the Emperor's Children, their sadness and rage driving them to fight till death. Those who could began to make for the remaining pockets of loyalists, the death of their Primarch demanding vengeance. Fulgrim picked up the severed head of Ferrus Manus, walking calmly from the battle raging around him. His face was a mask of sadness for what he had done. He entered the command bunker, stepping up to the Warmaster. "I present the head of Ferrus Manus, it is done." Corax knew they were in trouble, having heard of his brothers demise and the evacuation that was underway going poorly. Corax had to buy them some time. He saw an opportunity and took it, activating his jump pack and launching toward Lorgar's position. The two met in battle, Corax driving his lightning claw deep into Lorgar's shoulder. Lorgar responded, knocking Corax off him with the Illuminarium. He dodged back from another swipe of the lightning claws and swung hard with his staff. Corax, being the more martial of the two, easily ducked under it, slashing a deep gouge in Lorgar's breastplate. Lorgar hit him hard in the side of the head with his fist, knocking Corax off balance for the briefest of moments. The Raven Lord recovered, uncoiling his three headed whip from his belt. He snapped it, the blue glow of energy flowing through it. He cracked it at Lorgar, the whip coiling around his arm. With a heave, Corax threw Lorgar off balance, slashing a deep gouge in his arm with his lightning claw. Corax was playing with Lorgar now, this battle all but over. As he rose, Corax cracked his whip, wrapping it around Lorgar's leg and pulling, slamming him to the ground again. Corax laughed, knowing he had Lorgar beat. "Give up brother," Corax implored. "Repent and maybe I'll let you live." "You can't possibly imagine the things I have seen," Lorgar said. "The Imperium is doomed. The false Emperor will fall." "Your mind has been poisoned, but we can fix that. One last chance Lorgar, repent." Lorgar only laughed. Corax moved in, intent on ending his brothers life, retribution for the death of Ferrus Manus. Lorgar laid on his back, laughing as Corax closed in for the kill. "I'm going to kill you, for everything you've done, everything you've become and everyone you've betrayed," Corax said. "Not this day," Lorgar replied. From the shadows, Konrad Curze leapt at Corax, his long blade slicing through the lightning claw, the pieces falling to the ground as the actinic blue light died along the remainder of his weapon. Curze slashed wildly with his blade, his clawed gauntlet alternately slicing through the air. The sudden frenzy driving the Raven Lord back, step by step. Corax retrieved his whip, cracking it in front of him and giving him some space. Curze didn't let up, charging into Corax and taking him to the ground. The pair wrestled, trading blows, rending and tearing at each other. Corax managed to throw Curze off of him, kicking him hard in the face and standing back up. Curze grabbed his blade and, with a roar, charged again at Corax. This time be was ready, cracking the whip against his breastplate before wrapping his blade up and tossing it aside. As Curze watched it go, howling with rage, Corax turned and activated his jump pack, flying out of the area and leaving his brothers behind. ~Chapter 9~ ~Escape Plan ~Sisypheum ~Raven's Fall Xa'ven, Go'sol, Guldor, Jo'phor, Hae'phast and Donak ran hard, headed for a dropship marked with the icon of the Sons of Horus. Five hundred feet from the ramp, bolter fire kicked up around them, causing Go'sol, Hae'phast, Donak and Jo'phor to become split from the group. "Go," Jo'phor shouted as Xa'ven stopped. "We will find our own way off this rock." Knowing there was no time to argue, Xa'ven could only yell back to him before continuing on. "May the Emperor watch over you all." Xa'ven and Guldor continued on, reaching the ramp without further incident. Behind them came an Iron Hands Marine and a Raven Guard, running hard for the ramp through punishing bolter fire. Xa'ven went up the ramp, his combat knife drawn. Two Sons of Horus stood between them and evacuation, glaring at them through the red eyes of their helmets. Xa'ven charged, covering the distance before either could produce a weapon. He slashed the throat of the first guard, the blade sliding neatly between the helmet and breastplate, temporarily disabling him. He kicked the other hard in the chest, the ceramite of his armor cracking under the force of the impact. As Xa'ven finished off the crippled enemy, Guldor charged the remaining guard, his combat knife held low as be ran up the ramp. Xa'ven looked over in time to see the traitor brandish his plasma pistol and fire. White hot plasma contacted Guldor's leg, melting it the instant it touched him. Screaming, Guldor dropped to the deck, the Larraman cells from his gene-seed already forming scar tissue over the area that had not been cauterized. Before Xa'ven could end the traitor, the Raven Guard was on him, disemboweling him with his lightning claws. Before Xa'ven could say anything, the Raven Guard turned to him. "Can you fly this damned crate?" "I think so," Xa'ven replied. He had been trained in the basic controls of thunderhawks, but this was a smaller variant, a stormhawk. "That'll have to do," the Raven Guard said, helping several Iron Hands survivors up the ramp. When the last one was loaded on, he closed the ramp, the passenger compartment filled with Iron Hands wounded, as well as their group. "Get us out of here!" someone shouted. Xa'ven quickly manipulated the controls and the stormhawk leapt into the sky, making a quick path towards what Xa'ven hoped was the safety of the fleet. Captain Ulrach Branthan was tense. He had escaped the worst of the fighting, having been in position on the outer perimeter when the traitor fleet had arrived. Hearing of the death of his Primarch weighed heavily on everyone, but now he knew his duty. He had to save as many lives as possible. He could hear survivors heading for whatever dropships they could find, members of each loyalist legion mixing together to get to safety. Several had already made it out of Istvaan V, bright red spots drawing closer as they burned through the atmosphere. "Prepare to take on survivors," Branthan ordered. "I want as many apothecaries as we can spare ready to receive wounded. Navigator, plot us a course to the nearest jump point. As soon as we are full I want us out of here." His orders were acknowledged, each person knowing that disobedience would result in death. Branthan moved from station to station, checking readings himself and issuing orders for corrections as needed. "Sir, scanners indicate the traitor fleet is moving on us," the sensory officer reported. "How many transports are inbound on us?" Branthan asked. "Just one sir, others are being shot down by other ships and one is headed out to space." "Begin making turns for the jump point. We need to shake this fleet before we all die." Atesh Tarsa sat in a Storm Eagle Gunship, one of the last to get off the planet before the Iron Warriors began shooting them down. He tended to a wounded Raven Guard, his injuries not life threatening, yet enough to put him out of action for a while. Through the front viewport, Tarsa could see a large black shape bearing the iconography of the Iron Hands, one of the last intact vessels of the loyalist fleet. It was turning away from them slowly. Tarsa tapped the pilot, who removed his headset. "Are they leaving us?" Tarsa asked. "No, they know we are coming. They are preparing to leave as soon as we are on board," the pilot replied. "Thank the Emperor," Tarsa said, sitting down next to a group of Morlocks. The bulk of their Terminator armor left little room for anything else, including the pair of Raven Guard survivors they had picked up as well as Tarsa. He thought of his brothers, wondering where they were and if they had made it away safely. He hoped they had, but seeing what was happening as they had sped away from the planet, he doubted any had gotten away. When they had set down in the launch bay many Iron Hands met them, helping them with the wounded and welcoming them as brothers. Tarsa was approached by another apothecary, his white armor bearing the double helix of the Apothecarion and the steel gauntlet of the Iron Hands. "What unit are you with?" the man asked quickly. "Salamanders Thirthy-Fourth Company. I am apothecary Atesh Tarsa." "My apologies, I didn't see your legion insignia. Welcome aboard the Sisypheum, help me with theses wounded." Tarsa assisted several men, helping them to the medicae deck before going to the command deck. As he entered, he heard the Captain giving orders. "Bring us port ten degrees, full port engine, hold the starboard. We're almost away." "Sir," Tarsa said. "What's the plan?" "We outrun this Night Lords vessel, then make for the jump point," Branthan said. "If they don't cripple us first." Corax had rounded up several Raven Guard, fighting a guerilla war towards their ships. Patrols had been sent out by the Night Lords to find and kill any remaining loyalists, and each that came across Corax never lives to tell of it. The Mechanicum had not only forged his whip for him, they had modified his armor. They had installed a jammer into it, activated with the touch of a rune and able to block local vox communication. When it was given to him, he thought it strange that it would block vox signals. Now, he was thankful to the Martian Cult. As he went, he had gained a small following, picking up several Iron Hands and a few Salamanders. The going was slow, with many kill teams sent to protect the dropships. Corax was happy that those who had followed him were even tempered and not prone to rash actions like those of the World Eaters or Space Wolves. Over the rise sat the dropships, three stormhawk gunships, each closely guarded by Iron Warriors. Corax knew that his jamming ability wouldn't cover all of them, so be had to come up with a plan. His men joined him on the ridge, keeping low and out of sight. "What do you think?" Corax asked. "My lord, we should be quick and silent," a Raven Guard said. "Stick to the shadows and hit them fast." "If we get them to group together it will be quick, your speed and our brute force will tear them down easily lord," an Iron Hand said. "Lure them out into a trap," a Salamander offered. "Strike hard when they don't expect it." "All sound plans, but each one gives us away. If they vox a warning, we are as good as dead," Corax said. No plan was perfect, each one giving the enemy time to react. Corax knew there was only one way this would go, quick and painful. "Raven Guard, jump pack assault along the flanks, Iron Hands and Salamanders, rush up the middle. Make them pay for their treachery," Corax ordered. "Strike on my signal." Each group moved into position, a pair of Raven Guard along each flank, with Corax and the remaining men in the center. When each had been given ample time to get into position, Corax crested the hill, cracking his whip hard. The Iron Warriors turned, bringing their bolters to bear. As they focused on the Primarch, the Raven Guard struck from the shadows. The Salamanders and Iron Hands raced up the middle, trying their best to keep pace with the Raven Lord. By the time they met the enemy, the flanks had been taken care of. It was over in seconds, the Raven Lord putting down the defenders with brutal efficiency. The Salamanders and Iron Hands never got a chance to fight, reaching the corpses of the enemy as Corax was stowing his whip. "Did they get off a warning lord?" asked a Raven Guard. "I don't know, but we had better hurry, they will know soon enough." They raced up the ramp of a stormhawk, the pilot dead on the floor. Corax went for the controls, while his men secured the ship, bringing the ramp up after the last man. The engines screamed as Corax hit the throttle, lurching forward and into the sky. They crossed the plateau fast, covering ground and gaining altitude. Corax let out a long sigh, finally being carried to safety. He wondered if there was anything left of the fleet. Communications had gone dead hours ago and parts of smaller craft had been seen burning up on entry. He could only hope they would be rescued. A loud explosion rocked the small craft, the sound of air rushing through the cabin was almost deafening. They nosed down, unable to control their descent. Another explosion hit, sending them spinning towards Istvaan V. "Brace for impact!" Corax yelled to anyone who was still alive. The stormhawk slammed hard into the rock and earth. Corax braced as hard as he could, but it wasn't enough. His head bit the console, and darkness took him. Heresy Bk. 02: Istvaan V ~Chapter 10~ ~Nuclear Option ~Salamanders Still Live ~New Mission Artellus Numeon and the remaining Firedrakes had become separated from there Primarch, the mass confusion of battle drawing them to help others fight for survival. From his position on a ridge, Numeon could see Vulkan and several First Company veterans turning their flamers on those traitors foolish enough to approach. Black smoke rose from the burning bodies, any parchment of cloth easily consumed by the flames. Numeon knew they had to get back to their Primarch, but first they had to make an opening. Iron Warriors threw themselves wildly at the Salamanders defending their dropships, the siege experts wantonly charging into what was certain death, trying to drown their opposition in sheer weight of numbers. Bolter fire kicked up dust around them, several shells bouncing off Numeon's armored breastplate. "Artellus," Vulkan said over the vox. "Evacuate those you can, we will be right behind you." "Sir, we can't get out. Every attempt is shot from they sky," Numeon said. "You have to try, we will provide a distraction for you," Vulkan said. Thoughts of Ferrus Manus flashed through his mind, the Iron Hands Primarch giving his life while trying to kill his closest brother. This would end up similarly, Numeon thought, but not the same. If Vulkan gave his life, it would be so his sons would live. "Sir, I can't ask this of you. We will find another way," Numeon said. "There is no other way captain," Vulkan said. "We will draw their fire. When you can, evacuate." Artellus cursed under his breath, knowing his Primarch was doomed, yet unable to argue. He saw Vulkan raise his hammer high, a shout of blind fury coming from the men around him. The Primarch charged into the Iron Warriors, crushing many and opening a hole big enough to fit a small Cruiser into. "Load up," Numeon ordered. "We won't have this last action be in vain." With heavy hearts, the remaining Salamanders under Artellus Numeon climbed aboard one of the last thunderhawks. As they lifted off, Numeon looked toward the Iron Warriors line, his blood turning to ice in his veins. "Emperor's Blood," Numeon said as he opened a channel to the Primarch. "Numeon, I told you to leave!" Vulkan said angrily. "We are lord, you need to seek cover immediately. Iron Warriors are deploying nuclear missiles!" Numeon said. As he said it, the first warhead lifted into the sky, an angry red plume of fire sending it arching sharply towards Vulkan and his men. Numeon pushed the gunship as hard as he was able to, the heat of the atmosphere telling them they would soon be off of Istvaan V. An image of the mushroom cloud could be seen through the side armorglass, the sound following shortly after. Artellus, and every Salamander with him, hung their heads for their Primarch. Jo'phor sprung the trap, catching one of the kill teams sent to hunt down the remaining loyalists between the canyon walls of their hiding place and the intense fire from his friends. Donak, Hae'phast, Go'sol and himself had managed to slip away from the landing zones, taking refuge in a narrow canyon. When the kill team was dead, the group stripped them of anything useful. Jo'phor knew they had missed their chance to get off Istvaan V anytime soon. As they worked, a great explosion erupted in the distance, sending a mushroom cloud high into the sky. "Now they have nukes," Donak said, approaching his friend. "Must be mopping up large pockets of resistance." "Guess so," Jo'phor said sullenly. "We should move, no telling if they gave us away before dying," Go'sol said. "Just a minute," Jo'phor said, drawing his combat knife and carving the armor of the fallen traitors. "What are you doing?" Hae'phast asked. "Leaving a message for anyone who finds these. Salamanders still live," Jo'phor said as he carved the symbol of his legion in the armor of the enemy. Atesh Tarsa had been busy since boarding the Sisypheum, assisting with repairs as best he could. The Night Lords ship Tenebraxis had caused damage to the rear section of the ship, bringing their escape plan to an abrupt halt. The Iron Hands, not to be discouraged by this turn of events, had boarded the ship. Fighting through the darkened corridors, they had taken the fight to the enemy, stripping the ship of anything they could use to effect repairs. "Try it now," Tarsa called to an Iron Hand he was helping. They had been rerouting cooling water to the reactors that power the engines, their earlier overheating having shut down the engines to prevent a catastrophic failure of the reactor. Tarsa knew he had opened the valve, hearing the flow of water through the pipe. When he heard cheering down the corridor, he knew they had been successful. Tarsa met up with the other groups that had been helping with repairs and they all headed to the bridge. "Prepare for warp translation," Branthan said. "translate!" The customary tear appeared before them, real space and the warp existing simultaneously for the briefest of moments. The ship slipped calmly inside, the Geller Field activating as they breached the void between dimensions. "We're away!" the helmsman cheered. "Very well,"Branthan said. "Navigator, make for traitor space, deep behind their lines." "Sir, why there?" asked Tarsa. "These bastards killed my brothers, betrayed my Emperor, and probably killed my Primarch. We will make them pay dearly for what they have done." ~Epilogue ~ Corax survived the crash of his ship, linking up with several surviving Raven Guard and evading capture. Ninety eight days after the drop site massacre, under attack from Angron and his World Eaters, rescue came from Commander Branne Nev, brother of Agapito Nev. The surviving Raven Guard would return to Deliverance, while Corax went to Terra, seeking the council of his father. Unknown even to him, Vulkan was Perpetual, able to regenerate his body even after death. He woke up surrounded by Iron Warriors and Emperor's Children, fighting for his life. Eventually, he was knocked unconscious and taken prisoner by Konrad Curze aboard the Nightfall. His brother tortured him for many weeks, trying unsuccessfully to kill him. Xa'ven and Guldor, along with those survivors they had taken with them, were picked up by a White Scars Legion ship, informing them of the Horus Heresy. Guldor was treated for his wounds and the two agreed to help the white Scars find their Primarch. Guldor would be wounded again and Xa'ven killed, fighting Word Bearers and their daemonic allies. Guldor was put in stasis and returned to the Salamanders, to be entombed within a dreadnought. Jo'phor and his men would continue to fight on Istvaan V for many months, their fate, like that of so many others, remains unknown. Atesh Tarsa and the Sisypheum would go on to attack traitor craft and supply convoys along shipping routes, gathering intelligence along the way. The Iron Hands were reduced in strength from over ten thousand to under two thousand. The legion would spend the rest of the Heresy rebuilding its strength. The Salamanders and Raven Guard suffered similar fates, their strength reduced to only a few thousand. Traitor forces continue their push towards Terra, and the Imperial Palace. The fate of mankind lies in the balance.