Dawn of fire avenging so.., p.1
Dawn of Fire : Avenging Son, page 1
More Warhammer 40,000 stories from Black Library
• DAWN OF FIRE •
Book 1: AVENGING SON
Guy Haley
INDOMITUS
Gav Thorpe
• DARK IMPERIUM •
Guy Haley
Book 1: DARK IMPERIUM
Book 2: DARK IMPERIUM: PLAGUE WAR
BELISARIUS CAWL: THE GREAT WORK
Guy Haley
KNIGHTS OF MACRAGGE
Nick Kyme
• WATCHERS OF THE THRONE •
Chris Wraight
Book 1: THE EMPEROR’S LEGION
Book 2: THE REGENT’S SHADOW
RITES OF PASSAGE
Mike Brooks
• VAULTS OF TERRA •
Chris Wraight
Book 1: THE CARRION THRONE
Book 2: THE HOLLOW MOUNTAIN
HONOURBOUND
Rachel Harrison
Contents
Cover
Backlist
Title Page
Warhammer 40,000
Dramatis personae
Prominent Vessels of the Indomitus Crusade
Map
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Epilogue
Appendix: Notes on the Crusade
About the Author
An Extract from ‘Indomitus’
A Black Library Publication
eBook license
It is the 41st millennium.
Ten thousand years have passed since the Primarch Horus turned to Chaos and betrayed his father, the Emperor of Mankind, plunging the galaxy into ruinous civil war.
For one hundred centuries the Imperium has endured xenos invasion, internal dissent, and the perfidious attentions of the dark gods of the warp. The Emperor sits immobile upon the Golden Throne of Terra, a psychic bastion against infernal powers. It is His will alone that lights the Astronomican, binding together the Imperium, yet not one word has He uttered in all that time. Without His guidance, mankind has strayed far from the path of enlightenment.
The bright ideals of the Age of Wonder have withered and died. To be alive in this time is a terrible fate, where an existence of grinding servitude is the best that can be hoped for, and a quick death is seen as the kindest mercy.
As the Imperium continues its inevitable decline, Abaddon, last true son of the Primarch Horus, and now Warmaster in his stead, has reached the climax of a plan millennia in the making, tearing reality open across the width of the galaxy and unleashing forces unheard of. At last it seems, after centuries of valiant struggle, mankind’s doom is at hand.
Into this darkness a pale shaft of light penetrates. The Primarch Roboute Guilliman has been wakened from deathly slumber by alien sorcery and arcane science. Returning to Terra, he has resolved to set right this dire imbalance, to defeat Chaos once and for all, and to restart the Emperor’s grand plan for humanity.
But first, the Imperium must be saved. The galaxy is split in twain.
On one side, Imperium Sanctus, beleaguered but defiant. On the other, Imperium Nihilus, thought lost to the night. A mighty crusade has been called to take back the Imperium and restore its glory. All mankind stands ready for the greatest conflict of the age. Failure means extinction, and the path to victory leads only to war.
This is the era Indomitus.
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
FLEET PRIMUS
Roboute Guilliman, The Imperial Regent, the Avenging Son, the Last Loyal Son, the Returned and Sainted Primarch
Belisarius Cawl, Archmagos Dominus, Prime Conduit of the Omnissiah
Jermaine Gunthe, Senior logister
Servants of Cawl
Qvo-87, Reconstituted ally
Alpha Primus, Unsanctioned creation
Logos Historica Verita, ‘The Founding Four’
Fabian Guelphrain, Historitor
Solana of Mars, Historitor
Deven Mudire, Historitor
Viablo, Historitor
FLEET TERTIUS
Cassandra VanLeskus, Vodine Sergastae hereditary general, fleetmistress
Vitrian Messinius, Captain, 10th Company, White Consuls/lord lieutenant Fleet Tertius, Sons of Guilliman
Fleet Tertius, Sons of Guilliman
Areios, Lieutenant, First Company, First Division
Thothven, Sergeant, First Company, First Division
Iqwa, Sergeant, First Company, First Division
Dessnius, Techmarine, First Company, First Division
Ganniv, Chaplain, First Company, First Division
Khesvinall, Apothecary, First Company, First Division
Strike Group/Battle Group Saint Aster
Eloise Athagey, Commodore and groupmaster
Finnula Diomed, First lieutenant and shipmistress
Semain, Second lieutenant
Basu, Third lieutenant
Gonan, Seventh lieutenant
Hainkin, Seventh lieutenant, third watch
Sorenkus, Commissar-Navis
Szezolas, Lord Navigator
Barandus, Episcopus
Scolos EvHaverad, Navigator
FLEET QUINTUS
Tronion Prasorius, Lord fleet commander, Fleet Quintus
Xergigis, Archmagos Prota Astranavato
Sara Tephise, Procurator Morbus, logister, Battle Groups Cerastus, Quintus and Sextus
Savay, Midshipman
Versht, Shipmaster of the Praesidium
Adoli-4963, Transmechanic
THE ADEPTUS ADMINISTRATUM, ULTIMA MISSIVE PROCESSING
Nawra Nison, Scribum processus
Hamran Nison, Post-classificator
Jedmund, Overwatcher
Resilisu, Servant
Teasel, Data miner
ADEPTUS MECHANICUS EXPLORATOR TEAM
Camalin Hiax
43-Tau-Omicron, Magos Perscrutor
Chul-phi, Myrmidon-penitent
Osel-den, Sub-magos
89-7, Datasmith
ESTEEMED FLEETMASTERS AND FLEETMISTRESSES
Trincus Abconcis, Fleetmaster, Fleet Quartus
Lady Kaosholay, Navis Imperialis hereditary admiral, fleetmistress, Fleet Sextus
Lord Aswan Relmay, Rogue trader patriarch, fleetmaster, Fleet Octus
AGENTS OF HIS MOST HOLY INQUISITION
Rostov, Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos
PROMINENT VESSELS
OF THE INDOMITUS CRUSADE
FLEET PRIMUS
Battle Group Alpharis
Command ship Dawn of Fire, Retribution-class battleship (note: sister ship to Embrace of Fire)
Zar Quaesitor, Ark Mechanicus
FLEET TERTIUS
Battle Group Alphus
Command ship Precept Magnificat, Oberon-class battleship
Strike Group Saint Aster
Strike Group Saint Aster was originally a component of the Machorta Sector Battlefleet, itself a division of Battlefleet Pacificus, operating out of Hydraphur. Upon Fleet Tertius’ arrival at the bastion world, it was absorbed into VanLeskus’ command as an independent battle group. Below are the constituent vessels at the midpoint of the Machorta Campaign.
Command ship Saint Aster, Overlord-class battle cruiser
Vox Lexica, Dictator-class cruiser, battle group strike-craft carrier
Coming Light, Lunar-class cruiser
Unmerciful, Gothic-class cruiser
Ars Bellus, Styges-class light cruiser
Faith’s Promise, Styges-class light cruiser
Squadron Pursuivant
5 x Sword-class frigates
Squadron Fulminant
7 x Cobra-class destroyers
Squadron Excoriant
4 x Invictor heavy frigates
Squadron Exultant
4 x Firestorm-class frigates
FLEET QUINTUS
Battle Group Betaris
Embrace of Fire, Re tribution-class battleship
Golden Spear, light cruiser
Thought’s Arrow, light cruiser
Pride of Macharia, Mars-class battle cruiser
Battle Group Cerastus
Command ship Praesidium, Adjudicator-class battleship
Ideos, Dominator-class cruiser
THE CRUSADE OF SLAUGHTER
Blood King, grand cruiser, unknown class
Sword of Brass, Hades-class cruiser
Hellship, daemonship, true name unknown, class unknown, once of Battlefleet Iago
Chapter One
THE SIEGE OF TERRA
MESSINIUS
KHORNE’S LEGIONS
‘I was there at the Siege of Terra,’ Vitrian Messinius would say in his later years.
‘I was there…’ he would add to himself, his words never meant for ears but his own. ‘I was there the day the Imperium died.’
But that was yet to come.
‘To the walls! To the walls! The enemy is coming!’ Captain Messinius, as he was then, led his Space Marines across the Penitent’s Square high up on the Lion’s Gate. ‘Another attack! Repel them! Send them back to the warp!’
Thousands of red-skinned monsters born of fear and sin scaled the outer ramparts, fury and murder incarnate. The mortals they faced quailed. It took the heart of a Space Marine to stand against them without fear, and the Angels of Death were in short supply.
‘Another attack, move, move! To the walls!’
They came in the days after the Avenging Son returned, emerging from nothing, eight legions strong, bringing the bulk of their numbers to bear against the chief entrance to the Imperial Palace. A decapitation strike like no other, and it came perilously close to success.
Messinius’ Space Marines ran to the parapet edging the Penitent’s Square. On many worlds, the square would have been a plaza fit to adorn the centre of any great city. Not on Terra. On the immensity of the Lion’s Gate, it was nothing, one of hundreds of similarly huge spaces. The word ‘gate’ did not suit the scale of the cityscape. The Lion’s Gate’s bulk marched up into the sky, step by titanic step, until it rose far higher than the mountains it had supplanted. The gate had been built by the Emperor Himself, they said. Myths detailed the improbable supernatural feats required to raise it. They were lies, all of them, and belittled the true effort needed to build such an edifice. Though the Lion’s Gate was made to His design and by His command, the soaring monument had been constructed by mortals, with mortal hands and mortal tools. Messinius wished that had been remembered. For men to build this was far more impressive than any godly act of creation. If men could remember that, he believed, then perhaps they would remember their own strength.
The uncanny may not have built the gate, but it threatened to bring it down. Messinius looked over the rampart lip, down to the lower levels thousands of feet below and the spread of the Anterior Barbican.
Upon the stepped fortifications of the Lion’s Gate was armour of every colour and the blood of every loyal primarch. Dozens of regiments stood alongside them. Aircraft filled the sky. Guns boomed from every quarter. In the churning redness on the great roads, processional ways so huge they were akin to prairies cast in rockcrete, were flashes of gold where the Emperor’s Custodian Guard battled. The might of the Imperium was gathered there, in the palace where He dwelt.
There seemed moments on that day when it might not be enough.
The outer ramparts were carpeted in red bodies that writhed and heaved, obscuring the great statues adorning the defences and covering over the guns, an invasive cancer consuming reality. The enemy were legion. There were too many foes to defeat by plan and ruse. Only guns, and will, would see the day won, but the defenders were so pitifully few.
Messinius called a wordless halt, clenched fist raised, seeking the best place to deploy his mixed company, veterans all of the Terran Crusade. Gunships and fighters sped overhead, unleashing deadly light and streams of bombs into the packed daemonic masses. There were innumerable cannons crammed onto the gate, and they all fired, rippling the structure with false earthquakes. Soon the many ships and orbital defences of Terra would add their guns, targeting the very world they were meant to guard, but the attack had come so suddenly; as yet they had had no time to react.
The noise was horrendous. Messinius’ audio dampers were at maximum and still the roar of ordnance stung his ears. Those humans that survived today would be rendered deaf. But he would have welcomed more guns, and louder still, for all the defensive fury of the assailed palace could not drown out the hideous noise of the daemons – their sighing hisses, a billion serpents strong, and chittering, screaming wails. It was not only heard but sensed within the soul, the realms of spirit and of matter were so intertwined. Messinius’ being would be forever stained by it.
Tactical information scrolled down his helmplate, near environs only. He had little strategic overview of the situation. The vox-channels were choked with a hellish screaming that made communication impossible. The noosphere was disrupted by etheric backwash spilling from the immaterial rifts the daemons poured through. Messinius was used to operating on his own. Small-scale, surgical actions were the way of the Adeptus Astartes, but in a battle of this scale, a lack of central coordination would lead inevitably to defeat. This was not like the first Siege, where his kind had fought in Legions.
He called up a company-wide vox-cast and spoke to his warriors. They were not his Chapter-kin, but they would listen. The primarch himself had commanded that they do so.
‘Reinforce the mortals,’ he said. ‘Their morale is wavering. Position yourselves every fifty yards. Cover the whole of the south-facing front. Let them see you.’ He directed his warriors by chopping at the air with his left hand. His right, bearing an inactive power fist, hung heavily at his side. ‘Assault Squad Antiocles, back forty yards, single firing line. Prepare to engage enemy breakthroughs only on my mark. Devastators, split to demi-squads and take up high ground, sergeant and sub-squad prime’s discretion as to positioning and target. Remember our objective, heavy infliction of casualties. We kill as many as we can, we retreat, then hold at the Penitent’s Arch until further notice. Command squad, with me.’
Command squad was too grand a title for the mismatched crew Messinius had gathered around himself. His own officers were light years away, if they still lived.
‘Doveskamor, Tidominus,’ he said to the two Aurora Marines with him. ‘Take the left.’
‘Yes, captain,’ they voxed, and jogged away, their green armour glinting orange in the hell-light of the invasion.
The rest of his scratch squad was comprised of a communications specialist from the Death Spectres, an Omega Marine with a penchant for plasma weaponry, and a Raptor holding an ancient standard he’d taken from a dusty display.
‘Why did you take that, Brother Kryvesh?’ Messinius asked, as they moved forward.
‘The palace is full of such relics,’ said the Raptor. ‘It seems only right to put them to use. No one else wanted it.’
Messinius stared at him.
‘What? If the gate falls, we’ll have more to worry about than my minor indiscretion. It’ll be good for morale.’
The squads were splitting to join the standard humans. Such was the noise many of the men on the wall had not noticed their arrival, and a ripple of surprise went along the line as they appeared at their sides. Messinius was glad to see they seemed more firm when they turned their eyes back outwards.
‘Anzigus,’ he said to the Death Spectre. ‘Hold back, facilitate communication within the company. Maximum signal gain. This interference will only get worse. See if you can get us patched in to wider theatre command. I’ll take a hardline if you can find one.’
‘Yes, captain,’ said Anzigus. He bowed a helm that was bulbous with additional equipment. He already had the access flap of the bulky vox-unit on his arm open. He withdrew, the aerials on his power plant extending. He headed towards a systems nexus on the far wall of the plaza, where soaring buttresses pushed back against the immense weight bearing down upon them.
Messinius watched him go. He knew next to nothing about Anzigus. He spoke little, and when he did, his voice was funereal. His Chapter was mysterious, but the same lack of familiarity held true for many of these warriors, thrown together by miraculous events. Over their years lost wandering in the warp, Messinius had come to see some as friends as well as comrades, others he hardly knew, and none he knew so well as his own Chapter brothers. But they would stand together. They were Space Marines. They had fought by the returned primarch’s side, and in that they shared a bond. They would not stint in their duty now.
