Dark Apostle

The priest's eyes opened and fell upon him. He felt as though the warrior's gaze pierced his soul and he cowered before him. Though the Chaos Marine continued to chant his monotonous incantation, Varnus felt a voice throb within his mind.

The Gehemehnet has chosen you to witness its birth. You are privileged, little man.

Screaming shells rained down upon the Word Bearers, throwing up great explosions of earth as they struck at the embankments. The bombardment had increased in tempo and they detonated across the entire length of the Shinar peninsula.

The Warmonger stood atop the battlements in the centre of the first line of defence, uncaring of the mayhem exploding around him. The enemy's pitiful shells could not harm him and he stood motionless in the midst of the bombardment, surveying the battlefield coldly.

The other war machines and daemon engines of the Legion had been pulled back to the second line. Their unarmoured attendants would have been slaughtered beneath the fury of the attack and the daemon engines would have stormed forwards across the plain, eager to get to grips with the enemy. They would have been uniformly destroyed. None but the Dark Apostle would be able to restrain them.

The Dreadnought's augmetic senses pierced the fire and smoke that surrounded the first line, and he saw a series of detonations erupt further out along the salt plains, several kilometres away. This was no bombardment of the Word Bearers, and the Warmonger was momentarily confused. Not even the pitiful gunners of the Imperial Guard could be so inaccurate with their fire. A second line of explosions ran out along the salt plains, this time two hundred metres closer to the Word Bearers' lines. His senses could not pierce the vast clouds of smoke that rose from the detonations.

'Kol Badar, the enemies of the Warmaster are on the approach. They mask their advance with ordnance and blind grenades.'

'Received, Warmonger,' came the vox reply. 'Incoming aircraft have been picked up. Be ready.'

'The blessings of the true gods upon you.'

'Kill well, old friend.'

'The enemy has made its move, Icon Bearer. Your time has come,' said Kol Badar.

Burias bowed his head to the massive, Terminator-armoured war leader.

'You do me a great honour, my Coryphaus,' he said.

'Remember it, Burias,' growled Kol Badar. 'Do the Legion proud. Do not make me regret giving you my favour.'

'You will not, Coryphaus,' said Burias, his handsome, pale face serious with devotion. 'My first kill will be dedicated to you, my lord.'

He could not gauge the reaction of his words upon the Coryphaus's face, hidden as it was beneath his quad-tusked helmet, but he thought the warlord's posture showed that he was pleased. Good, thought Burias.

He turned away from the Coryphaus with another bow of the head, to face the gathered warriors below him, on the off-face of the embankment. Explosions detonated around them, but the warriors were unflinching, their helmets turned up towards him, awaiting his order.

Burias slammed his icon into the ground and the warrior-brothers stood motionless in rapt attention.

'My brothers, the time has come for us to ride out and face the enemy head on,' he roared, the daemon Drak'shal giving his voice unholy resonance and power.

A huge roar of approval rose from the gathered, since many of their voices were also enhanced by the daemons lurking within their souls.

'The Coryphaus honours us with this sacred duty.' Burias continued, which was met with another roar from the gathered warriors.

'Do the Coryphaus proud, my brothers, and kill in the name of Lorgar!'

The gathered warriors roared the name of their daemon primarch, their voices mingling with Burias's bloodcurdling bellow, screaming to the heavens so that their lord might hear their devotion.

The gathered Coteries intoned prayers to the dark gods as they climbed into their transport vehicles. A pair of Land Raiders would lead the Rhino attack column and the assault ramps of the monstrous tanks hissed as they slammed open to receive the warriors honoured to be carried within. Engines revved in anticipation and the lascannon turrets of the Land Raiders swivelled as the daemon spirits controlling them expressed their impatience.

'The smoke the Imperials use blocks our sight, but it blocks theirs as well, Burias. Go forth. Tackle them head on. They will not see you coming.'