The Beast Arises

Vangorich listened to the Master of the Administratum’s whine as the Council made its way up the long spiral staircase leading to the Monitus. No one else spoke. They let Ekharth bluster.

‘Koorland ousts Lord Udo,’ Ekharth continued. ‘He reforms a coherent Legion. He summons reinforcements to Terra. Then a figurehead. Then we are summoned to attend on the Astartes as though we were serfs. The primarch will not even deign to set foot in the Grand Chamber. And he makes us wait a full day before seeing us. A day! Don’t you see the pattern? Don’t you see what is happening? Koorland has returned a conqueror, and we are the conquered.’

Vangorich thought the man was on the verge of sobbing. He was desperate for an ally, for even one other High Lord to confirm his thinking. At the top of the stairs, in the antechamber to the Monitus, Ekharth jerked his head back and forth like a bird, pleading with his eyes. He found silence. He paled.

You’re more and less alone than you think, Vangorich was tempted to tell him. No one is contradicting you. They agree with you. But they won’t take the risk of saying so.

They entered the Monitus. When he saw the towering figure who awaited them, Vangorich had to stifle a gasp of awe and hope.

The silence of the rest of the Council took on a different cast. They were struck dumb. And they were terrified.

Vulkan was flanked by Koorland and the representatives of the four Chapters. The primarch had his arms folded. His eyes were stony.

Far below, in the streets and the squares and the chapels of the Imperial Palace, the people were celebrating the triumph of Caldera. The first true victory of the war. The first real sign of hope. But the sounds of rejoicing did not reach this high. There was only more and more and more silence. And something worse: judgement.

Ecclesiarch Mesring cleared his throat. He tried to speak. ‘Lord Vulkan,’ he croaked, ‘we honour your—’

‘I have spoken with Chapter Master Koorland,’ the primarch said.

Mesring froze, jaw hanging open.

‘I have spent a day and a night in contemplation of the words and deeds of the High Lords,’ Vulkan continued. ‘You should give thanks for the orks and for the threat they represent.’ He spoke calmly, and with infinite disgust. ‘If not for the need for unity, I would kill you all myself.’

Strike, Vangorich wanted to say. Strike now. Purge the rot and make something new. That is something a legend can do.

He said nothing.

Vulkan spoke again. ‘We make ready for Ullanor. You will do your duty in the preparations.’

And Vangorich sighed. The moment had passed. The High Lords were terrified, but they were calculating again. Each faction had tried to use Koorland to its ends. Now an even greater power had arrived, and the game resumed.

Even with the stakes higher than ever, the game went on. Petty beasts snapped at each other.

While on Ullanor, the Great Beast awaited.

Gav Thorpe The Beast must die

Chapter One

Terra — the Imperial Palace

We fell and we burned. Not just one, but all. These are the ashes we are left. The splinters of broken glass left of the window through which we watched humanity die. This is not our world, but they are not strong enough. Why? What was His plan? A crumbling ruin, a cruel joke. The blood in the veins is weak. But it is blood and it will bleed. It needs to bleed. To cleanse the infection. Purgation. Pain. Nothing is achieved without sacrifice.

Was that His plan all along?

The Senatorum Imperialis had long been a circus in the eyes of Grand Master Vangorich, but of late its habit of convening meetings in different locations had turned it into a travelling show. Security, his fellow High Lords had insisted. With an ork attack moon still lurking within striking distance, albeit silenced and blockaded for the moment, it was unwise to meet in the same location on successive occasions.

He was unsure how it was more secure or morale-boosting to meet beneath the cracked dome of the Anesidoran Chapel — once such a proud statement of Imperial Faith and power — when the chapel’s mosaics and friezes bore the scars from the attack moon’s arrival.