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The Chaos assault paused.
The Phoenix Infantry Regint finally caught their breath.
In the trench, Kellen dropped onto an ammo crate like a dead man. Prolonged screaming at the top of his lungs, all that running back and forth, his stamina was gone. Every muscle ached. His throat felt like sandpaper.
Then a military canteen appeared in front of his face.
He looked up. Horus.
"Drink."
"Aren't you thirsty? You burned more energy than anyone out there."
Even after everything they'd been through together, Kellen still instinctively treated Horus like a regular person. Like a friend.
The Wolf Shepherd shook his head.
"A Primarch's endurance exceeds your imagination, my friend."
Kellen didn't argue. He took the canteen, tilted his head back, and drained it in one pull.
A loud, satisfied belch followed. So of the exhaustion left with it.
"Your performance in battle was impressive, Kellen." Horus smiled and sat down beside him. "Also extrely loud. Reminded of the Greenskin Orks, they're always that noisy too."
"Can't help it, my Wolf God. I have to maintain morale. That ans shouting."
Kellen glanced at the survivors nearby.
War was cruel. The Phoenix Infantry Regint had lost two-thirds of its combat strength. But the ones still standing held their heads up. They believed in victory. They held to their loyalty to the Emperor.
"A lot of them are going to die," Kellen murmured.
"That is the nature of war," Horus said. "Especially war on an interstellar scale."
He paused, his voice dropping lower. "The rebel assault has stalled. Their logistical reserves are clearly depleted. But their next wave will be everything they have. They need to destroy Kraftva Bastion's void shield generators, without that, the Blackstone Fortress can't resu its bombardnt."
"Speaking of which," Horus added, "when does that Living Saint of yours arrive?"
"Celestine. She'll co at the mont of greatest peril, bringing hope to the defenders. She's the Emperor's ssenger."
Kellen looked at him.
"And it won't just be her. The Imperial Fists' Phalanx will arrive in orbit above Cadia."
Horus frowned. "The Phalanx guards Terra. The Throneworld is nowhere near here. How does it end up at Cadia?"
"Abaddon's 13th Black Crusade has a longer reach than people realize. A Daemon nad Be'lakor tead up with an Iron Warriors warband and hit the Throneworld directly. To protect Terra, the Imperial Fists took the Phalanx straight into a Warp jump."
Kellen raised his head toward the Blackstone Fortress hanging in orbit.
"That one up there — the Eternal Will — gets destroyed. Boarding parties and the Phalanx together. But Abaddon has a second one. And that second one destroys Cadia."
He let that sit for a mont, then shifted.
"That said, Lupercal, are we getting too conspicuous? We might have already pulled Abaddon's attention. We've put down over 2,000 Chaos Astartes."
Horus nodded slowly.
"Very likely. But Ezekyle won't co down personally." He was quiet for a mont, thinking. "Ezekyle fights like I do. If I were him, I'd send my best subordinates to clear the obstacle. Our line is the most exposed position around Kraftva Bastion right now. He has every reason to hit us."
Kullen returned just then.
He set down food for both of them, calling it food was generous. Canned rations. But filling your stomach ca first.
Kellen cracked open a can and picked up where they'd left off.
"Exactly as you'd expect, Wolf God. Abaddon is sending one of his Four Chosen, a Khornate Daemon Prince of the Black Legion. Urkanthos. He'll lead a force called the Hounds of Abaddon and personally assault Kraftva Bastion."
He finished the sentence and imdiately lost it.
"The Hounds of Abaddon." He laughed. "What kind of naming sense is that?"
He reined it in, scooped a mouthful of synthetic at paste, and swallowed.
"If nothing goes sideways, this mad dog is about to co straight at our position."
---
"The casualties have exceeded all projections."
"By the Dark Gods, with the forces we committed, we lost 2,000 warriors. And a warband leader."
"Soone explain this to . Two thousand-plus Chaos Astartes. Not counting the mortal auxiliaries. Not counting the Daemons."
The Chaos Warmaster commanded a vast army. Numbers like that shouldn't have moved him. But when the intelligence reached his hands, over 2,000 Chaos Astartes dead, a warband leader killed, the Great Despoiler's brow creased with sothing that looked almost like displeasure.
Were the mortals on Cadia really that capable?
Or had the Corpse-Emperor blessed them sohow?
Aboard the Vengeful Spirit, Abaddon reviewed the report again. Then again. He pulled up the holographic projection of the frontline, the specific stretch of line responsible for all of it.
The Imperial defenses had collapsed almost everywhere. They'd pulled back across the board.
Except here. One position, like an iron nail driven into the earth, holding firm at the most exposed point of Kraftva Bastion's periter.
"Warmaster."
An attendant stepped forward.
"Frontline reports indicate the obstruction ca from two Ogryns in power armor, and a mortal sniper. Without them, our forces would have broken through that line quickly."
"Ogryns."
Abaddon went still. Then a strange, short sound escaped him, not quite a laugh.
"You said Ogryns."
"Yes, my lord." The attendant chose his words carefully, watching the Great Despoiler's face. "Their speed and strength were... beyond expectations. Especially the taller one."
He paused.
"Both Daemons and veteran Chaos Astartes reported the sa thing. That tall Ogryn, they said it bore the bearing of a Primarch."
Primarch.
The word hit like a key turning in a lock. Abaddon's mory surfaced, the words of his Chief Sorcerer, Zaraphiston.
[An outsider descends upon this realm, unseen even by the Gods. He brings new variables, summoning the Corpse-Emperor's most loyal warrior. The pale wolf shall manifest at the full moon, and the Lion's son shall walk beside him.]
A thought ford in Abaddon's mind. Sothing terrible.
His hands went cold. His feet went cold.
Ten thousand years. He had not felt this in ten thousand years.
After a long silence, he spoke to no one.
"Impossible."
"He's dead."
"That man has been dead for ages. The Corpse-Emperor killed him personally. And that counterfeit Fabius built, I killed that one with my own hands."
"Impossible. Impossible."
The words ca faster. He spun and fixed his gaze on the attendant. His eyes were the eyes of a cornered animal.
"Get a ssage to Fabius. I have questions."
"Y-yes, Warmaster."
The attendant fled the bridge.
Abaddon gripped the railing and stared through the command deck viewport at Cadia below. He didn't move. He didn't speak.
After a long while, he summoned one of his Four Chosen, the Daemon Prince, Urkanthos.
"What is your command, my Warmaster?"
"Urkanthos. You and your forces will assault that defensive line. Find out what those two 'Ogryns' actually are."
Urkanthos hesitated. "But Warmaster, my mission is to seize Kraftva Bastion's void shield generators—"
"I told you to go, so you go." Abaddon's voice cracked into a roar. "Stop wasting my ti."
It was a rare thing, seeing the Great Despoiler lose his composure.
There was only one explanation for it.
Fear. Pure, absolute fear, and the rage it wore as a mask when it didn't want to be seen.
➤ Next: The Descent of Celestine
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