'He shouldn't have had to die like this, alone in the darkness.'
'He wasn't alone.' said Uriel. 'You were with him at the end.'
'It's not right though.' whispered Leonid. 'To have survived so much and then to die like this.'
'A man seldom has the choice in the manner of his death.' said Uriel, 'It is the manner in which he lives that is the mark of a warrior. I did not know Ellard well, but I believe he will find a place at the Emperor's side.'
'I hope so.' agreed Leonid. 'Oh, and you're wrong, by the way.'
'About what?'
'About having to get back into Khalan-Ghol on your own. I will come with you.'
Uriel felt his admiration for Leonid soar and said, 'You are an exceptional man, colonel, and I accept your pledge of courage. Though you should know that Vaanes is almost certainly right, this will, in all likelihood, be the death of us.'
Leonid shrugged. 'I don't care any more. I have been living on borrowed time ever since the 383rd was ordered to Hydra Cordatus, so I plan to spit in death's eye before he takes me.'
A slow clapping sounded and Uriel's anger flared as he saw Vaanes sneering at them. The renegade Raven Guard shook his head.
'You are all fools.' he said. 'I will say a prayer for you if we don't get killed by these monsters.'
'Be silent!' hissed Uriel. 'I will not have any prayers from the likes of you, Vaanes. You are not a Space Marine any more, you are not even a man. You are a coward and a traitor!'
Vaanes surged to his feet, hate flaring in his violet eyes and his lightning claws snapped from his gauntlet. 'I told you that people never called me that twice!'
Before blood could be spilled, a great shadow fell across the company and the mighty form of the Lord of the Unfleshed blotted out the light. A coterie of hideously deformed creatures accompanied him, and a hunchbacked monster with its head fused into its spine limped towards Ellard's corpse.
It dipped a long talon into the sergeant's torn belly and raised its bloody digit to its slit of a mouth.
'Deadflesh.' it said. 'Still warm.'
The Lord of the Unfleshed nodded its thick head. 'Take it. Meat for Tribe.'
'No!' shouted Leonid, as the hunchback effortlessly lifted the sergeant's body.
Pasanius reached out with his remaining arm and held Leonid back, hissing, 'No, don't. That's not your friend any more, it's just the flesh he wore. He's with the Emperor and there's nothing these monsters can do to him now. You will only get yourself killed needlessly.'
'But they are going to eat him!'
'I know.' said Uriel, standing before the struggling man. 'But you have pledged yourself to our death oath and if you break it, you break it for all of us.'
'What?' spluttered Leonid.
'Aye.' nodded Uriel. 'We are all bound to this quest now. Pasanius, me and now you.'
Leonid looked set to argue, but Uriel could see that the fight had gone out of the man as he realised the pact he had made with the Ultramarines. He nodded numbly and his struggles ceased as the Lord of the Unfleshed loomed above them.
'You come now.' said the monster.
'Where?' said Uriel.
'To the Emperor. He decide whether you die or not.'
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The Emperor's armour was filthy, stained with the residue of uncounted millennia of industry, the eagle on his breastplate a series of rusted bronze strips. Beaten metal shoulder guards hung from his mighty shoulders and a pair of beatific wings of stained metal flared from his back. Over twenty metres tall and suspended by thick, iron chains within the great pit at the centre of the manufactory, it was a creation of supreme devotion.
Uriel felt like a child against its immensity, remembering the first time he had seen a statue of the Emperor in the Basilica Konor on Calm. Though the statue there had been masterfully carved from beautifully veined marble quarried from the deep wells of Calth, this one - for all its crudity - was no less impressive.
The Unfleshed's Emperor hung over the blackness of the pit, its armour and limbs fashioned from whatever scrap and machinery had been left behind when the manufactory had been abandoned.
Whereas some zealous preachers of the Ministorum might find it blasphemous that such hideous creatures had created such a crude idol of the Emperor, Uriel found it curiously touching that they had done so.
'May the Emperor preserve us!' hissed Pasanius as he laid eyes upon the suspended statue.
'Well we're about to find out.' replied Uriel as he realised his first impression had been correct when he had felt like a child before this idol.
Who knew how long the Unfleshed had lived beneath the surface of Medrengard or what their memories were of the time before their abduction and implantation within the horror of the daemonculaba?
But one thing was clear: of the innocent children who had been transformed into the Unfleshed, one memory had survived - constant and enduring: the immortal and beneficent Emperor of Mankind.
Through all the vileness that had befallen the Unfleshed, they still remembered the love of the Emperor and Uriel felt an immense sadness at their fate. No matter that they had been horrifically altered to become monsters, they still remembered the Emperor and fashioned his image to watch over them.
Uriel and the others were pushed roughly to the edge of the great pit as the Unfleshed painfully drew near. Uriel saw that there were hundreds of them -many unable to walk on their mutated legs, corkscrewed bones or fleshy masses that had once been limbs, and so were helped by their brethren.
'God-Emperor, look at them!' said Vaanes. 'How can such things be allowed to live?'
'Shut up, Vaanes.' said Uriel sadly. 'They are kin to you and I, do not forget that. The flesh of the Emperor is within them.'
'You can't be serious.' said Vaanes. 'Look at them. They're evil.'
'Are they? I'm not so sure.'
A ripple of hunger and self-loathing went round the pit as the Lord of the Unfleshed turned and drew himself up to his full height. He reached back and pulled Uriel forwards, lifting him easily from the ground. Powerless to resist, Uriel felt the ground beneath him fall away as he was dangled over the bottomless pit.
'Smelled mother's meat on you.' roared the Lord of the Unfleshed. 'You washed out from mountain of iron men, fell from the Wall. But you not look like us. Why you have skin?'
Uriel's mind raced as he tried to guess what response would not see him cast into the pit. The yellowed eyes of the monster bored into his and Uriel saw a desperate longing within them, a childlike need for... for what?
'Yes!' he yelled. 'We came from the mountain of the Iron Warriors, but we are their enemies.'
'You are Unwanted too? Not friends with iron men?'
'No!' cried Uriel, shouting so that the Unfleshed around the pit could hear him. 'We hate the iron men, came to destroy them!'
'Saw you before.' snarled the Lord of the Unfleshed. 'Saw you kill iron men in mountains. We took much meat then.'
'I know. I saw.'
'You kill iron men?'
'Yes!'
'Mother's meat on you, yes?'
Uriel nodded as the creature spoke again. 'Iron men's flesh mothers made us ugly like this, but Emperor not hate us like iron men, he still love us. Iron men try to kill us. But we strong and not die, though dying be good thing for us. Pain stop, Emperor make pain go away and make us whole again.'
'No.' said Uriel, finally understanding a measure of this creature that, for all its massive strength and colossal size, was but a child within its monstrously swollen skull. It spoke with a child's simplicity and clarity of the Emperor's love, and as Uriel looked into its eyes, he saw its deathly craving to atone for its hideousness.
'The Emperor loves you.' he said. 'He loves all his children.'
'Emperor speaks to you?' said the Lord of the Unfleshed.
'He does.' agreed Uriel, hating himself for such deception, but understanding its necessity. 'The Emperor sent us here to destroy the iron men and the dae... the
flesh mothers that made you like this. He sent us to you so that you might help us.'
The creature pulled him close and Uriel could sense its suspicion and hunger warring with a deep-seated desire to take revenge on its creators, those that had made it into this warped form.
It smelled him once more and Uriel just hoped that the stench of the daemonculaba that had stayed its hand at the outflow pool was still strong on him.
But the Lord of the Unfleshed roared in anguish, drawing back his arm, and Uriel cried out as he was hurled out across the pit.
Uriel sailed through the air, his vision spiralling in a kaleidoscope of images: warped beasts that had once been children, a rusted iron chain, silvered panels of beaten metal and the black, depthless void of the pit. He slammed into the hanging effigy of the Emperor and the breath was knocked from him by the impact.
He snatched at the metal, scrabbling for a handhold, feeling his ragged fingernails break off on rivets as he slid down the rough iron. The black hole of the pit yawned before him, promising death, but his fingers closed on a panel of beaten iron, not quite flush with the giant statue's body. Portions of its edges were sharp and he felt the tip of his middle finger slice off on the jagged metal. The panel bent and screeched, peeling away from the statue's body, but it slowed his descent enough for him to be able to secure a handhold on the bronze eagle on the Emperor's breastplate.
Uriel hung over the great depths of the pit, holding on for dear life with one hand, swinging above the darkness of the pit as the Unfleshed roared and - those that were able - stamped their feet, shouting, 'Tribe! Tribe! Tribe!'
Now that he had a better grip on the statue, Uriel pulled himself up the strips of metal that formed the eagle and swung himself onto the Emperor's shoulder guards, his breath coming in great gasps.
The Lord of the Unfleshed stood immobile at the edge of the pit, and Uriel had no idea what to do next. He watched as the Unfleshed took hold of the remains of the warrior band, dragging Pasanius, Vaanes, Leonid and the other Space Marines to the edge of the pit.
'No!' he shouted, risking standing upright and leaning on the swaying statue's giant helm. 'No!'
Then the miracle happened.
Whether it was some long-dormant mechanism within the battered machine forming the statue's helmet - given a brief resurgence of life by Uriel's movement - or the power of the Emperor himself, Uriel would never know, but at that moment, a radiant light burst from the crudely-formed visor.
A bass hum, like a charging generator, built from beneath the helmet and the Unfleshed drew back in terror from the great effigy as the glow intensified. Uriel felt the metal of the helmet grow hot to the touch and though he had no idea as to what was happening, was not about to let such a chance go by.
He shouted over to the Lord of the Unfleshed. 'See! The Emperor wants you to help us! Together we can destroy the flesh mothers and the iron men!'
The great beast dropped to its knees, its wide jaws open in rapture as a terrible moaning and wailing built from the throats of the Unfleshed gathered around the pit.
Hot sparks leapt from the metal of the helmet and Uriel realised he was going to have get off the statue soon or risk being electrocuted by whatever was doing this. He edged along the Emperor's shoulder guards, begging the Master of Mankind's forgiveness for such base treatment of his image as he worked his way over to the nearest of the supporting chains.
No sooner had he clambered onto the chain, lying across its thick links and pulling himself away from the helmet - which now shone with a fierce, blinding glow j7 when a great thunderclap boomed and it exploded in an arcing shower of blue lightning.
The Unfleshed wailed in fear as the statue of the Emperor plummeted into the darkness of the pit, the chains supporting it flopping with a great clang against its sheer sides. Uriel swung on the chain, bracing his legs for impact against the side of the pit and feeling the ceramite plates of his armour buckle with the force of it.
Uriel spun crazily above the depthless chasm, knuckles white as he held onto the flaking links of the chain.
He hung there until he had got his breath back and carefully began the long climb to the top.
As he climbed he suddenly felt the chain being pulled from above. Able to do nothing else, Uriel awaited whatever fate had in store for him. He looked up in time to see the massive, raw hand of the Lord of the Unfleshed reach down and lift him from the chain.
He was lifted up and deposited roughly on the earthen ground beside Pasanius and Ardaric Vaanes, both of whom looked at him with expressions of fearful awe. Uriel shrugged, too breathless to speak.
The Lord of the Unfleshed knelt beside him and said, 'Emperor loves you.'
'I think that maybe he does...' gasped Uriel.
The Lord of the Unfleshed nodded and pointed to the pit. 'Yes. You still alive.'
'Yes.' gasped Uriel. 'You are right, the Emperor does love me. Just as he loves you.'
The creature nodded slowly. 'Will help you kill iron men. Flesh mothers too. Should not be more of us.'
'Thank you...' hissed Uriel.
'Emperor loves us, but we hate us.' said the Lord of the Unfleshed, painfully. 'We did nothing, did not deserve this. Want to kill iron men, but not know how to get into mountain. Cannot fight over high walls!'
Uriel pulled himself breathlessly to his feet and, despite his brush with death, smiled at the Lord of the Unfleshed as a portion of their journey into Khalan-Ghol returned to him with a clarity that was surely more than mere memory.
'That doesn't matter.' said Uriel. 'I know another way in.'
Khalan-Ghol shook with the fury of the renewed bombardment, shells exploding like fiery tempests against its ancient walls. Armies of heavy tanks and entire corps of soldiers mustered at the base of the gigantic ramp that led to the mountainous plateau which was all that remained of the fortress's outer defences and the spire of the inner keep.
Temporary, yet incredibly robust, revetments and redoubts had protected the workers and machinery constructing the ramp and now that it was complete, Berossus began his final assault.
A marvel of engineering, it climbed thousands of metres up the side of the mountain, beginning many kilometres back from the rocky uplands of its base. Paved with segmented sheets of iron, rumbling tanks climbed in the wake of a pair of monstrous Titans, their armour stained red with the blood of uncounted thousands of sacrifices, the thick plates still dripping and wet. Equipped with massive siege hammers, pneumatic piston drills and mighty cannon, these colossal land battleships also carried the very best warriors from Berossus's grand company. These warriors would lead the assault through the walls of the fortress and tear it down, stone by stone.
A gargantuan-mouthed tunnel led into the bedrock of the ramp, huge rails disappearing into the darkness and running to the very base of the mountain itself. Great mining machines had travelled through the tunnel and even now prepared to breach the underside of the fortress, burrowing into the very heart of Honsou's lair. Tens of thousands of soldiers waited in the sweating darkness of the tunnel to invade the fortress from below. The traitor, Obax Zakayo, had provided precise information regarding the best place to break into Khalan-Ghol and together with the frontal assault, Honsou's life could now be measured in hours.
Confident that this was to be the last battle, Berossus himself led the attack at the head of a pack of nearly a hundred blood-maddened dreadnoughts.
The final battle for Khalan-Ghol was about to begin.
'We cannot stop this attack.' said Onyx, watching as the Titans of Berossus began their inexorable advance up the ramp to the fortress. Though still many kilometres away from the top, the scale of their daemonic majesty was magnificent. 'Berossus will sweep us away in a storm of iron and blood.'
Honsou said nothing, the ghost of a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. He too watched the huge force coming to destroy them. Hundreds of screeching daemonic warriors spun and looped in the sky above phalanxes of weapon-morphing mon
sters whose flesh seethed and bubbled with mechaorganic circuitry. Scores of howling, spider-limbed daemon engines clanked and churned their way up the ramp, jetting noxious exhaust fumes, the hellish entities bound to their iron bodies eager for slaughter now that they were free of their cages.
Clad in his dented and battered power armour, with a reckless look of battle-hunger creasing his pale features, and sporting a gleaming silver bionic arm in place of the one his former master had gifted him with, Honsou seemed unfazed by their approaching doom.
Onyx was puzzled by this, but had long since realised that the inner workings of Khalan-Ghol's newest master were a mystery to him - the half-breed did not resemble or behave like any of the warsmiths he had served in his aeons of servitude to the masters of this fortress.
'You do not seem overly concerned.' continued Onyx.
'I'm not.' replied Honsou, turning from the cracked ramparts of the topmost bastions of the spire. A hot wind was blowing, tasting of ash and metal. Honsou took a deep breath, at last turning to face his champion.
'Berossus hasn't let me down this far.' said Honsou, staring out at the great tunnel that led into the ramp and, no doubt, beneath his fortress. 'And I hope he won't now. Not at the last.'
'I don't understand.'
'Don't worry, Onyx, I know your concern is for your own essence, not my life, but you don't need to understand. All you need to do is obey me.'
'I am yours to command.'
'Then trust me on this.' grinned Honsou, and looked down to the level below, where smoke and crackling lightning conspired to obscure his own Titans and the masterful works he had prepared for Berossus. He stared up into the featureless white sky and the sun that burned like a black hole above him. 'I have fought the Long War almost as long as Berossus and Toramino and have stratagems of my own.'
'For your sake, I hope so.' said Onyx. 'Even if we manage to stop this attack, there is still the matter of Lord Toramino. His army is yet to be blooded.'