C. Goto - Dawn of War

He took a key. The last step along a long, bloody path.

“A key? A key to what?” asked Gabriel, trying to meet the farseer’s gaze, but it was still fixed on Isador.

To the undoing of us all, human.

“Stop speaking in riddles!” cried Gabriel, shaking her by the neck and lifting her slight form clear off the ground.

He stole a key, a key to the shadows of this world, to the evil horrors that lie within.

“Tell me what the key does, alien, or I will kill you,” said Gabriel, increasingly exasperated.

You do not know already? Your inquisitor keeps you on a very short leash. He knows. Ask him.

Gabriel was stunned into silence, unable to see how Toth could be involved in any of this, and yet intuitively sure that the eldar witch was telling the truth.

He has known since he arrived. Or, should I say, since long before he came to Tartarus. His kind have been before-they have never left. Did you not find it all too convenient that he appeared from nowhere and landed just on the cusp of a warp storm? Human, you are caught in events and machinations beyond your reckoning. But we can help one another-stop the forces of Chaos succeeding…

“Your people have fought well, alien,” said Gabriel, releasing his grip on the farseer’s throat, his mind racing. “And I can see that we may share some common goals here. But you cannot ask me for trust, and I cannot risk betrayal. I will not be responsible for the loss of any more unnecessary lives-and you have cost enough of those already. You should have asked for an alliance before you squandered your position of strength, then I may have taken you seriously. Now, you have wasted enough of my time.”

Gabriel drew his bolt pistol and levelled it at the farseer’s head. In that instant, she finally tore her eyes away from Isador and fixed them on Gabriel, a flood of compassion pouring out of them, touching his very soul. But a searing pain in his shoulder yanked him out of his reverie, and he spun to find the source of the shot, snatching his bolt pistol around in a sudden movement. A Warp Spider blinked out of existence just as he caught sight of it.

Turning back to the farseer, Gabriel saw the Warp Spider standing beside her, with his death spinner pointed straight at his face. Gabriel narrowed his eyes as Isador and Matiel hesitated about taking their shots-unwilling to risk their captain’s life.

The farseer held up her hand, placing it onto the barrel cluster of the death spinner, apparently in a signal not to fire.

Your enemies have taken up a position in the Dannan sector of the city. They will not remain there long. We are too weak to fight them, and far too weak to confront that which they seek to unleash-you have seen to that, human.

With that, the Warp Spider and the farseer simply vanished, leaving Gabriel with doubts, questions and uncertainties spiralling in his head.

C.S. Goto (ebook by Undead)

01 – Dawn of War

A man stumbled up the steps of the Temple of Dannan, tripping and falling flat onto his face as he reached the top. His head crashed down against a massive, acid-green boot, harder than the rockcrete on which it stood. As he lifted his face off the foot, a thin trickle of blood oozed from his temple, running unevenly over his already disfigured face. The man looked like a half-melted wax figurine, with the flesh on the right-hand side of his body distended into hideous folds. He was panting with excitement as he finally lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of the Chaos Lord, who stood magnificently at the top of the steps, surveying the throng of cultists that had gathered in the precinct since his arrival less than an hour earlier.

“M-my… my lord,” stuttered the cultist, still prostrated awkwardly on the ground, with blood bubbling out of his mouth. “The Marines of the false-Emperor approach from the south.”

Lord Bale looked down at the cultist for a moment, almost acknowledging him, then turned away to address Sindri, who stood next to him in the doorway to the temple. Behind them, in the interior of the chapel, the faint sound of screams pulsed rhythmically.

“Sorcerer, how long before the ceremony is completed? It would not do for the Blood Ravens to catch us before we are ready for them,” asked Bale, still unwilling to acknowledge that Sindri’s plans appeared to be panning out exactly as he foresaw.

“Bale,” said Sindri, smoothly, using the Chaos Lord’s name in a simple and unadorned way. “These flies are but minor annoyances. We have the key, and we have ample bodies here,” he said, indicating the mass of cultists in the temple precinct. “If necessary, we can imprison the Blood Ravens behind a wall of corpses while we finish the ceremony-and then, afterwards, we will not have to think about them at all.”

Bale looked at the sorcerer, and he could see the confidence flowing out of him. This was the first Marine in decades to speak his name so directly and not feel the icy pain of his scythe through their necks. The Chaos Lord could not bring himself to speak in response-he ground his teeth together in irritation, hating Sindri’s success, but eager to reap the rewards of the ceremony.

“Events have proven my words true, have they not,” continued Sindri with a smug, rhetorical flourish. “We are in no danger-”

“Events have proven you fortunate, sorcerer,” interjected Bale, unable to hold his tongue any longer. “The Blood Ravens are not to be underestimated-they made short work of your precious orks, and they have already proven themselves against the cursed eldar. To what do we owe your most recent bout of nauseous optimism concerning our own safety?”

“I have reason to believe,” replied Sindri, his voice hissing with serpentine sibilance, “that we have a new ally in their camp. An individual more than ready to betray the Blood Ravens.”

Again, Bale ground his bladed teeth together as Sindri appeared ready for his attack once more. One day, the sorcerer would slip up and Bale would make sure that he was there to enjoy it.

“Very well,” muttered the Chaos Lord, waving his hand dismissively. “Prepare for what is to come… and dispose of this cretinous fool.” Bale kicked casually with his foot, cracking the cultist in the face and shattering his jaw.

“W… why? M… my lord,” spluttered the cultist, spitting blood and breathing roughly to suppress his screams. “H-how have I failed you?”

But Bale was already deaf to his words, and instead Sindri stooped down and picked him up by his hair. “You brought unwelcome news to his lordship. You will not make this mistake again,” said Sindri, himself an expert in never delivering bad news to Bale. He dropped the cultist back onto the flagstones, then grabbed a fistful of his hair again and dragged the hapless fool into the dark interior of the temple, the shrieks of sacrificial victims echoing louder as they entered the vaulted space.

The bolter shell punched into Matiel’s jump pack as he roared around the street corner in pursuit of the squadron of Alpha Legionaries. The pack whined in resistance as its power started to fail, and then sputterings of smoke started to cough out of the puncture. Matiel lost altitude rapidly, and the stabilisers failed almost instantly, flipping the sergeant onto his side and blasting him across the street towards the buildings on the other side. The rest of his squadron rocketed after him, fighting against the centrifugal forces as they flew round the corner in his wake.

The Chaos Marines had formed a temporary firing line across the street, and a sheet of fire erupted from them as the Space Marines rounded the bend. The volley of fire stripped through the Blood Ravens formation, bolter shells punching into armour and pinging past to impact against the buildings beyond.