The Thunderhawk screamed as it descended sharply. Not for the first time, I cursed the pilot, Frederic, for his less than impressive flying skills, even as I crashed against my harness. The Techmarine seemed not to care about the passengers' wellbeing, so long as he accomplished his duty and set us down on planetary soil.
Taking a deep breath, I glanced at my brothers. For the most part, their expressions remained inscrutable, mainly because their features were masked behind the black and silver helms that were so common to our legion.
"What's the matter, Drago?"
"Nothing," I muttered. Knight-Commander Percival must have noticed that I was staring, but I wasn't exactly enthusiastic on sharing my anxieties with the Deathwing commander. Unlike me, he was Caliban borne, clad in enormous Cataphractii-patterned Terminator armor and wielding a Calibanite sword. I sagged against my harness and glanced at my plasma incinerator.
As an Interemptor, I had been prepared to be burned out by the radiation emitted by the older patterned plasma burners, but apparently things had changed over the last ten millennia. When my unit was spat out by the warp during the Breaking of Caliban, I found myself in an unfamiliar universe. My old plasma burner was no longer in use, but when we somehow established contact with an explorator fleet from Draconis IV, we were able to replace our antique plasma weapons with the newer MKIII Belisarius patterned plasma incinerator. I had to admit, it matched my MKIII power armor, so I had no complaints.
That, and I no longer had to worry about burning my life out from intense radiation from my own weapon. I was half expecting to be entombed within a Dreadnought after a few decades, but funny how things worked out.
"You sure?"
Percival was still staring at me. I nodded, staying silent. It was a trait common to my brothers of the 1st Legion, not just me. We were ever a reticient bunch, always keeping our thoughts to ourselves. The Dreadwing, to which I belonged to, embodied that unapproachable trait the most, having been assigned the bitterest of duties. In fact, most specialists or officers would refuse being assigned to my squad because of what we were expected to do. Apparently, my predecessors said they were from the Host of Bone, but despite being from Terra, I wasn't old enough to remember such a time.
Shaking my head of unwanted memories, I deflected the Knight-commander's question. "Yeah. I'm just wondering if the astropathic message was genuine. It's...not a trap from our younger brothers, is it?"
"I do not believe so," Percival replied quietly. "But even if it is, we have to take the risk. If our gene-sire has truly returned..."
He trailed off, but I understood. We all shared the sentiment, which was why we traveled together. It had been a coincidence that I was able to locate my unit shortly after finding myself alone 10,000 years after the Breaking. It had been disorientating to say the least, especially when I caught sight of the ugly tear in the heavens.
The Great Rift, as Percival and the others told me. Several of them had emerged decades before me. Oakley, in particular, had been hiding from our younger brothers for four centuries before he finally encountered us. He was the one who rounded us up, our old Sergeant clinging to fragments of the past while staying two steps ahead of the Space Marine Chapter who had inherited our Legion's name.
But then the call from Avalus had reached all of us, and when we rushed toward the system, we ran into more of our brethren. Known collectively as the Fallen, so many of us had been scattered, yet with this astropathic message, we were all gathering in numbers unprecedented. Percival, had managed to locate Deathwing Knights from ages past and rallied them to his banner aboard his stolen battle barge, the Indestructible Logic. While trying to find a way off the planet Percival and the others found me on, we chanced upon the Indestructible Logic translating from the warp, contacted the Deathwing squadron there, and joined them in their journey toward Avalus.
But whatever blighted the galaxy had caused travel through the warp to be uncertain and perilous, especially in the beleaguered section that was now called Imperium Nihilus, so we ended up making short jumps instead of rushing straight to Avalus. Consequently, we ended up in a system that was supposedly being retaken by the newly reunited Dark Angels under a figure calling himself Lion El'Jonson.
Needing to know the truth, we had joined up with the rest of the fleet and made planetfall on the world below. Avalon had been assailed by a Chaos warband, and the Lion had answered the planetary governor's request for aid, vowing to include Avalon within his growing Protectorate.
That alone was what convinced me more than anything that it was truly our gene-sire who was leading the assault. For surely there was no one else capable of forming a Protectorate in Imperium Nihilus?
There was a shriek and I caught sight of a Heldrake through one of the portholes. Flames washed over the heavily armored transport, but Frederic swerved the Thunderhawk about to veer away from the swarm of Heldrakes that were pursuing us.
"Persistent beasts!" The Techmarine snarled. "By the Omnissiah, I swear...!"
The rest of his words were drowned out by the roar of a turbo laser, and an explosion caused the Thunderhawk to shudder. I realized I had not asked for the name of the transport I was riding in, but there wasn't any time to find out. The hatch was lowering, and Percival and the others were throwing off their harnesses to lumber out the ramp as our ride crashed downward.
"Uh, aren't we still too high up? And there are still Heldrakes out there."
"That's precisely why we're getting off right now."
The next few minutes flew by without me remembering what happened. Apparently, I had followed the Deathwing Terminator squad off the Thunderhawk, jumping out before Frederic brought his bird back up to continue fighting the pursuing Heldrakes. The exit was calculated, for there was a spire tower right below us. The roof broke under the tremendous weight of Terminator armor, but Percival and his Deathwing unit were somehow able to land on the level below without suffering much damage. My Interemptor squad followed shortly after, our more nimble power armor allowing us to vault into the tower without making a huge mess.
We spread out immediately, our weapons flaring and incinerating swathes of stunned Cultists who didn't expect Angels of Death to descend in their midst. Butchering them with plasma and volkite, we fought our way down, massacring the mortals before they could regroup. The Deathwing Terminators were still wielding ancient volkite, which thankfully were still being produced, maintained and repaired by the Tech-priests from Draconis IV. Meanwhile, the Interemptors wielded new plasma incinerators that fired superheated streams that instantly vaporized flesh and bone.
I had to get used to the new weapon, which no longer unleashed a fiery torrent like the older plasma burner, but I didn't mind. Not only did the Belisarius plasma incinerator not poison me slowly with radiation, it had a longer range. Though with its relatively lower volume of fire, it meant I had to club screaming and frothing cultists with my steaming weapon or gauntlets as I made my way through the deranged mob.
By providence, we found the Lion fighting on the level just below, our Primarch having led a decapitation strike on the warlord who ruled over this rabble. Unlike the Cultists, the enemies here were far more dangerous. Clad in power armor not unlike ours, but having transformed over the ages, warped with fleshy potrusions, spikes and organic horns growing over cracked ceramite plates, the ancient Traitor Astartes were engaging a group of knights equipped with black and silver power armor similar to ours. The red-armored lunatics were wielding chainswords, chainaxes and an assortment of other brutal melee weapons, preferring close combat and the gifts of mutation that their dark gods had bestowed upon them.
"He's real," I breathed when I caught sight of Lion El'Jonson, the first Primarch in the middle of a duel with five Terminator-clad berserkers who attempted to hit him with chainfists and power axes. That graceful maneuver, that superlative swordsmanship, the incredible speed with which he evaded his opponents' punches, and the power behind his counter as a single bash from his shield sent a Chaos Terminator - a Terminator! - flying across the level, crashing into the wall and disappearing underneath a pile of rubble.
Most of all, that bearing...and the air of authority he exuded. I couldn't mistake him for anyone else.
"Support him!" Percival commanded, and we obeyed. The Deathwing Knights charged into the fray, their power swords glowing as they cleaved apart power armored foes with astonishing ease. Though not expecting us, the other black-armored Knights who were surely from our Legion had adapted, flowing around the wedge that the Cataphractii Terminators drove into the debased Traitors and striking from the flanks.
We weren't far behind, but we had other targets to take care of. While Percival's Knights butchered ancient Astartes in close combat, we took up positions around a pedestal, hefting up our plasma incinerators and opening fore. Streams of plasma cooked legionnaires, melting their armor and boiling their flesh. They howled as they dropped their boltguns, the barrels warped and fused to their deformed hands. Those who still stubbornly pulled the triggers ended up having their weapons blow up in their faces.
Thanks to our reinforcements, it appeared that we had somehow managed to eliminate the Traitors far sooner than the Lion anticipated. He nodded at us, sheathing his power sword - which I didn't recognize - and removing his helm. I frowned. What happened to the Lion's Sword that our father used to wield? Why was he using a new weapon?
"Knight Commander Percival. Deathwing Initiate, First Company, Eighty-ninth Chapter."
"That's right, my lord."
"And you are the Dreadwing Initiates, Fourth Interemptor squad from the Forty-fourth Chapter."
"Yes, my lord." Oakley had also removed his helm, and now he knelt. Following his example, we all bent our knee. The Lion shook his head and gestured for us to rise.
"Stand, my sons. You kneel to no one, least of all me." His expression was grave as he gazed over us. "I assume you received the astropathic message."
"We did, my lord." Percival nodded as he reluctantly straightened. "We meant to head for Avalus, but when we emerged in this system, we picked up vox transmissions and learned of your presence here. We thought it would be wiser to offer our assistance."
"And I am grateful to you for that."
"We will stand with you, lord." Percival placed a hand on his chest. "We've heard the messages, listened to the whispers. What occurred on Caliban...it was a tragedy. But we have also learned...that your fleet was fired upon first."
"Even so, I had erred," the Lion insisted. "I should not have unleashed my wrath upon all of you. Though only recently, I have realized my folly. Not all on Caliban was against me. Many of you have been misled. I...rushed to a judgement without thinking. I will not ask you for your forgiveness, but I wish to make amends. And in return, I ask that you fight by my side. Of course, I understand if you cannot trust me, and I will promise no retribution should you wish to leave."
"It need not be asked, lord," Oakley said with a smile. "For if we did not desire to fight by your side, we would not have journeyed here to meet you."
The Lion laughed. "Perhaps, and I appreciate the sentiment. But there are also a few among my sons who only wish to confirm the truth of my presence, yet have no intention of rejoining my efforts to protect humanity."
"Don't worry, dad. We're all here to help." I raised my plasma incinerator. "We'll claw the Imperium back from the claws of the Despoiler!"
"....what did you just call me?" The Lion's brow furrowed. I coughed, embarrassed.
"Excuse my low Gothic. I meant father."
"...I see." He studied me for a bit, and then tilted his head slightly. "Drago, if I recall?"
"That's right, dad...father."
He tried not to roll his eyes. "I welcome you to our ranks. In this dark age, we will need every bit of help that we can get."
"That's why we are here. You have my sword." Percival bowed and held up his sword. The Lion waved him away.
"You will have need of your blade later, Percival. This is just the beginning." He raised his eyes toward the broken ceiling of the spire. "In return for pledging yourselves to me, I name you Risen. No son of mine will judge or censure you, not without my approval. Let us all rise together, and ensure the survival of humanity against whatever dangers the galaxy has in store for us."
