Chapter 84 - Interception and Search
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The vast galaxy had no room for a brief reunion between brothers.
Guilliman, Horus, and Sanguinius, each of them knew how precious this moment was. They had so much they wanted to say.
But the Imperium would not permit it.
The enemies of mankind would permit it even less.
Perhaps this was what responsibility meant. As gene-sires, as sons of the Emperor of Mankind, they had to carry their father's expectations and the weight of human civilization's survival.
Guilliman's plan was to prepare a grand crusade, a replication of the Great Crusade's former glory, extending the Imperium of Man, this slowly rotting corpse, another century, another millennium of existence.
He had been appointed Regent of the Imperium by the Emperor himself. His two brothers, Horus and Sanguinius, would back him with everything they had.
When the three loyal primarchs returned — especially the resurrected Sanguinius and the absolved Arch-Traitor Horus appearing before the eyes of the world, people were universally stunned. They cried out that this was a miracle of the God-Emperor.
The people of Terra practically worshipped the three as divine sons. Faith formed around them naturally, organically. The three did not stop it. In this dark age, powerful figures were needed to serve as the people's spiritual pillars.
The High Lords, however, did not see it that way. If it were only Roboute Guilliman, they might still manage. But two more primarchs on top of that.
One of them was Sanguinius, second only to the Emperor in the Ecclesiarchy's own propaganda.
And then there was the fact that the Emperor upon the Golden Throne could now speak.
The High Lords had always spoken grandly of their faith in the Emperor, their reverence for the gene-sires. They could afford to, because those mythic figures had never talked back.
Now those figures had stepped out of the history books and opened their mouths. It was a shock to the High Lords' system, because it shook the foundations of the power they held.
Mouths full of faith. Hearts full of power.
The High Lords were deeply unsettled. But Guilliman did not flip the table. The Lord of Ultramar met them with a smile instead, playing diplomatic tai chi with those old foxes at the conference table, putting on a careful show of needing mortal bureaucratic support.
It was a smokescreen.
He was stalling for time. The moment Horus brought back that bone-carving knife, the great purge of Terra would begin.
---
Bridge command chamber.
The glow of the holographic star chart painted itself across Horus's rugged face.
The Arch-Traitor of the Horus Heresy stood at the command platform's primary position, an ostentatious Ultramarines U-shaped emblem hanging openly on his chest. A deliberate declaration of the political alliance between him and Guilliman.
"The Black Legion's main force retreated in complete disarray." Loken pointed at several markers pulling rapidly away across the star chart. "Abaddon's fleet has lost momentum. They can't regroup for another proper offensive."
Kellen stood nearby, chewing a piece of military synthetic ration, speaking through a mouthful of mush.
"Brother Don, he's just too straightforward, that one. Your own father personally took the field, and he still went and charged straight into the guns."
It had been Kellen who'd flagged Abaddon's plan to blockade the Throneworld's warp routes, a move that would have strangled Guilliman's plans and the Imperium's military mobilization before they started. Guilliman had acted immediately, dispatching Horus to lead a fleet against the Black Legion, with the secondary task of retrieving that psychotic brother, Curze.
The 8 key-node engagements that followed had been personally orchestrated by Horus.
The Wolf Shepherd's command had no flourishes. Only ruthlessness and precision.
He had the fleet deliberately expose weaknesses, luring the Black Legion into jump traps, then closed the noose. Abaddon assumed he was facing standard Imperial Navy formations and ordered his fleet to charge in with full fanfare. By the time he recognized the bone-deep familiar strangulation tactics of the Legion era, many of the Black Legion's capital ships had already been reduced to space junk.
When Abaddon realized his gene-sire had been absolved by the Emperor and now held military authority over the fleet, he raged on the Black Legion's open channel for a full 3 straight minutes of unbroken profanity.
Horus seemed to have anticipated exactly that. Both hands braced on the control console, he let out a quiet laugh.
"Ezekyle's command ability is still exactly where I left it 10,000 years ago. He relies too heavily on the warp advantages his Blackstone constructs provide. He's forgotten that real interstellar naval warfare is about seizing windows of opportunity before they vanish."
The casualty ratios from those 8 engagements were so lopsided they made the accompanying Imperial generals break out in cold sweats.
They also changed a lot of minds about Horus.
At that moment, Cato Sicarius strode onto the bridge. The Ultramarines Second Company Captain walked up to Horus and rendered a crisp military salute.
Sicarius was a proud man.
At first, he had been deeply resistant to this gene-sire carrying the Arch-Traitor's name, privately convinced that Horus's abilities were nowhere near his own father Guilliman's.
The past several campaigns had shut his mouth completely.
That ease in maneuvering millions of troops. That commander's presence that steadied military morale in desperate situations through sheer force of will. It had worn down every last trace of Sicarius's arrogance.
The Arch-Traitor's talent genuinely deserved respect.
"Lord Lupercal." Sicarius's tone was deeply deferential. "We have entered the Darius System. The fleet has taken up near-orbit above Darius as per your orders. Shall I prepare a shuttle for you and Mister Kellen?"
Horus turned.
"Go ahead, Sicarius. But we'll depart a little later. Keep all ships at maximum alert — I want no surprises from a Black Legion flanking counterattack."
"Your will!" Sicarius turned on his heel and strode out.
The old knight Cullen stood nearby, helmet tucked under his arm. Loken was there too.
Earlier, Guilliman had proposed that both veterans undergo the Rubicon Primaris surgery to bring their physical capabilities up to standard.
Both had refused.
Cullen thought the fatality rate was too high. He had no intention of dying on an operating table, he needed these old bones intact to meet the Lion when he finally woke. Loken's reason was simpler: he just wanted more time with his gene-sire.
Loken moved to the star chart, watching the direction of Abaddon's retreat, his voice quiet and serious.
"Next time we meet on the battlefield, Lord — give me permission to personally lead the boarding party. I want to take Ezekyle's head with my own hands. End the Sixteenth Legion's disgrace."
Horus walked over and brought his broad palm down hard on Loken's shoulder.
"There will be a chance, Loken. We'll settle that account sooner or later."
"But for now, he still needs to live."
Horus turned and looked out the viewport.
A massive planet hung in the dark. Deep crimson.
No atmospheric protection. The crustal plates had shattered completely, leaving vast churning lakes of magma rolling across the surface. Towers of fire erupted from the depths at irregular intervals, punching skyward and dying.
An absolutely dead world. Nothing could survive down there.
"My friend." Horus looked down at Kellen. "Are you certain my brother Konrad Curze is on this planet? This is a dead land. Nothing but churning magma. No matter how strong a gene-sire is, he can't very well be bathing in lava every day, can he?"
Kellen swallowed the last of his ration in two bites and brushed the crumbs from his hands.
"Your father gave me the coordinates. Where exactly am I supposed to go to verify them? He sent the exact location directly to me. We get there, we follow the coordinates, we find him. Simple." He shrugged.
Easy words. But inwardly, Kellen's heart was hammering.
Horus had a point. A giant magma ball this size, how were they actually supposed to search it? Even if Curze really was down there, they couldn't exactly suit up in power armor and go swimming through lava.
Kellen was still frowning, turning the problem over, when,
WENG,!
A violent wave of vertigo slammed into his brain without warning. Deafening tinnitus tore straight through his hearing like a blade.
The second before his vision plunged into darkness, a familiar, infuriatingly punchable rasping voice detonated somewhere deep inside his skull.
[Come into the dream. I'll tell you the method.]
Goddamn Yellow Old Man! Can't you just explain everything at once?! You just had to pull this sudden ambush garbage!
Kellen didn't even get the chance to curse out loud. His legs buckled. His body toppled straight backward.
Loken moved before anyone else could react, one lunging stride, arms out, catching Kellen before he hit the deck.
"He's passed out!" Loken shouted.
Horus and Cullen crowded in immediately, their faces stripped of everything except shock and alarm.
➤ Next: The World of Konrad Curze (1)
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