Chapter 185 - The Great Brawl of Vigilus
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The Nachmund Gauntlet, linking the Dark Imperium and the Imperium Sanctus, had become exactly what Kaelen predicted after the Fall of Cadia split the galaxy in two: the most contested chokepoint in the known universe.
Thanks to Kaelen's forewarning, Guilliman's advance deployments, and a fleet Horus had deliberately left behind upon his return from the Dark Imperium, the defenses of Vigilus, the key world on the Dark Imperium side of the Gauntlet, had been massively reinforced.
For Abaddon's Black Legion, it was a tough nut to crack.
Not merely because of the numbers, quality, and iron resolve of the Imperial defenders. More critically, the supreme commander of the system's defense was Marneus Calgar, Chapter Master of the Ultramarines.
This legendary Chapter Master had lifetimes of combat and command experience behind him. The Chaos host had broken itself bloody against every line he built.
And it wasn't only the forces of Chaos. Greenskin Orks were on the move. Genestealer cults were spreading through the underhives. And then there was the Aeldari, and a warband of the Fallen Angels.
Vigilus. Same as it ever was.
Still, Imperial defenses had their limits. Under Abaddon's relentless assaults, the lines had begun to buckle.
The bad times had arrived. The Imperial Navy lost a fleet engagement to the Black Legion, not that anyone could blame them. Abaddon's flagship, the Vengeful Spirit, was simply on another level. Any loyalist vessel that dared challenge that Gloriana-class Chaos battleship was annihilated. And that was before accounting for the massive Blackstone Fortress the Warmaster of Chaos had at his disposal.
Abaddon's plan was to use the Blackstone Crown aboard that vessel, a device carved from Blackstone, designed to amplify its resonance with the Warp, and plant it on Vigilus itself, widening the Great Rift's reach.
Calgar had stopped him.
"Assemble the troops. Follow me to the surface."
Abaddon's answer was to come down to the front lines himself and take Calgar's head.
But he made one potentially fatal mistake.
He forgot to consult the auguries.
Perhaps, in the Warmaster of Chaos's mind, dealing with one Calgar wasn't worth the bother of prophecy.
Ten thousand years of veteran's instinct. The blessings of the Dark Gods. I, Abaddon, may not be able to defeat Horus, but I can't put down a single Chapter Master?
Sometimes confidence is a fine thing.
And sometimes it isn't.
The Black Legion held the strategic advantage. They'd won the void war. They were grinding Vigilus's defenses down hour by hour. But they had no idea who else was watching from the shadows of the Dark Imperium.
Two sets of eyes had already turned this way.
---
Surface of Vigilus. Forward defensive positions.
"I am a son of Guilliman. Master of Macragge. Chapter Master of the Ultramarines — Marneus Calgar. Warmaster of Chaos! I challenge you! One on one!"
The message went out in the clear over the hololithic comm channel, broadcasting across the receivers of every warship in low orbit.
The Victrix Guard stood in silence behind Calgar. Their faceplates hid their expressions. Their hands, white-knuckled around their boltguns, did not.
Calgar would have been ashamed to admit it, but the mission his gene-father had entrusted to him was slipping out of reach.
The Vigilus line had held for half a year. A record worthy of his name in Imperial military history. But the Chaos host hadn't thinned, it had grown with every passing week, fed by the endless dark. His own garrison bled a little more each day.
Imperial reinforcements should have arrived a month ago. The Great Rift had made the warp routes a mess. Every relief force had been dragged to a halt somewhere in the dark between stars.
He wasn't going to see those reinforcements.
Then they would settle this the old way.
The victor takes the planet. The vanquished leaves his head.
The cruelest rule in the galaxy. Also the fairest.
Abaddon answered.
The void tore open.
Violet-crimson Warp light erupted from the fissure and flooded the forward position, bathing everything in an eerie, sickly glow.
When it faded, the Warmaster of Chaos stood before them all.
Behind him, a rank of Despoiler veterans. Silent as a wall.
In his left hand, the daemon sword Drach'nyen. His right arm bore the Talon of Horus, massive, hideous, each claw radiating a cold that bit to the bone.
Two weapons that had ended empires. What did Calgar have to answer that?
"Calgar."
Abaddon didn't rush. He studied the blue-armored Chapter Master with something like appreciation, the look of a collector examining a piece that was about to become his.
"You are an excellent commander. Worthy of my respect." His voice was low. Hoarse. "I will kill you. And then I will use your skull to adorn my armor."
He shrugged as he said it, deliberately rolling his shoulder so the skulls threaded through his pauldrons rattled.
His collection. Every one of them a foe he had killed with his own hands, enemies he had judged worthy.
Calgar's mouth curved into something cold.
"I have met Lupercal."
The words went in like a needle.
"If I were him, I would be ashamed to have a son like you." Each word landed like a hammer on an anvil, striking sparks. "I have heard that during the Heresy, your Luna Wolves had every means to place the grievously wounded Warmaster in a stasis field and send him to Terra — to the Master of Mankind himself, to be saved. But what did you do? What did you, First Captain, actually do? Hide alone in the fighting cages and take out your rage on the walls?"
Abaddon's face twisted for just an instant.
Those words hadn't pierced his dignity. They had found something deeper, the wound at the bottom of his soul that had never closed.
Ten thousand years. Still bleeding.
But the Master of Macragge was not finished.
His voice rose. It carried the particular, steel-spined pride that was the Ultramarines' alone, pride that came with reasons behind it.
"We Ultramarines did far better than your Luna Wolves in that regard. When Lord Guilliman was struck down, we placed him in a stasis field in time. So 10,000 years later, he could wake. And your father?"
The corner of Calgar's mouth pulled into open contempt.
"Your father is dead."
Abaddon's breathing changed.
Drach'nyen shrieked in his grip, urging him forward.
"If you are trying to provoke me, Calgar, there is no need." The Warmaster of Chaos squeezed the words out through his teeth. "I am the Warmaster of Chaos. The old Legion is nothing but smoke to me now. Even my gene-father, "
He paused. Swallowing the weight of a name.
"Is only the past. I am destined to bring down the Imperium. To destroy the Corpse-Emperor on his Golden Throne. To end every gene-sire you take pride in, Horus, Guilliman." A beat. "And Sanguinius."
"Then—"
Calgar's roar tore across the front line. The bolt launcher on his right arm opened up, the twin-linked bolters beneath his fist spitting sheets of fire.
"You'll have to step over my corpse first!"
The moment the guns fired, the waiting was over.
The Victrix Guard pulled their triggers as one. Ultramarines fury and bolter fire filled the air together, the barrage descending on the enemy like a storm of iron and hate.
Abaddon roared. Drach'nyen and the Talon of Horus swept wide. The Despoilers surged after him. Ten thousand years of slaughter poured out of them all at once.
➤ Next: The Lion's Rescue
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