Relics - A Malum Vigilia Short Story

[FattyLumpkin]

PROLOGUE

Isekander Kayde thought of his congregation as the ancient elevator descended. Hundreds of thousands of Imperial citizens came to hear his words daily. He taught them of the God-Emperor, and their role in His great plan. He told them not to fear the darkness of the void, for the Emperor protects. Surely. The Emperor protects. The sick and poor would come to him desperate for the salvation of the Emperor’s light. He would comfort them and give them courage, that they might carry on in His name. The local government held him in high respect and would often come to him for advice on matters of state. He would oblige, though the results were not his concern. The mighty lords who lived amongst the clouds in the highest reaches of the hive would come to him offering gifts, in hope that the Emperor might view them with favor, and bless them with more wealth. He would accept them, though they meant naught to him.

Kayde never tired of the sensation he felt as he entered the catacombs. As he continued deeper into the darkness, the smell became thick, clouding his head. His senses distorted and twisted around the intoxicating aroma. It gathered at the center of his consciousness, right behind his eyes, and dripped down the back of his throat. It left a metallic taste that filled his gut, and rose back out of his mouth like bile. He heard it muffle the noises of the lift around him, the air now filled with a muting mass of particulate matter. The light above him faded away, leaving him alone with the smell. His thoughts strayed from the events of the day, a welcome reprieve. He became utterly relaxed, and all pretense of emotion faded from his face.

The elderly priest stepped off the lift, leaving his walking stick behind. He did not need it down here, while the smell suffused his entire being. The passage was in total darkness, but this did not trouble him. He felt the familiar faces of the long-dead on the walls as he passed, to guide him. Long minutes passed in silence as he made his way. He savored every second of his journey, as he did each and every day. He thought of the purity of his devotion. He thought about his sacred work, and how truly grand it was. Adrenaline began to flow through his limp and relaxed flesh, in anticipation of the ritual. Saliva pooled in his mouth, and spilled out in a thin trail.

He could hear the river now, a slow lapping current echoing off the walls of the catacombs, endlessly. Not even he knew how deep it flowed. His eyes found focus on the distant light of a torch. The entrance to the ritual chamber. He braced his mind to behold its glory, as it was never easy. A thing of such beauty could break the mind of one that was not prepared. Upon reaching the torch, and the threshold to the chamber, he shed his clothes. The chill air invigorated him, sending yet another surge of adrenaline through his veins. The time had come again. The ritual begins.

Kayde entered the grand chamber head bowed, his long gray hair occluding his vision, eyes focused on the dimly lit floor. He knew exactly how many steps forward until he would see the river beneath his gaze. He held his hands clasped behind his back in an act of supplication and moved with reverential slowness. The chamber was large and long, but he would reach the river soon. Sweat dripped from the priest’s face and stung his eyes, but he did not raise his hands to clear them. The stunted, staggered pace he walked with burned the muscles of his legs, but he did not change form. His neck felt as though it might snap, but he did not raise his head.

He saw the river. He wanted to exult at the sight, to stretch his aching muscles and bask in the glory of the miracle. But he did not. He maintained his pace and posture, advancing onto the simple, splintered wooden board laid across the river. Without pause, he lowered one knee to the plank, and then the other, the rough wood digging into his skin. He now faced the river, and in front of him in the distance would lay its source. Head still bowed, the priest allowed himself one long, deep breath, to ready himself to witness its splendor.

The river beneath him was modest yet, merely enough to wash one’s hands or feet in. Its flow was slow, and utterly calm. It had carved its path through the soft clay floor of its own intuition, forming small twists and turns. Behind him, the winding path of the flow continued into darkness, a path that none were to tread. It was a gift freely given, after all.

His gaze followed the river upstream. In the distance—far enough that he had trouble seeing—was the source of the river: a great cistern that spilled from its lowered edge in wide, thin sheets, and fell below to gather and form the river.

Long chains hung from the ceiling, lost entirely in darkness, above the cistern. And on these chains…

Bodies. Hundreds and hundreds of bodies. Hung head down, and throat slit, each one slowly adding its due to the miracle. Blood. Around the great cistern’s edges were his acolytes: some handling large barbed poles to push or pull the sacrifices; some bore cruel knives to slit their throats; others transported live bodies out of the holding pens beyond, and yet others brought the bloodless dead back in.

The screaming no longer offended him. Indeed, he only began to truly hear it now. It had escaped his thoughts before this moment. As the exsanguinated bodies were retrieved from the pool, new wailing sacrifices were loaded in their place. The acolytes worked with a feverish speed, always fearful that the river’s flow might dry up. Only one phrase was spoken among them, and only when new tributes were sent to spill in the pool:

“Blood for the Blood God.”

Such was Isekander Kayde’s great work. The blood must flow.

Kayde became lost in its beauty only for a moment. Snapping back to his senses, he tightly closed his eyes and continued the ritual. He unclasped his hands from behind his back and slowly brought them in front of him. Leaning forward, he lowered his hands to the blood in a loose, cupped shape. When his fingers first breached the surface, agony pierced his soul. The muscles throughout his entire body contracted, forcing him into a pained hunch, threatening to send him toppling into the river. He wanted to fall in. He wanted to fall face first into the blood and lavish in its taste, its smell, and its sticky, hot touch. But he would not.

Through an ultimate act of will, Isekander Kayde resisted, as he did each and every day. He controlled the descent of his hands through the blood, until they touched the bottom. No further. He would not defile the Blood God’s gift with more than his hands, which he offered as a beggar would a king. The current ran through and around his fingers, attempting to drag him in with its slow, inexorable flow. The weight of the blood held his hands beneath.

The ritual was almost over. His muscles screamed to be released from the tension that threatened to tear them apart. A dryness had developed in his throat that threatened to choke him dead, and the rushing of the river had become so loud in his ears he thought it would deafen him.

He began to pull his hands out of the river. It was never an easy task. The river did not want to let him go. It wanted his blood. The river became heavy and pushed against his cupped hands. He had never witnessed the blood in this stage of the ritual before, and did not let his thoughts stray to what may really be happening in front of him. Slowly, and with great strength, his hands emerged. Once his fingers had left it completely, the pain began to subside. He straightened his back again and returned to his kneeling posture. He sat back on his heels and placed his hands in his lap. His head still bowed, he allowed himself one more deep breath in and out to recover from the ritual.

Kayde opened his eyes. In his hands was a small brass bowl. It had emerged clean, and empty.


CHAPTER 1

Eli saw the blood in the streets moving. It had been getting stronger. When he first entered the district, the pools around the victims lay still.  But as he walked further he noticed strange patterns—much of it had long since dried, but in odd tapering channels that all pointed the same way. The further he went, the more bodies he saw, and the thicker these channels became. Some had come together, forming a stronger, less resistant path. With the added mass of blood, Eli could now see the edges of these puddles still wet—and extending, glinting against the world's strange, purple moonlight. It rolled forward as though pressed from a vein, bubbling over itself in a fading, coagulating trail.  Contempt bolstered Eli's spirit.  Sorcery.  Foul magics of the great enemy.  Curiosity as to the intentions of the servants of Chaos was pointless, and laid one's mind bare for corruption.  He cut short any such considerations.

The killing began three days ago.  It started in [the cathedral], [hive city]'s most sacred and valuable treasure.  At the peak of service, with millions of citizens inside and surrounding the chapel, the holy men and women of the Emperor unleashed a slaughter.  Those that escaped with their lives told of horned heads, hoofed legs and forked tongues amongst the murderous.  As the local military mounted a response, more dutiful servants of the imperium became seemingly afflicted, and engaged in the slaughter of those around them.  Once it was established that the effect was spreading, the hive quarantined the entire district.  Billions of souls, locked in, alone with the monsters.

As Eli made his way through a cramped alley he could not see or hear the rest of his cell, but he knew they were there. They moved in a staggered approach to the cathedral, each soldier entrusted to keep his presence concealed. The Vigilia were all supremely practiced in the business of staying alive, and were chosen for that reason. As he walked, wind rushing through broken windows of the shattered district drowned out the sound of his footsteps.  Great shadows cast by stacked layers of modest households cloaked him in darkness.  A series of quiet clicks echoed through his vox—a minute-to-minute check-in from the members of his cell. All was well.

Eli and his cell saw life signs—an impossible to miss mass of bodies on their scanners. They had noticed them long ago, and surmised it must be cultists with a group of hostages. They had been stationary for some time, and the cell planned simply to advance through the district around them and continue to the objective. On the wind Eli heard bells. Rhythmically, with monotonous precision, they chimed.

ting-ting, ting-ting ting-ting, ting ting

Eli climbed a set of rickety stairs into a small domed enclosure that connected to a string of homes along a higher tier of the alley. The cultists were on ground level, and the life signs were down the passage now, to his right, where that series of habs ended, opening into a large garden.  Under the light of the moon, everything seemed to glow, edges catching stray violet light.  In the center of the garden, around fifty Imperial citizens stood, utterly motionless and paralyzed by fear.

ting-ting, ting-ting ting-ting, ting ting

Eli was confident he would not be seen as he proceeded. He was covered by the shadows, and any line of sight the cultists might have was narrow and unlikely. He observed them as he moved past.  Foul, detestable things they were, clothed in bloody rags, wearing trophies of horrific brutality on their bodies. They were preparing the hostages for transport—chaining them by the legs and waists, painting their chests with dark, disturbing runes of blood. Deeply hooded figures circled the crowd, swinging billowing censers of foul, noxious smoke. He did not see where the bells were coming from. He made his way past unknown to them. They were not his mission.

ting-ting, ting-ting ting-ting, ting ting

Once the district was quarantined the cult revealed itself.  The citizens left abandoned were scattered and separated, forced into hiding by the monsters roaming the streets.  The cult moved with no such trepidation, their wards of bells and smoke protecting them.  There were two entrances to the catacombs outside of the cathedral itself, on opposite ends of the district.  Once utterly forbidden ground, it was now swarmed with doomed processions of hostages.  To what end was unknown.  Foul, reprehensible.  To proliferate beneath a site of such holiness.  Eli felt rage burn bright in his soul at the thought of bringing the man responsible low.  Intelligence told them that Isekander Kayde was near the cathedral. He spent his days and nights performing disgusting rituals in the shadow of its holiness, seemingly reverential and in supplication of a curious object.  Mission protocols stated that Kayde was to be eliminated, and this object destroyed.

The alley opened into a larger boulevard after the garden.  The cultists behind them would not move for some time yet, sparing no effort in the preparation of their quarry.  Eli looked down at the long, empty street.  It was curiously free of the dead.  As Eli continued along the long string of shrine-houses he saw a muted violet light pulse.  Lumen and Olaf had found something.  They alerted him with a pulse of Lumen's vest, matched to the moonlight.  Eli blink-clicked the notification rune away, letting them know he was on his way, and he saw them go to continue their work.

Eli made his way down to the street. The signal had come from inside a chapel on the right side of the boulevard. The stained glass windows were shattered, and the stacks of candles long since snuffed out. The tall double doorway had been smashed away.  As Eli entered the chapel his shadow grew long in the moonlight, and the reason for the alert became clear.

Suspended from the rafters in a great tangle of chains was one of the monstrosities. Eli could feel bile rise in his throat. It had been human once. What was left of the uniform marked him as PDF. He was suited in fully enclosed tactical gear that had been ruptured from the inside out—sharp, irregular horns spearing through his helmet. The armor split at the seams, strained by an unnatural change in height and muscle mass. The thing’s skin was the color of a raging flame, stretched thin over too much bulk.  Its mouth was a lipless, gaping wound, riddled with long, strong teeth. On the floor below lay the severed remnants of what had become of its hands—long, wicked blades, snapped short.

The locals had trapped it here and finished it. Eli thought of the captives he had passed earlier, and offered a silent prayer to The Emperor. They had fought bravely. Below the monster was a large bloodstain where its throat had been slit. Eli's eyes followed the trail of blood.  It was still liquid, moving in the direction of the cathedral, though the chapel wall was in the way. It bubbled and roiled at its base, ever expanding in search of a way forward. He had seen enough, and turned back towards the entrance.

When he exited, he was greeted by Lumen and Olaf sitting patiently by the door, having determined that Eli had paused his advance. He gave Lumen a gentle pat on the head and whispered “Good boys,”

To be a member of the Malum Vigilia was to meet horror face to face, with mind-numbing regularity. The souls of its mortal members had been tempered, and their minds filled with the Emperor’s truth. Every member of the Vigilia was a specialist of one kind or another—comms, wards, suppression, recon, infiltration, political liaison.

Eli was a hound handler, and he chose Olaf and Lumen for their specific augmentations.  Olaf had received extensive augmentation to his olfactory sensors to sharpen an already prodigious tracking gift. Lumen was outfitted for pursuit, and equipped with a prototype light-vest—subdermal housings that could pulse varying degrees and colors of light, strong enough to blind. Both hounds were subject to routine augments improving speed, durability, and inter-cell communication. Together they worked exceptionally well, and aided in the success of many missions.

Eli was leading the cell on the ground.  Of the ten mortals, Eli, at 73 years of age and 50 years of service to the Vigilia, was the most experienced.  He drew near the great spires surrounding the cathedral now.  The fortifying steel towers were as wide as an entire hab block, and packed together tightly, leaving no gap but small gated access tunnels, and the main processional road.  The boulevard he was traveling down opened into a large, empty street, encircling the spires.  Lumen and Olaf were already at the access gate they were meant to use, examining a thin current of blood that was trickling inside.

One by one, from the alleys and houses, nine mortals emerged in silence to join Eli. Clad in black and grey, faces covered, each soldier bore the Chapter’s insignia on their left shoulder: a three-leafed apple in white.  They had all received extensive juvenate treatments and augmentations designed to reduce their need for sleep or nutrients. They utilized bionics to increase speed, endurance, and situational awareness, and they had spent years training with mankind’s greatest defenders. They would not sell their lives cheaply, for the investment in them was extensive.

“Spire Cell, report,” Eli voxed quietly.

“The guns are ready to go down. We’ve taken up positions to assist in the assault.  The cathedral itself is empty.  Kayde is on the steps with the relic, surrounded by his cult.  We have three angles on him, but he's moving and visibility is… Extremely bad.  There is… a lot going on in the courtyard. The cultists have been funneling in hostages for the fiends to feed on. Some hostages have turned on the innocent and… begun to change.”

Eli heard the man spit.

“Vile heresy,” the voice said. 

“Your approach is clear at the moment, but the highway and the plaza are full of them.”

“Maintain position.”

Assassination from the sky had been ruled out. The chance of a miss was unacceptable, and even a hit risked the relic falling into his cultists hands and disappearing into the hive. The best they could do was shoot all their shots at once and hope to devastate any sense of organized resistance.

“Armor cell report,”

“We found a couple of nice ones to take with us, rigged the rest of the big ones, and we'll take out the small ones on the way.  We'll drag a tail but they'll be slow.  After drop we can be there in six or seven minutes.”

Eli sighed
“Maintain position.”  Eli said and cut the channel.

The shrine district had been host to a large array of the hive’s military assets in order to protect the priceless cathedral. Tanks and other armored vehicles were scattered along its massive highway, traveled by millions every day. The spires were integrated into the hive’s orbital defenses and mounted great skyfire batteries. Mission protocol dictated Spire Cell was to neutralize the skyfire targeting systems, and Armor Cell was to disable enemy ground vehicles, in order for the local PDF to make an organized push towards the cathedral, and to seal the two entrances to the catacombs. Spire Cell was in position to provide recon inside the courtyard, and long-range support during the assault. Armor Cell was to commandeer three vehicles and make for the cathedral as soon as operations went loud, in order to hold the cathedral entrance.

Eli turned to his auspex specialist, Livia Serrin, callsign Naran.

“How many are in the access?”

“Fifteen, just regular life signs.  The closest is about fifty meters down.  They have a few fires.”

Eli signed for them to get into position on either side of the gate.  It was open.  The cult did not have much of a mind for security.  His cell had already guessed the call he was about to make and were adjusting their visors to prepare.  Temur and Batu took the point, being the most heavily armored.  Eli took the rear on the right hand side of the tunnel entrance.  Eli looked down at his hounds, always ready to serve.  He raised his fist in the familiar sign.

Lumen – breach.


Chapter 2

Eli lowered his fist.  The hounds ran into the tunnel together. Temur and Batu led the cell in a sprint, barely able to keep up.  For thirty meters the only sound was muffled foot and paw steps. Eli could see the heretics down the corridor on his multi-spectrum lenses, set to low light, and to reduce flash. The cultists heard them and moved from their positions around a fire to gaze into the darkness. Three targets.

Lumen was the first to breach the perimeter of the fire’s illumination, and shot a blast of light down the corridor so bright that Eli could feel its heat. His lenses compensated, registering a bright flash and a spray of coals as Olaf smashed through the fire. He saw the cultists fall backward, reeling from the blinding light. Temur and Batu were closing on them as the hounds raced past to the next group. The two in formation behind took a step to the side, sighted the cultists, and brought them down in three muted bursts. Eli and Naran rushed past, giving the rear guard to them.

The cultists down the tunnel did not understand what was happening, seeing only a bright flash, stealing what vision they had. Another flash, and five more were brought down. Over half. Eli and Naran rushed past four more of the Cell that had stopped to shoot. Eli smashed the brazier Olaf had thrown to the ground underfoot as he ran. The cultists were shooting back.  Every shot went wide. They had grouped up, in an ignorant attempt at safety through numbers. Seven targets. Lumen's light went off again, this time in a strobing pattern as he and Olaf pounced on two of the cultists. Temur and Batu smashed two into the walls so hard with their crackling shock mauls that they fell limp to the ground. Eli and Naran finished the group with two bursts from her, one from him.

“Life signs clear,” Naran said, in the now-darkened tunnel.

Eli looked down at the cultists as his cell fell in behind him. They were a different strain of heresy than the monsters that roamed the streets. Eli wondered what made them different. Why had their minds been spared, and their bodies left weak and fragile? Were they the chosen few, or a tool meant to usher in a new age of bloodshed?

He returned his attention to the present.

Eli could not make sense of what he saw at the end of the tunnel. He blink clicked off his lenses to see with his own eyes. Long, chaotic rays of vibrant color pierced the dark. He attempted to parse the information in front of him by following the walls leading to the entrance, but his eyes lost purchase. The stone walls dissolved into dozens of overlapping patterns of light, color, and shadow. A far-reaching shard of yellow light touched Eli’s hand and illuminated something curious on the floor beneath him. He bent down to examine it. He plucked a strand from the ground to confirm it was real.

Grass. Real green grass sprouting from the grooves in the blood-soaked stonework, growing thicker as they advanced.  Eli heard Khorig, his warding specialist, murmur,

“What is this place…?”

Eli opened a channel to Spire Cell.  “We’re approaching the courtyard. Give me an update.”

“I’d double-time to the objective. The daemons seem drawn to the steps, but it’s been a while since the cult has released more hostages to hunt, and they’re starting to wander the grounds—looking. The cult’s warding priests fill the plaza on the other side of your approach, keeping the fiends off the stairs. There is one that’s likely to notice you on your way.”

The man paused.

“You seen the grass yet?”

“Yes. And the lights.”

“This place is expensive.”

“Keep an eye on us as we approach, but do not give away your position,” Eli said, standing back up, letting the blade of grass fall.

“Aye,” said the man, and cut the channel.

The grass covered the ground now.  They were almost out of the tunnel. The roof vanished from sight as they entered the field, revealing the source of the lights: the largest building Eli had ever seen, made of stained glass. Past a clear half kilometer of grass, the massive west wing of the cathedral loomed over them, displaying scenes of glory against daemon, xenos, and mutant. Beyond that, the central tower stood kilometers high, shining so brightly with purple moonlight that Eli could not make out the images—only the chaotic, tainted light they cast. He looked to the sky and saw the towers surrounding the cathedral disappear into the violet mist, several times higher than the church itself. He could just make out the massive mirrors that shot moonlight into the cathedral, covering every surface in sight with refracted light, shining as a mighty monument to the God Emperor of Mankind.

“Khorig, you have point. Everyone spread out. Use the lights to conceal yourselves. No gunfire out here, we can't afford to be noticed.”

Eli turned to Khorig. He bore many favors of the inquisition on this day. His armor was etched with hexagramic wards, and a rosarius lay affixed across his chest like a belt of ammunition. Lashed to his left arm was a simple polished black bar; a null rod. In his right he wielded a power stake, long enough to plant like a staff, and humming with an invisible field of energy.

“Are you ready?”

“Of course,” Khorig said “Do not attempt to aid me unless absolutely necessary. Limited contact with the foul things is best.”

“Agreed.” Eli said. Khorig began his advance.

Temur and Batu fell in behind him at a safe distance, followed by Eli to the right, and the rest of the cell fanning out in a wide pattern, finding paths of darker light to follow. They sighted a red-skinned beast ahead at roughly two hundred meters, bent over examining a corpse. It was big. As they grew closer, Eli saw it no longer bore any clothing, now much larger than it had once been. Eli was surprised by how human it still looked, though it no longer showed any signs of gender. Great ram's horns framed its face, and a long tongue fell from its mouth. Its legs ended in huge, hairless hooves.

Khorig stopped in a rare patch of white light fifty meters from the daemon, and the rest of the cell stopped with him. He stabbed his power stake into the ground and raised his hands in the sign of the Aquila, offering a prayer to the God-Emperor. The beast noticed him and let out a throat-tearing scream as it burst into a sprint.  It was easily a foot taller than Khorig, and must have outweighed him by a hundred and fifty pounds.  Khorig stood ready to react. The beast came one stride away from striking range of him when the leg it stepped forward with failed, suddenly losing strength. The daemon almost fell to a knee, but managed to keep upright with one outstretched arm. Khorig reacted, stepping out of its trajectory and turning ninety degrees, ripping a long gash into its side.  The wound began to spew smoke as if lit from a fire on the inside. The fiend let out a guttural exclamation, shifted its weight, and brought the arm it caught itself with up in a wild strike in Khorig's direction. Khorig threw himself under the beast's attack and slammed the null-rod into its elbow. The arm went limp and the beast's momentum carried it forward, sending it into a spin. It fell away from Khorig.  He saw the opening and pierced the back of its neck with his power stake in one swift application of force. The daemons head burst into flames.

Batu let out a scoff.

“Bastard makes it look easy...” he said,

Khorig removed the stake from its neck, letting it fall forward,

“Would that you all were warded as I am,” he responded humbly.

“I don't want that witch :cuss:.” Batu said as he began to move forward once more.

The cell continued advancing to the cathedral wall. Spire Cell had said to double time, but Eli trusted Naran to  watch for life signs in the courtyard. The wall was not far and they would be able to reach it quickly if anything appeared.

Eli looked up at the massive west wing of the cathedral. It was all he could see, save the structures even taller behind it. It was difficult to not be awestruck by the scenes displayed on the cathedral. Beings of myth and legend doing battle with the vile and hated. Scores of Imperial saints. The never-ending battalions of the Imperial Guard. The Adeptus Sororitas and the winged Saint Celestine. Mighty witch hunters of The Inquisition. The enigmatic tech-priests of Mars. The royal Custodian guard. And the Emperor's ever vigilant angels of death—the Adeptus Astartes. All these and more were present, depicted in bold geometric cuts of glass, blazing in chaotic light.

Eli felt relief as he stepped into the shadow cast at the base of the massive wall. A strip of darkness roughly two meters wide ran along the cathedral, and he could tell the rest of his cell was also put at ease, here, in the shadows. They had to reach the forward outer corner of the west wing, where they would turn the corner to see the massive highway and grand plaza. As the cell filed past him, Eli saw something out of the corner of his eye. In the other direction, the rear corner of the west wing, two humans walked into the field. Eli could barely see them, and blink clicked his lenses to zoom in. A man and a woman, both marked on the chest like the captives in the garden. They were filthy with blood and dirt. They must have managed to escape one of the hunts. But what were they doing?

“Naran, give me audio on those two,” Eli commanded

“One second. Ok, link up.”

Eli heard the man speak as he backed away from the approaching woman

“What are you doing? Stop, stop it!”

The woman was carrying a shard of sapphire blue stained glass in a bloody hand, and slashed the man across the chest. He recoiled in pain and stumbled, falling onto his back in a patch of emerald light.

“You're weak. You've always been weak! The things I've had to do so that we could make it... While you whore and gamble our future away!”

The man put his hands out in protest,

“Please, please! Don't do this! I love you! I've always loved you, since we were kids! Remember?”

She slashed at his hand, cutting three of his fingers off. He shrieked in pain.

“Shut up! I am not going to die here! If anyone is going to die IT'S YOU!”

The woman pounced at the man's throat, and slammed the glass home. The body went limp beneath her, and she began to beat it with her fists.

She craned her neck to the sky;

“Blood for the Blood God!” She screamed in a horrible, breaking voice.

She dug her nails into the man and ripped away bloody strips of flesh. Eli returned his vision to near focus.

“Blood for th-” Eli cut the channel, but could still hear her finish it, faintly, even at this distance.

“-e Blood God! Blood for the Blood God! Blood for the Blood God!”

Eli turned away from the scene, grim determination now settled on his face. Time to end this.

As the cell continued along the wall Eli opened a channel to all cells.

“We're approaching the objective. Once we turn the corner we'll be seen. Spire cell, do you have locations marked?”

“Aye,” came the reply

“Armor cell, I need you here in five minutes once the operation goes loud.”

“I'll drive faster then. I suppose.”

“Interdiction cell, are you ready?”

A deep, vox-grilled voice replied “Affirmative”

“In the Emperor's name. Stand by. Go on my mark,” Eli said, leaving the channel open.

They had reached the corner of the west wing. Eli returned to the front of the cell and placed his back against the wall. He exchanged looks with the rest of his squad. Around the corner were hundreds of daemons like that one, as well as the most dangerous elements of the cult.

Eli looked down at his hounds, more enthusiastic in their duty than he could ever be.

He took one last breath, and gave the command.


CHAPTER 3

Hundreds of daemons filled the highway.  Eli zoomed his lenses as he began the advance at a steady pace.  They were all larger than the average human, some up to three meters tall.  Some sported muscles so large they impeded the bearer's function.  Others were little more than bones wrapped in skin.

Some had maintained human hands and legs, but they were few.  The daemons had been changed into disgusting implements of slaughter.  Eli saw arms that ended in bloody blades, brutal hammers, and sinister lashes.  They walked on hard crushing hooves, and sharp spears of bone shot from their skulls. Their skin was the bright red of spurting arterial blood.

Eli saw now why there were so few victims on the approach.  They had been brought here.  The daemons were bleeding them.  Those with hands held dripping corpses by the ankles, others held them speared aloft on their vicious appendages.  Piles of bloodless bodies lined the highway.

Eli returned his vision to near sight.  Best not to view the foul things if not required.

He heard explosions from the highway.  Five thunderous cracks ripped through the air as the skyfire batteries burst into flames, showering the courtyard in embers and debris.

Three shots rang from Spire cell’s snipers. No confirmation of a hit came over the vox. They had missed. Kayde lived. Four massive pods ripped through purple clouds and descended in a flickering cascade of colors. One shot out into the district towards Armor Cell. The rest aimed for the courtyard.

The pods dropped into the plaza. Eli could not see them land, but felt the impact in the ground. Barely a second after the impact the courtyard shook a second time. A deep, gurgling voice filled the air with one low word;

“Blood”

Eli saw a massive figure blast into the corner of the east wing with the speed of a bullet, his drop pod following and breaking apart on impact. A wave of dark fluid slapped into the plaza and courtyard behind him. He ricocheted off of the wall and landed in the middle of the highway, far away, crushing daemons under him.  A clutch of daemons surrounded him.

The edge of the plaza erupted into blinding white flashes and roaring cracks of weapon fire. An assault bolter. Eli and his cell were nearly there now, and saw the smoke billowing out into the courtyard. Daemons began to charge into the plaza.

A hulking figure clad in bone white armor emerged from the smoke. Brother Decimus Batur. Wielding a massive thunder hammer, crackling with white-blue energy, and a tower shield big enough to crush a mortal man.

He ran to meet the first daemon, a short bulky thing with arms and shoulders so large it loped like a gorilla. Decimus slammed his hammer into the creature with a backhanded swing, sending it flying. Another approached on his left and he shoved his shield through it, embedding in the dirt beneath its split body. He raised his arms and let out a booming scream, amplified and made robotic by his helmet.

Eli turned into the plaza. Dead priests lay exploded and broken, shattered by the assault bolter. Their decanters lingered, emitting growing clouds of shifting rainbow smoke. Ahead was the grand staircase, made of a dull reflective metal, shining back the cathedral's lights in muted tones. Landings and outcroppings broke the staircase's ascent at regular intervals, where sacrificial altars stood, surrounded by cultists. Eli understood where the blood had been flowing, all throughout the city. It flowed here, through the grass and up the steps, into the cathedral.

At the base Eli saw Brother Gaius Sukh. He had tossed his spent assault bolter aside and was working to establish a cordon at the foot of the stairs. He ripped the gigantic doors from the drop pod assembly and planted them in the ground in a staggered formation. Small arms fire from the cultists pinged off of his armor to no effect. He saw Eli approach.

“The hunt begins, Khasar,” he said, ripping another door from the drop pod's base.

Eli heard Aurelius over the vox.

“He opened a deep hole in his throat, the second I emerged. The relic is powerful but he is weak.”

Eli and his cell took cover.  Sacrificial altars and crude bloody shrines littered the plaza.  Eli saw Decimus repelling the surge of daemons.. They were drawn to his challenge and seemed to forget all else. In the distance he saw Aurelius slicing daemons limb from limb with his mighty power claw, making his advance back to the line. Ahead of him Gaius had finished placing the barricades and drew his power sword as he moved to intercept any daemons that made it around Decimus.

“Temur, Batu, Khorig, aid the Astartes. Serel, Oron, smoke our approach. Everyone put your eyes on and get ready to push.” Eli voxed to the cell.

Dozens of smoke canisters shot into the plaza and up the stairs. Everything was blanketed in smoke filled with multicolored light. Eli switched his lenses to compensate, and saw the cultists' heat signatures scurrying around as they began to panic and hide. Eli looked down to his hounds.

“Go. Find him. Stay hidden.”

Olaf and Lumen bolted into the smoke. Eli saw their heat signatures fly up the stairs and into the cathedral, darting past cultists completely unnoticed.

Eli and his cell advanced, taking cover behind the doors, shielding them from the gunfire. Looking back through the smoke Eli saw the heat signatures of the three Astartes and three mortals maintaining a controlled withdrawal into the courtyard.

The cell brought down the cultists that were not in cover. There were too many to bother counting. They needed to advance soon. Each second here was a second for Kayde to escape.

“Grenades.” Eli voxed, “Flush out the first landing.”

Four grenades vanished into the smoke, two on either side of the steps. The cultists did not seem to notice the grenades landing near them. Their cover was obliterated and the majority of them with it. The rest were killed as they emerged from cover

“Serel, Oron, remain and maintain the cordon. The rest with me,” Eli commanded as he ran.

Eli made for the stairs. He could barely see the shape of the steps in front of him, his lenses illuminating them in blue with an accompanying ping of lidar detection. The cultists registered as bright red heat signals, ducking in and out of faintly defined altars and shrines. Eli knew their vision was worse, so he was not concerned with a direct hit. His armor could repel small arms fire, and he bore a momentary refractor field. Eli moved up the stairs with speed and confidence.

Grenades flew from behind Eli and Naran, as they held their rifles trained on the groups ahead. They advanced on the right, opening lines of fire to those on the left.  The cultists fired wildly. Some attempted to flee further up the stairs and were killed as they ran.

Eli and the four with him had reached the dais at the top of the stairs. There was a force in the cathedral entryway, but they did not know the cell was so close. Behind them the stairs lay covered with cherry red heat signatures, slowly expanding, flowing into trails and following them up the steps.

The cell tossed their remaining ordnance into the entryway, eliminating them without resistance. Eli began to cross the dais, his boots splashing through the rivers of blood that coalesced upon it. The smoke was clearing. He felt a breeze. There definitely should not be a breeze here. Eli stopped and turned around

“Something's wrong. Spire cell what's going on?” Eli said on an open channel.

“The smoke must have got caught in a draft. Good thing you made it up the steps.”

“There should not be a draft in here. Something else is happening.”

Eli clicked his lenses back to unassisted vision. There was something in the air. Fine particulate matter. It was the blood. It was trembling and bubbling against gravity, breaking free in tiny drops and flying into the sky.

“Sorcery. Be prepared.” He heard Gaius say, before the channel cut with a crack of static and pained grunt from the space marine.

He looked down the stairs. The defending cell was behind the drop pod doors. Khorig was in the center, the Astartes surrounding him. Daemons stumbled as they approached the formation, the null rod on his arm suppressing their connection to the warp. Decimus was at the front, throwing daemons back with brutal swings from his hammer. Gaius and Aurelius were to his right and left, using their bolters with one hand and melee weapons in the other.  Khorig lashed out with his power stake at opportune moments presented by the Astartes, gouging flaming holes in the daemons.

Temur and Batu held their position at the opposite rear sides of the formation. Their shock mauls were overcharged and burst with loud cracks of energy as they disabled the fiends that approached them, for Serel and Oron to shred with automatic gunfire.

Eli looked out to the highway. Even more were pouring in from the courtyard entrance at a full sprint. The screams and roars of the daemons had become a constant din, growing louder with every second. The plaza was nearly full of them, starting to crush themselves in the spaces between the drop pod doors.

“We're losing visibility fast up here.” Spire cell voxed.

Eli was as well. The blood had begun raining back down after being thrown into the air, whipping around in a growing flurry. It looked like it was centered on the east wing. He blink clicked his lenses, zooming in on the wall. There was an epicenter to the storm. Twenty stories up, the blood surged around a balcony. He zoomed in further. It was Kayde. He stood with the brass bowl held aloft, the blood rushing both in and out of it. Eli could barely see him through the storm.

“It’s Kayde, in the wing! Bring him down!”

Eli marked his location and transmitted it to the company, but it was too late. As the blood storm surged, sight of him was lost. Every available weapon fired on the location, to no avail. Kayde had moved. He was in the storm.

“:cuss:!” Eli yelled.

Eli looked down the stairs. He was losing sight of the defense formation. He clicked through his lens sensors. Nothing worked. None of his multi-spectrum sights could penetrate the blood. He turned to Naran.

“Can you see him?” He asked, though he didn’t dare to hope.

She was frantically working on her wrist slate, trying to find some way to see through the storm. Her lenses changed colors, cycling through every optical option she had.

“No. Nothing.” She replied.

“Armor cell! Where are you!?” Eli had to scream over the sound of the daemon horde.

“We're here! What in Terra is happening?!”

“You must sweep the storm! It’s the priest, bring him down!”

Eli couldn't see Armor Cell, but could just make out the muzzle flashes of the mounted heavy bolter they brought. The trajectory of its fire turned upwards and riddled the storm with explosive rounds that slammed into the cathedral, raining fresh fire and debris on the battlefield.

“Fall back into the cathedral. Aid arrives soon.” Brother Decimus' voice boomed over the vox.

Eli and his cell needed to cover their retreat, but could see nothing from here. They ran down the steps. Qara slipped in the blood and fell down the stairs in front of them.

Eli heard Batu over the vox, screaming in a last ditch attempt for help.

“Get it off me, Serel shoot it!” before his vox cut off, and the rune indicating Batu's life signs went dark, followed by Serel's.

Eli stopped. He took stock of his surroundings. He looked for the way out. There was always a way out. But Eli saw none.

All he saw was blood.

Eli saw a rune appear on his lenses. Olaf had found a target, and was transmitting it to Eli and Lumen. The transmission was useless to Eli, being an olfactory trace. But Lumen could interpret the information in a way that made sense. What were they doing?

Another rune. Lumen was trying to get his attention. Eli couldn't tell which direction he faced anymore. He searched the blood hurricane for the vest. Eli looked up, and saw it. A beacon burning through the blood. It burned so bright it seemed almost golden. Eli blinked the rune away, letting Lumen know he saw him.

The hound was high in the sky, twice as high as the priest had been. Eli didn't understand what Lumen was doing. He tried to figure it out when he saw the beacon move, and begin to fall in an arc. Lumen had jumped.

Eli watched in silence as the hound fell. Lumen was the smartest dog Eli had ever worked with. There was a reason for this. Eli thought he knew, but didn't want to believe it

“No...” Eli mumbled under his breath.

The beacon stopped brutally halfway through its descent. The rune in Eli's visor began blinking rapidly. Target acquired. He had Kayde. Lumen had shown them the way out.

Eli opened a channel to the company. He could not believe the order he was about to give.

“Fire on the beacon.” He said into the vox.

One second passed without response.

Two.

They had to do it now. Lumen couldn't hold on forever.

“All units fire on the beacon! Do not make his sacrifice for nothing!” Eli screamed through the vox.

Brother Gaius' voice replied. “He will be remembered, brother.”

Eli's mind became barren, only two words left. The Mantra of the Malum Vigilia.

“Malum Ruit.” Eli said.

“Malum Ruit!” The company responded, and turned their fire on the beacon. The glowing light became the epicenter of a cacophony of bolter rounds, overcharged plasma shots, and assault rifle fire.

Eli fired until his magazine was empty, the chapter's mantra repeating in his mind.

Malum Ruit.

“Evil Falls.”


CHAPTER 4

The blood fell in a great sheet. Multicolored light bathed the courtyard again, punctuated by piles of burning debris.  The blood was gathering in huge ponds.  Brother Gaius smashed daemons out of his way as he ran down the stairs, towards the relic.

Decimus and Khorig were at the bottom, bathed in vibrant pink light, tryingto keep the daemons behind the drop pod doors.

Brother Aurelius escorted the mortals down the steps, ripping the daemons open with his power claw. Eli took sight at enemies beyond his reach.  They ran down the stairs, shredding targets that advanced past the cordon.

Gaius landed in a gathering puddle of blood with a splash and slammed a containment unit glowing with hexagramic runes over the relic that had fallen beneath.

“Objective secured.” Gaius voxed to the company.

Super sonic sniper shots burst through the air in a steady rhythm.  Spire cell was picking off targets in the plaza.

Two rhinos crashed through the daemons in the plaza and took position forward center.  On top of one was a mortal manning a heavy bolter, no easy feat.  On top of the other was Brother Cato Erdene with an assault bolter.  They turned their fire outward, at the hundreds of daemons that charged at  the plaza.  Brother Gaius moved to support them.

Brother Decimus let out another bellowing challenge and ran past the barriers.  Brother Aurelius made to join him as he and the mortals reached the bottom of the steps, letting out a cry of his own.

The bodies of Batu and Sorel lay there, leaking blood from hundreds, thousands of open wounds.  Eli looked for a creature capable of doing such a thing in the dead piles of daemons around them, but stopped short.  His mind was wandering.  They were not done.

The remaining soldiers began to fan out of the blockade, firing in disciplined bursts.  Five more exited the rhinos, and soon the plaza was clear.  The four Astartes took positions to repel more from entering, aided by Temur and Khorig.

The mounted heavy bolter roared without end, thinning their numbers and keeping them from approaching en masse.  The rest of the mortals kept distance and took safe, effective shots.

Everyone was covered in thick coagulating blood, only their eye lenses clear where they had managed to wipe them.  Out of the corner of his eye Eli saw Olaf.  He was the only thing in sight not covered in the dark disgusting fluid.  He latched onto the throat of a daemon that was still crawling, despite missing its lower half.  There was a quick snap and the creature went limp.

“Good dog.” Eli said under his breath, as the hound continued searching the carrion field.


EPILOGUE

Tiber Qori passed through the quarantine zone that surrounded the district.  Ash billowed in the wind. As he continued it grew thicker and coated everything in sight.  His boots left deep prints as he walked.

The district had been cleansed with prometheum and fire.  No one would ever live here again. The corruption discovered underneath the cathedral was almost unfathomable in scale.  A river of blood flowed deep into the catacombs, to unknown depths.  Dead filled all its paths, sacrificed at the moment of the blood storm.  The only thing that kept the Imperium from subjecting the entire planet to exterminatus was one particularly interested inquisitor.

Inquisitor Calpurnia Thorne had arrived at the cathedral earlier that day.  Librarian Tiber Qori was to meet her.

The Librarian kept his senses of the ethereal sharp, searching for any sign of lingering corruption.  He saw none.  Only mounds of fine gray ash, shifting in the wind, and the walls of all the buildings scorched black as the void.

He entered the courtyard.  The cathedral no longer emitted rainbows of color, stained black by the fire.  Only the very top escaped the infernos darkening touch.  The plaza was now a sphere cleansed of material, leaving a crater in the ground and dipping the walls into bowled shapes.  The Mechanicus had been thorough in cleansing the sight of the horror, and not even ash remained within the sphere.

As Tiber Qori approached the cleansed plaza, the crozius he walked with struck something beneath the ash.  Not even rocks or pebbles had survived the cleansing thus far.  He knelt down to see what it was, digging his gauntleted hand into the powder.

He lifted his hand and the ash fell away

A canines tooth.

Qori was lost for thought.  He heard a voice from behind.

“Curious.” it said.

The inquisitor stood to his side.  She wore long dark leathers that hid her face partially behind a tall collar.  Black hair fell over her augmented eye in lazy curls.

“It seems your hounds have a role to play yet.”


Authors note

Thanks for reading.  This was the inaugural story for my homebrew chapter of space marines, The Malum Vigilia.  The one thing that you need to know about the Vigilia is this; The astartes of the Vigilia operate and train with mortals more than any other chapter of space marines, in order to provide rapid responses over large areas of space with minimal required astartes involvement.  They stomp out the embers before the fire starts.

Calpurnia Thorne will return in my next story Blood Spelunking

Edited Monday at 02:40 AM by FattyLumpkin
Consolidating chapters

[Kommisar_K]

A good read!