[Warhammer 40K - The Horus Heresy 36] - The Path of Heaven by Chris Wraight

Author:Chris Wraight [Chris Wraight]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Military Fiction, Science Fiction, Warhammer 40K
ISBN: 9781785720536
Published: 2016-03-15T14:31:13+00:00

The Endurance broke the veil with its customary brutality, slicing apart the matter of the universe in a blaze of cascading silver. After-ripples of violence juddered across the void, leaking plumes of crackling aether-matter amid trails of dirty smog. The immense warship thundered into full physicality, row upon row of heavy gunnery sliding through the abyss. Seconds later the others came, punching through like thrown spears amid the seething clouds of real space entry.

Mortarion strode to the edge of the bridge’s command dais. Ahead of him, the cathedral-sized viewport unfurled its warp shutters, exposing a crowded view of local space. War vessels had assembled, hundreds of them, all bearing the death’s-head sigil of the XIV Legion on their pale prows. As the Endurance came among them, idents began to flicker into life across cogitator lenses—the Indomitable Will, Reaper’s Scythe, Moritatis Oculix, Stalwart.

Mortarion did not need to watch the runes to know who had answered his call. He recognised the hull of every battleship in his warfleet, and scoured the void ahead for those he had summoned. The vista was clogged with detail—minor escort wings casting shadows across the flanks of the greatest beasts, tenders ferrying supplies from carriers to line battleships, refit shuttles in Mechanicum-red hovering around colossal engine clusters and thruster rings.

‘Where is it?’ he asked.

Below him, in the pits and channels of the Endurance’s command bridge, masked thralls kept their heads down. The Deathshroud stationed around the edges of the throne dais said nothing, as ever, but stared silently through their slanted armour-masks. Great coils of green-tinged smoke drifted up from rusted brazier-columns standing sentinel over the teeming crew-stations, and the air stayed humid and close, thick with screens of dust.

‘Where is the Terminus Est?’

More idents scrolled down the lenses, now picking out the new arrivals—commandeered ships from other Legions, older Barbarus craft pressed into service, auxiliary vessels with Army regiment insignias scoured out and replaced with the death’s-head emblem. The fleet was enormous, the greater part of the entire Legion pulled back together from a hundred different separate engagements. Even as the augurs added to the muster-list, yet more emerged from the Mandeville points and steamed across real space to join the throngs.

No one on the Endurance’s bridge could answer the primarch. Ulfar, the ship’s master, ordered extra scans but offered no opinion. Trangh, the master of the watch, looked up from under his cowl, but shook his head. The Navigator transmitted nothing from her cloistered chambers, and shut the comm-links down.

Only Marshal Gremus Kalgaro, Siegemaster of the Legion and successor to the fanatic Rask, standing less than three metres from the primarch’s side in his bloodstained artificer plate, grunted audibly.

‘First Captain Typhon may not have received the summons, lord,’ he said, his voice a low growl.

Mortarion shot him an acid look. ‘Oh, he received them. This is the first order he has actually defied. What do I make of that? Has he recanted his choice?’

Kalgaro lowered his eyes. ‘Unlikely,’ he muttered.

Mortarion limped stolidly across the dais, thudding Silence’s iron heel across the adamantium deck.

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