Editing Trip Into Hell (Warhammer High) (section)

===We Will Meet Them Head On===
Ahriman patiently stood there as Julius and the woman, Summer told him about what they saw. His mind turned the revelation over and over in his mind as he pondered the right course of action. He knew the form of the Daemon; it was a servant of the aspect of the Primordial Annihilator called the Great Changer, the one who twisted the strings of fate and meddled with the lives of men. No wonder his future sight had been impaired all these weeks.

When they were finished they watched him anxiously as he stood there, deep in thought. If he hoped to defeat it, he would have to know why it was here, what it wanted. Harvesting souls for its dark master was one possibility, and if so it would flee rather than stand and fight him. But that seemed the most unlikely. Who go to so much effort over such meagre morsels?
Second: it could be trying to manipulate the course of the war so that the Orks win. That would damage the Imperium, and any damage to the Imperium would be a victory for its dark masters. But surely it knew that any Ork victory would be entirely temporary, sooner or later the Imperium would respond and the planet would be liberated or reconquered. Third: it could be trying to summon more of its foul kin to this world. But what would warrant the Daemons unleashing a full scale incursion this far from either the Eye, or the Maelstrom?

Then it hit him.

“Daemon World.”

“What?”

He’d almost clean forgotten the others were present; such was his intensity of thought. “Seadelant is one of the calmest areas of the entire of the Great Ocean, and is a vital trade hub as well. If this planet were taken from us, it would be a blow. If it were turned into an enemy base, it would be a disaster. And if it were to fall forever from our grasp, and allow the Primordial Annihilator access to material space, Emperor knows how it would end. The Daemon wants to unleash more of its kind, as a first stage to a complete conquest of this planet and it’s transformation into a hellworld, caught between the immaterium and the real universe in perpetual torment.”

Only Julius understood what he meant, and his expression said it all. The others looked from him to Ahriman, dismay clouding their own features as they saw the matching grim expressions coming from Julius and Ahriman.

“That is why it was in the Defence Laser bunker. If it could re-activate the Plasma Reactor using the power of the Great Ocean, it could stabilize a Warp Rift, a way into the material world for all manner of Void Beasts. Once that’s done, nothing short of intervention by the Grey Knights could save Seadelant.” As far as he knew, there were no Grey Knights among the Liberation fleet forces. The Thousand Sons were a close second, but there were only two fellowships, two thousand warriors, not enough to stop an endless tide of Daemons.

“The Daemon has to be destroyed, banished to the darkest depths of the Great Ocean from whence it came before its schemes can come to fruition. The Liberation forces will distract the Orks, and I will sally forth with the Caorst Charxers to the Bunker, and there confront and defeat this Daemon.”
“But what about us? You can’t leave us here!” Julius exclaimed.

“No I can’t. That’s why you’re all coming with me. You know the city better than I do; you’ve lived in it these past few weeks. Just stay behind me, and I’ll make sure nothing gets to you.” Flickers of anger clouded their auras. They had fought alone for weeks, and obviously resented Ahriman’s implications about their ability to fight. He moved to defuse that.

“You have proven yourselves a hundred times over with your actions in the occupied outer city. There will be medals for all of you when the battle is won. I just don’t want you to have fought all this time, and then get yourselves killed at the hour of victory.”

“Professor, ser, you’ve spoken with the Liberation Fleet. Who are coming to liberate us?” Julius was unsure how to address him, and Ahriman sympathised. He wasn’t sure what he was anymore. Was he an academic still, or was he back to being one of the Emperor’s warriors? He would have to search for the answer once this was done.

“Elements of four Legions are inbound even as I speak. The Sons of Horus, my brothers in the Thousand Sons, the Salamanders and Death Guard. Lord Mortarion is leading the Liberation Fleet in person. Not who I expected.” Ahriman carefully kept the distaste out of his voice. Mortarion disliked sorcery, Lord Magnus and the XVth Legion in equal measure, and Ahriman was apprehensive of having to deal with him. Strangely, Julius’ aura flashed with alarm at mention of Mortarion. 

“Ser, have you seen the propaganda broadcasts?” he asked. Ahriman shook his head.

“Well, I might have said something in one which could be construed as…insulting, to Morticia. I was a bit bitter at the time, and wasn’t thinking properly, but Lord Mortarion might think otherwise and I don’t want him angry at me.”

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it, as the Wolves would say. I’ll get you some proper armour and uniforms from the armoury and you can meet me outside once you’re done. Not long now, today the war will be won.”

“God willing.” Julius whispered under his breath. Ahriman let the comment pass and he led them down to the armoury, leaving them there as he headed outside.

The Graf was standing at the doorway, peering up at the sky. She couldn’t see anything, but the hope was there. He wanted to detach his body of light and see the carnage in orbit with his own eyes, but he wouldn’t dare risk it with a Daemon around. It could easily kill his mistflesh, and destroy him before he could fight back.

The moment she heard the clank of Ahriman’s armour, she turned to him.
“Why haven’t you launched? I know salvation is incoming, but we could aid them immensely if we launch now, kill as many of the foe as possible before the legions land.”
“Graf, that is now impossible. The Resistance fighters came with news. There is a Daemon on Seadelant.”

He could see the shock spreading across her face, and felt quietly vindicated. She didn’t know half of what he knew, but she knew enough to know what that could mean.

“I aim to destroy the Daemon myself, and so I will lead the Caorst Charxers into the outer city. The Legion forces will distract the Orks long enough for me to find and kill the Daemon.” His words were an ultimatum. He was leading them forth, and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She realised that as soon as he spoke, and the way her shoulders slumped told him she was beat. Daemons were a step too far for her.

“Order the Caorst Charxers to mobilize, and prepare for battle. At long last, we take the fight to the enemy.” He smiled as a bright flash lit up the sky, one of the enemy Orbital Roks being destroyed most likely, but there was a dark feeling within him. The Daemon must know now that he was coming for it, what schemes would it have in place to stop him?

The first faint plasma contrails began to paint the morning skies with strips of colour, line after line etched into the air as more and more fell from the heavens. Ahriman knew they were Deathstorm Drop Pods, and that the first one would land in exactly forty-eight seconds several hundred yards west of one of the Rok Fortresses. The first troop carrying Drop Pods were ten minutes behind, and the Stormbirds, Thunderhawks, Storm Eagles and Army Landers were another ten minutes behind them. Ahriman had linked himself to the Legion vox net so he could monitor their progress, because he couldn’t unshackle his mind and observe them directly. He hadn’t yet spoken with any of the Legion Leaders, but he knew his old friend Phosis T’kar was leading the Thousand Sons force. He looked forward to seeing him again; he had been offworld working with the Silent Sisterhood while Ahriman was on Prospero.

Around him the Caorst Charxers impatiently waited for the order to move. They had taken his order to heart, the troops eager to spearhead the counterattack and take the fight to the foe after so many weeks of inactivity. The remaining two Baneblades idled at the head of the attack column, followed by the Leman Russ and Malcador tanks and the mechanised companies in their Chimeras. They would have to wait for the Legions to land, charging headlong against the entire Ork horde would be suicide. Once the Orks were distracted with the Legion forces at their throats, then he would strike.

Ahriman had commandeered a Chimera to carry him and Julius’ resistance band through the city, and he stood on top of it observing the sky through a pair of Magnoculars. His eyesight may have been many times better than a normal human, but even that eyesight needed help at times.

Beneath him, Julius and his friends were clustered on the Chimeras rear ramp, talking quietly with one another about trivial things, distracting each other from the fact they were about to go into the belly of the beast. They had new uniforms and new sets of armour. Summer, the woman in particular was much more comfortable now that she was when he had first seen her, the armour fitted much better now.

“Ser, when are we going?” Julius asked from below. He’d decided that Ahriman was ‘sir’, not ‘professor’, which suited Ahriman fine. He hardly felt like an academic at the moment.
“When the Legion forces land, not before. The last thing we want is to be swamped with Orks. We need to get to the bunker fast, before the Legions kill enough Orks to allow the Daemon to achieve its master’s dark goals.” Julius nodded, suppressing the fear in his aura as he turned back to his companions. Ahriman didn’t blame him for feeling that way, he knew no fear, but he felt apprehension all the same. The Daemon would know they were coming for it, and it would be prepared. But it was the only way to ensure this world wasn’t turned into a hell-world, half in and half out of the Great Ocean where Daemons could roam freely and strike at the wider Imperium.

The Caorst Sous-lieutenant marched up and saluted in the almost half hearted Caorst way. They appeared incredibly sloppy, but Ahriman knew they could fight as hard as anyone.
“All troops present and correct my lord. We’re ready to move out at your command.”
In the distance a series of muffled explosions rang out. The first Deathstorm had fired its rockets. Soon more and more faint reports of weapons rang out as more and more Deathstorms unleashed their fury into the Orks. Ahriman couldn’t help but smile.

The last Deathstorm touched down, and the sudden cessation of streaking drop pods in the sky felt like the curtain drop at the end of act one, the tension rising as they waited for act two to start. Checking his helmet chronometer, Ahriman knew the first troop drop pod would be landing exactly four minutes and eight seconds from now, and it would be carrying Astartes from the fifth company of the Sons of Horus, under the command of ‘Little Horus’ Aximand of the Mournival. And yet this knowledge wouldn’t allow him to watch as the Drop Pod struck the surface, hear the explosive bolts blowing open the doors and see the Astartes in Sea Green armour unleashing the Warmaster’s fury upon the foe.

He cursed the Daemon for inhibiting the free movement of his body of light. Extending his mind only went so far; he wanted to see the Legions cutting into a foe like a scythe through grass and bringing the Emperor’s vengeance. But if he dared leave his flesh he risked opening his soul to attack, an attack he could not defend against. Many of his brothers had been killed by Daemons when they had tried to scry out the foes with their subtle bodies, Ahriman knew the risk.

“Not long now.” He whispered.