Horus Heresy: Know No Fear
Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub
Mustering for war against the orks, the Ultramarines Legion is attacked by the Word Bearers on the planet of Calth, and the forces of Chaos openly reveal their part in the Heresy.
Unaware of the wider Heresy and following the Warmaster’s increasingly cryptic orders, Roboute Guilliman returns to Ultramar to muster his Legion for war against the orks massing in the Veridian system. Without warning, their supposed allies in the Word Bearers Legion launch a devastating invasion of Calth, scattering the Ultramarines’ fleet and slaughtering all who stand in their way. This confirms the worst scenario Guilliman can imagine – Lorgar means to settle their bitter rivalry once and for all. As the traitors summon foul daemonic hosts and all the forces of Chaos, the Ultramarines are drawn into a grim and deadly struggle in which neither side can prevail.
attitudes amongst his sons, but only so far. It was, perhaps, the Ultramarines’ misfortune to be used in such a way. Not just any Legion, but the largest, the most secular, the most efficient, the most disciplined. The most, it could be argued, successful. Luciel is sympathetic. He has spoken, privately, with his primarch on the subject on several occasions, because Guilliman is evidently bothered by it too. To be used as an instrument of humiliation, and as an example of perfection, does not
battered, dented, with a slight twist or two in the haft. Surely, the sergeant thinks, the damned thing could have been cleaned and mended. Ventanus takes it, honouring every mark upon it. He plants it upright in the burning rock of Colchis. The flickering firelight catches at the golden crest of the standard. ‘We march for Macragge!’ the sergeant declares. ‘No, not today,’ Ventanus replies. Today, we march for Calth.’ [mark: unspecified] While Word Bearers still live, in the madness
emotion he registers. It’s not just relief from the physical hazard. It’s honest pride of association. His company. His company. It’s a heterogeneous mix, in all truth. Sydance has composed his battlelines out of men from several XIII Legion companies. All of them were assembled at the Erud muster. He’s patched holes and losses in the 4th Company structure with reinforcements from other broken units. One of the Shadowswords is an 8th Company asset, two of the Land Raiders are from 3rd. Ventanus
It did not work. The XIII has been hurt. The last ten hours on Calth might even have mortally wounded the Legion to such an extent that it will never fully recover, and, as a consequence, will always be a weaker, smaller fighting force. But the Word Bearers did not make the clean kill they intended. They fumbled it, or they underestimated the effort required. They made a bloody mess, and left a wounded foe that could still move and fight; a wounded, mangled foe that was fuelled by pain and
hatred and vengeance, and by the bright shock of moral outrage. Always make sure your enemy is dead. If you must fight an Ultramarine, pray you kill him. If he is still alive, then you are dead. You are dead, Lorgar. You are dead. You are dead. ‘Did you say something?’ Arook says to Ventanus. Ventanus wonders if he did. ‘No,’ he replies. He unbuckles his helm, removes it, and wipes a smear of blood off the pitted, chipped visor. Much of the cobalt-blue paint has been scratched or spalled