Brotherhood of the Yellow King: Cultwar - Chapter Four

IV

The Ashrain was also falling in Endomaw. Worth was a small enough celestial body that it often witnessed uniform weather patterns. Though it was devoid of oceans, there were small bodies of water and these were absorbed into Ashclouds that then deposited precipitation much as any normal atmosphere, the difference being that the rain was grimy and noticeably violet-grey in hue. The rain had saturated the ground here and turned the Ash and dirt into a sucking quagmire that was difficult to traverse and nigh on impossible to clean off, the stuff dried like plascrete.

Inquisitor Simeon Garanthe hated it. He hated this entire world, it was a miserable ash covered excuse of a planet useful from a meteorological perspective only. It was a surprise to him that the Imperium had bothered settling it at all. A largely automated mining operation would surely have sufficed, there was no merit in populating the small planet that he could see. Throne, he had seen larger and more bountiful moons. Why choose Worth over one of the other more appealing planets in the system? Then again, those planets had their own problems, or so he had heard.

It was certainly testament to the enduring Spirit of Man that some form of measurable life had been eked out on the Emperor Forsaken world. That in itself was laudable, he supposed. Something to be admired, even if the endeavour was woefully misjudged in his opinion. Even in the hardiest and most inhospitable of environs, Mankind managed to endure.

For the umpteenth time, Garanthe pulled his boots from the cloying muck and turned to look at the rest of his team. The constant patter of Ashraindrops on his wide brimmed hat irked him to no end and he was gratified to see his discomfort mirrored in his compatriots. Then again it was difficult to discern much from the expressions of Ulk and Ulo, they always looked miserable. The two Canid mutant brothers looked up at him but were difficult to read, largely lacking any human facial features. They were however, utterly loyal and surprisingly accurate marksmen. Also, although bipedal, they were astonishingly nimble and their diminutive stature meant they were ideally suited for infiltration and stealth missions such as this one. The pair looked suitably bedraggled and Garanthe took this to mean they shared in his discomfort. One of them (he could never tell which) shook his head violently , sending droplets of grey water flying everywhere.

Behind them was Aurelius. The savant seemed entirely unperturbed by the relentless Ashrainfall. In fact, if anything he seemed amused, muttering to himself even as the greyish droplets hung from his nose. His ever-active scribing attachments whirred and scratched as they recorded his observations, some obscure tech-sorcery protecting the writings from being spoiled by the Ashrain.

Next was Dolf Luminak, he had been a Sergeant of the Cadian Guard, now he had no rank, no regiment. He had been part of Garanthe's retinue for a long time now, had the scars to prove it. The grizzled veteran locked determined flinty eyes with Garanthe for a moment before looking away and spitting bodily into the muck on the floor, a clear sign that he was aggrieved.

Behind the ex-guardsman stood an entirely different figure. Andrukas Kurr; Imperial Crusader. Cloaked and carrying a massive sword. His armour gleamed under the heavy dark cloak. The Crusader may not have been a subtle figure but his martial prowess was unquestioned. That was why he was here. Heavy back up., battle armour and all.

As was the behemoth behind him. Utterly dwarfing Andrukas, the hulking figure of the Deathwatch Space Marine would have seemed comically oversized were it not for the palatable threat that exuded from the giant superhuman clad in black Power Armour. He was the very vision of death, destruction incarnate. It was perhaps fitting then, that the warriors name had only been given as Death's Head. Garanthe knew not if this was a given name or some other form of designation only that it suited perfectly. Besides, the taciturn Space Marine had not deigned to divulge further information on the subject. This was hardly a surprise. The Adeptus Astartes were an insular bunch at the best of times. Especially outside of their own chapter. The Deathwatch, being made up of Marines from many chapters, were even more so. Garanthe wasn't even sure which Chapter Death's Head had come from, the silver Grinning Skull on a horizontally halved field of green and yellow was entirely unfamiliar to him and he prided himself on knowing the majority of the deployed Astartes Chapters. Again, Death's Head had offered no information on the subject and would not tolerate questioning on the matter. Garanthe technically had the authority to demand answers should he wish but could see little point in antagonising the warrior. 

Now the Space Marine's eye lenses glowed like coal embers in the gloom. Even if the Inquisitor had been able to see his face, Space Marines were remarkably expressionless beings. Besides, he was unlikely to be bothered by something as trivial as the rain. Space Marines weren't bothered by anything. Garanthe had seen one have his firing arm blown clean off once, the Marine had simply retrieved his weapon from his disembodied arm and carried on firing as if nothing had happened. Space Marines were hard to kill, let alone faze. It was why they were such effective killing machines.

The last member of the group however, could not have been more miserable. Scowling at the tip of an unlit soggy pipe as if his fury alone could cause it to spontaneously ignite, Grummond Drankensson was not having a good time. His beard was sodden an d drooped mournfully and every time he tilted his head to empty one ear of Ashrainwater the other would fill, which contributed no end to his general misery. Still, he was a stout and doughty warrior, invaluable when things came down to a fight. Which they almost always did

That wasn't the intention here though, This was a raid, nothing more, to be accomplished as quickly and quietly as possible. in and out, no 'complications'. From the information that they had at their disposal Aurelius had identified a communication array that they could access that was on the outskirts of Endomaw mine. From this they hoped to secure information that would lead to Alistae Carn's location. The data thief device that Aurelius held would leech the messages stored from the array. With luck they information they needed would be contained within.

Garanthe was convinced Carn was their best hope for uncovering and defeating the Xenos cult that he now knew had infested Worth and Endomaw was the source, the heart of the canker. He could have just obliterated Worth, as an Inquisitor the resources he could call on were almost limitless and he had access to devastating assets that scant few in the Imperium could command. He could have turned the whole ball of ash and rock into nothing more than a cloud of debris, but he didn't know how far the cult had spread in the Celias system and besides, there WERE innocents on Worth, as wretched as they might be. There was a time that this wouldn't have mattered, not factored into his thinking at all, but things were different now. Ever since Hylios. Ever since then and forever more.

And again there was Carn. Garanthe had kept it to himself but the coded message was impossibly, addressed to him PERSONALLY even though the recording had been made long before he had arrived. The full message had been Ferrum Cordis liberativ me Rex Flava. Iron Heart, Save me from the Yellow King.

NO ONE knew him as Iron Heart, new that his cardiac system was artificial, that his heart was a mechanical replacement. None, not one of his team, not even Aurelius knew of the wound he had taken nearly half a century ago which had destroyed his heart, leading to the surgery and the augmetic implant which kept him alive and resulted in him being known as Interrogator Iron Heart. It was a name he had not even been known by for at least thirty years. It was a name none in his retinue knew, there were perhaps half a dozen alive who might, assuming they remembered. Carn though, Carn had known. How?  Was he psychic? If so that would mean the Ordo Malleus might become involved, the last thing Garanthe wanted was to deal with those damned Witch Hunters. No, Garanthe suspected something else, something divine. 

As a High Ranking Inquisitor of the Ordo Xenos he was privy to many secrets that would drive the average man utterly and irrevocably insane. One of these was the true nature of the Emperor, a withered husk imprisoned within the Golden Throne protecting all of Humanity with his awesome incomparable psychic might. Yet, despite knowing that the Master of Mankind was a being of flesh, Garanthe was still utterly convinced of the Emperor's divinity. 

The Astronomican? a Beacon cutting across the galaxy to guide Mankind through the Warp? The work of a God. Providing aegis for the entire of the Human race with nothing but his mind, safeguarding them from the predations of the creatures of the Warp? Only possible by a God. There was no question at all, not in his eyes. The Immortal God Emperor of Man, Blessed be his name, protected all, saw all, knew all.  Thus he suspected that Alistae Carn was more than just Psychic. could he be a conduit for the Emperor? An instrument of His will? Garanthe had to find out. At any cost.

Not so far away, a trio of cultists in mining suits skulked, safely out of sight in the skeletal innards of a quiescent Boring station. Kyrsa was at the front, crouched, steadying herself with one hand as the other raised a set of Mag-nocs to her eyes. Despite the device's enhanced optics and magnification the rain interfered with her view, diminishing visibility considerably. She cursed vehemently and adjusted the settings, to no avail. No, wait, was that a flash? She refocused and scrutinised the area where she had thought the glint of light had come from. There was definitely something moving. She lowered the goggles and grunted a command at the cultist to her left, he stopped checking his rifle and slung it over his shoulder before descending via a stanchion and disappearing out of sight. The other behind her remained, she could hear his breathing even over the constant downpour. Kyrsa ignored him and activated the short range comm on her suit. She rasped curt instructions and shut the link off, confident that the information would be relayed as needed. Still crouched, she reached for her long rifle, checking the chamber and firing mechanism were free and unspoilt. The intruders had come, just as the Holy Magus had said they would, Glory be to the Yellow King. She would make them regret ever setting foot in Endomaw. Nothing would stop the Yellow day.