Free Battle for the Abyss by Ben Counter Page B

defeated, when Lorgar’s brothers join with him, when we bring war to those who will inevitably side with the Emperor. We will yoke our hatred and use it as a weapon, one that will not be denied!’
    Zadkiel nodded sagely, suppressing a prickle of annoyance at this precocious, yet insightful, youth. Ultis, however, had overreached himself. Zadkiel saw the naked ambition in his eyes, the flame within that threatened to devour Zadkiel’s own.
    ‘I merely seek to understand the Word,’ Ultis added, exhaling his fervour.
    ‘And you shall, Ultis,’ Zadkiel replied, a plan forming in his mind. ‘You will be an important instrument in the breaking of Guilliman.’
    ‘I would be honoured, lord,’ said Ultis, bowing his head.
    ‘Truly blind men like Guilliman are few,’ Zadkiel counselled.
    ‘He believes religion and devotion to be a corrupting force, something to be abhorred and not embraced as we followers of the Word do. His pragmatic retardation is his greatest weakness and in his dogmatic ignorance we shall strike at the heart of his favoured Legion.’
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    Zadkiel spread his arms wide to encompass the cathedral, its high vaults and fluted columns, its pages of the Word, its altar and pulpit. ‘One day, Ultis, the whole galaxy will look like this.’
    Ultis bowed once more.
    ‘Now, return to your cell and think on these lessons further.’
    ‘Yes, my lord.’
    Zadkiel watched the novice go. A great passage in the sermon of the Word was unfolding and Ultis would play his part. Zadkiel turned back to the pulpit, behind which was a simple altar.
    Zadkiel lit a candle there for the soul of Roboute Guilliman.
    Blind he might be, but he was a brother of sorts, and it was only right that his future death be commemorated.

    ABOARD THE WRATHFUL , on one of the ship’s training decks, two World Eaters clashed furiously in a duelling pit. It was one of several arenas in a much wider gymnasium that was replete with dummies, weights and training mats. Weapon ranks lined the walls. The Astartes had brought their own stocks of training weapons with them, and sword-breakers, short-blades, bludgeons and spears were all in evidence. It appeared that the concept of simple training was anathema to the duelling sons of Angron.
    Amidst the storm of blades and unbridled blood-lust the World Eaters fought as if to the death.
    Armed with unfettered chainaxes and stripped to the waist, wearing crimson training breeches and black boots, their muscled bodies revealed gruesome welts and long, jagged scars.
    With a roar, they broke off for a moment, and began circling each other in the sunken chamber of the pit. White marble showed up dark splashes from where the gladiators had wounded each other early on in the contest. A narrow drain at the centre of the pit was already clogging with blood.
    ‘Such anger,’ Antiges commented, overlooking the contest from a seated position at the back of the auditorium before which it was staged.
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    ‘They are Angron’s progeny,’ said Cestus, alongside him, ‘it is their way to be wrathful. Properly employed, their wrath is a useful tool.’
    ‘Yes, but their reputation is a dire one, as is their lord’s,’ replied Antiges, his expression stern. ‘I for one do not feel at ease with their presence on this ship.’
    ‘I have to concur with my brother, Captain Cestus,’ added Thestor, who was watching the show alongside Antiges. The burly Astartes was the biggest of the honour guard. Unsurprisingly, his bulk went well with his role of heavy weapons spe-cialist. The rest of the honour guard were nearby, except for Saphrax, watching the ferocious display with mixed interest and disdain. Thestor echoed the thoughts of all his brothers when he next spoke.
    ‘Was it necessary to bring them with us at all?’ he asked, his gaze shifting back from his captain to watch the fight. ‘This is the business of the Ultramarines.