By the same author
KNIGHTS OF BRETONNIA
(Contains the novels Knight Errant and Knight of the Realm
and the novellas Questing Knight and Grail Knight.)
MARK OF CHAOS
A Warhammer novel
EMPIRE IN CHAOS
A Warhammer novel
More Chaos Space Marines from Black Library
• NIGHT LORDS •
Aaron Dembski-Bowden
Book 1: SOUL HUNTER
Book 2: BLOOD REAVER
Book 3: VOID STALKER (May 2012)
THRONE OF LIES
An audio drama
• IRON WARRIORS •
Graham McNeill
IRON WARRIORS: THE OMNIBUS (March 2012)
(Contains the novel Storm of Iron, the novella Iron Warrior
and five short stories)
WORD BEARERS: THE OMNIBUS
Anthony Reynolds
The Word Bearers are among the most feared and reviled of all Chaos Space
Marines. Fierce warriors with a fanatical religious zeal, they blaze across
the galaxy in the service of their dark gods. Worlds will burn, and entire
civilisations will fall before the fury of the XVIIth Legion.
This omnibus is the definitive collection of Anthony Reynolds’s popular
Word Bearers series, following the cruel exploits and machinations of First
Acolyte Marduk and the 34th Host. Gathered together for the first time, the
novels Dark Apostle, Dark Disciple and Dark Creed are concluded with the allnew short story ‘Torment’.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
After finishing university Anthony Reynolds set sail from his
homeland Australia and ventured forth to foreign climes. He
ended up settling in the UK, and managed to blag his way into
Games Workshop’s hallowed design studio. There he worked
for four years as a games developer and two years as part of
the management team. He now resides back in his hometown
of Sydney, overlooking the beach and enjoying the sun and
the surf, though he finds that to capture the true darkness and
horror of Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000 he has taken to
writing in what could be described as a darkened cave.
His online blog can be found at
http://anthonyreynolds.wordpress.com/
Word Bearers: The Omnibus can be purchased direct from this website and
GW mail order, Games Workshop and other hobby stores, and better bookstores.
In the UK: Price £10.99 ISBN: 978-1-84970-105-1
In the US: Price $15.00 ($17.50 Canada) ISBN: 978-1-84970-105-1
Online
Buy direct care of Games Workshop’s webstore by going to
www.blacklibrary.com or www.games-workshop.com.
Bookshops
Distributed in the UK and the US by Simon & Schuster
Books, Games & hobby stores
Distributed in UK and US by Games Workshop.
UK mail order: 0115-91 40 000 US mail order: 1-800-394-GAME
The following is an excerpt from Word Bearers: The Omnibus by Anthony Reynolds. Published by the Black
Library. Games Workshop, Willow Road, Nottingham, NG7 2WS, UK.Copyright © Games
Workshop Ltd, 2012. All rights reserved. Reproduction prohibited, in any form, including on
the internet. For more details or to contact us visit the Black Library website: www.blacklibrary.com.
Fanged mouths of a dozen grotesque misericords exhaled incense, filling the dimly lit shuttle interior. Seated shoulder to shoulder, their genetically enhanced bodies encased in thick
plate the colour of congealed blood, the warriors of the Host sat in meditative silence,
breathing the heavy smoke.
Hunched figures shuffled up the aisles, daubing the warriors’ armour with sacred unguents.
Their features were hidden beneath deep cowls. They hissed devotional prayers and blessings as they went about their work.
Kol Badar waved them away with a snarl, sending them scurrying.
Heavily scarred from thousands of years of bitter warfare, his face was lit from below
by the ruby-red internal glow of his ancient Terminator armour. His head was dwarfed by
the immensity of the armoured suit within which he was permanently sealed. Segmented
cabling pierced the necrotised flesh at the base of his neck and at his temples.
‘Initialising docking sequence,’ croaked a mechanised voice. Kol Badar was jolted as the
shuttle’s retro-thrusters kicked in.
Uncoupling himself from the bracing restraints, Kol Badar rose and stalked down the darkened aisles of the Stormbird. Each heavy metallic step was accompanied by the whir of
servo-motors and the hiss of venting steam. Seven holy warriors of the cult of the Anointed,
the warrior elite of the Host, had been chosen to accompany the Dark Apostle and his entourage, and they bowed their heads low in respect as Kol Badar passed them.
The Anointed were the blood-soaked veterans of a thousand wars. Proud and zealous,
each was a holy champion of Lorgar in his own right. They wore ancient suits of Terminator
armour, their heavy gauge ceramite plates inscribed with scripture and hung with fetishes
and icons. This armour had been in the service of the Legion since before the fall of Horus,
lovingly maintained and repaired over the long millennia by the Legion’s chirumeks.
Stabilising jets roared, and the Stormbird shuddered as docking maglocks clamped into
place. Burning red blister lights flashed, and the scream of the engines began to subside.
Reams of data scrolled before Kol Badar’s eyes. He reviewed the information feed swiftly
before blinking it away.
‘Honour guard, at the ready.’
As one the Anointed brethren released their restraints and stood to attention as the shuttle
lowered to the deck of the immense battleship. Mechanical clicks and whines accompanied
final diagnostic tests. Weapons were checked and loaded.
The pneumatic stabilisers of the shuttle settled. With a hiss of equalising pressure and a
burst of super-heated steam, the assault ramp of the shuttle unfolded and slammed down
on the deck. Kol Badar led the Anointed down the ramp. Tracking for targets, they stepped
aboard the Crucius Maledictus.
An Infernus-class battleship, one of the largest vessels to have fought in the Great Crusade, the Crucius Maledictus was the flagship of the Dark Apostle Ekodas. The battleship had
suffered calamitous damage fighting against the fleets of the Khan in the last days before
Horus’s fall, but had managed to limp to the safety of the Maelstrom. Extensively repaired,
modified and re-armed upon the daemonic forge-world of Ghalmek, it now ranked amongst
the most heavily armed and armoured battleships in the Word Bearers arsenal, rivalling even
Kor Phaeron’s Infidus Imperator.
The docking bay of the Crucius Maledictus was immense, with curved arches rising a hundred
metres overhead. Ancient banners and kill-pennants hung down the length of giant pillars,
recounting the victories of the 7th Company Host. Two other assault shuttles had already
docked. They seemed small and insignificant within the vastness of the docking bay, which
was far bigger than any aboard the Infidus Diabolus. Kol Badar merely scowled, unimpressed,
and glared at the serried ranks of Astartes waiting for them.
There were more than two thousand Word Bearers, standing motionless, bolters clasped
across deep red chest plates. The 7th was one of the largest and most decorated Hosts in
the Word Bearers Legion, and their Dark Apostle Ekodas was counted as close confidant of
the Keeper of the Faith, Kor Phaeron. Ten ranks deep on either side, the warrior-brothers of
the 7th formed a grand corridor leading towards the titanic blast-doors at the far end of the
docking bay, four hundred metres away. A blood-red carpet had been rolled out between
them along its length.
There was no welcoming party, no fanfare to honour them as they came aboard the Crucius
Maledictus. Annoyed, Kol Badar barked an order to his brethren. The Anointed fell into line
at the foot of the Stormbird’s assault ramp, four warriors to a side. The sound of them slamming their fists against their chests echoed sharply. Kol Badar turned his back on the warriors
of the 7th to wait for Marduk, his Dark Apostle and master, to emerge from the Stormbird.
His expression darkened. Master, he thought hatefully. The whelp should never have risen
so far. He would have killed the whoreson that day on the moon of Calite long ago had
Jarulek not restrained him.
Marduk appeared at the top of the ramp. Kol Badar’s power talons twitched involuntarily.
Dark Apostle of the 34th Grand Host, the third leader to have borne such a title, Marduk
wore a cold, disdainful expression as he gazed upon the might of the 7th. His deathly pale
features were aristocratic and noble, the gene-lineage of blessed Lorgar blatantly apparent.
His left eye was red and lidless, bisected by a narrow pupil. His jet-black hair was oiled, and
he wore it long, hanging in an intricate braid down his back.
A thick fur cloak was draped over his shoulders and he wore a cream-coloured tabard
secured around his waist with a heavy chain.
His red power armour was ornate and heavily artificed, a bastardised blend of plate from
various eras, ranging from his segmented MkII Crusade-pattern greaves, to his reinforcestudded MkV-era left shoulder plate. Every centimetre of it had been painstakingly etched
with ornate script. Hundreds of thousands of words were carved around his vambraces and
upon his kneepads – litanies, scripture and extracts from the Book of Lorgar. His left vambrace
was engraved with the third book of the Tenets of Hate in its entirety, and dozens of sacred
passages and psalms encircled his pauldrons. Strips of cured skin bearing further epistles and
glyphs were affixed to his plate by rune-stamped blood-wax.
In his hands, Marduk bore his sacred crozius arcanum. A hallowed artefact consecrated in
the blood of Guilliman’s lapdogs, the dark crozius was a master-crafted weapon and holy
symbol of awesome power.
Flicking his cloak imperiously over one shoulder, Marduk began to descend the Stormbird’s assault ramp towards the floor of the docking bay. Following a step behind him came
two other power-armoured figures.
The one on the left, Burias, moved with a swordsman’s grace. Gene-born in the last days of
the Great War, Burias was a flamboyant, vicious warrior. His black hair was combed straight
and hung to his waist, and he bore the sacred three-metre-tall icon of the 34th in both hands.
There was not a scar or blemish upon the Icon Bearer’s cruelly handsome face; Burias was one
of the possessed, and his powers of regeneration were impressive.
The other was more of an unknown to Kol Badar, and was a stark contrast to the Icon
Bearer. Shorter and with a heavier build than most warriors of the Legion, his broad face was
a mess of scar tissue. His downcast eyes were set beneath a protruding brow, giving him a
brutish appearance at odds with his genetic heritage. His almost translucent skull was shaved
smooth and covered in jagged scars and pierced with cables. A black beard bound into a single,
tight braid hung half way down his barrel chest. His armour was without ornamentation and he
wore an unadorned black robe. His hands were hidden within heavy sleeves. A double-handed
power maul hung over his shoulders, and a chained and padlocked book dangled at his waist.
While Kol Badar had fought alongside Marduk, Burias and every other member of the Host
during the Great War, First Acolyte Ashkanez had only joined the 34th recently. His combat
record was impressive but Kol Badar had yet to fight alongside him in battle, and it was only in
battle that true brotherhood was forged.
Ashkanez had only been with the Host since they had left the daemon world of Sicarus, seven
standard weeks earlier. Deeming that the 34th lacked a suitable candidate from amongst its
own ranks, the Council of Sicarus had appointed Ashkanez to the position of First Acolyte to
serve under Marduk.
‘What a fine spectacle Ekodas has arranged for us,’ said Marduk, looking towards the silent
ranks of Word Bearers. ‘Such an unsubtle reminder of his strength.’
‘Hardly necessary,’ said Kol Badar. ‘He is of the Council, after all.’
Only eight individuals sat upon the Council of Sicarus, the holy ruling body that guided the
Word Bearers in Lorgar’s absence, and each was a dark cardinal of great authority and power.
‘Intimidation is in his nature,’ said Marduk.
With a roar of engines, another shuttle breached the shimmering integrity field of the docking
bay. Banks of cannons bulged from beneath the snub nose of the heavily modified craft, and
flickering remnants of warp presence – semi-transparent, semi-sentient globs of immaterium
that pulsed with inner light – clung to its hull.
‘Cadaver-class,’ said Kol Badar, assessing the arrival with a glance. ‘18th Host.’
‘Sarabdal,’ said Burias.
‘Dark Apostle Sarabdal, Icon Bearer,’ corrected Ashkanez.
Burias snarled and moved towards the newly appointed First Acolyte but Ashkanez remained
motionless, offering no confrontation.
The debarkation ramp of the old Cadaver-class shuttle extended in four clunking sections
and slammed onto the deck. A trio of corpse-like cherubs bearing smoking censers flew from
the red-lit shadows of its interior, their pudgy childlike faces twisted into grotesque leers. Their
eyes were sutured shut with criss-crossing stitches. Snarling, they exposed tiny barbed teeth.
The cherubs began a circuit of looping dives and swoops, heralding the arrival of their master.
Dark Apostle Sarabdal stepped from his shuttle and took in the cavernous docking bay at a
glance. He wore a heavy cloak of chainmail and his armour had been painstakingly sculptured
to resembled flayed musculature. Every vein, tendon and sinew of it bulged in stark relief.
Sarabdal strode towards Marduk and his retinue fell in behind him. Marduk met him halfway, his own entourage moving with him.
The two Dark Apostles slowed as they approached, sizing each other up before stepping in
close and embracing as equals and brothers. Sarabdal, the taller of the two, leant in to kiss
Marduk on both cheeks. His skin tingled as the Dark Apostle’s burning lips touched his flesh.
‘Brother Erebus speaks highly of you, Marduk,’ said Sarabdal, in a hoarse whisper.
Marduk inclined his head to accept the compliment.
‘My lord,’ murmured Ashkanez, and Marduk turned to see a skeletal figure making its way
towards them.
Marduk’s lip curled at the cyber-organic creature. Four mechanical, insectoid legs protruded
from its bloated abdomen and propelled it forwards in a stop-start motion. Bone-thin arms
were spread wide in an overly sincere gesture of welcome. The creature’s lips had been hacked
off, leaving its mouth set in a permanent rictus of teeth. Spine-like sensor arrays protruded from
the back of its head, and the buzz of data-flow erupted from the emitters in its modified larynx.
Twitching, the vile creature came to a halt before the pair of Dark Apostles and performed an
awkward bow, head flopping forwards. It righted itself and began to speak, though the words
bubbling from its lipless mouth had no relation to the crazed articulation of its jaws.
‘Welcome, brothers of the 34th and the 18th, to the Crucius Maledictus,’ it slurred. ‘Grand
Apostle Ekodas, blessed be his name, regrets he could not welcome you himself, but he humbly
requests that you follow this lowly mech-flesh unit to his audience chambers.’
‘Grand Apostle Ekodas?’ said Marduk.
‘The arrogance!’ fumed Sarabdal. He spat onto the deck floor in disgust. The thick wad of
black phlegm began to eat through the metal, hissing and steaming.
The cyber-organic beckoned and twitched impatiently.
‘Let me be the one to tear its head off,’ said Kol Badar under his breath, and Marduk smiled.
‘Depending on how this conclave goes, gladly,’ said Marduk.
‘Can’t we do it now?’ said Burias, as the insectoid-legged creature grinned inanely.
‘Come,’ said Sarabdal. ‘Let us get this over with.’
From
Dark Creed