War of the Orks Read online

  Book 1 ATTACK OF THE NECRON

  Book 2 CLAWS OF THE GENESTEALER

  Book 3 SECRETS OF THE TAU

  Book 4 WAR OF THE ORKS

  Book 5 PLAGUE OF THE NURGLINGS (coming late 2020)

  Book 1 CITY OF LIFESTONE

  Book 2 LAIR OF THE SKAVEN

  Book 3 FOREST OF THE ANCIENTS

  Book 4 FLIGHT OF THE KHARADRON

  Book 5 FORTRESS OF GHOSTS (coming late 2020)

  Contents

  Cover

  Backlist

  Title Page

  The Imperium of the Far Future

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Galactic Compendium

  About the Author

  About the Artist

  An Extract from ‘Plague of the Nurglings’

  Warhammer Adventures

  eBook license

  THE IMPERIUM OF THE FAR FUTURE

  Life in the 41st millennium is hard. Ruled by the Emperor of Mankind from his Golden Throne on Terra, humans have spread across the galaxy, inhabiting millions of planets. They have achieved so much, from space travel to robotics, and yet billions live in fear. The universe seems a dangerous place, teeming with alien horrors and dark powers. But it is also a place bristling with adventure and wonder, where battles are won and heroes are forged.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Aftermath

  Hinterland Outpost was a wreck. Smouldering cruisers littered the landing bay, once-precious cargo scattered among the wounded and dying. Inquisitor Jeremias marched up to a medic who was doing her best to tend to a wounded docker. One glance told the inquisitor that the injured man wasn’t long for this world. Jeremias had experienced many battlefields and knew a lost cause when he saw one.

  ‘What happened here?’ he asked, and the medic jumped at the unexpected question. She turned, her eyes widening as she took in Jeremias’s Inquisitorial rosette and the servo-skull floating at his epauletted shoulder.

  ‘There was an attack,’ she said, turning back to her patient. ‘The Tau.’

  Jeremias’s mouth curled into a snarl. ‘The Upstart Empire. Here. And you fought them off?’

  The woman didn’t answer.

  ‘Well?’

  She glared up at him. ‘Look, I’ll answer your questions, but only after I’ve treated this man. His wounds are serious.’

  ‘His wounds were terminal,’ Jeremias corrected her.

  She looked back to the docker and sighed. The man had gone.

  Jeremias watched as she pulled out a cracked data-slate and recorded his time of death. The woman was impressive. Not many citizens would stand up to an inquisitor, even in such grave situations. She had spirit.

  The medic closed the man’s unseeing eyes and stood to address Jeremias. ‘Yes,’ she said, wiping blood from her hands onto a rag that looked decidedly unsanitary. ‘We fought back, for all the good it did us. The power grid is on its last legs, and most of the station’s occupants are dead or dying.’

  ‘But you didn’t fall to the xenos scum,’ Jeremias pointed out. ‘Praise the Throne.’

  She repeated the oath, although her words were hollow. ‘Is that why you’re here?’ she asked. ‘Is the Imperium sending aid?’

  He raised an immaculate eyebrow, and the woman scowled.

  ‘I mean…’ she stammered, her expression hardening, ‘I realise that’s not what you people do…’

  ‘“You people”?’

  ‘The Inquisition. I just thought… seeing what happened here…’

  Jeremias looked around the wrecked landing bay. ‘Hinterland Outpost has long been a cesspool of villainy and heresy, operating outside the Emperor’s law. It is good that you fought back against the Tau, but even if supplying aid was within my duties, I see little worth saving.’

  Her mouth dropped open. ‘How can you say that? People are dying here. Humans are dying here.’

  His eyes paused on a nearby corpse. It was a Kroot, its alien tongue lolling from a beaked mouth. ‘Was that one of the Tau’s retinue?’

  She glanced at the fallen alien. ‘No. That was Skrann. He worked here, unloading cargo. He was a decent sort.’

  Jeremias saw her flinch at her own words, and for good reason.

  ‘Xenos working alongside humans,’ Jeremias said, his tone judgemental. ‘And you don’t see a problem in that?’

  ‘All I meant was–’

  He raised a gloved hand to stop her. ‘I know what you meant, but the argument is moot. There’s an old Terran saying – “You dug your trench, you sleep in it.” This is your problem, not the Imperium’s.’

  ‘So if you’re not here to help…?’ The medic left the question hanging. Her insolence was beginning to grate.

  ‘I am looking for survivors of a recent tragedy in the Segmentum Pacificus. Three children. A girl and two boys.’

  Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Segmentum Pacificus? But that’s–’

  ‘A long way from here – yes, yes it is. I have reason to believe that they travelled here.’

  The medic’s eyes narrowed. ‘To Hinterland. Why? How?’

  ‘It is forbidden to question an inquisitor’s methods,’ snapped Corlak, Jeremias’s loyal servo-skull.

  He waved away his familiar’s outrage. ‘Have you seen them?’ he asked the woman.

  The medic laughed bitterly. ‘Have I seen children? On Hinterland? I tell you what I’ve seen. Bodies. Lots and lots of bodies. And that number increases with every hour. Our medical supplies were destroyed in the attack. I have nothing to work with. And you’re asking me about children?’

  This was getting him nowhere. He turned away, looking for someone else to question.

  ‘No… wait. Please.’

  A hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back. The woman had actually touched him! He swung around, pushing her away. She stumbled, falling onto the body of the man she had tried to save.

  ‘That was your last warning,’ he barked at her. ‘I suggest you stay down.’

  ‘I’m sorry…’ the medic said, visibly shaking. ‘I just… all this… it’s too much. The Emperor…’

  ‘The Emperor will protect you from darkness,’ he interrupted. ‘Now go about your work.’

  She nodded and started picking up her supplies. Jeremias watched her for a moment. Was she right? Should he help? Could he? No. This was not his mission.

  He turned, aware of Grimm – his cyber-mastiff – watching from the ramp of his ship. The hound looked ready to charge, to attack the woman for daring to touch him. The inquisitor raised a hand and the mechanical beast stalked back up the ramp, cybernetic eyes glowing red.

  She had learned her lesson. She would do as he said, helping the survivors of the battle. She had her duties… and Jeremias had his.

  The inquisitor looked around. The tech-savants had vanished, no doubt spooked by the altercation. Jeremias sighed. He would have to venture deeper into the station to find someone to question. The children had come here. Of that, the visions had been clear.

  ‘Looking for the kiddies, are you?’

  The voice was gruff, unrefined. Jeremias turned to see a goat-faced Beastman sitting beneath the wreck of a skimmer. The abhuman smiled, showing uneven brown teeth. ‘I can tell you about the kids, if you can get me off this dump.’

  Jeremias’s eyes narrowed. ‘I’m listening…’

  CHAPTER TWO

  The Emperor’s Seat

  On the flight deck of the Profiteer, all eyes were on Talen Stormweaver. The ship was the pride and joy of Harleen Amity, rogue trader and adventurer. As the son of an Imperial Guard drillmaster, Talen had been brought up on tales of the Astra Militarum. He had been taught about duty and honour, about the glory of dying in the Emperor’s service. He’d never liked the sound of that, especially the last bit. But rogue traders? They were different. Rogue traders went where they wanted. Rogue traders answered to no one.

  When his brother went off to war, Talen vowed never to take orders. That hadn’t always worked, but now he was free. Okay, he was running scared with a bunch of misfits and refugees, but for the first time in his life no one was telling him what to do.

  No one except Zelia Lor, of course. Even though she was a year younger than him, she clearly thought she was in charge. Granted, the competition wasn’t great. The rest of the group was made up of Mekki, a Martian who’d rather spend time tinkering with machines than dealing with people; Meshwing, the Martian’s skittish servo-sprite; an ape-like Jokaero that everyone except for Mekki called Fleapit; and a mindless servitor who was nicknamed Grunt. Captain Amity had been promised a small fortune if she helped them find Zelia’s mum, so even the rogue trader listened to the girl.

  For now at least.

  ‘So?’ Zelia asked. ‘What did Karter say?’

  They had just come from Hinterl
and Outpost, a trading post near Tau space where they’d met with Karter, an unscrupulous cartographer. Talen had tricked the crook into giving them the location of the Emperor’s Seat, the planet where Zelia believed she would be reunited with her mother.

  The only problem was that Karter had given him not one but three possible locations.

  ‘Well,’ Talen said, ‘there’s Terra for a start.’

  ‘Where the Emperor literally sits upon his Throne,’ Zelia said. ‘We’ve already discounted that.’

  ‘Correct,’ Mekki agreed. Meshwing buzzed around the Martian’s bald head before settling on his narrow shoulders. ‘Getting to the Throneworld would be problematic.’

  ‘For all of us,’ Amity chipped in.

  ‘So…’ Zelia prompted, looking expectantly at Talen.

  ‘So, Karter had heard of two other possible locations. The first is Weald, a forest world on the edge of the Eastern Fringe.’

  The words were barely out of his mouth before Mekki had turned to the Profiteer’s cogitator and was accessing the ship’s extensive star charts. A hololith of a vibrant green planet appeared in the middle of the flight deck.

  ‘And what’s the other?’ Zelia asked.

  ‘Pastoria.’

  Again, Mekki searched the databank, this time linking the haptic connectors on his fingers to the cogitator’s access ports. ‘I can find no planet with that name,’ he reported. ‘You must be mistaken, Talen Stormweaver.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ Amity cut in. ‘Try the Legends of the Emperor.’

  Mekki raised a faint eyebrow. ‘I am sorry?’

  The rogue trader shrugged. ‘An old scroll from my family’s archives. It’s probably nonsense, of course, little more than fairy tales – but it’s been passed down from generation to generation.’

  Mekki resumed his search and this time nodded excitedly. ‘Yes. Pastoria is mentioned.’ His grey eyes flickered as he read the ancient text scrolling up the screen. ‘According to the scribe, the Emperor’s company visited the planet after a particularly brutal battle…’

  ‘Against whom?’ Zelia asked.

  Mekki shrugged. ‘It does not say, only that the Emperor “rested among the swaying crops of Pastoria”.’

  ‘But where is it?’ Zelia asked.

  ‘There are no coordinates.’

  ‘But there are clues,’ Talen said. ‘The passage mentioned crops. Could be a – what do you call it? A farm planet.’

  ‘An agri world,’ Zelia said. ‘But without any galactic coordinates we don’t even know if it exists. It might be just a story.’

  Talen pointed at the hololith of Weald. ‘What about this place, then?’

  Amity checked her console. ‘The records are sketchy. It’s said to be mainly covered in forests, no known life forms.’

  ‘But there is a reference to it in the legends,’ Mekki cut in, twisting his haptic implants in the sockets. ‘It is believed that a battle was waged there, long ago.’

  ‘Between who?’ Zelia asked.

  Mekki shook his head. ‘I do not know, but a tribute was raised to the Emperor afterwards. A monument.’

  ‘Can we see it?’ Talen asked.

  More hololiths fizzed into life. They showed stained-glass windows, each displaying a different scene.

  ‘These are from a temple on Terra,’ Mekki explained.

  Zelia pointed at stylised figures in the glass, clad head to foot in blue power armour. ‘Those are Space Marines.’

  Mekki nodded. ‘Ultramarines. After the battle, they carved an image of the Emperor into a mountainside.’

  Mekki gave his implants another twist and more stained-glass panels appeared. The first showed a mountain, Ultramarines gunships buzzing around its peak. The image shifted, and now the gunships were firing on the mountainside, their lasers slicing into the rock.

  Another shift and a gigantic statue stood where the mountain had been, a towering effigy of the Emperor sitting on his Throne.

  Talen’s mouth dropped open. ‘Surely that can’t be real? Gunships couldn’t have done all that, could they? It has to be a myth.’

  ‘The gunships do seem unlikely,’ Amity acknowledged, ‘but, in my experience, Ultramarines are capable of some pretty incredible things. Maybe they carved it by hand?’

  ‘That would take some doing,’ Zelia said.

  ‘A task worthy of a Space Marine, then.’ Amity swivelled her chair to face Mekki. ‘Are there any images of the statue itself?’

  The Martian checked and the stained glass disappeared to be replaced with a hololith of the gigantic sculpture.

  Talen couldn’t get his head around it. The effort needed to reshape an entire mountainside was mind-boggling. He knew that Space Marines were dedicated, but this… this was on a different level.

  ‘That has to be the Emperor’s Seat,’ Zelia said, gazing at the statue. The effigy stared back, an imperious look on its face, the jawline quite literally chiselled. It was hard to imagine what it would be like to see this in real life, to stand in the trees that clustered around the stone Emperor’s feet, looking up at the colossus.

  One way or another, they would find out soon enough.

  ‘Captain Amity,’ Zelia said, turning to the rogue trader. ‘Please set course for Weald. We’re going to find my mum.’

  Amity fought to keep a smile from her face. ‘Remind me to congratulate her for raising such an assertive daughter.’ She swivelled around to her controls and grabbed the flight stick. ‘Who wants to co-pilot?’

  ‘I will,’ Talen said, almost sprinting to her side.

  He could feel Mekki glowering at the back of his neck. ‘But you have not even flown a skimmer,’ the Martian said.

  ‘Then it’s about time he learned,’ Zelia said, backing him up for once. ‘Besides, you and Fleapit have got your Tau battlesuit to play with.’

  ‘I do not play,’ Mekki huffed, disconnecting his implants to join the Jokaero, who was already working on the battle armour they’d stolen from the trading post.

  His heart beating fast, Talen lowered himself into the co-pilot’s seat.

  ‘Okay, kid,’ Amity said, smiling at him. ‘Let’s see what you can do.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  Weald

  Zelia watched through the armourglass viewport as the Profiteer dropped into Weald’s atmosphere. Talen had taken to the ship’s controls like a crotalid to water. She’d even go so far as to say he was a natural. She’d spent her entire life on board a spaceship, helping her mother pilot their star-hopper from one dig to another. Talen, on the other hand, had grown up in the tunnels of an underhive, fighting to survive; yet here he was, hands flitting across the Profiteer’s controls as if he belonged in the stars.

  The void gave way to brilliant blue as they swooped towards the largest of Weald’s vast continents. The records had described the planet as covered in woodland, but the reality was more like dense jungle. A sea of green spread out in all directions, the rainforest’s canopy thick with leaves.

  ‘Have you found the statue?’ Amity asked.

  A look of panic flashed over Talen’s face. He was trying to match ancient maps Amity had found in the databank to the landscape below. Helping fly a ship had been one thing, but reading holo-maps was another. Zelia knew that Talen wouldn’t want to admit that he was struggling. Talen was desperate to impress the captain, and maybe even had a slight crush on the woman. That would explain the way he blushed every time she spoke to him.

  Zelia leant in and subtly tapped the display, winking at Talen. He grinned as the navigation systems locked onto the new readings.

  ‘We have map coordinates,’ he reported.

  ‘Excellent work,’ Amity said, pretending that she hadn’t seen Zelia lend a hand. ‘Patch them into the navi-cog like I showed you.’

  Talen completed the task with a flourish and Amity banked the ship towards their new destination.

  ‘Is that it?’ Zelia asked, pointing at a crag in the distance.

  Talen peered through the viewport and then brought up a small hololith of the statue the Ultramarines had carved. ‘I’m not sure. It’s not the same shape, is it?’

  Amity pushed the ship on. Talen was right. The Space Marines’ tribute had been resplendent, the Emperor sitting in full power armour, a golden wreath around his head. The peak ahead was irregular; crumbling.