Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

A novella-length prequel to Secret War (Warhammer 40,000) about Attelus on Elbyra. Enjoy!
After his organization is hired to hunt down an influential ganger on the Hive world, Omnartus. Attelus Kaltos is embroiled deeper into the complex world of the Assassin. This is the job which will change him, for better or for worse, forevermore.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Epilogue

Six figures moved lazily through the night. They wore battered flak armour roughly painted a light purple. The torches attached to their Las guns sweeping back and forth in lazy arcs across the battered landscape, the ruins of what was once a city.

There was undisciplined laughing and joking amongst them as they seemingly savoured the surrounding destruction with almost sickening glee.

The patrol stopped, looking over their shoulders as a massive explosion rocked the horizon, the result of some battle miles away. Then that was followed by another and another in quick succession.

The explosions suddenly stopped, and the six purple armoured figures stayed still for a few seconds more, standing in eager anticipation for another, but another never came. They turned, walking away in distinct disappointment even though, for all they could know, it may have been their allies killed in those explosions.

One of them stopped, reaching down and began to fumble with one of the pockets on his belt, the rest walked on, but another turned and said something that made them laugh out loud.

But one was cut short, his once hearty laughing interrupted by a horrific wet gurgling.

Before the other could even react, a knife flew past the first soldier's shoulder, glinting in the moonlight as it sped through the air, then the tip stuck fast into the second soldier's throat.

The remaining four stopped and turned; they saw one of their comrades lying face down in a slowly expanding pool of blood while the other was on his knees with a short shadowy figure standing behind him. The figure held a knife, a knife buried to the hilt in the base of the soldier's skull, while in the other, it held a laspistol, a laspistol which flashed four times.

The killer tore out his knife and swiftly descended on the six corpses like a desperate vulture.

The moonlight revealed that it was a young boy, no older than seventeen. A scruffy, dirty, beaten, and bloody teenager with long messy hair wearing a damaged old flak jacket.

With speed only a seasoned scavenger could be capable of, the boy retrieved what he needed. Ammo, rations amongst many other things, then he was gone, disappearing back into the night as though never there.

It took three hours for another patrol to stumble over the long before looted corpses of their comrades. But by then, the boy was a mile away, walking almost casually through the ruins, his hands in the pockets of his flak jacket and a smoking lho stick hanging from the corner of his mouth.


Attelus Kaltos suddenly awoke, sitting bolt upright, his mind snapping into the abrupt clarity forced on him right from day one of the war. His Laspistol raised to cover the entrance of his makeshift living space but found no one was there.

This didn't appease his suspicious instinct, so he swept his pistol to cover the entirety of the small space. Sweeping it back and forth for a good minute before finally deciding he was alone.

He relaxed slightly, and that was when he realised his hands were shaking like all hell.

Attelus ignored it; his hands always seemed to shake. At first, he had worried about it; it had even initially affected his aim. But now he had grown used to it, to compensate instinctively when lining up a shot.

He slid out from under his sleeping bag and glanced at his battered wrist chron seeing it be midday, then slowly approached the entrance of his hideout, his gun again ready. He had holed up in a basement that had survived despite the hab unit collapsing over it during the initial bombardment; this was his tenth hiding place now. The first three the enemy had forced him out. They attempted to smoke him out like a rat, but he had learned his lesson after that. Everyone he had left within a day, now he was always on the move.

But he had stayed here for two days now, far too long, he decided while walking up the stairs. But this place was warm, well sheltered from the harsh Varanderian winter as constant cold southerlies and powerful northerly winds buffeted the city day and night. That was why the rest of Velrosia during peacetime had nicknamed the capital city of Velrosia "Ventilated Varander." A terrible, horrifically cheesy name but one that Attelus couldn't help but agree with.

With a grunt, Attelus forced open the door slowly and slightly, peering out at the ruins outside.

The general area was free of anything but rubble and the wind, the frigging wind.

He dropped the door and walked back down the stairs. It was daytime, so that he would be still stuck indoors. It was better to move at night, sure there were more enemy patrols, but he could cling to the shadows. Going out during the day was almost suicide.

Attelus couldn't comprehend why the enemy still insisted on holding the ruins of Varander. There was very little left standing; hardly anyone left to subjugate, so why didn't they leave? Use the reinforcements garrisoned here to take part in the war in southern Velrosia (Attelus knew of the war down south due to the almost constant explosions from that direction.) Perhaps it was the symbolism that the city which had stood for a thousand years, surviving invasion after invasion as an embodiment of Velrosia as a country. Perhaps they wanted to show that now it was theirs forever, to rub salt into the horrific wound caused to the people of Velrosia from its destruction.

On second thought, why did he still insist on staying in Varander? He could be a lot safer if he fled into the thick endless bush to the north or perhaps even find sanctity in the south.

He shook away such thoughts. He didn't have the necessary supplies to flee so far. That wasn't something to dwell on; he needed to know was the enemy was here and needed to think about how to dodge their patrols.

How to survive.

Attelus began to pack up his supplies methodically. He wasn't leaving for a good nine hours, but it didn't hurt to be prepared, just in case.

He paused as he finished with his sleeping roll, seeing his sheathed sword lying on the floor at the end of his bed.

Ever since the start of the war, Attelus refused to use the monomolecular enhanced blade. Instead, using his stolen Laspistol, throwing knives and the knife he had taken from his first kill. It was idiotic, perhaps, but just looking at that sword brought back memories. His father, Serghar Kaltos, had given it to him when Attelus was a child, and he had trained with it for years. It was ironic, really, the weapon he had learnt to kill with so effectively, and finally, when he had the opportunity to use it, he didn't, he couldn't. It caused him to remember all that he had lost, and he couldn't afford to remember, and remembering was the worst thing to do when in such a fight for survival.

Attelus turned away from the sword. But still, he insisted on carrying it. It was a dead weight as long as he so resolutely refused to use it.

Perhaps it was because one day, maybe he could bring himself to wield it.

He then heard the yell, a huge bark in the harsh language of the invaders — the sound penetrating through the ceiling of the basement with ease.

Attelus almost jumped out of his skin, his pistol suddenly ready, his leaping heart lodged in his throat. Have they found him? He heard the all too familiar sound of Las fire followed by a piercing scream that sent shivers up his spine.

Someone ran straight over his basement, their feet lightly shaking the ceiling, and he could hear the gasping of what sounded like a woman.

He stood frozen, unsure of what to do.

A second later, her pursuers ran over the basement, reverberating the entire room with their horrifically heavy footfalls.

They weren't after him, that he was sure, but who was it they were chasing? Someone like him?

Should I go out there? He thought, should I try to help her? No, let her handle it; she was stupid enough to allow herself to get caught. Why should I go and risk myself to save her stupid skin?

He suppressed a sigh; in all honesty, the only reason he lived so long was because of the training. Serghar had taught him the necessary skills for survival; not many people could claim such aid. He had been alone for so long now; he was always a recluse, always a loner.

But now he realised with a start, he was lonely actually, truly lonely, and suddenly a fear fell over him, a fear like he had never felt before.

Attelus immediately snatched up his flak jacket, slipping it on with one swift motion. Then made for the door, throwing away pretence of precaution as he bashed them open and emerged into the sunlight. Immediately, he fell into a desperate reckless sprint, so much so that he almost tripped and fell.

He was now a creature of instinct, a creature completely attuned for survival, so running out so recklessly into the middle of the day seemed anathema to his very being. But something was overriding it. This fear, something deep down in him, knew if he didn't at least attempt to save this girl, this person, that all this scavenging and killing and desperation would be for nothing.

Then to the east, he heard it, more Las fire and from the sound of it was an intense exchange indeed.

Attelus slid to a halt and, for a few seconds, was at war with himself. Every ounce of him seemed to scream for him to turn, run back to the relative safety of his basement, but the fear was still there. The fear made his chest tight made it hard to draw breath; he had no idea why it made him run right into danger; usually, the fear made him stay away.

But this was not fear for his life but something more. Something that Attelus couldn't quite understand in his instinctive state, but he knew it was important, beyond important.

Without any further hesitation, Attelus ran on, sprinting over the rubble right toward the guns.

As he came closer and the sound of gunfire became more intense, Attelus slowed his pace, starting to sneak through the ruins moving quickly but cautiously.

He came to the ruins of what looked like an old store that was utterly caved in by an artillery shell; the gunfire came from the opposite side of the ruins.

Pushing his back against the remains of the wall, Attelus cautiously approached the corner and peered around it. What he saw made a cruel smile spread over his slender face, a corpse laid in the curb near the next corner, the body wearing the purple flak armour of the invaders.

Attelus slid out from cover; his Laspistol raised and approached the body. It looked like someone had unloaded an entire clip of las rounds point black into his torso, as evident from the scorching, gaping hole in his chest.

The teenager bent down and took the Laspistol from the corpse's holster. All the while, intentionally ignoring the man's face, a mutated face changed into something almost unrecognisable as human — changed by whatever foul god that the invaders worshipped.

Quickly he checked that the pistol's charge was full and moved onto the next corner with both pistols held tightly in his quivering hands, then he looked.

About twelve metres down the alleyway were nine purple armoured figures. Their backs to Attelus as they hugged cover behind a broken mound of rockcrete and exchanged fire with someone at the alley's end, which was a dead end.

Attelus smiled again and shook his head in complete contempt. The idiots were so intent on their prey that they had forgotten to cover their backs. A mistake that they wouldn't live to make again.

He swiftly stepped out from the corner, with both Las pistols raised to cover the attackers as he almost casually approached them.

They never noticed him until he opened fire, shooting the furthest two attackers simultaneously. As the rest turned to face this new threat, he shot the next most distant pair.

The one in the middle of the line as he turned, his raised Las gun was abruptly kicked from his grasp, then his teeth knocked in with the butt of a Las pistol. Without hesitation, Attelus lunged forward, so now to be standing between the two comrades, who were at once on the unconscious soldier's flanks.

Attelus' sidekick connected with the left side soldier's guts; hitting so hard the enemy flew into the man behind him, and they both collapsed into a hefty heap of limbs. The next on Attelus' right attempted to face Attelus, but the teenager's pistol-whipped him in the back of his neck. Stunning the man and forcing him to bend double forwards with the impact, allowing Attelus a clear shot at the next Invader.

The teenager's pistol spat twice, caving in the soldier's mutated face. Then he kneed the last stunned soldier straight in the throat; the blow threw the Invader onto his back, gasping on the ground and clutching his neck.

Without hesitation, Attelus finished them all off with four point-blank blasts of his Las pistol.

Killing like this was what his father taught him to do, use surprise to its fullest, to be efficient, merciless. Attelus couldn't help but feel his father would be proud.

"Hello?" the voice cut through the quiet, bringing Attelus back into reality, and he ducked swiftly to hide behind the debris.

"Hello?" the woman called again, and he could hear her careful footsteps on the beaten ground, "hello? I'm not going to hurt you."

Attelus couldn't respond as pain suddenly shot through his chest, and his hands began to shake worse than usual. He had no idea what to say, what to do after so long being alone, after only ever encountering humans who were trying to kill him. Finally, meeting someone who meant him no harm, but that terrified the young survivor more than he cared to admit.

"Hello," the woman said softly as if to a child, "you can come out; I mean you no harm."

She was getting closer to Attelus, and if he didn't act soon, she would be right on top of him.

He swallowed back his fear, clenched his teeth and in a split second, stood up with both pistols raised to cover her.

"Whoa!" the woman cried out, her hands quickly rose in supplication. She wore the familiar black with white trim flak armour that belonged to the Velrosian attachment of the planetary defence force. She was also stunning with a heart-shaped face and noble, elfin features. Her large eyes widened with fright, a piercing blue, her long deep black hair pulled back into a ponytail.

Her Las gun hung loosely from her shoulder, but Attelus took special note of a long sword sheathed behind her back.

"I am not here to hurt you," she said again slowly. Her eyes attached firmly to Attelus', "I am sergeant Estella Erith, of the Velrosian P.D.F. I am here to help you. Now please put the guns down-"

Estella had attempted to take a slow step closer as she said this, but the sudden violent gesture from Attelus' guns made her go no further.

"Alright," she said with a smile, "alright. I don't know how long you have been alone in these ruins for, but it is obviously long enough that you now find it hard to tell friend from foe. But, I can tell you, I can swear on my mother's grave that we are on the same side. I am not your enemy, now please lower your guns."

The boy clenched his jaw even tighter, and the guns didn't move even an inch. Something within him genuinely wanted to do it, but the rest of him wouldn't let him. He couldn't begin to believe that now, finally, he had found a friend; it just seemed just too good to be true.

A slight impatient frown creased her attractive face. "Okay, now I am going to reach for my gun, and I swear I am not going to try to shoot you with it. I am going to place it on the ground so that I can't attack you. If you drop your pistols, you can kill me if you see me do anything even slightly suspicious, okay?"

Despite himself, he answered her with a slight nod.

"Okay," and slowly Estella reached for her Lasgun, slowly she slid it off her shoulder, slowly she placed it on the ground, and she kicked it away and well out of reach all the while keeping her gaze locked onto his, then she got back to full height.

For what felt like hours, the pair just stood silent facing each other while Attelus fought a desperate war within himself, but finally, with a painful gasp, he lowered his guns.

Estella let out a sigh of relief, "now can I approach you without you shooting me?" she asked lightly.

He managed another nod, as suddenly he felt incredibly weary, wearier than he had ever felt before.

She smiled, nodding pleasantly back and walked to him, but halfway there, she suddenly stopped in her tracks, an expression of severe shock on her face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

"So," she said when she approached but still keeping a respectful distance, "can I ask what your name is then?"

Attelus nodded again, finding himself already warming to her infectious smile.

Estella's eyes widened in an almost comical fashion, "so what is your name then?"

They came out almost immediately, the first words he had spoken since the start of the war: "My name... My name is Attelus. Attelus Kaltos," his once soft voice, now harsh and gravelly from a long time of disuse.

"Well, I am pleased to meet you, Attelus Kaltos," she said, holding out her hand to him.

He hesitated, immediately feeling the fear begin to creep back again.

"Don't be afraid, Attelus," she assured him softly, and something in her eyes immediately made it disappear.

For the first time in a long time, a genuine smile split across his dirty, bruised face, and he took her hand in his, his calm no longer shaking hand.

"Pleased to meet you too, Estella Erith," he replied. Standing on the ruins of what was once the greatest cities in Velrosia and perhaps even the most magnificent city on the entire planet of Elbyra, they shook hands in the ancient Terran way.

Attelus led Estella back to his hideout, holding her hand, only briefly letting go earlier so she could retrieve her Lasgun.

In all honesty, he never wanted ever to let go of her hand ever again. His heart jumped with so much joy it felt close to bursting out his chest, and the grin on his face, so big it felt close to tearing his dirty cheeks.

Finally, he had someone to talk to; he had someone to be with! Now, just suddenly, it seemed to fill a massive gap in Attelus. He couldn't describe it; he still couldn't completely understand it; Attelus just knew he wasn't lonely anymore.

They came to the entrance of his hideout, and he tore the doors open and walked inside, unaware of Estella's grimace at the smell wafting from its depths.

He turned to her, almost smiling from ear to ear, then went back to his pack, opened it and began to rummage through it.

"D-do you want something to eat?" he asked.

"Sure, thank you Attelus, I have been on the run for hours and haven't had any time to eat; that would indeed be very appreciated," she said, "but it might be a bit easier for you if you let go of my hand."

Attelus immediately stopped his search and turned to her with wide eyes.

"Oh!" he said, distinctly blushing, "sorry," and hesitantly let go.

Estella smiled and began to wander around, looking around the small basement.

Finally, Attelus found what he was looking for, tugging from his battered backpack the dried field rations he had lived on for the past few months when she asked.

"Is that your sword over there?"

He froze and turned back to her. "Y-yes."

"You don't mind if I have a look, do you?"

After a few seconds of thought, he shook his head. "N-no, go ahead."

She smiled and picked up the sword, then slid it slightly from its sheath.

"It's a good sword, Attelus," she said, "but..."

"It's monomolecular?" he finished; before the war, mono enhancements were illegal for blades in Elbyra for the reason that Attelus didn't care for and his father didn't care for as well.

Estella nodded and abruptly slid the sword out, stepping into an impressive but fanciful flourish and returned it into its sheath.

"It is a very, very good blade," she said as she sat across from him, "the balance is perfect, and it was masterfully made; it must have cost a fortune. You don't mind if I ask, who gave it to you?"

Attelus handed her one of the ration cans and began to tear into his food with a plasteek utensil.

"Thanks," she said.

"It was my dad he..." Attelus managed through a mouthful, "he gave it to me."

Despite going so long without food, Estella ate with an almost ingrained refined grace.

"Thank you again, Attelus; I have more rations in my pack to reimburse you for these."

Attelus paused briefly in his ravenous eating, treating her with a happy, broad smile that said, "don't worry about it."

"So who gave you your sword?" he asked.

"Umm, sorry?"

The teenager swallowed his mouthful with a substantial animated gulp and asked, "who gave you yours?"

"Oh, this?" Estella looked down at the sheathed blade at her hip, "my father gave me mine too, funny that."

"Your good with it too," he commented, "did your father train you?"

"No," she said, looking back to him, "it was our family's master of the blade who taught me."

Attelus paused before biting his next mouthful and raised his eyebrows in distinct bemusement, "family's master of the blade...are you?"

"Yes, I am," she paused, "or I...was a noble."

"That explains it then."

It was Estella's turn to be bemused, "explains what then?"

"It explains the way you used my sword," he stated, "your technique looked very familiar, looked a lot like the sword style which Velrosian nobles are taught it in, Valisuth."

"You could tell that from just one move?"

"Yep, sometimes I would watch the tournaments you nobles take part in, before the war, I mean, to learn the way you fight, that flourish you used was a Tsured am I right?"

"Yes, yes, it was."

"It's an advanced move. Not taught until the fifth stage of Falisuth, and you did it almost instinctively, which shows you're very skilled."

Estella smiled, "I appreciate the compliment, Attelus, but actually, Tsured is not taught until the sixth level of Falisuth."

Attelus shrugged and began to chew on another mouthful. "Which just further emphasises my statement, you're good. I like Falisuth; it's a good style, even if it's a bit too fanciful for my taste."

"It is the style that king Royd Antares himself created after he returned from Despasia and liberated Velrosia from under the rule of the tyrant of Maranger, Voltarin," said Estella with no small amount of pride.

Attelus shrugged, "yes, but it's a style meant for someone with almost superhuman agility and speed. According to the legends Royd had each in such quantity, he may as well have been one of the Emperor's Primarchs."

Estella smiled widely at that. "He may well have been, you never know Attelus, you never know. Anyway, speaking of superhuman speed and agility, how did you learn to fight? I saw you kill all those..." she paused as a grimace of disgust came across her attractive face, "...traitor guardsmen, I was very much impressed."

Attelus turned away, trying to hide the sudden flush to his cheeks at the compliment, "I-I caught them by surprise; that was the only reason why I took them down."

"It was still an impressive feat, Attelus; I don't think that many of the scouts of the Velrosian 1st could perform such a feat."

He reddened even worse, "th-thanks."

"W-what happened to your parents?" Attelus blurted out.

Estella raised an eyebrow, not in annoyance but curiosity. "Why do you ask?"

"Y-you said that you were no longer a noble; what did you mean by that?"

"Oh," she said, and Attelus immediately regretted asking the question as a look of extreme sadness appeared on her face, "I did? Alright, but first, can I ask you a question?"

"S-sure."

Tears appeared in her blue eyes. "What happened to you, Attelus? Where are your parents? Why are you in these ruins alone? You should not worry about me; I am not the one who has fought such a desperate fight in these ruins for so long."

Attelus stared at her, feeling tears well in his own eyes, "I-I don't know, it j-just happened, one second I'm walking home from my scholam and then the bombs came, and, and..."

He whipped away his tears with his sleeve, "then everything went to hell I don't know I-"

She suddenly took Attelus into her arms, embracing the boy tightly as he cried ragged sobs into her chest.

"It's okay," she cooed. "It's okay."

When Attelus finally pulled away, his large hazel eyes were red with tears. In all honesty, he felt guilty as well. Estella had seemingly confused his questions as a legitimate concern, but actually, he asked them more from his suspicion than much else.

"Thank you," he managed.

She smiled and nodded back. "It's no problem Attelus," then she sighed. "Alright, the reason why I am no longer a noble is-."

"You don't need to tell me," he interrupted, "if you don't want to."

"No it's okay Attelus, I want to tell you, you see I am," she paused, 'or I was the youngest daughter of Lord Isaac Erith he was the lord of the small northeastern province of Tasilin, I don't know if you have heard of it."

Attelus nodded confirmation.

"When the bombs struck Attelus, they didn't just ravage Varander but most of north Velrosia including my brother's city..."

"Your brother's city?" asked Attelus.

"Yes my father died a few years ago, so my brother had taken Lordship," she paused, "the city of Foruthian was where my brother sat in power it was also the city the hardest hit, nothing was left standing from what I have heard."

Attelus looked to the floor, unsure exactly what to say, "I'm sorry...where were you when the bombardment began?"

She smiled, "I was south, serving with the P.D.F. in Hyrition..."

Her words trailed away as she stared blankly at the wall in what seemed to be reverie.

"A-Are you okay?"

His words brought her abruptly back into reality, "yes, yes, I'm okay."

"I'm sorry, Estella."

"It's okay, Attelus," she smiled sadly and patted him on the thigh, "it's okay."

"I uhm can I can ask you another question?"

"Sure."

He sighed it was the most obvious question of all, the one which he really should have asked right from the start but hadn't been able to build up the courage until now. "How did you get here?"

Estella grinned and shook her head in amusement, "I knew you would ask this sooner or later and fair enough."

She swallowed before continuing. "My squad and I were sent to scout the ruins of Varander. Our forces had managed to fight a small gap in the enemy line which allowed for my squad and I to sneak through without detection. Everything was going well until we were..."

"Ambushed?" Attelus asked with wide eyes; he could see where this was going from a mile away.

"We were," she said with a nod, "but don't get me wrong, the foolish ill-disciplined soldiers did not ambush my squad that you have seen, no these, these attackers they were different."

"How so?"

"For starters Attelus, they did not wear purple flak armour like the rest of the invaders, no they wore red, and..." she paused shivering despite the warmth." They wore iron masks with grotesque; horrific visages emblazoned like, like-like snarling daemons and they were good, very, very good disciplined and brutal."

Her tone and body language welled with pride. "There were eighty of them Attelus, eighty! And even though they had the surprise and we were only twenty, by the time we were two, they were reduced to twenty. Trooper Herst Vanti and I were the only ones remaining he was badly injured I tried to carry him with me as we ran but..."

She paused, her pride replaced by a sudden sadness, "at his insistence he stayed and gave me cover fire while I ran, it was thanks to him I managed to escape."

Estella must have seen the shock in Attelus' eyes, "I did not want to leave him Attelus, but we still had to complete our mission, I still had to complete our mission to scout the ruins of Varander, so here I am with you, my friend."

Suddenly Attelus sighed.

"What's wrong?" she asked, concerned.

"You've lost so much," he said shaking his head, "so much more than I have, your brother, your city, your squad and here you are comforting me, I-I..."

Estella's expression turned hard, "Attelus Xanthis Kaltos, how old are you?"

He looked at her, incredulous, "what?"

"How old are you?" she demanded again, this time with much more force.

"I don't know; I don't know, I'm sixteen- seventeen maybe, I think."

Estella hugged him tightly again and said in his ear, "Attelus I am thirty-five years old, I have served in the military for seventeen years. It's hard for me, but you have to remember that you are still a child, you are skilled at fighting and you have killed, but you are still young and nothing, nothing could have prepared you for this hell. So do not think for one second, that I am any worse off than you. Nobody your age should be forced through this, absolutely no one."

Attelus hugged her back but thought as he did, how the hell did she know my middle name?

They talked for another hour or so, but it was soon evident to Attelus just how exhausted Estella was despite her putting on a face.

Finally, he asked, "how long were you on the run?"

She looked at him with weary eyes before replying. "Two days, Attelus. The patrol was chasing me earlier I stumbled upon when I entered the Varanderian outskirts, just my frigging luck. I was foolish. I didn't think the enemy still patrolled the ruins."

Attelus frowned. "Yeah, I was recently wondering along the same lines. But enough about that I can see that you're exhausted take some rest."

She nodded a slow, tired movement. "Are you sure? Will you be alright?"

He smiled, shaking his head in amusement. "Yeah, I think I'll be alright. I've lived alone for this long I think I can cope now, perhaps. Get some rest, Estella. We're going to move at dark. I've been in the place for too long now, and after that battle, we might attract more unwanted attention."

"M-kay," Estella said softly as she began to slip onto her side, her eyes slowly shutting simultaneously, "wake me when it is time."

Attelus nodded although he knew she wouldn't be able to see it.

He sat and watched Estella sleep, trying to remember whether or not he had told her his middle name. But after a while he shook away such thoughts, now wasn't the time to dwell on that.

Attelus slowly got to his feet again and started up the stairs to look outside with a sigh.

He now had a guard duty to perform.

Attelus laid in a makeshift shelter amongst the rubble near the entrance of the hideout; he tried to fall back into his instinct, but it proved impossible; he couldn't rid himself of the nagging thoughts of Estella.

Her sudden appearance, her inexplicable knowledge of his middle name.

She seemed genuine, but he had been alone for so long, and now, he wasn't so sure what to make of it, of her and the new complications her presence potentially created.

It was like his father used to say; "if it seemed too good to be true, it usually was."

He sighed to himself. The next eight hours went by slowly, and the entire time Attelus fought desperately with boredom and lingering thoughts. Only a few hours ago, he wouldn't have had to worry about such a trivial matter, and he found he missed that mindset; everything seemed simpler.

The watch went without any new complications, and as night drew near, Attelus slid silently from his hiding place and walked inside.

He found her still fast asleep, and he felt a twinge of guilt as he hesitantly reached over and gently shook her awake.

"Hmm, is it time to go already?" Estella said as she rolled onto her side.

"Uhh, yeah..." Attelus trailed off as he realised he was blushing again; he had never been in such a situation before.

Estella pushed herself into a sitting position and stretched with a huge yawn.

"Alright!" she exclaimed all of a sudden on her feet and moving to gather her weapons, "have you any plans on where to go next, Attelus?"

"Uhh, I did," said Attelus as he reached over to his pack to retrieve something to eat, "good space to hide, three kilometres east of here, but..."

She paused, looking at him sidelong with wide eyes. "But?"

"Well...that place was once viable but now with us killing that patrol..."

"The place may have enemies near it now?" she finished.

Attelus could only nod, his gaze guiltily falling to the floor.

Estella grinned and slapped him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't worry, Attelus! I know that you're not blaming me! I hope I can make it up to you, though, by helping you find another."

"Thanks, Estella," he said with a smile and a nod, then opened his new pack of food and began to tear into it, "we should have something to eat before we go, though."

They ate in silence for another nine minutes, and it was Estella who finally broke it.

"You know...we don't actually have to look for another hideout Attelus," she said.

He swallowed his latest large mouthful and looked at her intently. "Why?"

She met his gaze with her beautiful blue eyes, "I will have to go soon, Attelus; I will have to go back south to report my findings to general Tathe."

Attelus nodded, then his eyes went as wide as sauces, "Tathe? You mean the general Tathe of the Elbyran detachment? He's here? Really?"

Estella smiled widely. "Yes, he is, the fabled General of the "First Amongst Equals" is really here, apparently when he heard of the attack on Elbyra, he instantly made a large portion of the protectorate fleet come to our aide."

"Have...have you met him?" asked Attelus in no small amount of awe.

"I did; he actually ordered my squad personally on this mission, he could have sent the fabled Velrosian 1st scouts, but he chose us," she said with pride.

Attelus frowned as the cynic in him suggested her squad were only sent because they were more expendable. Before the war, he had researched into the great general Tathe. He knew the general wasn't actually a native of Velrosia or even a native Elbyran; he was an off worlder who had been made by the Warmaster himself to command the Elbyran Imperial guard detachment.

Tathe was the one who decided (and with a considerable amount of controversy) that the separate countries of Elbyra would make a separate regiment each, The Velrosian 1st recon, the Marangerian 1st light infantry, the Galak Heim 1st heavy infantry and the Despasian 1st armoured division.

It was an audacious decision which Tathe had infamously said; "It will inspire rivalry among the men, and make them fight all the harder."

From what Attelus heard, it worked. The Velrosian 1st was highly, highly lauded throughout Segmentum Obscurus for their skill in battle, and the rest of the attachment was well known as well.

This was a great source of pride for the Velrosian citizenry, and Attelus knew of many students from his scholam who had enlisted right on their eighteenth birthday.

"You have been here for a long time now, Attelus," Estella said on, bringing Attelus out of his train of thought, "I need to ask you, do you know where the enemy patrols are coming from?"

Attelus paused in mid-chew, thinking. "Hmm, yeah, I do; they all seem to come from somewhere in the north-west. Of course, knowing that, I've kept as far away from that area as possible."

"I still need to find at least the approximate disposition of the enemy here," said Estella.

Attelus nodded, "I see. So you'll need to go there to look."

"And then leave Varander to meet back with the General to report my findings," said Estella, "I would report over vox, but my personal one is out of range, and my squad's vox unit was destroyed in the ambush."

"Fair enough."

"And you should come back with me."

Attelus' eyes widened.

"I will go north-west alone," she said before he could adequately respond, "I can scout the area by myself, just hide in the ruins until we can make rendezvous-"

"No," Attelus interrupted as he suddenly got to his feet, "we don't need to rendezvous because I'm coming with you."

"But-"

"I am coming with you. As you said, I've lived in these ruins for a long time now, so I know this place far better than you do, you need my help," he sighed, "and you're right I need to leave, I have thought about leaving a few times but haven't been able to work up the courage, but now...Now with you here..."

He trailed off and smiled at her.

She smiled back, "thank you, Attelus."

"It's the least I can do," he said as he went to retrieve his equipment, "It's the very least I can do."

They moved through the night. Sliding ever silently from shadow to shadow, ruin to ruin like born spectres.

At first, they went westward, out into the hilly suburbs surrounding the city's central business district, while along the way taking advantage of Varander's many bush filled parks to mask much of their advance.

Varander was built eight kilometres along the northern coast of Lake Varander and sprawled further inland north for another twenty. A good majority of Varander is almost entirely made of hills, its roads ever falling and rising, turning and winding in harmonious accordance with the landscape. Of course, the streets were all now cracked and cratered, bent out of shape from the bombardment.

Attelus liked Varander; sure, it wasn't perfect with the almost constant wind, the cold winters and many people loved to complain about the endless hills; he didn't mind them at all, though; they gave the city some character.

They moved as quickly uphill as down; Attelus had walked Varander countless times; he was used to traversing the terrain. He knew the city well.

Once when walking through the bush on a high hill, Estella briefly stopped to stare intently over the coastline lake and city below.

It was an uncharacteristically cloudless, calm winter's night in Varander, they could feel the edge of cold in the air but no wind to enhance it.

"It is just amazing, Attelus," she had said, "that somehow...even after all this destruction, Varander can still look so beautiful."

Attelus didn't reply; he couldn't as he wasn't looking at the scenery; he was looking at her; seeing Estella in the moonlight suddenly made it extremely hard to exhale.

"Attelus?" she said, turning back to him when he didn't answer.

"W-we really s-should get m-moving," he stammered stupidly.

She raised a bemused eyebrow, "Yes, you are right, but are you alright, Attelus? You're acting strange."

With no small effort, Attelus managed to tear his attention away from Estella.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay; let's go."

They were back on the move again, with Attelus fighting the sudden urge to always look over his shoulder to make sure that Estella was still following behind him.

She always was but looking would allay the fear for a little while before forcing Attelus to look again.

It was a distraction that he couldn't afford, and he again found missing the more simplistic time before her appearance.

Once three kilometres into the west, they turned north, zigzagging through back streets and back yards, moving through the hills as chaotically as they could.

Six times, they came close to enemy patrols; each time, they had to hunker down amongst the ruins just out of sight.

Each patrol consisted of ten purple armoured Chaos soldiers and was reinforced by a half-track armoured personnel carrier.

As they moved more and more north, Attelus became surer and surer where the encampment was.

They walked off a side street and into the bush.

"Be careful," Attelus hissed over his shoulder, "there's should be a sharp incline-"

He stopped short as his foot found air.

With a cry of fear, his hand shot out, grabbing onto a nearby branch before he could fall down the bank proper.

"Attelus, are you okay?" asked Estella behind him.

Attelus didn't answer at first as he struggled to find his breath.

"Y-yeah, I'm okay," he said, turning back to the concerned Estella, "I almost fell..."

He sniggered slightly. "How frigging ironic would that be? Just as I tell you to be careful of a sharp incline, I immediately fall down it."

Estella sniggered back. "Well, you are lucky you didn't then..."

She trailed off as she looked over his shoulder and into the deep gorge.

"Well, it looks as though you found their base of operations, Attelus," she said.

He smiled and looked back; in the gorge below, lights shone brighter than anywhere else in Varander. The gorge was vast, stretching eight kilometres westward from Varander's main highway, with the road flowing through it into more suburbs beyond.

Logically, it was perfect for the enemy to make their base in the gorge, protected by the surrounding hills. It was already a heavily industrialized area full of maintenance sheds and buildings that were excellent for their vehicles.

"The Nagwai gorge," he said, "I had a feeling this is where they would be."

"Yeah," she breathed, "and I can see why."

Estella reached over and affectionately mussed up his long brown hair.

"You have done well, Attelus," she said, "thank you."

He blushed again and smiled. "No problem, no problem at all."

Estella smiled back, and they hunkered down into the bush.

She took a pair of binoculars from her belt and raised them to her view while brushing a few strands of black hair off her face.

With great effort, Attelus managed to tear his attention away from the beautiful soldier to keep an eye on their surroundings.

"Hmm," she murmured, "they seem to be very busy for so late at night."

"Perhaps they're preparing to move out?" suggested Attelus.

"Hmm, maybe, from what I can see, Attelus, they have six squads worth of the purple armoured soldiers, each with a Half-track transport, it seems."

"Anything else?"

"N-whoa!"

Attelus' attention snapped back at her, his heart suddenly leaping in his chest. "What? What's wrong, Estella?"

She lowered her binoculars, her eyes wide.

"I don't know there was something moving through the buildings. It was quick, really, really quick. I could hardly catch a view."

"Can I have a look?"

She nodded and handed him her binoculars.

He saw all she described, the six squads of twenty soldiers each camped in front of their Chimeras; what he found strange was that they seemed relaxed, too relaxed.

Attelus swept his view over the edge of the camp, they were fenced in, but he saw no sign of any overt patrol.

He lowered the binoculars and turned to Estella, "something isn't right, I can't see any signs of any obvious patrols, yet they seem way too relaxed."

Estella frowned, shaking her head, "I know, but we had a deadline, Attelus, we were meant to report back to General Tathe a day ago, but I cannot get a proper disposition with binoculars up here; I need to go down there."

"And that means you're going to go now?"

When Estella looked down and didn't answer, Attelus turned away, sighed and shook his head, "Okay, you're late. I understand that," he said, "but the mission has gotten a little more complicated; the only logical option is that we wait, Estella. We wait, and we watch."

"I can't wait-"

"Perhaps for a day, perhaps two," he interrupted, "let them show us their numbers and perhaps whatever it was you saw will show itself as well. We can't rush in any way. If you want to get a proper 'll have to look inside every single warehouse, and there must be dozens down there; it's only a few hours before dawn. If we do it now, we'll be caught and killed or captured."

"Attelus!" she said, her large blue eyes desperate, "you must understand that I cannot delay any more."

He shook his head again, "as far as I can see it, and as you should too, if we don't delay if we go in now, neither of us will live to give Tathe the findings."

Estella sighed, "you don't understand, Attelus; this is my last chance, my last chance to prove..."

Attelus furrowed his brow, "last chance? Last chance to prove what?"

She attached her eyes to his. "To prove myself to general Tathe to prove to the Velrosian 1st I'm good enough."

"Good enough for what?"

"Good enough to make scout," she said, "a few years ago, I tried to join the Velrosian 1st as a scout, but I failed; I failed the test. I was about to ship out as a normal trooper, but my father pulled some strings and made me stay in the PDF. So can't you see this is my last chance?"

"But you'll die!" he cried, feeling sudden strong desperation come to the surface, the strongest, most overtaking desperation he'd ever felt.

Estella's face suddenly turned as hard as stone. "If I did, then I die, Attelus, I am a soldier in the God-Emperor's service, and it is my duty to die in his name."

"But you'll die for nothing! Estella...isn't there enough pointless sacrifice in your God-Emperor's name in this universe already? Why do you have the urge to add yourself to the tally? Estella, please listen to me."

Her expression didn't change. "When I first found you, you gave me the twenty questions. You really, really did, and fair enough, Attelus, if I were in your situation, I would do the same. But now it's my turn, I think. I saw you kill that patrol; I watched all of it. I'm wondering how someone of your age got the necessary training to perform such a feat."

Attelus frowned, bemused at Estella's sudden change of subject. "A-as I said, it was only because I took them by surprise."

She shook her head and looked pointedly at the sword sheathed at his hip, "you said your father gave you that, didn't you? That highly, highly illegal mono-sword, so I'm going to assume your father was also the one who taught you how to fight. Am I right?"

He could only manage a slight nod in response.

"Well, who is your father then, Attelus Xanthis Kaltos?" she demanded sharply, "Sly frigging Marbo...?"

She trailed off as she saw the evil smile spread across his face.

"You did it again," he said.

"What? Did what again?"

"You called me by my middle name again," he said.

Immediately Estella's attractive face paled white with fear.

"I..."

It was then the stench hit Attelus, the strange stench that overpowered any scent from the surrounding bush, a stench which reminded Attelus of rancid milk and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"Can you smell that?" he said, sniffing the air, "it's like off milk, milk and...and..."

"Mint," she finished, "milk and crushed mint...what the?" Estella's eyes widened even more, her attention fixing over Attelus' shoulder.

"Attelus, move!" she bellowed suddenly.

Without hesitation, he lunged, slipping sidewards faster than the eye could follow.

Attelus slid to a stop and spun back, Las pistol raised. Seeing Estella, her expression impassive, now on her knees in the undergrowth and shooting her Las gun on fully automatic. The flashing fire lit up the night and tore through the bush as she strafed her fire after some unseen target.

Then he saw it; the gigantic hole sheered indiscriminately through the bush where he once stood, and the razor-sharp metallic shrapnel showered amongst it.

Attelus managed to tear his attention away from the horrific destruction, Laspistol snapping around as he desperately searched in the direction of Estella's stream of fire for a target.

Now the foul stench of mint and milk was almost overwhelming, and Attelus fought the urge to gag.

Estella's Las gun clicked dry, and with one swift movement, she reloaded.

"What the hell was that?" he yelled, "did you kill it?"

"No! Frig it! I am sure that I hit it, frig!" Estella snarled as she got back on her feet, teeth clenched, eyes wide with fear, "Attelus, we need to run, run through the bush strafing side to side, use the trees as cover as much as you can."

Attelus frowned and looked pointedly at the devastation wrought to the bush by the enemy's weaponry; no tree could even begin to protect them from that.

"Run! Run now!" she roared.

Attelus immediately fell into a sprint, long legs carrying him through the bush, never slowing even while dodging and weaving through the trees. All the while hoping like all hell Estella could keep up, fighting the urge to look back to see if she was following.

Running for only the Emperor knows how long, Attelus sprinted into a small semi clearing, lunging over a large fallen log and hunkering down behind it.

Sweat stained and struggling for air, Attelus carefully looked over the log and found, much to his extreme disparagement, the complete absence of anyone following him.

"No," he gasped, slowly shaking his head in disbelief, "no! No! No!"

Sudden pain flared through his chest as powerful panic threatened to overwhelm him. Had she lied? Saying she'd run but instead staying to distract the attackers from his escape? Was she unable to keep up with him? Did she get lost?

Attelus glanced around his surroundings; it was obvious it was hard to get lost, the hillside still sloped clearly, and he could make out through the trees the road, barely thirty metres uphill.

He was well adjusted to the bush, having grown up in a small town far north of Varander and ever since his youth Attelus seemed to have an innate sense of direction; whether walking the countryside or urban areas, he could always find his way no matter where and in this panicked state, now was no different.

She must've stayed. Even if she couldn't have kept up, she could have just kept running straight.

With this revelation, Attelus moved to climb over the log; he needed to go back, he needed to save her, he needed to make sure she was okay.

Glimpsing the slight movement in the treetops made Attelus go no further. Whatever the hell it was, it was frigging fast and seemed to flow through the bush like water, and immediately Attelus' sense of smell was again assailed by the horrifically strong stench of milk and crushed mint; it wasn't Estella and wasn't human.

Trying to control his ragged breathing, Attelus raised his pistol. Attempting to peer through the canopy, his heart in his throat and his shaking hands worse than ever before.

A sudden movement in the trees made Attelus' attention snap to its source, his Laspistol flashing five times, crazing and cutting through the scenery.

None of the shots hit, but briefly; the light from the lasers revealed his target and horrific fear shot through his body.

It was clinging to the side of a tree, a grey-skinned lizard-like sinuous quadrupedal form with red eyes and a massive snouted, sharp-toothed grinning maw. It looked to Attelus like something taken straight from a horror holovid. And the gun attached to its chest was pointed right at him.

The teenager leapt barely a second before where he sat was entirely engulfed in an all-encompassing shower of razor-sharp shards.

He landed badly, almost twisting his ankle on impact, but the adrenaline drove him on as the Thing fired again, making the bush behind him erupt into a shroud of slivers, slivers that bounced off or stuck fast into his flak jacket.

After making a few metres, Attelus made enough of a gap to safely stop and shoot five rounds in the Thing's general direction, the first three missed completely, but again he used the light from the laser to reveal where it was, allowing Attelus to adjust his aim for the last two. The fifth hit the weapon on the Thing's chest, which blistered and moulded out of shape from the heat.

Immediately the Xenos seemed to know its weapon was inoperable as it lunged from the tree and began to slither across the clearing at a terrifying speed. Its smiling maw snapped forward to crush his skull.

He desperately sidestepped its huge jaws and brought his gun to bear, but it seemed to have anticipated his dodge, suddenly slashing out its razor-sharp claws.

His backpedalling was quick enough to avoid all but their tips as they sliced cleanly through his flak jacket and across his chest.

He howled in pain and stumbled further, managing still to raise his pistol and unloaded the last of his clip into its scaly torso. Six point-blank shots that, much to Attelus' dismay, did nothing but make it reel slightly from the impacts.

Las weaponry seemingly ineffective, he holstered his pistol and reached for another weapon. Attelus' first instinct was to go for his sword but drew his knife instead. Figuring the power and momentum he could put behind the shorter blade's tip would pierce its thick hide easier than if stabbing it with his mono sword, he slipped into a defensive stance as the creature stood watching him, ready to lunge.

Then it struck, turning around suddenly to smash its long tail into him.

Attelus bounded back, just out of reach from its tail, but the surge of air with it almost threw him off his feet.

The Thing recovered swiftly, slashing its claws, Attelus managing to dive under them as they blurred out to decapitate him.

Quickly, he clambered to his feet, twisting to face the creature as it drew back to attack again.

It lunged, the massive jaws descending on him in a blur. But this time, Attelus was ready; he slid sidewards from the bite and, with all his strength, stabbed the knife deep into its neck.

The Thing snarled and squirmed in agony but was far from dead, Attelus barely managing to tear out his knife before It turned and swiped around its tail.

The teenager leapt backwards wildly, making it so far to prevent the impact from shattering every bone in his body, but the tail's tip still struck him a glancing blow.

Attelus cried out as pain erupted through his left arm, and he was flung face-first into the dirt.

With a groan, he began to slowly get back onto his feet, watching the creature as it writhed around in the undergrowth, and he reached over for his fallen knife.

The Xenos seemed to sense his recovery as it suddenly just slipped off its back and onto its feet, Its jaws opening, the drool visibly rolling down the rows of razor-sharp, curved teeth as it prepared to leap on him.

His heart lunging in his chest and gasping for breath, Attelus stared it down, his hand an inch from his fallen knife, ready to draw it the very moment the Thing lunged.

Then he heard the noise, the very brief sound of what could have been the cracking of crushing bone not far into the west. The Thing must have heard it, too, as its attention immediately fixated on it.

Attelus saw his opportunity and didn't hesitate; in the blink of an eye, he snatched up his knife and then plunged it straight into the creature's eye.

It convulsed and tried to turn, but with a snarl of his own, Attelus twisted the knife deeper into its eye socket, and it spasmed more. With a sharp tug, he tore out the blade and stabbed it into its skull; then, he plunged it down over and over again.

He only stopped when it was very, very dead. Utterly covered in blood, exhausted and gasping for air Attelus rolled back and sat amongst the undergrowth.

Sudden anger boiled to the surface, overtaking the fatigue. How could've he been such an idiot? While they were so close to the enemy's base camp, choosing then to argue with Estella? The arguing consequently led to those things sneaking on them. If it wasn't for the Xenos stinking of milk and crushed mint...

He snarled out a curse, and because of that idiocy, Estella may be dead.

His chest tightened, and he began to weep ragged sobs into his hands.

+Now isn't the time to cry, Attelus.+

The words suddenly echoed through his thoughts, making him blink and rock forward in surprise; it was Estella's voice.

"Estella?" he called out, "Estella, is that you?"

+Now Attelus, now is the time to move! Move! Move now!+

Without further hesitation, he lunged, diving behind a thick, gnarled old tree a millisecond before the Las fire rained through the bush around where he had been sitting.

The figures came into view, three of them advancing confidently through the trees, Lasrifles sweeping professionally. They weren't the regular army soldiers; even in the dark, Attelus could make out the grotesquely daemonic images on their iron masks and the bloody crimson of their armour.

The ones who killed Estella's squad.

He leaned out from his tree, opening up with his laspistol, and two of the red armoured warriors buckled and collapsed; the third was flung back, winged.

Then the night suddenly became alight as the rest fought back, causing Attelus to flinch back into cover from the sheer intensity of the Las fire.

Attelus cursed and glanced over the terrain; on his right, it was completely overgrown with underbrush making it almost impossible for them to flank him from that direction, but he couldn't use it to fall back either; in fact,,, the bush had him surrounded virtually entirely.

He cursed again and savagely smashed the handle of his laspistol into his tree; he was pinned, boxed inside a veritable frigging death trap.

There was a sudden lull in their fire. He immediately twisted out and almost emptied the Laspistol's clip in a wild, inaccurate flurry; none of the shots even came close but still sent the soldiers scurrying for cover, including the figures who were advancing to flank him.

Attelus barely made it back in time before it began to rain down las fire again.

He couldn't make out how many flankers there were but knew they would be on him very soon, and his eyes widened as an idea hit him, and he looked up.

The tree was old but still quite climbable, the many branches protruding straight from the primary trunk-like arms.

It was a risk, but at the moment, his only option, and with a grunt, he jumped, grabbing onto the lowest branch and hauled himself up, climbing quickly but carefully not to disturb the tree.

He made it up a few metres before they came around the tree, eight of them fanning outwards with smooth precision.

Attelus immediately opened fire, cutting down the farthest three with a brief blaze of las, and before the rest could even begin to react, Attelus holstered his pistol and jumped out of the tree.

He landed straight onto the first soldier, plunging the tip of his knife straight through the man's mask and skull, dropping so the collapsing corpse would absorb the full force of the fall.

Attelus finished into a kneel as the next warrior reeled back, the first falling soldier dealing him a glancing blow. With one swift movement, Attelus drew his sword, disembowelling the stunned attacker on the draw and got to his feet.

As the last doubled over in agony, the third reacted with respectable speed, swinging out skillfully with the butt of his Las gun to smash in Attelus' skull.

Attelus swayed under the rifle stock and slipped onto the soldier's right flank, simultaneously bringing up his blade, cutting cleanly through the man's arm at the elbow.

Before the man could scream, Attelus sliced back down and severed the soldier's spine at the base of the skull.

The fourth lunged at Attelus, thrusting at him with a bayonet.

Attelus sidestepped and smashed the stabbing rifle down into the dirt with an overhead arc of his sword, then brought the blade in a lightning-fast, horizontal cut across the attacker's jugular.

It was then he saw the fifth and last enemy had used the time to back away to bring his gun to bear more effectively.

With a massive sidekick, Attelus sent the bleeding out soldier sprawling straight at his comrade, the limp, flailing body knocking the lasgun's aim, of course. But the other red armoured soldier was disciplined, and in a split second, he recovered to cut Attelus down in a hail of point-blank las fire.

But that split second was long enough for Attelus to draw a throwing knife from his flak jacket and to send it flying straight toward the man's daemonic mask.

It connected with an audible clang! Not with enough power to kill the man but enough to send the soldier's skull smashing back with whiplash and throwing his full auto spray fly wild.

The shots kissed close to Attelus' ear, making him flinch in fright.

And he drew his pistol and then shot the stunned soldier three times through the torso.

He hunkered down, retrieved his knife, tugged a Las gun from the grasp of the nearest twitching corpse and despite himself, laughed out loud, finding it funny that despite all their supposed skill, they still fell for the old "jumping from on high" trick.

With a shake of his head, he spun out quickly and opened up with his newly acquired gun on full auto at the advancing enemies.

They wouldn't fall for it again, though; if they flanked again, they'd do so at a further range and in a broader arc to avoid him trying it another time.

Or- before Attelus could continue his thoughts, something substantial fell into the dirt right beside him, a grenade.

He didn't hesitate, snatching it up, with a grunt; Attelus threw it across the clearing.

The grenade was in mid-flight as it exploded. Revealing the surrounding bush in light and making the attackers sprawl for cover.

Attelus opened fire, cutting down two stuck out in the open, stunned from the grenade.

Slipping back into cover, he counted eight attackers remaining. Eight too many, he was dead. Fact.

Perhaps if he got lucky, he could kill three or four more, but they had him cornered, with no escape in sight. Attelus was sure this was his last fight, but he was all right with that. He'd given them one frig of a fight, a fight the survivors would never soon forget, and even though no one else would know about it, he was proud, proud that he was able to avenge much of Estella's squad, proud that he'd managed to kill that formidable Xenos creature. Still, most of all, Attelus was happy that he'd managed to live long enough to meet Estella.

He just hoped she was okay; he hoped that she'd managed to get away, and if so, he hoped she wouldn't go and needlessly sacrifice herself. He truly, truly did.

It was quite depressing, really, and with a sad smile, he started to slip out to shoot again when he heard one suddenly cry in their harsh barking language.

He couldn't understand what was said, but he could understand the shrill panic in the voice.

The scream was cut short as something exploded; four of the Chaos soldiers went sprawling, limp and broken, the rest reeling, dazed and confused.

The full-auto las fire immediately followed, cutting down another two while they struggled to recover. Attelus saw the shots flashing from the west flank, but the thick bush obscured the shooter.

Was it Estella? Had she come to save him?

The last two soldiers attempted to fight back as they threw all discipline to the wind with full auto flurries in the general direction of their new attacker.

His heart singing with new joy, Attelus ejected the almost empty clip from his Lasgun, slammed a fresh one home and added his own salvo.

In one split second, the tide of the small skirmish had wholly turned, now, the soldiers of Chaos were desperate and pinned.

As Attelus rained suppressing fire upon them, the darkened figure darted across the clearing and slaughtered the soldiers with two quick slashes of a long sword.

Estella Erith, bloody and beaten but very much alive, she sheathed her sword and turned to Attelus; her heart-shaped, splatted with blood face was grim, determined and for a second far more terrifying than the iron grotesks of the enemy.

"E-Estella?" he called out, unable to keep the fear from his voice.

Suddenly she smiled, and his fear was all but alleviated; even covered with blood, she was still appealing.

They both heard the half-track arrive, squealing to a halt on the road up the hill, and Estella turned to look.

Her attention snapped back to him. "We have to go, Attelus, now!" she snarled.

They turned east and began to sprint through the bush.

They ran for a long time dodging, ducking and continually weaving through the trees.

After what seemed forever, finally, Estella signalled a stop, and they both doubled over and struggled to regain their breath.

After a while, without further word, Estella turned and began back.

"Where are you going?" demanded Attelus making the PDF sergeant stop in her tracks.

"Now we have lost our pursuit, back to the enemy base," she answered haltingly and keeping her back to him, "I have made sure you are okay, Attelus, and now, if you head south, you might escape. But now, I must go back and complete my mission."

"The hell you do," he said, suddenly pulling himself to his feet.

"Yes, I do!" she snarled, wheeling on him, "You just cannot understand, can you-!"

"No," he interrupted, "it's you who can't understand."

His jaw set, and he shook as sudden rage threatened to overwhelm him, "Estella! You complicate everything!" he blurted out. "Before you suddenly came into my life, I never made so many stupid mistakes! I never almost walked off cliffs; I never had someone else to have to worry about beside myself!"

Estella opened her mouth to argue, but he frowned, shook his head and cut her short.

"But I wouldn't have it any other way," he said suddenly smiling, "because now I know Estella why I risked everything, why I had rushed out into the middle of the day to try to help you. Because...because I knew, deep down, I knew that I wasn't surviving to live anymore. I was living to survive. That if I kept on going on the way, I was, that if somehow I survived, I would've survived this hell without a shred of sanity, without a shred of humanity! You saved me from that horrific fate Estella, and for that, I thank you, I really truly do."

"So can't you see, I need you when you disappeared before I-I," he trailed away as tears welled in his eyes, tears which he wiped with his filthy sleeve, smearing even more muck over his dirty face.

"So don't go, don't just go and throw your life away, don't leave me all alone again."

"Please."

Estella's attention turned downward, and she frowned deeply, "Attelus, I-I've lost everything, I've lost my home, my brother, my-my squad," she looked back up, her large blue eyes shining with tears of her own, "I miss them all, so so, much Attelus and maybe, maybe I needed something to focus on, something to make as my purpose, so I became obsessed with proving I am good enough to be a scout, to prove myself to General Tathe..."

She trailed off and shook her head.

"Estella," said Attelus, stepping forward, "I think you already have. Even after suffering through the deaths of all your comrades, your city, and your brother, you still continued on. You still came all the way to Varander. You still found the enemy base; as far as I'm concerned, you've gone far past the call of duty, Estella."

Estella smiled and sniffed loudly, "but you found their base Attelus, not me."

He grinned, "Yeah, but you don't have to tell them that."

She laughed.

Attelus smiled and held out his hand to her.

"Come on, Estella," he said softly, "I think we've done all we can here, so let's go, let's now go south."

She took his hand in hers. "Yeah," she said, "let's go home."

They headed further east for a while before finally turning south.

The going was way harder; with the disturbance near their main base, the enemy had stepped up their patrols, and Attelus and Estella had to hunker down eight times to avoid detection.

When they came into Varander's central business district, the sun began to rise, and much to Attelus' annoyance, Estella just had to stop and admire it for a few minutes.

"Even in horrid times like this, Attelus," she said, seemingly sensing his rising choler, "we still need to take the time to admire what is beautiful."

That's exactly what I'm doing now, he thought as he looked at her, and immediately, her attention snapped to him.

"What?" she asked as he quickly looked away, blushing.

"Nothing, nothing! We should just get moving, that's all."

She smiled and raised an amused eyebrow. "Yeah, I guess we should," she said, and they moved on, sprinting silently through the deserted, desecrated streets.

They avoided the coast and the broad highway running alongside it, instead of tramping through the high bushy hills further east of the lake.

It was slow going, so they didn't arrive on the south coast of the lake until midnight.

Despite himself, Attelus had to pause and look over his shoulder across the lake to the ruined Varander beyond. He smiled sadly, realising that he would never see the old city ever again.

"Attelus?" called Estella, turning once realising he wasn't walking with her anymore.

"Yeah, coming," he said, turned, carried on and never looked back.



It wasn't until they'd made many kilometres south that they deemed it safe enough to stop and camp out.

In silence, they set up their camp, ate their rations, didn't dare light a fire just in case, and it was Attelus who finally spoke.

"I think..." he trailed off, "I think Estella, that before the war, I wanted to be a scholar, a scholar of history in particular. History has always fascinated me, whether it be Imperial, Elbyran or Velrosian."

Estella smiled, "well, Attelus, you could still be a historian after this."

He looked her straight in the eye and shook his head. "No, no, I can't."

She furrowed her brow, "why?"

He looked away and gazed up at the stars. "Even though you saved me from insanity, Estella, I can still never go back; after all, I've seen, after all, I've done, I could never go back to my old life, never."

A sorrowful expression came across Estella's face, and she looked away, "I-I see... Attelus, but if you cannot go back you could, always, join the guard; with your skills, you would easily make scout."

Again Attelus shook his head, "no, I could never be a soldier either..."

He wandered off his sentence and said.

"Before Estella, when I was in the bush after I managed to kill the Xenos-"

"Loxatl," interrupted Estella suddenly.

Attelus could only raise his eyebrows, bemused.

"That is what they are called," she said without a shadow of a doubt, "Loxatl."

It took a few seconds of silence for Attelus to gather his thoughts; the certainty in her voice scared him more than he cared to admit.

"Th-that's what I mean," he finally managed, "how do you know that? How did you know my middle name too? Because I swear-"

"You never told me your middle name Attelus," she said, "I just know things...sometimes I know names of things, of people before anyone tells me, ever since I was young I did, I used to scare my Mum with it. Usually, I can control it, but lately after, everything, not so much."

Attelus nodded, "and to be able to talk to people through their thoughts also?"

Estella shrugged and looked away. "Recently, yeah."

Attelus sighed. "While we're telling our secrets...You asked who my father is before, right?"

"Y-yes, I did," then her face suddenly livened up, " you said your father "is"? Is he still alive?"

He shook his head, "in all honesty, Estella, I've no idea; just a few months before the war, someone came to our door, and something he said to my father immediately made him leave off-world, and I have no idea why. He just left me on that very day to stay with my mother.

His jaw clenched as the anger at his father appeared back, and forcing it away, he said:

"You were right, Estella, my dad did teach me how to fight, and as I said earlier, I can never go back to being a normal person; I can never be a Guardsman, but..."

"But, but what?"

"I've decided I want to be like my father," he said, smiling evilly in the moonlight, "I want to be an assassin."

Estella frowned and glanced around, "And I cannot convince you otherwise, Attelus?"

"No, no, you can't."

She sighed. "all right, if I cannot, I want you to promise me something."

Attelus nodded. "Sure, fire away."

Estella attached her eyes to his, "Now this is no joke, Attelus. I am dead serious about this, okay?"

"Okay, okay!" he said impatiently.

She stared at him for a very long time before she said anything, her face in the same hard set impassiveness of earlier.

"Attelus..." she finally said, "Attelus Kaltos, if you truly have your heart set on becoming an assassin, if you do, I want you to promise me. No, I need you to swear to me that no matter what you do, no matter what hell you go through, no matter how many people you..." she grimaced in distaste, "...assassinate that you won't let it at all change you, that you will stay the kind, good-natured person I know today, you won't let it change you. Swear this to me, Attelus, and then we can move on from this."

Attelus didn't answer at first, his eyes wide with utter shock, Estella's concern touching him more than he could ever express.

"Swear it, frig you!" she snarled suddenly, losing her patience and causing Attelus to flinch in fright.

"Y-yes, I-I swear!" he cried, "I swear."

She stared for a while longer, studying him intensely as he desperately avoided her gaze.

Then she smiled and shook her head, seemingly appeased with his response.

"Thank you, Attelus."

He finally managed to exhale.

"Wow, anyone ever tells you that you can be really frigging scary, Estella," he sighed, "remind me to never get on your bad side."

Estella grinned and got to her feet, "well, it comes with the territory Attelus," she said, "Me being a sergeant in the military and all. Get some rest, Attelus. I will have the watch tonight."

As if on cue, he felt the fatigue almost overtake him, and without a word, he got up, walked to his sleeping bag and slipped inside, his eyes immediately slamming shut.

He smiled, he knew they had a hell of a journey ahead before they could reach the safety of the south, but for the first time in a long time, he was happy. With Estella with him, he knew they would make it.

Still smiling, he let sleep completely overtake him.