Xenohunter Acolyte with Alacrity
England
|
Author's Notes
The third installment in the Treachery's Road series, this is where the action really starts happening.
I don't actually have a great deal to say about this one, except that it involves a Baneblade, a Farseer and a screaming man being set on fire...
As always, please comment.
Three armoured Imperial Guard sentinels clanked past and into the breach as Benjamin Mordecai studied the Astartes warrior lying in front of him.
The Space Marine was a soldier of the Deathwatch, but there were no markings on his right shoulder guard to denote his chapter of origin.
The Space Marine had lost his helmet in the drop, and a ruined Jump Pack nearby suggested that something else had caused it aside from the Marine’s carelessness.
“Battle-brother?” he muttered, kneeling by the Astartes.
The Space Marine’s eyes flickered open, and his head turned to fix on Benjamin, pale green eyes glinting with the experience of countless wars.
“My brothers…” He began in a deep, well-spoken tone characteristic of a Space Marine.
“Are on the ramparts, taking care of the mortar batteries.” Benjamin finished.
“Then I will serve you as best I can, Inquisitor.” The Space Marine climbed to his feet, at his full height standing head-and-shoulders above Benjamin.
Just then, Benjamin heard the percussive THUD-BANG of a Demolisher cannon.
Two of the Sentinels that had entered the breach disappeared in a roiling cloud of flaming debris and shattered earth.
Benjamin covered his face at the intensity of the explosion, and when he removed his hands, he couldn’t keep a small gasp from escaping his throat.
Rolling towards them, crushing cultist and guardsman alike under it’s armoured treads, a Baneblade Super Heavy tank forced it’s way out of the breach.
***
“Charges!” Leondras yelled, holding out his free hand as he impaled a cultist on his bayonet with the other.
“I’ve got it.” Gheren stated coolly, swiping aside three more of the bronze-armoured traitors with a swing of his Servo arm.
Holding his bolter in one hand, Gheren threw a string of Melta charges towards the mortar battery on the ramparts below.
Leondras grinned at Gheren’s uncanny accuracy as the string of charges clinked inside one of the mortar’s rotary barrels.
Throwing himself flat, Leondras felt the rumble of the battery’s munition tracts blowing up as a roiling wave of fire washed over him.
Looking up, Leondras saw Gheren still standing in the exact same spot he had been in before the battery exploded.
The Imperial Fist Tech-marine stood tall, immune to the flaming debris that still rained down around him.
Reloading and continuing along the ramparts, the two fell into an uneasy silence.
Gheren wasn’t always the most talkative of Marines.
“We’ve only seen cultists thus far,” Leondras wondered aloud, “Where are the Word Bearers?”
“Maybe the entire assault has been a hoax?” Gheren grated in his monotone voice.
“Maybe, but I’ve never seen anyone fight so hard to protect a hoax.”
As if on cue, Leondras heard the distinct thump of Astartes boots on the metal decking of the ramparts.
“For the Dark Gods, for Chaos undivided!”
Sighting down their bolters, both Marines calmly awaited the five-man squad of corrupted Astartes charging towards them.
“There are your Word Bearers.” Gheren stated coolly.
***
“Can we det it with Melta charges?” Stephos asked quizzically.
“No.” Karel replied, “It’s too thick, and it’ll only alert them to the fact we’re here.”
They stood in front of a heavy bulk-door, designed to survive Earthshaker rounds.
There was no chance Melta charges would breach it.
“Maybe…” Apothecary Gallus began, “If the door is designed to survive those kinds of blasts, it hasn’t been fortified against a simple assault?”
“How do you mean?” Karel quizzed, frowning.
“The door itself is several feet of Ceramite, but we don’t know about the locking mechanism. Maybe, with the right amount of force in the right place, the mechanism might snap.”
“Worth a try.” Karel grinned, stepping up to the door; he grasped one of the door’s bulky Ceramite plates and braced himself.
“Cover me.” He ordered, and heard the sound of a bolter and a wrist-mounted Melta pistol clicking into position.
Tensing his arms, Karel pulled against the bulk-door, and stumbled back as the mechanism cracked and broke, slamming the heavy door back into the wall.
“Sometimes I wonder if you would have made a better Tech-Marine.” Karel glanced at Gallus.
“I’d rather fix men than machinery.” Gallus replied.
“Proximity alarm!” a pre-recorded female voice warbled.
“They know we’re here now,” Karel stated, drawing his power sword, “We’ll have to keep moving, stay on our feet. If a man falls behind, we leave him, taking the Bastion is our priority.”
And the three ventured into Bastion Medrogus, leaving a bloody path of gore in their wake.
***
Sentinel F10NA, nicknamed Fiona, was the pride of the Jurdani Elites Sentinel regiment, and was coined a lucky charm for having survived seventy-three conflicts without gaining as much as a scratch.
As Fiona’s cockpit-mounted Plasma Cannon swivelled round to target the Baneblade’s hull, a lancing blast from one of the super-heavy’s hull-mounted Lascannons sliced clean through the lucky Sentinel’s leg, causing the F10NA to keel over sideways, seventy-three conflict’s worth of luck forgotten.
“Blast the bastards to buggery!” Rennard Osbourne shouted, firing off several armour-piercing rounds with his Brutal Bow, barely scratching the paintwork of the Baneblade’s thick hide.
“Strafe right, find cover!” Benjamin roared over the repeated thud of the tank’s quad-linked heavy bolters.
Scores of Jurdani troops were downed in the first few minutes of the conflict, and those that were left now ran for cover wherever it could be found.
“Inquisitor, if you’ll provide a distraction.” The Astartes muttered, loading a new cartridge into his Plasma Pistol.
“Darius, flank me, Rennard, set up a cross-fire, but keep low!”
Strafing left, Benjamin reloaded and fired off several solid-slug rounds.
Cheap and inefficient, the rounds were purely for distractive purposes.
Benjamin was soon accompanied by the repeat hiss of a las-rifle and a standard-issue grenade launcher as Darius Fitch flanked him.
Both men reflexively ducked as bolter fire rippled over their heads, accompanied by a burst of superheated lasfire.
Across the breach, the five Blackwatch guards set up crossfire.
Darting from cover to cover, the Space Marine leapt onto the Baneblade’s hull, his Ceramite-clad feet denting the tank’s thick skin.
“Aramus to all Guard units, cultists on the Super-heavy’s right, flank and eliminate.”
The voice had come from the Deathwatch marine, and Benjamin was surprised to find three detachments of Guardsmen flanking around the tank to meet the onslaught of cultists.
As the Baneblade’s main cannon swung round to fire again, Brother Aramus braced himself and caught the cannon in his hands.
Gritting his teeth, Aramus slowly began to turn the cannon back around to face the Bastion’s wall.
***
Tank Commander Fargus practically had a fit in his seat as two foot-shaped dents appeared in the hull of his tank.
Several of the wires and tubes which connected him to his beloved tank came free as he slammed his fists repeatedly into the control panel.
“Someone get up there and deal with that brute!” He yelled as the main battlecannon began to swing back around.
Putting all the reserve power into the main cannon’s rotary mechanism, Fargus screamed as the readout on his screen showed the mechanism failing.
There was a brief mechanical spark, and several more tubes and wires flew free and lashed one of the secondary gunners in the face, dropping the man instantly.
“Fire!” Fargus screamed in panic, “Just fire at something!”
The events that followed proved the man really shouldn’t have been a tank commander…
***
By the time the main cannon fired, Aramus had swung it around to face the Bastion’s wall.
The cannon fired, and a sheer chunk of the Bastion’s wall fell inwards, crushing the cultists who were filing in from the courtyard and opening a way for the imperials.
With sheer brute force, Aramus of the Blood Ravens twisted the cannon’s barrel back upon itself with a squeal of twisting metal.
Leaping clear, Aramus was propelled forward by the explosive blast as the super-heavy tried to fire again, igniting the ammunition batteries and demolishing the tank from the inside, cooking it’s crew alive in the inferno.
As he watched, Benjamin Mordecai saw a single man running from the wreckage, screaming and burning alive with tubes and wires streaming behind him.
Lifting his Brutal Bow, Benjamin fired a single round that burst Tank Commander Fargus’ head like a balloon.
“The way is open!” He roared, raising his Brutal Bow, “Into the breach!”
Sprinting from cover, five platoons of Jurdani Elites, along with Benjamin’s retinue and Brother Aramus, poured through into Bastion Medrogus’ main courtyard, and a fierce firefight broke out between the imperials and the drilled ranks of waiting cultists.
Across the courtyard, Benjamin could see a hulking figure charging through the mass of cultists towards them.
Clad in terminator armour of black and gold, the Chaos Lord clearly wasn’t a Word Bearer.
Beside him, Aramus growled, drawing his chainsword.
“He is the reason you’re here?” Benjamin muttered.
Aramus nodded.
“Then go, meet him.” Benjamin called over one of the Jurdani soldiers before heading off to join his retinue.
“What’s your name, Guardsman?” Aramus asked, his gaze fixed on the advancing Chaos Lord.
“Benton Muir, Officer. The sergeant, he…”
“You’re sergeant now, Benton, show me you can lead.”
Scowling, Aramus advanced to meet Eliphas the Inheritor, in the midst of hell.
***
Grasping a bronze-clad cultist by the horned helmet, Karel flung him around to slam another two into the ground.
Firing his wrist-mounted bolter, he downed another two as they rose to fire from cover.
Beside him, Gallus obliterated the upper halves of two more cultists with a single blast from his wrist-mounted melta pistol.
Stephos was a blur as he danced among three Word Bearer chaos marines.
None of the Word Bearers, each armed with a vicious chainsword, could keep up with the Blood Angel’s brutal melee assault.
Using just his fists, Stephos sent the first Chaos Marine reeling with a broken arm, before whirling and high-kicking the second in the face, quickly dropping as the third’s chainsword whirred over his head.
Rising, Stephos elbowed the third marine in the face, turning as the first lunged towards him.
Side-stepping and grabbing the first Marine by his remaining arm, Stephos snapped the Marine’s wrist and then reversed it to embed the Astartes’ own chainsword in his helmet.
As the second rose, Stephos sent the still-upright corpse of the first slamming into him, bearing both to the ground before leaping over them and landing with a loud crack on the head of the second.
As the third Marine circled him, Stephos picked up a discarded chainsword and threw it.
The third Marine screamed as the chainsword embedded itself in his shoulder, shortly before suffering a punch from Stephos that sent him plunging over the side of the walkway and into the darkness of the Bastion’s interior.
“All done?” Karel teased.
“Aye.” Stephos replied.
All three turned their heads, their ears picking up the distinct sound of an unholy chant.
“A summoning,” Gallus commented, “I remember from the Georus assault.”
“We need to interrupt it,” Karel growled, “Gallus, take point, I’ll flank left and Stephos will flank right.”
***
Leondras ducked an incoming swipe from a Chainsword and barrelled his assailant to the ground, arcing his bolter down and yanking the bayonet from the Word Bearer’s head.
Gheren had somehow managed to turn a close-quarters engagement into a ranged fight, loosing off a bolter round whenever one of the two Marines he’d cornered tried to leave cover.
Leaping over the corpse of the Marine he’d just downed, Leondras spin-kicked a second in the face and sent him flying over the railing of the Ramparts.
As he landed, he felt a biting pain in his left thigh as his third assailant plunged his chain-axe through Leondras’ armour.
Yelling in pain, Leondras kicked the corrupt Astartes off his chain-axe, which continued to bite into his leg.
In a split second, Gheren was there, lifting the third Marine up with his Servo arm and dropping him over the side of the ramparts.
As the third marine fell, screaming, the two Gheren had pinned took this as an opportunity to break cover.
The first earned a bolter round in his head from Gheren’s precise aim, and the second toppled over the edge with a chain-axe protruding from his chest.
“You require aid.” Gheren observed.
“No time, we press on.” Leondras replied, limping away.
The wound was already starting to clot; it was the armour that Gheren was concerned about.
***
Benjamin charged out into an adjoining corridor, quickly retreating and slamming himself against the wall as solid slug-shots ricocheted through the space his body had occupied mere moments before.
“Charges.” He ordered, holding out a hand.
“Happy Emperor’s Day, darlin’,” Osbourne smirked, handing Benjamin a string of Melta charges, “Sorry I couldn’t gift-wrap ‘em.”
“Go along!” Benjamin shouted, before Osbourne leapt past the adjoining corridor and landed with a thud on the other side.
Positioning himself and wielding his Brutal Bow like a bat, Osbourne chuckled to himself.
“Serve!” he called and Benjamin threw the melta charges, which Osbourne batted towards the entrenched cultists with a triumphant yell.
The six members of Benjamin Mordecai’s retinue all pressed themselves flat against the wall as the blast rippled outwards.
Stepping out into the smoking wreck of the corridor, Benjamin loaded a fragmentation shell rack into his Brutal Bow, racking the slider as he went.
He could hear a voice, female; it was serene, soothing, but desperate.
He was sprinting now, ignoring Darius and Osbourne’s pleas for him to slow down.
The voice was speaking, and it spoke only two words.
“Help me…”
***
The human was on his way…
Farseer Idranel curled herself up into a tight foetal ball.
At last she might be free…
Ever since her soulstones had been taken from her, she’d felt an overwhelming sense of loss.
Caring for the broken humans had done more than just keep her sanity, it had taught her that the creatures she had once loathed, the beings she had once thought savages, could express moments of beauty and knowledge.
She had once tried to damn an entire sector of these beings just to spare her Craftworld from the Tyrannids.
They had, understandably, reacted with violence.
Sometimes Idranel wondered if there was that much difference between Eldar and humans.
The Tau she shared her cell with was already mentally broken, she sat there whimpering, and Idranel knew there was no saving her.
She sobbed softly to herself.
How could creatures so vibrant and young as humans end up falling prey to such a vile corruption?
She heard the door to her cell clank back into the wall, felt a hand touch her shoulder.
“I came.” A voice murmured softly in her ear.
“Thank you.” She sniffed, brushing a strand of crimson hair from her eye.
***
Benjamin helped the Farseer rise, looping a hand around her waist to support her.
“Darius, grab the Tau.”
The former Janissary did as ordered, picking the Tau female up and cradling her in his arms like a newborn.
The door to the prison block had closed behind them; Rennard and the Blackwatch were working their way around to another entrance.
“Drop the witch, loyalist!”
Benjamin looked down the corridor and saw an Astartes in the silver and red of the Word Bearers, his horned helmet staring directly at the Inquisitor.
In the Chaos Lord’s right hand, he held an axe which exerted an unholy aura, in his left, he held a serrated dagger.
Benjamin subconsciously tightened his grip on the Eldar.
“Darius, go find another entrance, get the Blackwatch here fast as you can.”
“Inquisitor…”
“I wasn’t asking, Darius.”
The Maccabian nodded and began to run down the corridor.
The lights flickered as the hulking Astartes began to advance.
Releasing his hold on the Farseer, Benjamin held his Brutal Bow in one hand and drew his combat knife with the other.
“You would defend the witch?” The Chaos Marine sneered, “Does she have you twisted that tightly around her finger?”
“Heretic.” Benjamin growled coldly.
The Chaos Marine released a roar, charging Benjamin.
The Inquisitor attempted to sidestep, but the sheer bulk of the Chaos Marine slammed into his arm and sent him stumbling backwards.
Righting himself, Benjamin rushed forwards and leapt, aiming a kick for the Marine’s chest.
The cruelly serrated dagger flew up and slashed across Benjamin’s left boot, drawing a spray of blood as he tumbled to the ground.
He tried to rise, but a Ceramite-clad foot stepped on his back, snapping two ribs and prompting a cry of agony to tear from the Inquisitor’s lips.
“You’ll die here, loyalist scum, the true revolution begins with your death.”
Seraphos the Bloody raised his demon-axe for the killing blow.
|
