THE LAND SPEEDER banked around the building on the corner of the street, bursting out into the plaza. Gabriel hit the brakes hard and skidded the Typhoon, banking again to bleed some energy as Isador punched the trigger of the missile launcher. The rocket roared out of the turret and spiralled straight into the chest of the monstrous warrior in the centre of the plaza, where it exploded in a shower of flames.
Meanwhile, the Blood Ravens assault bikes poured into the plaza out of the street behind them, each skidding to a standstill in a neat formation across the square, training their front guns on the green eldar figures that flickered with motion behind the structure around the statue of Lloovre Marr. As the bikes opened fire with their twin-linked bolters, battering the barricades with a tirade of explosive shells, the Rhino finally rolled into the plaza, spilling Matiel’s Marines out of the back before it had even stopped moving.
The flames from the missile impact had not abated, but the colossal eldar warrior sprang clear of the inferno that had erupted around its chest. There was hardly even a mark on it as it flipped across the plaza, closing the space between it and the Blood Ravens in a flurry of somersaults. Isador punched the missile launcher again, but the rocket flashed harmlessly over the gigantic eldar and smashed into the statue of Lloovre Marr, blowing it into a crumbled ruin.
With its last flip, the eldar creature reached the Typhoon and brought its flashing blade smoothly down on top of it. Gabriel and Isador dived out of the vehicle as the sword passed straight through it, rupturing its fuel lines and detonating the engine core. As the Blood Ravens rolled for cover at the edge of the plaza, the monstrous eldar creature stood bathing in the flames that ripped out of the wrecked Typhoon.
“In the Emperor’s name,” said Matiel, tumbling into cover next to Isador. “What is that thing?”
“It is a daemon conjured by the treacherous eldar, brother. It is called an avatar,” replied Isador, levelling his force staff at the creature and loosing a javelin of energy directly into its stomach. The blast was enough to attract the avatar’s attention—it turned to face Isador and began to stride in his direction.
Meanwhile, Gabriel was back on his feet and charging at the gigantic creature, his chainsword sputtering in his hand and a chorus of silver voices singing in his ears. Once again, the world was rendered into slow motion as Gabriel pounded across the plaza, his every step apparently accompanied by the symphonic tones of the Astronomican.
The avatar bent its legs, ready to spring forward at Isador, just as Gabriel crashed into it from the side. The two warriors tumbled to the ground, and Isador leapt out of his cover to assist his friend. Sprinting towards Gabriel, he called back over his shoulder to Matiel: “Deal with the barricades!”
Immediately, the Space Marines powered up into the sky, their jump packs flaring and their bolters coughing shells down towards the eldar encampment in the centre of the square. But the green-armoured eldar were fast and nimble, evading much of the fire and returning it in stinging volleys. From his vantage point in the sky, Matiel could see the figure of a robed eldar woman lying down in the middle of the defensive ring, propped up against the ruins of the monument that they appeared to be defending. He pulled a chain of frag-grenades from his belt and lobbed them down towards her.
Meanwhile, Gabriel wrestled with the avatar, struggling to keep the huge creature from bringing his great blade into play. The Blood Raven pummelled the hilt of his chainsword against the avatar’s burning armour, pounding over and over again until the faintest of cracks began to appear. Sheets of blue lightning jousted out of Isador’s staff, as the Librarian stood just clear of the two writhing warriors, launching javelins of power to assist his captain.
Lying on the ground with the Blood Raven on top of it, the avatar bucked and threw Gabriel over his shoulder, away from Isador. In the same movement, it reached for its fallen sword, but a blast from Isador sent the blade skidding out of its reach. As it sprang back up onto its feet, the avatar was pounded from both sides at once—Gabriel launched himself back into the creature’s face while Isador ploughed into its legs with his force staff. A huge explosion shook the ground at the same time as a cluster of grenades exploded behind the barricades. With a shriek of frustration, the avatar crumpled to the ground once again.
Gabriel drove his chainsword into the weakened crack in the avatar’s armour, finally breaking through. A sizzling jet of molten blood spurted out of the hole, spraying Gabriel in the face, making him cry out and reel in pain. As the captain rolled backwards off the avatar, Isador leapt forward into his place, thrusting the tip of his force staff deep into the wound and leaning his entire weight onto it. As the staff sunk deeper into the creature’s chest, Isador closed his eyes and released his rage into the weapon, letting its power cascade down the shaft and explode into a starburst of blue energy inside the eldar warrior.
The explosion threw Isador and Gabriel a hundred metres back through the air, until their flight was broken by the stone of a white building on the fringe of the plaza. They thumped into the wall, and then slid down into heaps at its base. When they looked up, the bloody remains of the avatar were fizzing and hissing all over the flagstones, but Matiel’s Marines were still raining fire on the barricades.
Gabriel was first on his feet. Pausing to offer Isador his hand, Gabriel pulled his friend onto his feet with a nod of admiration, and then sprinted off through the plaza towards the barricades. As he reached them, Matiel crunched to the ground next to him, and Isador skidded to halt at his other shoulder. The other Space Marines had also returned to the ground, and there was no sign of movement on the other side of the barriers.
The three Marines clambered over the barricades and jumped down the other side, where they saw a solitary eldar woman standing before a large pit in the ground, where once the statue of Lloovre Marr had been. She appeared unarmed.
Kill me, if you must, humans, began the eldar in an odd tongue that spoke directly into their minds. Cast my name to the winds, if it pleases you. But you must heed me. Bury again that which lies beneath my feet, for it will he the ruin of us all. I may have been your enemy in this—but we have a greater foe than each other.
Gabriel stared into the farseer’s eyes for a moment, and a torrent of images invaded his mind. Pictures of flames and blood, of the Astronomican itself lost in an inferno of chaos and darkness. Then the eldar looked away, fixing Isador with her stare.
“Do not listen to this alien, Gabriel. We must destroy it,” said Isador, apparently unable to tear his eyes away from those of Macha. His face was suddenly gaunt and pale.
Gabriel was silent for a brief moment. “She knows much, much that we need to learn, old friend.” As he spoke, he peered past the eldar and down into the pit. Its sides were sheer, and at the bottom was a pool of blood, as though it had seeped in to reach its own natural level. Held proud of the blood on a stone plinth was a curved, bejewelled dagger. Was this the key of which Isador had spoken, wondered Gabriel?
Isador was struggling within himself, trying to find his own thoughts in amongst the confusion of images that invaded his head. A familiar voice was whispering into his mind: It lies within your reach now, Librarian—reach out for it—it is yours—only this pathetic farseer can stop you—see how your captain doubts you still…
“What could she offer, except lies and treachery? Do not trust her, Gabriel! Suffer not the alien to live,” added Isador, quoting the motto of the Ordo Xenos Deathwatch kill teams.
“Knowledge is power, Isador—” began Gabriel, but his voice was cut off by a rattle of bolter fire from the Space Marines on the other side of the barricade. The three Blood Ravens turned to see what had drawn the fire, spying a squad of Alpha Legionaries emerging into the plaza from one of the side streets. But then a gasp of agony from the farseer made them all turn back again.
“The key!” cried Macha, pointing down into the pit.
Gabriel and Isador rushed to the side of the pit, flanking the farseer, and stared dow
n. Isador let out a streak of fire from his staff as Gabriel snapped off a flurry of bolter shells, but the figure in the bottom of the pit was gone before the shots hit the pool of blood.
“Who was that, alien? And what did he steal?” hissed Gabriel, turning suddenly and gripping the farseer by the throat. The figure had worn the apparel of a Chaos Sorcerer, and the colour of his armour suggested that he was part of the Alpha Legion. He had taken the dagger and then vanished into one of the walls of the pit, as though there were a hidden tunnel under the plaza.
He took a key. The last step along a long, bloody path.
“A key? A key to what?” asked Gabriel, trying to meet the farseer’s gaze, but it was still fixed on Isador.
To the undoing of us all, human.
“Stop speaking in riddles!” cried Gabriel, shaking her by the neck and lifting her slight form clear off the ground.
He stole a key, a key to the shadows of this world, to the evil horrors that lie within.
“Tell me what the key does, alien, or I will kill you,” said Gabriel, increasingly exasperated.
You do not know already? Your inquisitor keeps you on a very short lease. He knows. Ask him.
Gabriel was stunned into silence, unable to see how Toth could be involved in any of this, and yet intuitively sure that the eldar witch was telling the truth.
He has known since he arrived. Or, should I say, since long before he came to Tartarus. His kind have been before—they have never left. Did you not find it all too convenient that he appeared from nowhere and landed just on the cusp of a warp storm? Human, you are caught in events and machinations beyond your reckoning. But we can help one another—stop the forces of Chaos succeeding…
“Your people have fought well, alien,” said Gabriel, releasing his grip on the farseer’s throat, his mind racing. “And I can see that we may share some common goals here. But you cannot ask me for trust, and I cannot risk betrayal. I will not be responsible for the loss of any more unnecessary lives—and you have cost enough of those already. You should have asked for an alliance before you squandered your position of strength, then I may have taken you seriously. Now, you have wasted enough of my time.”
Gabriel drew his bolt pistol and levelled it at the farseer’s head. In that instant, she finally tore her eyes away from Isador and fixed them on Gabriel, a flood of compassion pouring out of them, touching his very soul. But a searing pain in his shoulder yanked him out of his reverie, and he spun to find the source of the shot, snatching his bolt pistol around in a sudden movement. A Warp Spider blinked out of existence just as he caught sight of it.
Turning back to the farseer, Gabriel saw the Warp Spider standing beside her, with his death spinner pointed straight at his face. Gabriel narrowed his eyes as Isador and Matiel hesitated about taking their shots—unwilling to risk their captain’s life.
The farseer held up her hand, placing it onto the barrel cluster of the death spinner, apparently in a signal not to fire.
Your enemies have taken up a position in the Dannan sector of the city. They will not remain there long. We are too weak to fight them, and far too weak to confront that which they seek to unleash—you have seen to that, human.
With that, the Warp Spider and the farseer simply vanished, leaving Gabriel with doubts, questions and uncertainties spiralling in his head.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
A MAN STUMBLED up the steps of the Temple of Dannan, tripping and falling flat onto his face as he reached the top. His head crashed down against a massive, acid-green boot, harder than the rockcrete on which it stood. As he lifted his face off the foot, a thin trickle of blood oozed from his temple, running unevenly over his already disfigured face. The man looked like a half-melted wax figurine, with the flesh on the right-hand side of his body distended into hideous folds. He was panting with excitement as he finally lifted his gaze to meet the eyes of the Chaos Lord, who stood magnificently at the top of the steps, surveying the throng of cultists that had gathered in the precinct since his arrival less than an hour earlier.
“M-my… my lord,” stuttered the cultist, still prostrated awkwardly on the ground, with blood bubbling out of his mouth. The Marines of the false-Emperor approach from the south.”
Lord Bale looked down at the cultist for a moment, almost acknowledging him, then turned away to address Sindri, who stood next to him in the doorway to the temple. Behind them, in the interior of the chapel, the faint sound of screams pulsed rhythmically.
“Sorcerer, how long before the ceremony is completed? It would not do for the Blood Ravens to catch us before we are ready for them,” asked Bale, still unwilling to acknowledge that Sindri’s plans appeared to be panning out exactly as he foresaw.
“Bale,” said Sindri, smoothly, using the Chaos Lord’s name in a simple and unadorned way. “These flies are but minor annoyances. We have the key, and we have ample bodies here,” he said, indicating the mass of cultists in the temple precinct. “If necessary, we can imprison the Blood Ravens behind a wall of corpses while we finish the ceremony—and then, afterwards, we will not have to think about them at all.”
Bale looked at the sorcerer, and he could see the confidence flowing out of him. This was the first Marine in decades to speak his name so directly and not feel the icy pain of his scythe through their necks. The Chaos Lord could not bring himself to speak in response—he ground his teeth together in irritation, hating Sindri’s success, but eager to reap the rewards of the ceremony.
“Events have proven my words true, have they not,” continued Sindri with a smug, rhetorical flourish. “We are in no danger—”
“Events have proven you fortunate, sorcerer,” interjected Bale, unable to hold his tongue any longer. The Blood Ravens are not to be underestimated—they made short work of your precious orks, and they have already proven themselves against the cursed eldar. To what do we owe your most recent bout of nauseous optimism concerning our own safety?”
“I have reason to believe,” replied Sindri, his voice hissing with serpentine sibilance, “that we have a new ally in their camp. An individual more than ready to betray the Blood Ravens.”
Again, Bale ground his bladed teeth together as Sindri appeared ready for his attack once more. One day, the sorcerer would slip up and Bale would make sure that he was there to enjoy it.
“Very well,” muttered the Chaos Lord, waving his hand dismissively. “Prepare for what is to come… and dispose of this cretinous fool.” Bale kicked casually with his foot, cracking the cultist in the face and shattering his jaw.
“W…why? M… my lord,” spluttered the cultist, spitting blood and breathing roughly to suppress his screams. “H-how have I failed you?”
But Bale was already deaf to his words, and instead Sindri stooped down and picked him up by his hair. “You brought unwelcome news to his lordship. You will not make this mistake again,” said Sindri, himself an expert in never delivering bad news to Bale. He dropped the cultist back onto the flagstones, then grabbed a fistful of his hair again and dragged the hapless fool into the dark interior of the temple, the shrieks of sacrificial victims echoing louder as they entered the vaulted space.
THE BOLTER SHELL punched into Matiel’s jump pack as he roared around the street corner in pursuit of the squadron of Alpha Legionaries. The pack whined in resistance as its power started to fail, and then sputterings of smoke started to cough out of the puncture. Matiel lost altitude rapidly, and the stabilisers failed almost instantly, flipping the sergeant onto his side and blasting him across the street towards the buildings on the other side. The rest of his squadron rocketed after him, fighting against the centrifugal forces as they flew round the corner in his wake.
The Chaos Marines had formed a temporary firing line across the street, and a sheet of fire erupted from them as the Space Marines rounded the bend. The volley of fire stripped through the Blood Ravens formation, bolter shells punching into armour and pinging past to impact against the buildings beyond.
&nbs
p; Meanwhile, Matiel smashed into a building at the side of the street, slumping down its face until he crunched into the road at its base. His jump pack was still spitting gouts of fire, throwing him off balance as he struggled to his feet. He clicked the release, and the pack leapt from his back, spiralling into the air at the head of a whirling trail of black smoke. It pitched suddenly, zig-zagging down the narrow street, and then crashing into a building just ahead of the Alpha Legionaries. The explosion shook the building, dislodging a rain of masonry down onto the Chaos Marines.
The rest of the Space Marines thumped to the ground, rolling into the cover of doorways and behind abandoned vehicles. They had not expected the Alpha Legionaries to end their retreat so abruptly, and the firing line had taken them by surprise. Now a disciplined bank of fire erupted out of the Chaos line, strafing down the road towards the Blood Ravens. Matiel’s squad was pinned.
The sound of heavy footfalls pounding through the adjoining streets made Matiel look round, checking behind his own squad in case he had been led into an ambush. But he was greeted with the magnificent sight of a squadron of Blood Ravens Terminators storming into the street, with Tanthius in their heart, his storm bolter a blaze of firepower.
The line of Alpha Legionaries was broken almost immediately as the awesome power of a Terminator squadron bore down on it, pummelling it with shells and gouts of flame. Tanthius himself squeezed off a couple of cyclone rockets that zipped along the street ahead of his squad, exploding into the now disorganised clutch of Chaos Marines. Matiel waved a signal to his assault squad, and the Marines were immediately up onto their feet, joining the charge of the Terminators, adding salvoes of fire from their bolters.
Warhammer 40K - [Dawn of War 01] - Dawn of War Page 23