Shroud of Night
Page 17
As Kassar jogged along the corridor he watched the runes on his auto-senses disperse, his Harrow splitting up while Khârn and his warriors surged closer. Skaryth went with Krowl and Syxx, Phaek’or with Haltheus, Thelgh and A’khassor with Phalk’ir, D’sakh with Skarle and Kyphas.
‘We’ll make it, Kassar,’ said Makhor. ‘It’s a solid plan, if a risky one. Skaryth and Krowl have the safest route.’
‘I know,’ said Kassar. ‘It’s us I’m worried for. This route is slow, we’ll be close for time.’
Makhor laughed mirthlessly.
‘Better this than stay and meet the blood worshippers.’
The two Unsung had now reached the end of the corridor. The Khornate forces could be heard getting closer, axes revving, boots pounding the decking. Kassar and Makhor took hold of the floor hatch at the corridor’s end and, muscles straining, wrenched it open. The hatch swung wide, Makhor catching it before it could slam against the deck. Below, a dark, echoing pipeline could be seen stretching away along the underside of the train.
Kassar dropped down through the hatch. As he did so, a series of blasts shook the carriage, causing the pipe to creak and shudder alarmingly. Travelling at such speeds, with the mag-repulsor field of the train pounding the ground below, if their weight proved too much and tore the pipe loose it could prove fatal.
‘Hurry, Kassar,’ urged Makhor, lowering himself in behind Kassar, then pulling the hatch shut with a clang. ‘They’re in the carriage.’
‘Then let us waste no time,’ said Kassar, beginning to crawl, arm over arm, into the darkness.
‘At least it isn’t swimming,’ said Makhor. ‘And if it gets us clear then I may revise my decision to kill Skaryth when I next see him. Freedom had better be worth all this.’
‘It’s the only thing that is,’ said Kassar.
Kassar’s chron read eleven minutes to the hub when he and Makhor cut their way out of the empty fuel bowser. Slipping from concealment, they narrowly avoided a band of Khorne Berzerkers who pounded past on a lower walkway, bellowing war cries.
Following their runes, Kassar and Makhor clambered out through a webwork of pipes and onto an outer gantry that ran along the side of several carriages in a row. Free of entanglement they ran, heads down into the howling wind, conscious of the seconds ticking away. As they crossed a transit bridge, they heard shouts below them.
Glancing down, Kassar saw a mob of cultists pointing frantically in their direction, waving blades. Bullets started to whine around him, ricocheting off the gantry.
‘No time for subtlety now,’ said Makhor. ‘We just have to stay ahead of them.’
‘Agreed,’ said Kassar, legs and arms pumping as he sprinted along the gantry. Ahead, a ladder led up to the higher walkways. He clambered up it several rungs at a time, Makhor on his heels.
‘Unsung,’ he voxed. ‘We’re detected. Coming to you at speed, enemies close behind. Report.’
‘In position,’ said Skaryth. ‘Haltheus was right, the foremost carriage was mostly empty. Nothing living in here now but us.’
‘We’re with them,’ said A’khassor.
‘At the couplings and setting up,’ said Haltheus. ‘Phaek’or’s standing guard. There’s a lot of machinery here, Kassar. I’ll do what I can, but I can’t promise a neat separation.’
‘Any sort of separation is acceptable at this point,’ said Kassar, vaulting a tangle of pipes and charging along a walkway. The shouts of cultists and the vox-amplified roars of Berzerkers could be heard close behind.
‘We’re almost at the rendezvous,’ voxed D’sakh. ‘Do you need us to turn back and provide support, Kassar?’
‘Negative, stick to the plan,’ said Kassar. ‘We’ll make it.’
Kassar kicked through a doorway into a crew compartment, and crashed straight into a Berzerker coming the other way. The Khorne worshipper bellowed a battle cry, that turned into a bloody gurgle as Hexling slid point-first through his throat. Sheathing his knife, Makhor snatched up the warrior’s fallen chainaxe and revved it experimentally.
‘Cumbersome,’ he said. ‘But more use than a knife against power armour.’
They ran on, bursting from the crew compartment onto another walkway, then another ladder, another tangle of pipes. From behind them came an echoing roar, as of some rampaging daemon on the warpath. Kassar looked back, and his blood ran cold as he saw the distant but unmistakable figure of Khârn pursuing them. The Betrayer reached the end of a carriage and leapt, straight through the screaming headwind and onto the one beyond. He kept running, closing the gap by the moment.
Kassar kept running.
At last they burst through a hatch and saw Haltheus and Phaek’or waiting for them at the rear of the next carriage. A single transit bridge remained to cross the gap. Any others had been reduced to smouldering stumps. Kassar and Makhor dashed across the bridge, over the yawning gulf and the crackling lightnings of the grav tethers. As they did, Phaek’or’s heavy bolter thumped to life, spitting shells back the way they had come. Cultists burst in bloody sprays as fist-sized shells blew them apart. The rest dived back into the cover of the carriage.
‘Sever that last walkway, will you?’ asked Haltheus, hunched over the explosives that he was rigging to the grav tethers. Kassar swung Hexling and, in a single powerful blow, scythed through the end of the transit bridge. It sagged under its own weight, clipped the energies of the grav tethers, and was ripped away and pummelled beneath the train.
‘That will slow them down,’ said Haltheus.
‘Not all of them,’ said Kassar. ‘The Betrayer was not far behind us. Work quickly.’
‘I’m doing what I can,’ said Haltheus. ‘I’m not a Techmarine, Kassar.’
‘But you are an expert in blowing things up, and you’re the only hope we have,’ said Kassar. ‘So get it done.’
Leaving Phaek’or and Makhor to cover Haltheus, Kassar ducked through another hatch into the last carriage. As at the rear of the train, this was a garrison car, though thankfully this one had not been used to house a daemonic monstrosity. Kassar’s brothers waited at its far end, guns pointed at the bulkhead door that led through to the engine. He noted that Thelgh’s armour had a ragged new rent on one side of the torso, clotted blood still drying around it. Otherwise the Harrow looked intact.
‘D’sakh, A’khassor, get back there and help Phaek’or and Makhor cover Haltheus. Keep the enemy off him until the bomb is ready.’
Vox pips answered, the two warriors checking their weapons and hastening away. Kassar felt the maglev shift beneath him, its floor angling slowly upwards. They were climbing the slope of the ocean floor, approaching the submerged foot of Hive Endurance.
Not long now.
‘The rest of you on me,’ he said. ‘Krowl, the door.’
Krowl swung a thunderous punch into the engine bulkhead, denting the doors. Lubricant sprayed. Sparks drizzled. Krowl rumbled deep in his chest and swung again, smashing the doors inwards with a loud crash.
Kassar swept past him, bolter up, the Unsung on his heels.
He advanced between thundering pistons and roaring boilers, crackling electrodes and chuntering parchment-feeds. Running up a ramp onto the control deck, he was caught amidst a sudden hail of autogun fire. Snarling, Kassar weathered the storm and launched himself into the knot of cultists who had been left to guard the engine. His sword swung in slicing arcs. His warriors piled into the fight alongside him, using blades and fists to avoid damaging anything crucial. Blood splattered the servitor train crew, wired obliviously into their podiums and working their controls.
In seconds, the cultists were dead and the control deck was theirs. The chron read three minutes and nine seconds.
‘Haltheus,’ barked Kassar. ‘We have the engine. Tell me you’re ready.’
‘Almost,’ said Haltheus through gritted teeth. ‘I just need to–’
Over the vox, a heavy bolter roared.
‘Haltheus, if Khârn gets onto this carriage we’re all dead,’ shouted Kyphas. ‘Just blow it now!’
‘Detonating,’ said Haltheus.
For several, torturous seconds they heard nothing. Around them, the engine’s thunder changed pitch as its crew began their breaking rituals.
‘Detonation fail,’ voxed Haltheus angrily. ‘I didn’t have time… To the warp with it, it’s failed. Kassar, we’re still attached.’
‘He’s jumping the gap!’ shouted D’sakh. ‘Kassar, Khârn just leapt right over us. He’s on the carriage roof.’
‘We need to get back to them,’ urged Phalk’ir. ‘They can’t face that monster alone.’
‘We’re still attached, and we’re two and a half minutes out,’ said Kyphas. ‘If we don’t do something to break free, we’re all dead. We’ll be caught between the defenders and the Khorne worshippers.’
They heard a throaty sawing sound, furious and ominous, echoing from beyond the ruptured bulkhead.
‘He’s cutting his way into the carriage,’ said Skaryth. ‘He’s between us and the others.’
Kassar’s mind spun furiously. Khârn was mere moments from cornering them in the engine. For a moment he was tempted to believe his more superstitious brothers, that the Dark Gods were punishing them for refusing to kneel. The plan was in tatters, and Kassar was running out of time to formulate a new one. His eyes roved the engine intently, absorbing every iota of detail, looking for an edge, a trick to get them out alive.
‘Berzerkers,’ barked Phaek’or over the thump of his heavy bolter. ‘They’re trying to jump the – A’khassor, there. He’s used the end of the transit bridge.’
‘I see him,’ said A’khassor, and a bolter roared.
‘Another one above,’ called Makhor, no cypher. ‘And another. Come on, you mindless fanatics.’ Behind his words came the throaty rev of a chainaxe.
From the garrison car came a loud clang, followed by the heavy impact of boots meeting decking.
‘Blood for the Blood God!’ roared Khârn. ‘Your skulls belong to Khorne!’ Syxx quailed at the monstrous voice, and even the Unsung recoiled instinctively.
In that instant, Kassar finally spotted their edge. It was desperate, costly, but it was all they had.
‘Cover the bulkhead,’ he barked, his warriors immediately obeying. ‘Drive him back if he comes through. Haltheus, can you reach us?’
‘They’re jumping across the broken bridges,’ said Haltheus, his voice punctuated by grunts of exertion as he fought. ‘They’re all over us, Kassar. And Khârn is between us and you. No, we can’t reach you.’
‘Acknowledged,’ voxed Kassar, voice cold and steady as he directed his channel to Haltheus, D’sakh, Makhor, Phaek’or and A’khassor. ‘I’m sorry for this, brothers. If you survive, make for rendezvous point beta. We’ll wait if we can.’
D’sakh paused for a split second before responding.
‘Understood. Good fortune, Kassar.’
‘We make our own fortune, brother,’ Kassar replied. ‘For the primarchs and the Harrow. We’ll see you at point beta.’
The roar of gunfire filled the control deck as the Betrayer charged. Bolts, sniper rounds and krak grenades hammered him in a storm, driving him back but doing little to injure him.
Kassar spun, raised his bolter, and blew out the skulls of the crew servitors in quick succession. He lacked Haltheus’ knowledge of mechanisms, but the controls of the maglev were insultingly simple. Identifying the heavy brass levers that governed the engine’s speed, he ripped away dead servitor hands and thrust the levers forward as far as they would go. Numerals spiralled upwards and warning chimes sounded. Around them, the engine’s generators roared like enraged daemons.
The deck lurched beneath Kassar’s feet, staggering him as the train, which had been slowing for arrival, put on a sudden surge of speed.
‘Kassar,’ shouted Phalk’ir. ‘What are you doing? We can’t hold him back.’
‘He’s going to crash the train into the hub!’ said Kyphas. ‘It’ll hit like a missile.’
Khârn was coming at them again, shrugging off direct hits, his flesh bloody and his armour scorched. His plasma pistol spat incandescent bolts, and Kyphas threw himself sideways to avoid them. A shot blew out a section of the train’s armourglass windscreen, and a shard-filled gale screamed around them.
‘Up!’ shouted Kassar. ‘Up to the top deck. Look at the signs, there’s a saviour chamber up there!’
Firing off a last volley, the rest of the Harrow made for the upper deck, leaving Kassar at the head of the ramp. Phalk’ir stayed by him, the two of them firing their bolters at Khârn.
‘What about the others?’ said Phal’kir. ‘You can’t just leave them to die.’
‘They know the crash is coming. They have the rendezvous coordinates. Phalk’ir, move!’
Khârn came at them with a furious roar. The Unsung had battered him with their firepower, but had achieved little more than to enrage him.
The Betrayer swung Gorechild in a mighty arc, and Kassar threw himself backwards. Phalk’ir was slower, diving aside at the last moment. Khârn’s axe hewed through his shoulder guard in a spray of blood, and hacked one of the exchanger vents from his backpack.
Kassar hit the decking and kicked out, trying to swipe Khârn’s legs from beneath him. He might as well have kicked a Dreadnought. Pain exploded up his leg as it met the Betrayer’s armoured shin. Khârn ignored him, following Phalk’ir, swinging Gorechild up for a killing blow.
Warning lumen flashed red and emergency klaxons howled as the maglev crested the rise in the tunnel and hurtled towards the hub. It gave a titanic lurch, almost slewing off its rail, and Khârn staggered.
Seizing his chance, Phalk’ir scrambled to his feet and fled, dashing up the ramp towards the upper deck. At the same time, Kassar launched himself back to his feet and drove his blade at Khârn’s back with all his might.
The Betrayer spun on his heel, faster than thought, parrying the blow with his vambrace. Hexling’s point scythed through Khârn’s side in a shower of gore then tore free again, leaving a smouldering gash below his ribs.
‘Kassar,’ shouted Skaryth from above. ‘Twenty seconds! Hurry!’
‘Just seal the chamber,’ yelled Kassar, backpedalling furiously as Gorechild swung at him. Churning teeth cut the air an inch before his faceplate. ‘Save the cultist. Get that ship and make this worth it!’
Gorechild came at him again, a buzzing terror that promised instant death. He threw himself aside, the axe chewing into a console in an explosion of sparks.
From above came the sound of the saviour chamber’s bulkhead slamming shut.
Kassar blocked another swing from Khârn’s axe, Hexling shrieking with pain in his mind. Khârn swung again, again, again. The blows came at a blistering pace, jarring the muscles in his arms. Kassar couldn’t think about offence, couldn’t consider finding somewhere to survive the crash, couldn’t even worry about the sickening view through the broken windscreen as the end of the rail raced up to meet them.
He caught a fleeting impression of dashing figures, strobing lights, gunfire flaying the engine with desperate intensity, but Gorechild was all he could think about.
Shots struck the engine, blowing out its remaining armourglass, tearing through its hull and ripping open generators. Flames billowed around them. Still Khârn pressed his attack, hideously single-minded.
‘Your skull will make a worthy offering,’ he snarled.
Kassar cried out in agony as Gorechild swept around again and carved through his chest in a shocking explosion of blood. Even as he staggered backwards, the axe reversed its swing and scythed through his arm at the elbow. Mortis clanged to the deck, still clutch
ed in Kassar’s hand.
Kassar crashed down on his back, blood gushing from the killing wound in his chest, the severed stump of his arm. Weakly, he tried to raise Hexling, but the blade weighed a hundred pounds. It wavered above his chest, then clanged down on him, useless.
‘Now you die for the glory of Khorne!’ bellowed Khârn.
Behind him, the pandemonium of the hub raced up to meet them.
‘You… first,’ coughed Kassar, then the train slammed into the Hive Endurance rail hub at one hundred and fifty miles per hour, and fire swallowed Kassar’s world.
Her blade sang through the air, holy light dancing in its wake. It cut through tainted armour and poisoned flesh. It tore the rotted soul from her enemy, and cast it into the warp. There would be no reward for these sinners beyond the veil. Only damnation, and the dismal wages their treachery had earned them.
Another one came at her, roaring with fury. Serene, she disarmed him with a flick of her wrist, then spun and struck off his head. With a thought, the Saint triggered her ornate jump pack and soared aloft, alighting upon a jutting gargoyle.
She surveyed the battle, and found it good.
They fought at the mouth of the Triumphus Processional, quarter of a mile back from the breach torn by the traitor spacecraft. Red-armoured heretics and clattering daemon engines hurled themselves against several breaches in the barricades, but the weight of Imperial fire was holding them at bay.
She, Captain Dysorian and a Tsadrekhan militia colonel named Hespus were coordinating the ongoing defence, and they were meeting with success. The tolling bell of battle had swung away from the Emperor’s servants, yet now it was swinging back with every Chaos worshipper that fell.
The Saint knew fighting raged on other levels, above and below this one, and that the renegades were forcing their way deeper into the city. She knew, also, that their efforts would not suffice. They would cause suffering, misery and death in great measure. They would send many a martyr to sit at the Emperor’s table.