Daemon World
Page 21
The headhunters joined him as Ss’ll Sh’Karr ripped through the dome, toppling the monumental statues of living flesh and smashing the works of sensual arts that radiated Slaanesh’s power.
As the waves of warriors charged into the city on foot, they were joined by a huge shoal of daemons, following Ss’ll Sh’Karr against the defences of the city. They clambered onto the wide avenues suspended between the towers and tore through the pleasure-caverns. Legionaries were moved in their thousands to form massive barriers of bodies at the key intersections, so the tide of warriors and daemons crashed against them and a hundred bloody, savage, face-to-face battles erupted.
A million legends were written in the first few hours of the battle, about towering daemons who scattered dozens of men aside with a single swipe, and soldiers who performed acts of insane bravery on both sides. There was cowardice, too, and madness, and flashes of brilliance that turned defeat into victory, incompetence that saw legions of men killed like cattle, savagery and the beauty of killing. There was, however, no mercy.
Golgoth ran through the broken ruin of men’s bodies and ducked down beside the entrance to the next tower. Behind him stretched a wide thoroughfare suspended on silver chains hundreds of metres above the waves, now piled with broken corpses. There were half-a-dozen such miniature battlefields behind them now, for Golgoth had led a growing spearhead of warriors deep into the city, heading straight for the imposing slab of the keep. The losses they had suffered were made up by warriors from other waves they picked up as they charged from tower to tower, carving their way through the defenders.
This last knot of legionaries had been tough, determined veterans formed around a formidable commander an armspan taller than the rest. Golgoth had taken the giant himself and his brother warriors had pitched the legionaries off the edge. The warriors in the rear were finishing off the wounded as Golgoth peered into the gloom beyond the doorway at the end of the thoroughfare.
The place was deserted. The chamber within the next tower was divided by standing screens painted with sinister designs that seemed to writhe. Embroidered cushions were piled high on the floor and elaborate hookahs lay smashed. The sounds of battle filtered through the banners hung around the walls, silver threads glinting in the light oozing in shafts from holes in the high ceiling.
Golgoth waved forward Kyarados, a thin brittle-looking woman whose speed and cruelty made her one of the most dangerous of the Serpent warriors. She had joined Golgoth’s spearhead shortly after they broken through the defences of the first tower and afterwards had killed at a rate almost equal to that of Golgoth himself.
“Kyarados, take six men and hold this entrance.”
Kyarados nodded and began barking names at the crowd of warriors who had made their way across the gore-slicked thoroughfare.
“The rest of you,” said Golgoth, “follow me.”
He led them into the chamber, many of them choking on the heavy, thick scents that hung in the air like smoke. He yelled at them to spread out and find a way forward—one of the Emerald Sword called back that there was a spiral staircase leading down to a larger chamber below, from which sounds of vicious combat could be heard.
“Good man,” said Golgoth. “Is there anything alive in here?”
Swords were shoved through upholstery and banners were torn down. The revellers, wisely, had fled. “Follow me!”
There was a sudden warning cry from Kyarados. Golgoth just had time to see her diving in through the doorway when a deafening peal of explosions tore through the curved wall of the chamber, blasting shards of masonry everywhere. Sharp flashes of flame erupted all across the upholstered floor, throwing men aside, kicking up clouds of shredded fabric. Great holes were blasted clean through the walls and the mid-morning light streamed in, shining off the wet remains of those who had been blown apart.
Golgoth jumped to his feet and sprinted to see what had attacked them. He spotted a dark shape wheeling outside, then another, just as lances of fire burst into the chamber through the opposite wall.
“Take cover!” someone yelled unnecessarily as another volley of explosions were stitched across the inside of the chamber. Golgoth grabbed the edge of one of the holes in the wall, leaning out to see their attackers.
They were massive flying monsters, not quite giant birds or huge bats, not dragons or winged daemons. They were covered in patchy yellowing skin that was peeling from ichor-splattered pale blue bodies, and their eyes were slitted triangles of malice.
Guns on the tips of their wings and mounted beneath their chins chattered, and bright flashes of explosions rattled along the towers and walkways. The thoroughfare Golgoth had just crossed splintered and fractured, the silver tendons snapping as half of it rolled to one side and the rest gave way completely.
Suddenly, as if they had spotted something the three flying beasts banked sharply with a roar and dropped down towards the blood ocean below.
Golgoth didn’t know that the monsters were Thunderhawks of the Violators Chapter of Chaos Space Marines. But leaning out over the dizzying drop beneath him, he could guess what they had seen. Far below, kicking up a foaming pink fountain of blood, was Ss’ll Sh’Karr.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The stench of blood was overpowering. Lady Charybdia had to drag her senses far, far down to the level of mere men, otherwise she would have passed out. The keep was dull around her—the songs of imprisoned spirits were no more than echoes and she couldn’t tell that the blood-warm walls of the tower chamber were any more than stone.
It was a small place, perched high on one of the keep’s many towers, a cylinder of stone where an array of crystal prisons hung like a massive chandelier. Each polished, fist-sized crystal contained some heretic or rebel, captured and sentenced to imprisonment here where their emotions were magnified for Lady Charybdia’s pleasure. When the city was at peace she would climb the spiral stairs to the chamber so she could feel their betrayal and hear their remorse, tinged with loneliness and despair. But now, with such discord drowning the city, even those simple pleasures were denied her.
She looked down from the arched window. Concentric circles of defences stood proud around the keep, and Lady Charybdia could see the hulking forms of the Violators on the walls, in full battle-array. Beyond them the city was ravaged—a foul red-black stain where there should be emptiness, knots of distant fighters struggling at every intersection, banners being torn from the temples and whole towers collapsing slowly into the ocean of blood. She could hear steel against steel and the ragings of daemons. The electric tang in the air told her that daemonettes, and worse besides, had been summoned to every altar to aid in the defence. But there were other daemons, too—the grotesque, gibbering thug-daemons that sang the praises of the Blood God.
Ss’ll Sh’Karr was out there, rampaging at will, befouling the sacred city. Unwashed barbarians were doing the same—she had heard tell of fur-clad mountain men and bronzed jungle hunters fighting side by side, of primitive hedge-wizards casting crude spells of destruction and nomad horsemen galloping up the walls. It was as if someone had skimmed off all the scum of Torvendis and poured it into her city.
Lady Charybdia spat. Disgust filled her. How dare they destroy such beauty? Nothing sentient could do such a thing. The attacking army was composed of little more than animals, with matted hair and stinking sweat, mindless beasts who knew nothing of beauty and grace. None of them had known Slaanesh’s sacred pleasures. None of them knew what it meant to worship truly, to give their whole selves over to a worthy god. This whole city was a temple to Slaanesh—they knew nothing of the sacredness of the ground they befouled.
There was a crackling and spitting behind her as a tiny ball of blackness winked into existence, hanging in the air. A message-spell, such as she entrusted only to her most valuable servants.
“My lady?” came a deep, metallic voice, distorted as though from a distance.
“Commander Demetrius?”
“We have him, my lady.”
“Good. Then kill him.”
The message-spell ended and the point of blackness vanished. At least something good will come of this, Lady Charybdia told herself. At least I will know it was on my word that Ss’ll Sh’Karr was killed for the last time.
“Open!” yelled Commander Demetrius, and the belly of the Thunderhawk gunship split open like a seed pod. The city whirled beneath, dizzying towers and clouded sky alternating with the swirling blood, as the noisome air was sucked out of the passenger hold and replaced by a howling wind.
The noise was vast, air rushing through the hold mixed with stuttering explosions from the gun-ship’s cannon. Commander Demetrius’ eyes peered through the dreadnought’s ocular sensors and picked out a sudden ripple of grey flesh shot through with greasy, smoking machinery.
Not that he needed to see. His mutated nervous system could feel the Blood God’s taint all around. Sh’Karr was in the blood ocean right below them.
“On my mark!” yelled Demetrius over the vox. “The landing zone is the Temple Precinct of Opulence Inflamed!” He jabbed his whip-taloned arm towards a circle of purple-streaked stone sweeping by beneath them, supported on a column above the blood surface like a huge stone mushroom. “Mobile fire pattern and keep your wits about you, we’ll lure him up!”
His vision strobed as acknowledgement runes flashed on the back of his eye. His sergeants were ready.
“Drop!” ordered Demetrius and suddenly the grav-couch restrains were disengaged, dropping the thirty Space Marines packed into the Thunderhawk straight down. Their jump packs ignited as one, slowing their descent and giving them control over where they fell. Demetrius himself didn’t bother—his sarcophagus split open and he angled the thick metal plates like fins, guiding his massive metal body as it fell.
His skin was open to the rushing air. It pulled at his exposed nerve endings, sending a thrill of pain through his broken body. It was like plunging into an ocean of razor blades. It was for experiences like this that Demetrius held Slaanesh above all other gods—but it would be just a taste of true sensation before the killing began.
Demetrius slammed into the sacred precinct, smashing a crater in the stone around him. The shock absorbers of the dreadnought’s legs deadened the impact and in an instant Demetrius was battle-ready, assault cannon scanning for targets, sarcophagus closing around him like the carapace of a beetle.
The precinct was circular, and complex diagrams were etched in white on the black, purple-shot surface. A cluster of sacred buildings stood in the centre—several temples to minor aspects of Slaanesh, a life-torch like a huge brazier where sacrifices were immolated, a statue of Arguleon Veq and attendant shrine. There were no worshippers here now, though. A few legionaries were taking shelter amongst the buildings, firing paltry volleys of arrows at the tribesmen clambering over the far side of the stone disc.
Demetrius fired a salvo from his assault cannon, rejoicing inwardly at the feel of hot shrapnel bursting from the many barrels. Explosions stitched along the platform edge and several southern barbarians were burst apart by the cannon fire. Violators were already landing all around Demetrius, chainblades drawn, snapping off bolt pistol shots at the invaders.
Demetrius left the warriors for his men to deal with. He stomped towards the nearest edge of the precinct platform, looking down at the blood ocean that churned beneath it.
Where was he? Where was the daemon?
There! Looping in and out of the blood, swimming at supernatural speed, leading a shoal of his lesser daemons. One of the Thunderhawks swooped low and kicked up fountains of blood with cannon fire—and with a sudden roar Ss’ll Sh’Karr leapt from the water like a sea monster, massive mechanical wings thrusting him from the blood.
His head was a fanged bronze gargoyle’s mask, and those huge jaws slammed shut on one of the Thunderhawks wings. Demetrius could hear the shriek from where he stood as the wing came away in a fountain of fuel and ichor. The Thunderhawk banked insanely, flipped, and spiralled towards the platform.
It overshot Demetrius and ploughed into the precinct in a shower of gore, skidding on its torn belly and careering into the cluster of temples. The monumental statue of Veq was toppled like a great tree. A fuel tank ignited and a blossom of flame erupted.
Violators sprinted from the wreckage, ignoring the flames that wreathed their armour. Many survived. Many died. Ss’ll Sh’Karr, Demetrius vowed, would pay for every death with a hundred deaths of his own.
Demetrius swivelled his chassis and blasted a volley of assault cannon shells at Ss’ll Sh’Karr, who was clambering up the side of a nearby tower. Shots stitched around the daemon prince, bursting against its flesh and the pulsing machinery. The arriving Violators were at Demetrius’ side, and Demetrius heard Haggin yelling for disciplined fire—those Violators armed with bolt guns or other longer-ranged weapons opened fire at Sh’Karr, spattering his hide with small weapons fire. A missile launcher barked and a trail of smoke led to an explosion just above Sh’Karr. The daemon prince’s metal head turned towards the precinct, and the baleful fiery eyes focused on the Violators forming ranks around Demetrius.
Ss’ll Sh’Karr leapt off the tower and plunged back into the blood. Ripples carved through the water towards the precinct, scattering bobbing corpses.
“We have him!” voxed Demetrius. Above him, the third Thunderhawk was swooping low, belly open, to deliver the last payload of Violators. “Brothers, prepare for countercharge!”
Chaos Marines were forming up behind their commander. Demetrius’ own neuro-lashes were charged and buzzing.
Demetrius’ ocular sensors scanned the surface of the blood just beneath the lip of the stone platform. The ripples were gone—Sh’Karr had dived deep. He calculated the daemon prince would leap when he emerged, one kick bringing him up over the edge and onto the platform, right into the middle of the Violators…
There was a thunderous sound of breaking stone. The platform cracked and a huge section of it was raised up, spilling Traitor Marines off their feet. Another, and it was split apart entirely, Sh’Karr’s metal head breaking through and his talons hauling him up.
The whole platform tilted. Demetrius kept his footing, as did most of the Chaos Marines, but Sh’Karr’s huge metallic beak snapped and Demetrius saw armoured limbs severed. Every bolt pistol let fly at the daemon prince as he hauled himself up through the broken platform, the bolts blowing chunks from his flesh and raining down boiling daemon blood and spatters of oil as he lunged at Koivas’ warband.
They had him at bay. Now it was time for the kill.
Demetrius stomped forward, assault cannon barrel red hot as he sprayed shells at Sh’Karr. He lashed out with his other arm and the barbed whips tore deep into the daemon’s thigh, carving right through the muscles, exposing glinting brass bones through rents that rained gore.
Sh’Karr bellowed in pain and swiped down with a taloned paw. Demetrius met it with his own whip-fingered hand, deflecting the force of the blow and ducking beneath Sh’Karr’s reach. He was blasting away into the daemon’s torso at point-blank range, lashing out at his leg again.
The whips twined around Sh’Karr’s ankle and tightened, biting through the muscle. Demetrius dug a foot into the stone and the servos of his legs screamed as he pulled as hard as his dreadnought’s body would allow. The power plant mounted on the body’s back glowed red-hot as its reactors pumped every last scrap of energy. The whips bit against the bone—but it was not bone, Demetrius realised now, for Sh’Karr’s entire skeleton seemed to be made of hot brass and steel.
The weight of gunfire battered Sh’Karr like a gale. His skin was puckered with bullet wounds and the membranes of his wings were in tatters. Chunks of daemonic flesh flew everywhere. The beast howled and, as Demetrius pulled its monstrous body toppled, crashing slowly to the floor of the platform.
Violators gunned their jump packs and leapt onto the huge heaving form, hacking with their chainswords like woodsmen chopping up a fallen tree.
The brazen skull bent and fractured. Writhing metal mandibles splintered. Flame glared from the sockets and Sh’Karr bellowed in pain. Blood and meat was still raining down, kicked up by the chainblades of the Violators and the bolters still pumped shells into the heaving body.
Demetrius wanted to feel the death of the daemon prince who had waged war on Torvendis twice. There might never be a death like this again.
He split open his sarcophagus and exposed his desiccated body to the outside air, so Sh’Karr’s death-throes would flood directly into his nervous system.
Sh’Karr thrashed wildly but most of the Violators held on or avoided his claws, tearing at his skin with guns and blades. Demetrius felt the pain flooding off the daemon prince like a heat haze, pure and monstrous, the anger of the Blood God mixed with the anguish of a cornered beast.
It was raining blood. Blood spattered against Demetrius’ bare skin and set his nerve endings afire. Hot pain flooded through him, igniting old pleasure-centres he thought were long dead. Slaanesh would be well praised by the intensity of experience Demetrius was absorbing in the Pleasure God’s name.
Sh’Karr was keening a high, terrible howl. There was a sudden commotion amongst the Violators at the edge of the platform and Demetrius tuned into the vox channel to see what was happening angry that he might be disturbed during such a holy act of experience.
“…hundreds of them, fall back by fire teams, fall back…!”
It was Haggin’s voice. His warband were already turning and retreating, forming up around their flamers and plasma guns. And suddenly, like a dark tide washing against sore, a wall of grey daemon-flesh erupted over the edge of the platform in a shower of blood.