Secret War: Upon Blood Sands

[Adrassil]

The gun line was dying, both literally and figuratively. Ammunition was growing scarce. Tathe didn't know the exact number of men who still had ammo and who didn't. Tathe was a commissar, not a colonel or general; logistics weren't his responsibility until he'd taken over the contingent and had to learn much first hand. He'd just ordered those that did keep back to cover the flamers with precision fire. Tathe, his makeshift command squad and the many soldiers without ammo and bayonets fixed followed the flamers. Two flamer troopers had died, trooper Bulok who'd been decapitated by a daemon's blade and who was then avenged by Dellenger and trooper Sulvik, who'd been gutted by a bayonet thrust from a former Velrosian comrade. Five still advanced at the fore, but many Resurrected and daemons still managed to get through, many having fallen to Tathe's blade despite the wall of fire.

Adreen had taken a bad cut across the thigh and Dellenger a chainsword tear on his left shoulder and taken a glancing blow across the side of his head from the butt of a las rifle. Blood streaming down his face.

Although he was now coated with blood, Tathe and the rest of his command squad had yet to be injured. Still, he couldn't help curse and wonder where their leader: Attelus Kaltos and his girlfriend, had gone; this was the time he needed that melee monster the most when ammunition was running dry, and his men were dying like flies. He'd gotten Karmen Kons to look for them, but she couldn't. Tathe had to guess it was to do with the arrival and extraction of their Guncutter about an hour ago.

Reports flooding from the flanks told that they were falling behind and taking horrendous casualties. Tathe knew this was going to happen; the men and women fighting on the flanks knew it was going to happen. But that didn't even begin to allay the pain in Tathe's heart.

Tathe's bolt pistol shot blew a charging Marangerian trooper's skull into red mist; he knew the trooper's name but had shoved it back into the recesses of his mind, then he shot a cultist through the guts. A snarling daemon shoved both corpses as it burst through, moving with inhuman speed; it lunged at Tathe.

Tathe didn't even blink as he emptied his pistol's clip into the thing's oversized skull through the roof of its oversized mouth. The daemon's momentary distraction allowed three cultists to charge in. One was stabbed through the neck by Dellenger, who was too distracted by taking down Tathe to see it coming.

Tathe knelt beneath the sweeping chainsword of one while cutting through the knee of the other. Tathe turned the cut's backswing into a parry to intercept the chainsword headed for his head. Tathe then twisted his sword into a vertical up slash, which sliced through the cultist's groin.

The shriek the cultist let out was so loud it almost eclipsed the roar of the fire and the buzzing of las guns. Tathe had long ago decided to deal blows that took some time to die from. It'd delay them from coming back, and it proved cathartic to his more sadistic sensibilities.

But he found himself incapable of doing it to guardsmen, no matter how hard he tried to.

"How far away now?" Tathe yelled to Dellenger as he cut through the chest of a charging Sovrithian.

"Five more blocks," said Dellenger, while sliding aside a wild bash from a cultist, then stabbed the cultist through the ribs. "Not far, sir."

Tathe clenched his teeth that didn't seem 'not far' to him, and that was just until they converged on the strange hole which descended into the middle of the city, and Emperor only knew what lived down there.

A scream drew Tathe's attention just in time to see trooper Heunstein being stabbed through the chest by a Velrosian scout trooper.

Heunstein fell, clutching at his horrible wound. With a roar, Tathe dashed for the scout trooper, powersword slashing for the scout's skull. The scout had left with Adreen's squad to scout ahead only a few hours ago. He'd been fighting on the front line and was one of the best, up with Adreen and Dellenger. Tathe had had no idea he'd been killed, despite the fact they'd advanced only a few metres from each other.

The scout saw the sword slicing for his throat, but even he couldn't react fast enough to dodge. A clang echoed as another powersword sheered off Tathe's, sending shivers up Tathe's arms and the cut-off course.

Tathe slipped back, just out the way from a thrust and looked to his attacker and couldn't help let his jaw drop.

It was Valketh. The captain's eyes were glazed with psychotic anger, the same murderous look he'd treated Serghar's agent only hours ago. Tathe would've never imagined he would ever be on the wrong end of that glare.

Then Valketh launched at Tathe, sword cutting for his wrist.



Adelana stood in the recreation room, watching Sarkeath swirl and twirl below; somehow, the blood sands weren't visible from orbit; here, it seemed like a normal desert world with brownish sand. There was a better term to describe the colour, one she'd learned from her father, but she'd forgotten it. He'd known every name for every colour in this galaxy. It was just one of the many things she'd forgotten, replacing it with more knowledge on how to kill, how to manipulate and read others. She recalled what Hayden said about her becoming like Attelus. She'd snarled him down, but now she was beginning to see his point.

She'd enjoyed it a bit too much, setting up the trap for Serghar and his minions.

She was beginning to enjoy the killing. What was she becoming? They chased Etuarq in the name of justice, but were they really? It was becoming more and more obvious that them chasing him was exactly what Etuarq wanted and-

"Adelana?"

Adelana couldn't help jumping and spin to see Attelus, his shirtless torso bandaged as he entered the doorway. He was somehow paler than normal, and the purple bags beneath his eyes darker.

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to give you a fright, Adelana."

Adelana nodded; she knew he didn't mean it, even injured. He moved in instinctive silence.

He was just as silent as he moved to stand beside Adelana and gazed down at Sarkeath with her.

"You alright?" he said.

Tears welled in her gaze, and she looked at him. Faster than thought, he met her eyes, and it caused her to turn away.

"I-I'm fine," she said. "I should be the one who asks that."

"I'll live," he said. "Thanks for saving my ass, Adelana. I'm alright now. We need to get down there."

He turned and started away.

"I don't think we should," she forced herself to say.

He stopped, his broad back facing her.

"What?"

"I-I know that sounds insane, but please hear me out, Attelus."

He turned to face her, his glare so intense she couldn't help but flinch.

"I don't understand how that couldn't be anything but insane, Adelana," he said.

"I uhh, uhm."

"But I'll hear you out, and this better be good, frigging really good."

"I-it's what he wants," Adelana spluttered out.

Attelus' eyes narrowed. "Who?"

Adelana couldn't help roll her eyes. "Etuarq! Your father. Your father even said he needed you alive to get that sword. If you go down there, you're playing right into their hands."

Attelus pursed his lips and shrugged. "But I already said that we might need it so we can kill Etuarq."

"But...she...told us that Etuarq doesn't know how to make a perpetual, Attelus. So we don't need the sword."

Attelus flinched slightly, and his attention fell to the floor before glaring back to her. "Yes, but what if she's lying, Adelana. What if he's able to turn himself into a perpetual, just not others?"

"Yes, that might well be true, but you do remember that it's a daemon blade, right?" said Adelana. "I'm no expert on those things, but don't they tend to corrupt the wielder? You know, make them into chaos worshipping psychos?"

"Well, what do you want me to do?" said Attelus. "Wait, safe up here while our friends die down there?"

Adelana faulted at that.

Attelus sighed. "It's too late now for us to turn back, Adelana. I have to get that sword; we'll just have to deal with the consequences of it when it comes up."

He turned to start away again.

"I think we've made a huge mistake," said Adelana, stopping him yet again. "We should've just left Etuarq alone; we should've just let inquisitor Tybalt chase him or another part of inquisitor Enandra's organisation. To me, to you, this is too personal. We say we do this to stop him, for justice. But really, it's out for revenge. It's just an excuse for you, for us to kill more people, and if we don't stop, it'll end in the death of another world."

Attelus sighed and slouched his shoulders. "It's already happened even without our involvement, Adelana. Don't you remember one of the reasons why we've travelled all the way here? We're going to the surface, and that's that. Even if all your speculations are true, we can't just leave the Velrosians, our friends, okay? We're in too deep in every which way, anyway. We've better get prepped-"

"Attelus," said Adelana, trying to keep the desperation from her voice for her last-ditch attempt. "If you take that sword, I'm leaving. I've been thinking about transferring since before we shipped out, and if you take that sword, I will. I mean it. Avenging Omnartus be damned."

She wanted to add, 'if it meant losing you,' but couldn't get the courage to say it.

His shoulders shook the briefest of shakes; the movement reminded Adelana of the Elandria-thing's earlier reaction to Attelus' pleas.

"If that's-If that's what you feel you must do, Adelana," he said.

There was a long, awkward pause that was cut by a heartbreakingly un-enthused laugh from Attelus.

"That's if we don't die on our way there," he said before disappearing into the shadows.

[Adrassil]

Karmen was overwhelmed by exhaustion; the servos of her power armour were what kept making her take step after step forward. Advancing in front of her were Vark and Verenth; they'd both run out of ammo, so Vark fought with a bayonet attached to his hell gun, while Verenth had 'borrowed' a las gun with a bayonet. Verenth was surprisingly effective, not on the level of Dellenger, who'd mastered the form, but he held his own. The thought of Dellenger made her fight the urge to glance at the scout, who was almost hypnotising in his preternatural grace and skill. He was also exceedingly handsome, but of course, he didn't even spare her a glance; she'd be offended if she didn't know the scout was completely clueless on the matters of human interaction. That and he was fighting three cultists at once, despite his numerous injuries.

But the real battle was between Tathe and the Marangerian in a captain's uniform. Both exchanged power sword swings almost faster than her eye could follow. She couldn't help but be impressed at the Marangerian's skill.

The loss of her kineshield allowed for numerous casualties to be wrought from the guns of the guardsmen Resurrected. The guilt gnawed at her; in her earlier days as Estella Erith, she too had idolised the Velrosians, so now to see them die like flies around her without her being able to do anything hurt her more than she could say.

More good people she'd failed.

Not just that, but her bolter had run dry, and she couldn't fight at the front either; she had to regain her strength for the very last push. When they finally descend into the city's depths.

So here she was, useless, yet again.

A Galak Heim trooper advancing beside her fell; he flew off his feet and landed on the sand, writhing, screaming. Karmen hadn't even seen what hit him. Two troopers broke from the gun line, one a Marangerian, the other from Despasia and picked up the man and turned to take him to the medicae truck as the soldiers behind them parted with admirable discipline. Karmen couldn't help but let a smile cross her lip; all these men and women all from different cultures were like family. From countries that had warred and hated each other for millennia before the coming of the Imperium came were now fighting side by side, blind to the hate-fuelled tremulous past and the colour of each other's skin.

This was unity; this was the god-Emperor's vision. The pride of finally fighting alongside her heroes flooded into her, but along with it came regret. Regret because she knew this would be the first and only time. The Elbyran contingent was dead. Dead the second they stepped out of their makeshift fortress and began for the tower. Not just that, but this suicidal mission was made on Attelus' and Karmen's volition. More souls were sacrificed in the god-Emperor's name—more deaths to hang onto her conscience.

She shook away the thought; it wasn't about her or her conscience. This was about the Elbyran; this was their battle, their glory, their sacrifice. The long-suppressed soldier within her bubbled back.

Another one of the flame troopers died. Her head exploded in a welter of blood and brains. She collapsed and began to spin toward the Elbyran.

Karmen, only in the last millisecond, managed to raise her hand and send the flame trooper spinning forwards again.

"Someone, stop her," Karmen roared through clenched teeth. "I can't...hold it for long."

Both Verenth and Vark moved to comply, fighting with a sudden burst of ferocity which somehow broke through their almost palpable exhaustion. Karmen couldn't watch their advance as much as he dearly wished to, too entrenched in concentration. She cursed Attelus' name through gritted teeth, wondering yet again where that idiot went.

"Karmen?" said a voice over her vox unit, a voice she recognised as Verenth's. "You can let go of the body, Vark's getting on her flamer."

With a gasp, she let the flame trooper's corpse fall. It sickened Karmen to see the poor woman's body disappear beneath the feet of the advancing Elbyrans, but what else could they do? She had a very good idea how many soldiers were left, but she refused to name the number, not even in her thoughts, not until she had to.

She watched Vark as he clumsily swayed the flames from side to side as Verenth laid in again and again with his lasgun. Karmen looked to see Tathe or Tathe's blur while he now fought the Marangerian captain, the Velrosian scout and a cultist at once. All the while, he still somehow managed to keep stepping forwards.

Karmen's thoughts were interrupted by a rain of las shots which splattered off her power armour, the kinetic force caused her to writhe, but the two soldiers on her flanks weren't protected by power armour, so they writhed and screamed as they were cut down.

"Shit," said Hayden over the vox, ever the epitome of calm. "Enemies in the building, two down on the left, fifth story. Any suppression fire sent their way would be appreciated, please.

By now, the Elbyrans had grown to trust Hayden and his auspex and instincts beyond question, and instantly a small number of shots flew where Hayden had indicated.

"Do we have any missile launcher ammo left?" said Hayden.

The reply was swift from a captain named Sevon of the Despasians, who was in charge of the supplies. "No, sir, throne agent, we have run out of both missiles and missile launchers, if you catch my drift."

"I understand," said Hayden. "Let me take care of this. Stop the pinning fire in ten seconds and make room for me on the right flank."

As he was saying this, Hayden was fanning right, watching the building through his long las' scope.

It was almost exactly ten seconds later that the pinning fire stopped, and then Hayden opened fire. Six shots in rapid succession.

"Targets neutralised," he said. "But I am on my last three shots."

Karmen turned as something caught the corner of her gaze; she just managed to see Tathe managing to disembowel the cultist before losing his sword; it was smashed from his grasp by the Marangerian captain. The scout then skated in, thrusting for Tathe's chest with his bayonet.

But before Karmen could even raise her hand, let alone cry out, sergeant Adreen's shoulder barged the scout off balance when the bayonet tip was only a millimetre from Tathe's chest.

Then she was decapitated by the Marangerian officer.

Tathe's anguished scream somehow managed to rise above the roar of war, and then he was on his feet, sword back in his hands and charging for the officer with wild abandon. Tears shone in his eyes.

Karmen knew he was running to his death, having last all discipline and skill in his rage and grief. Dellenger and Delathasi were moving to intercept Tathe, but Karmen knew they wouldn't fight their way through in time; but Tathe was just about to run past Karmen.

So Karmen reached out with her power armoured hand and grabbed him by the storm coat and, with a tug, tore him off his feet and crashed his back against the sand.

Dellenger and Delathasi were then on the scout and the captain, respectively, launching into a blurry melee.

Then Tathe was on his feet; his rage etched face turned on Karmen.

"Why did you do that, witch!" he screamed, raising his crackling powersword; Karmen flinched, knowing it could slice through her armour with ease.

"Answer me," he yelled, but he wasn't interested in her answer as he had already begun to slash.

He didn't even make it halfway before two troopers grabbed him and hauled him back.

"Let go of me," Tathe said, struggling.

Karmen nodded her thanks to the pair of troopers, one a Galak Heiman, the other a Velrosian.

+You were going to get yourself killed, commissar,+ she sent. +Get a hold of yourself, commissar.+

"Frig you," he said.

+This world, this tainted world, is influencing you. You need to control it, you are in command, and many will die other than her if you do not.+

Tathe didn't reply; he just sneered and struggled more.

Karmen nodded to herself. +We'll all die if you don't, die without reaching your objective and join the Resurrected. Every step and death and especially the death of scout-sergeant Adreen will be pointless. Get your head together now."

The commissar looked down in what may have been a shame.

Karmen turned away, and it was then the Elbyrans finally advanced into the final cross-section before they would delve into the depths of the city.

Karmen was finally forced to admit the number of survivors. They'd left with just under one thousand men; now, they were down to about two hundred and fifty. This would be the do or die part.

She inhaled deep and reached into the warp, and erected another kineshield against the withering, flanking fire. But heart-achingly, many Elbyran troops were killed, slain at the blades of the daemons and cultists as they burst from the side streets in a rushing tide.

No, Karmen corrected, not killed, slaughtered. Many of the Elbyrans being too exhausted to put up much of a fight. It was a miracle they'd lasted this long, a true testament to their skill and limitless discipline. But their morale, their stamina wasn't.

A cultist managed to push past the two remaining flamers and charged Karmen, swinging down an old axe.

Karmen blocked the blow with a forearm and then punched the cultist through his face.

She was wrong; tathe keeping his head wouldn't make any difference; this was the end. Frustration boiled through her; to come so close for it all to be for nothing was...was...

Karmen cursed Attelus' name for what felt like the umpteenth time, even though not even he could halt many of the deaths, but if he were here, the love of Tathe's life would likely still be alive.

Verenth and Vark, his flamer having run out of promethium, fought back to back, laying in their bayonets and las gun butts. Helma cut down cultist after cultist with her sword as a Velrosian sergeant stood at her side, his chain sword whining and tearing and whirling with flying blood. Delathasi and Dellenger still fought the scout and the captain. Even Hayden was forced into close combat, his long las swinging and smashing with.

How they hadn't fallen yet was amazing, but it was just a matter of time.

A matter of inevitability.

The las fire smashed through the Resurrected's south flank, an accurate, disciplined deluge. Even many a daemon fell beneath the focused fire.

The enemy baulked and turned to address their new attackers, and the Elbyrans hesitated; their confusion on who their savours were, was almost palpable.

A second later, Karmen's exhaustion addled mind managed to comprehend, and a scream of triumph burst from her throat.

"The Sovrithans!" Karmen yelled. "The Sovrithans are here!"



Jelket led from the front with captain Dantian and his command squad. He fired his Hellgun at the hip; he cut down Resurrected after Resurrected. The enemy wilted underneath the Sovrithan gun line, like waves pulling back from a beach after smashing against it. This was their plan, to distract the enemy with the Elbyran's push so the Sovrithans could circle the city and flank them.

It'd worked surprisingly well, the Elbyrans somehow managing to push so far and so fast that the enemy attention was forced to be completely fixated on them. The bias of their commander would have surely attributed to that fixation, as the commissar had predicted.

Jelket didn't know how many of the Elbyrans were left; he just hoped there'd be enough to push into the depths and that his comrades and friends were still alive.

"For the Emperor," Jelket yelled. "For Sovrith. For the ordos."

[Adrassil]

The enemy seemed to pour over the lip of the incline in a never-ending tide in a desperate bid to keep the Sovrithians and The Elbyrans from meeting. The Elbyrans were locked in melee, still pushing forward despite the odds. At the same time, Jelket and the Sovrithians laid down a constant hail of las shots to somewhat stem them.

Jelket fired from the hip, racking his hell-fire through the Resurrected it was impossible to miss. Many Resurrected tried to turn to address the Sovrithians but were slaughtered. In any other battle, this flanking manoeuvre would've been devastating, maybe leading to a decisive victory.

Here it was just so two forces could meet, one resupply the other, then join into a combined, desperate advance toward an objective they had no idea would even make any difference.

Despite this, Jelket's heart sung, he'd left the guard to escape this stuff, but now he'd never felt more alive. He was never the best at anything, but here he was, saving the butts of the others, assuming they're alive, of course.

He could see the enemy's sporadic fire smack off an invisible wall over the Elbyran front line, so Karmen at least was still alive.

The next half an hour was the most intense battle Jelket had ever taken part in, hundreds, maybe thousands of Resurrected and dozens of daemons. Jelket couldn't imagine how hard it must've been for the Elbyrans for these past few hours.

Once the Sovrithians pushed into the intersection, giving the Elbyrans a break from the front line, they stopped their advance. I didn't take Jelket long to find Hayden, Karmen, Torris, Helma, Verenth, Delthasi and Vark all were dead-eyed, beyond exhausted, and barely acknowledged Jelket. It was the same with every single other Elbyran around as the Sovrithians moved by to take over the rear guard. Many entered the buildings around to secure them.

"It's good to see all of you made it," said Jelket, then his relief was overtaken with concern as he noticed something. "Where's Attelus and Adelana? Halsin?"

"We don't know," said a voice, but it wasn't any of them that answered Jelket, and he turned to find a bloody, beaten commissar approaching, using his beautiful single-edged power sword as a walking stick. "We believe they are in orbit as your ship lifted off about an hour back. And the young medicae is in one of the trucks tending the wounded."

Jelket nodded, his concern somewhat stifled, and he couldn't help but wonder why Attelus and Adelana had abandoned the Elbyrans.

Dantian stepped forward. "You are commissar Tathe?"

"I am," said Tathe.

Jelket fought the awe welling in him. So this was the famous commissar Delan Tathe? He seemed to ooze charisma and leadership beyond humanly possible, even with the exhaustion and what the other thing? Jelket couldn't put a finger on it.

"We have brought the resupply you wanted," said Dantian, straight to business as usual. "I will be honest, commissar, I was tempted to leave you and your men for dead."

Tathe shrugged. "I would understand that...if you did, and I must thank you for not leaving us for dead." Tathe's tone was stilted, robotic. "I have sacrificed too many good men and women in this; I just hope it's not for nothing."

"I pray that it isn't commissar," said Dantian. "But I am afraid that we'll lose many once we begin down that hill."

"I know, captain," said Tathe, and while he didn't roll his eyes, his voice seemed to scream he wanted to. "We're about to descend into hell. Are you and your men prepared?"

Dantian bristled. "By the god-Emperor we are. We'll fight one hundred times harder than you did, and we will show the enemy the deaths they more than deserve."

Tathe grinned. "Please, don't take my question personally, captain. I was merely asking, and it gladdens me to see you so fired up."

"I am a captain of the imperial guard, commissar," said Dantian. "And while my regiment isn't as well known or said to be as elite as yours, we will prove that reputation means little to action. When will you and your men be ready to advance?"

The commissar pursed his lips. "I know this must seem to be much, captain, but we need fifteen minutes. Many of my men are dehydrated, and we all need food. If we have any less time, we'll be little use to you."

Dantian raised an eyebrow and looked Tathe up and down. "We'll give you half an hour."

Tathe took a shocked step back. "I-I that's too much, captain."

"I have over one thousand men, commissar," said Dantian. "Even with that number, I doubt it will be enough down there, so I really don't want your men to slow us down, and I want to prove to you just how good we are, understand?"

"Understood," said Tathe.

Dantian nodded and peeled away, his finger to his microbead as he began to call out orders.

Jelket looked at Tathe as the commissar collapsed onto his arse. "I saw what you did there, sir."

"What's your name?" said Tathe.

"Trooper Jelket, sir."

Tathe glared up at Jelket, his head tilted forwards. "Trooper Jelket...shut up."

Jelket stood for a few seconds, trying to decide how to react to the commissar's rudeness.

Jelket shrugged. "Fair enough," he said, then turned away and walked up to Hayden. The bid sniper laid on his back, his attention to the sky.

He sat down next to Hayden and handed him his water canister. "I'm glad you made it, big guy."

"I'm glad I did too," said Hayden, his voice as lifeless as Tathe's. "I've never had to do anything like that before, and I frigging hope I never have to again."

"Never thought I'd hear such words from you," said Jelket. "And I hate to say it; we've still got a long way to go."

"I know, I know," Hayden growled. "And that frigger abandoned us."

"Who?"

"Attelus," said Hayden as he took the canister and unscrewed the lid. "He flew up into the damned atmosphere leaving us to bleed and struggle down here."

Jelket couldn't make a reply; he'd never heard Hayden so bitter and angry before.

"I...I'm sure the kid had his reasons-"

"This mission right from the start has been a screw-up, Jelket. He's just made mistake after mistake, after frigging mistake."

Jelket began thinking about that, but Hayden interrupted him. "He's twenty-eight, one of the youngest of us. It was a huge mistake of the Inquisitor to put him in charge."

"I don't know. If Attelus weren't in charge, we wouldn't be here if it wasn't for his connection to the Eldar. But, yeah, he's made a few mistakes."

"Just a few, you're a master of frigging understatement, Jelket. Don't you have somewhere to go? Fight alongside the Sovrithians."

"Maybe I should," said Jelket after a pause. "But they aren't my comrades, my friends. I'd rather spend as much time with you guys as I can before we all might die, and they don't need me."

Hayden laughed. "You're so frigging sentimental, and of course Attelus isn't here for that-"

"Get over it," said Jelket, snatching back his canister. "I'm going to talk to someone who's not all bitter and twisted right now; I'm not in the mood for this."

Jelket stood and started toward Torris, who sat with his back against the wall, his head hung forward, a water canister almost falling from his hand.

"Marcel?" said Jelket kneeling in front of him. "You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm alright. I'll live, for now. It's good to have ya back, Jel."

"Good to be back, despite some of us being..."

Jelket trailed off, unsure what to say about it.

"Hayden? Yeah, I heard it. I understand where he's coming from, but it isn't worth getting so pissed about. I was like that, remember?"

Jelket just smiled and nodded while his thoughts screamed yes.

"Anyway, the good commissar forgot to mention Attelus got a call over the vox from Vark saying one of the flanks needed help. It turned out that Vark hadn't sent the communication and Adelana went after him."

"Of course she did," said Jelket. "So he then got in over his head, and either he or Adelana got injured, so they had to call Darrance to save their arses."

"That's what I think, too."

Jelket grinned. "Either that or they're up there finally screwing."

"Doubt that," said Torris.

"Why's that? Is Attelus gay?"

"Nah," said Torris with a low laugh. "Although that's an understandable question, he's just got a shit ton of baggage."

Jelket laughed. "Yeah, being indirectly responsible for the death of a whole planet would be a lot of baggage."

"Nah, it goes deeper; it's from before then..."

Torris trailed off before saying more.

"You aren't going to say more?"

"Don't think he'd appreciate that, Jel. Now please, bud, I've gotta rest."

"Yeah, alright," said Jelket as he stood up and looked over his allies. Most had thrown themselves on the sand where they stood, but Karmen and Vark sat together against the wall on the opposite side of the street, engaged in conversation.

Jelket sighed and sat down, he wanted to talk with his friends, but they needed their rest more than he needed to catch up.

Half an hour wasn't enough, but it was the best they could get.

"Jelket," said a voice, and he turned and found Helma approaching.

"Hey, captain," he said and started taking a swig of water.

She sighed and sat down next to him. "I don't want to die, Jel."

Jelket almost spat out his water. "W-what?"

"Don't get me wrong; I'm not afraid to die. I've faced that already; I just don't want to become one of them," she said. "They say 'only in death does duty end' but not on this Emperor forsaken world. Here if you die, you become an immortal chaos worshipper."

Jelket shuddered and said, "I-I really hope that doesn't happen to either of us. Why does everyone come to me to talk about their shit?"

Helma smiled. "Because you're a good person, Jelket, you're better than you think you are, despite all those weird conspiracies you believe in."

"I still think Marius Hax is involved in this."

"And maybe he is, Jelket, but we don't know that, do we? Anyway..."

She stood and patted him on the shoulder. "Keep up the good work, Jelket, but excuse me, I need a snooze at the very least."

She turned and started away.

"Hey Helma," said Jelket, making her stop. "If we somehow manage to get through this, how about we get a drink sometime?"

Helma looked over her shoulder at him, and a smile crossed her face. "Yeah, sounds like a good idea."

Jelket smiled back.



"Are we ready?" Attelus said, just slipping on his fresh new bodyglove while walking into the common room. "We haven't much time left."

Adelana stood up from her seat. "I've been ready for a while now, Attelus. Been waiting for you."

"Well, sorry, Adelana, I just had a blade stabbed through my guts and-"

"Yes, I saw that," said another voice, a deep voice that reverberated through the entire Guncutter. Attelus turned to face the shadow, his powersword drawn and flaring into life, but he stopped in mid slash.

"Kalakor," he said.

The Raven Guard towered over him, and although Attelus couldn't see any pupils in his black eyes, he knew he looked down at him.

"You may be inquisition, but that is lord Kalakor to you."

"How the hell did you get in here?" said Attelus.

The Raven Guard's reply was narrowing his gaze.

Attelus sighed and slouched. "How the hell did you get in here, lord?"

Kalakor's huge shoulders shrugged. "I am Raven Guard; if I wish it, I can get anywhere."

Attelus' guessed that the huge Astartes managed to slip aboard when Darrance had picked them up.

"I didn't know that Raven Guard Space Marines were so arrogant," said Adelana, and Attelus couldn't help smile at her brass...ovaries?

"So, lord," said Attelus. "Why are you here? For a rematch?"

As he said this, he slipped back a step and readied his sword.

Kalakor raised an eyebrow. "No, I won decisively. Why would I want a rematch?"

"Well, I'd like one," Attelus muttered; now he had his powersword, things might be different.

"We must wait," said Kalakor. "The Elbyran and Sovrithians have rendezvoused."

Attelus straightened. "They have?"

Kalakor smiled. "Yes, unlike you, I have bothered to communicate with the surface."

Attelus frowned and exchanged a look over his shoulder at Adelana, who was frowning too.

"Well, I'd just been stabbed through the stomach and-"

"Stop making excuses," said Kalakor. "You took responsibility for getting yourself and your group captured; this is not any different."

Attelus dropped his gaze to the floor; the Space Marine was right, frig it.

"Why must we wait, then?" said Adelana.

"They are soon going to push into the depths of the city; I do not know what they are to encounter. If we attack at the right-"

"We can open up a gap for them to reach the tower," said Attelus.

"But you will unnecessarily put this ship in danger," said Darrance as he stepped out of the cockpit. "I've already flown down far too often, now. We still need the Guncutter."

"Do I seem to care?" said Kalakor. "I can assure you; I do not."

"Of course, you don't," said Darrance.

Then a realisation hit Attelus; it made him grip the hilt of his sword so hard he was afraid it might break.

"How many will die before we go down there?" said Attelus. "We might lose one of us, I-"

"That does not matter, little girl. They are in service of the Emperor; it is their duty to sell their lives for the Emperor. Only in death does duty end."

"That's easy for you to say," said Attelus. "You don't know them; you haven't fought with them."

"I do not, and it seems you know them too well, throne agent of the ordo Hereticus. You are allowing your foolish sentiment to override your logic. This is the reality of being a leader; you must be ready to sacrifice your underlings if needs must. This might be that time. I had to do it with my brothers to defeat that greater daemon, but do you know the difference between that and this?"

"What?" said Attelus through clenched teeth.

"Their deaths were guaranteed," said Kalakor. "Your allies' deaths aren't; man up, little girl and take my advice. I have been at this for much longer than you have, so take my damned advice."

"Yeah, but your brothers weren't going to become mindless chaos worshippers," said Attelus.

"That does not matter; only what matters is victory."

Attelus couldn't reply; he could barely keep from hyperventilating; his hands shook now.

"But they're my friends."

"I see you have made the cardinal mistake of leadership, getting too close to your underlings," said Kalakor. "Your inexperience is showing. You do not have to do as I say; I will not stop you if you go to the surface now but let me tell you, you may regret it."

Kalakor smiled. "And you are only human, despite your enhancement."

"I hate to say it, apprentice," said Darrance. "But the Space Marine has a point. We're all expendable, even you."

Attelus closed his eyes and forced himself to calm.

"Adelana, what do you think?" Attelus said.

"I-I," she said.

"Do not place the burden upon her," said Kalakor. "This is your decision and yours alone."

Attelus opened his eyes.

[Adrassil]

The Sovirthians held the line, and they did it frigging well. Tathe couldn't help but be amazed by their skill and discipline even when daemons advanced among the Resurrected's ranks. Tathe didn't know the casualties the Soviritians suffered, and he didn't want to know, just to allow him and his men some rest time, but it would be too much, even if it were only a few.

Tathe laid on the blood sand, trying to rest despite the sound of constant roaring battle all around him.

"Sir?" said a voice over Tathe which caused him to open his eyes, finding both Dellenger and Vark standing over him.

"Vark," said Tathe. "Any word from Attelus Kaltos?"

"No, sir," said Vark. "Nothing, but that's why I scout trooper Dellenger and I are here."

Tathe clenched his jaw.

"No, we haven't, sir," said Dellenger. "But they have."

Dellenger indicated the Sovirthians with a subtle nod.

Tathe raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Dellenger shrugged. "Been watching their commander, listening into him talk on the vox, and he seemed to be talking to someone about 'being in orbit' or something."

Tathe furrowed his brow. "Why would Attelus communicate-?"

He was interrupted by Vark handing him the vox horn. "Speak of the devil, sir. It's him; he wants to speak with you."

Tathe took the horn and placed it to his ear. "Now, I know you're inquisition and shit, but you better have one hell of a good excuse-"

"I ran into my father and his lackeys," Attelus said, and Tathe couldn't help simmer at the young man's gall to interrupt him. "They...defeated me, and we needed to escape into orbit so I could get treatment for my injuries."

"That's all well and good," said Tathe. "But we're about to descend into the depths of the city, where everyone knows the fighting's going to be the thickest and we could use your blade, so get down here-"

"No."

Tathe's anger blasted from simmering into exploding. "What in the Emperor's name do you mean by no? Hurry the frig-"

"No means no, commissar. I'm sorry, but it would be better for us to stay up here, come down when the time is right to maybe, hopefully opening a large enough gap in the horde for you and your men to push through to the tower."

Tathe couldn't believe what he was hearing. "What? Do you seriously think that you and your girlfriend would make such a difference?"

"Well, no, but we do have the Guncutter and a Space Marine-"

"A Space Marine?"

"Yes...He's uhh...a stowaway. This was his idea."

Tathe rolled his eyes; the plan did sound like the typical, ruthless pragmatism of the Adeptus Astartes. "You're insane."

"That is most certainly not the first time I've been accused of being that, and it most certainly isn't the last. So I take that as an 'okay'?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's an okay. But there's not much I can do about stopping you from doing it, is there?"

"No, I guess not," said Attelus. "Commissar."

There was a long, weighted pause.

"Yes?" said Tathe.

"I...hope you don't die; you've been a hero for me ever since I was a kid."

Tathe frowned; if he could feel older than he did now, he couldn't believe it.

"Uhh...thanks?" he said.

"Don't get yourself dead," said Attelus, then he cut the link.

Tathe rolled his eyes, but he couldn't prevent the slight smile from crossing his face.



Karmen's vox beeped, and even though she didn't accept it, it came through anyway. Indicating it was: important and on the general line for everyone on the team, and for it to be forced meant it was from the team leader: Attelus.

"This is Attelus Kaltos," he said, despite surely knowing everyone already knew. "And I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" said Hayden. "Sorry about what? You've got more than enough to be sorry for."

"I know," said Attelus. "So I'm sorry about...everything? But mostly about leaving you guys down on the surface. As I'm sure all of you have guesses, I got in over my head. My father...I knew he was good, really good. But in all honesty, I never imagined he was that good; I've got a long way to go, it seems. I apologise again. I'm meandering. But that isn't what I'm most sorry about. I won't be coming down for a while yet."

"Why?" Karmen couldn't help blurt, as did a few others on the line.

"Pragmatism, I'm afraid," said Attelus. "Karmen knows the philosophy better than anyone, but we're going to enter the atmosphere and watch and wait for the exact right opportunity. Then we're going to fly in and try open a gap for you."

"You and who's frigging army?" said Hayden. "This is insane."

"I don't have an army, well, perhaps, I do. In the most metaphorical sense, anyway. Got a stowaway named Kalakor, who so happens to be a Space Marine. You've met him, Hayden. I need you to appreciate this is his idea, not mine."

"But you still agreed to it," said Hayden. "We've had to bust our arses-"

"Hayden," said Attelus. "Don't think for a second I want to do this, but seriously, old friend, can you think of a better idea?"

"I've never been your friend, old or otherwise," said Hayden, then he cut the link.

There was a long pause before Attelus gave the longest, saddest sigh Karmen had ever heard from him.

"The rest of you understand, I hope," he said. "If any of you die before we get down there. I need you to know, all of you, that despite all the shit that's happened...If this means anything from me. It's been an honour to work with you, to fight with you and as much as I've botched up: An honour to lead you. I'm sorry to have led you to this hell hole, and if any of you die and become one of them. I swear, I will not hesitate to go into the Eye of Terror itself to save your souls if I have to. And I will make sure that your death won't be in vain."

"That's if you don't die, too," said Verenth, and that made a few sad laughs to echo through the link.

There was another long pause.

"Yeah, yeah, that's if I don't die...Too, Verenth," said Attelus. "I-I wish all of you luck and-and I hope to see all of you soon. G-good luck again."

Then Attelus cut the link.

"Well," said Halsin after a few seconds of stunned silence. "Sucks to be us."

Now that made everyone laugh.



Adelana sat and watched the whole thing, and she couldn't help smile: for someone so cynical about 'amazing, awe-inspiring speeches' Attelus wasn't half bad at making them. The hypocrite. She gave him three and two-thirds stars.

Attelus wiped his eyes with a sleeve.

"Are you...crying?" said Kalakor, his tree trunk-like arms folded over his gigantic cuirass.

"N-no," squeaked Attelus. "It's just the...recycled air."

Adelana was sure if Kalakor had pupils, he would've rolled them as he shook his head and sighed. "You humans, always so sentimental."

"Should...I...Should I fly us in?" said Darrance.

Attelus confirmed it with a nod. "Don't forget, you're human too, Kalakor."

"Lord Kalakor, and no, I am not human. I used to be human, but I had sacrificed my humanity a long time ago, so I could fight the wars that normal humans cannot, in the Emperor's name."

"So, do you think yourself above us mere humans, then?" said Attelus and Adelana felt sudden stinging fear channel through her chest. Was he seriously trying to antagonise this demi-god?

What Kalakor might've believed was a smile grew across his face, but in actual fact, it seemed more like a hateful silent snarl. "In the ways of battle, yes. But I cannot say that I would do as well as an administratum bureaucrat at sitting and mindlessly typing on a cogitator all day, every day. So yes and no."

Attelus and Adelana both couldn't help smile at that, but Attelus' smile was short-lived.

"So what about me? Is that why you didn't help me in my fight with my father? You just stood there and watched, didn't you?"

"Oh, figure that out, did you?" said Kalakor. "Well, I will apologise for that, but..."

"You're not going to tell me that, are you?"

"No, afraid not. But I do have my reasons."

"Was it so you could measure the enemy? Their strengths and weaknesses?" said Attelus. "Their weaponry?"

"That is one reason, yes," said Kalakor. "And surely after our little sparring session and how close it was, you must see that if I get in close combat with that father of yours, I will be dead."

Attelus sniggered. "So much for you being so much better than us humans at 'the ways of war.'"

"Your father, like you, is not a mere human," said Kalakor. "That is obvious, but unlike me, you didn't have to sacrifice your humanity. But your father and his underlings had, it seemed and willingly too, maybe."

"Sacrifice," said Adelana. "You keep saying that. Do you regret becoming a Space Marine?"

Kalakor's black eyes swung to her, and she couldn't help wilt beneath them, but she couldn't help but swear for a split second; tears shimmered in their depths. "Regret is not becoming of the Adeptus Astartes. Do not think for a second we are capable of such a pathetic notion."

In the corner of her eye, she saw Attelus smiling.

"One of them I knew," said Attelus. "In fact, I knew all of them. One was...special to me-"

His words made Adelana baulk.

"Yes. I am assuming her name was Elandria?" said Kalakor. "Because you were-"

"And I know she wouldn't ever give her humanity willingly. I'd tried...I'd helped her find it-"

Adelana didn't let him finish before she got up and stormed out of the common room. Ignoring his cries of her name the whole way.

"Leave her," she heard Kalakor say. "The Imperial Guard are beginning to move."

[Adrassil]

Tathe blinked back the tiredness as his body seemed to move in autopilot and raised his laspistol to put a bolt through the skull of yet another Velrosian trooper. Yet another trooper who Tathe recognised but refused to recall the name of or what squad he was from. Dellenger on his right shot flurry after flurry of las fire from the hip, while Karmen Kons on his left sent aside las barrage after las barrage with her kine shield. The Sovirithians now had their flamers at the fore, and they bathed the enemy with a constant wall of fire.

His gaze wandered over the horde of Resurrected, searching for Adreen. Hoping to the Emperor that she would never be amidst them, that he wouldn't be forced to kill her.

Adreen was never the most skilled combatant or stealth practitioner. Tathe was the former and Dellenger the latter. Still, she was insightful, able to read people as well as a battlefield with almost freakishly on point accuracy, but she was also charismatic—a leader. Tathe had believed that she deserved to have a higher rank for a long time and even suggested it to his father once.

General Tathe had dismissed it with his typical lack of explanation, saying: 'You are a commissar, a political officer, in charge of morale and discipline, and that is that. Such advice is out of your jurisdiction. I don't need your advice on who to promote. I know what I'm doing.'

Tathe had later put this to Adreen after a night together, and she too had dismissed him. 'I'm not interested in climbing the ladder, Delan. Never have been; I'm happy where I am.'

He'd been a naive fool; she'd always seemed immortal, so he almost believed that she was. No matter the mission general Tathe or colonel Vonlet sent her and her squad on, she and Dellenger would always come back. That was a lot more literal, now.

Sudden tears blurred Tathe's vision, and anger made him pump wild shot after wild shot into the Resurrected. It'd been only a few minutes since they started moving, but it already felt like an age. The Imperial forces slow advance had slowed even more. The Resurrected came in even thicker and faster and from every direction. Both the once-guardsmen and the cultists now acted like an ill-disciplined rabble. It wasn't just ill-disciplined, but it also stunk of desperation. It was getting more and more obvious they really didn't want them near the tower.

Tathe smiled. It was strange, but despite the increase in enemy numbers and despite the exhaustion and the newly found slowness of their advance and the mixture of the regiments. Morale seemed high, higher than when they began somehow. Tathe supposed it was because their objective was near, that and the enemy's desperation fuelled them like it sapped the remaining discipline from the Resurrected.

At times cries of 'for the Emperor!' or 'for Sovrith!' and other such exclamations echoed through the almost completely consistent buzzing of lasgun fire.

Tathe allowed their enthusiasm to wash through him; it seemed to make the anger and grief flow from his chest and into his legs. He knew it was temporary; he just hoped it'd be temporary for long enough.

He was foolish; he was supposed to be a commissar, so he was meant to be amongst the most ruthless beings in the cosmos. As a commissar-cadet, he'd believed he was, but Tathe knew after years of developing his self-awareness he was never capable of such ruthlessness.

Tathe was just lucky he served with a regiment so disciplined, he never needed to exhibit such ruthlessness.

His laspistol clicked dry, and only two seconds later, his hands had reloaded and continued to launch shot after shot. He gave his surroundings a quick glancing.

As much as he hated to admit it, the Sovrithian gunline performed even better than the Elbyran one had before. Their accuracy was amazing, and their discipline as they covered every inch with las fire, remarkable. The Elbyrans, beside the Marangerians, were skirmishers first and foremost; they'd rarely needed to perform such tactics in their long service. But the Sovrithian rifles seemed to specialise in this warfare. This made Tathe re-think his decision for him and his Elbyrans to play decoy; perhaps if the Sovrithians had done it, there would've been fewer casualties. Tathe dismissed the regret; he'd known his father would naturally wish to have all his attention on the Elbyrans. The general seemed to have some way of viewing what was going on in the city, how Tathe could only speculate, but he'd hoped it was somewhat limited, which so far had proven true.

Unless, of course, it was just a feint.

Tathe clenched his jaw and shook himself back to reality, now wasn't the time for paranoid over-thinking.

Now was-

Tathe's thoughts were interrupted by a screeching, a screech that seemed made of rage and eclipsed all other sounds throughout the entire city.

It took Tathe a good few seconds to realise it was from the speaker horns in the city. Having forgotten about them utterly.

"How?" general Tathe's voice roared; it seemed to morph out of the screeching into clarity. "How are you alive still? By now, all of you were meant to have joined my army! Can you not see? Khorne is offering you immortality. The opportunity to forever be in his service, but still, you refuse my offer."

Tathe didn't say anything; he just sliced off the head of a charging cultist who managed to make it through the rain of fire with a backhanded slice. Then sent the corpse cartwheeling back with a front kick, the rattling chainsword flying from its grasp.

"Can you not see that your efforts are pointless?" said the general. "That your Emperor is nothing but a foolish tyrant without any power to save you?"

If anything, the general's rant just increased the speed of their advance and the intensified the accuracy and rate of fire from the Imperial forces.

Tathe's father let out another roar of frustration. "It doesn't matter. All your fighting and dying will soon be for nothing. Even if you manage to descend into the depths, you will never, never make it to my tower. You will find the true gifts given to me by the blood god within the depths. Oh, and do not believe for a second that I do not know of that accursed ship you have in orbit."

That caused Tathe to pause in his shooting, albeit for less than a second.

"Well, Khorn has finally gifted to me the servants necessary to bring that little, bothersome craft crashing down," said the general.

He laughed. "I suggest that you vox them and say your goodbyes to the cowards hiding up there."

The speakers screeched again then went silent.

"Vark," said Tathe, choosing not to bother to point out his father's hypocrisy being that he is cooped up in his tower. "Get on the vox-"

"Way ahead of you, sir," said the Inquisition operative.

"This isn't good," said Karmen.

Tathe glared at the psyker. "Look where your damned pragmatism got us now?"

Karmen frowned back.

"No, good sir," said Vark. "I can't get through to them; something's..."

He trailed off.

"Or someone's blocking us?" said Tathe.

"Don't worry," said Verenth as he blasted again and again with his pistols. "Darrance is the best pilot in our organisation; they'll be fine."

Tathe didn't reply; after having seen how skilled these Inquisition agents were, he believed Verenth.

To an extent.

"Keep trying, frig you," said Tathe.



Kalakor reached to his ear.

"What's wrong?" said Attelus as he sat up from the couch he laid on.

"I have lost communication with the surface," said the Space Marine.

"Great," Attelus groaned and flumped onto his back.

"It is about as 'great' as you are a swordsman," said Kalakor.

Attelus blew the Raven Guard a raspberry, and much to his surprise, the Space Marine rumbled what may have been a laugh.

The vox link beeped into life in Attelus' ear.

"We have company, apprentice," said Darrance.

Attelus sat up. "I...but the Eldar aren't scheduled to arrive in three days."

"The Eldar?" said Kalakor.

Attelus winced. "I-"

"These are not the Xenos, boy," said Darrance. "I don't know what the hell they are, but they're coming out of the warp, and they are coming fast. Dozens and counting, void fighters of an unknown make. I have no frigging idea how they are managing to warp travel outside of..."

He trailed off. "And they are coming this way! How do they know we are here? I have the stealth field up!"

"What do you mean by Eldar? And they are 'scheduled'?" said Kalakor.

Attelus slipped off the couch and gaped up at the Marine. "It's uhh, it means-"

"Shut it, both of you," said Darrance. "Now isn't the time for this crap; get strapped in, evasive manoeuvres."

Attelus ignored Darrance and dashed into the cockpit, and sat on the co-pilot's seat.

"What are you doing?" said Darrance. "I told you-"

Attelus grinned and clipped in his belt. "I am."

Darrance groaned then he sent the Guncutter into a left-ward spiral. Attelus could see the ships bearing in on them now. They were blood red, bulging things that would've been moving faster than he couldn't follow if his eyesight weren't enhanced. Their shots lit up the void, heavy bolter fire, and las cannon shots sheered straight for them.

Darrance laughed and sent the guncutter wheeling and spinning through the torrent. He veered right and sent a las beam slicing through two ships, and their halves erupted into explosions.

The ships wheeled after them, and Attelus could see one as it sped so close by the cockpit's window it seemed barely a few metres away. The yellow and green cat-like eyes that studded along its length. That was how it was able to be in the warp without a larger ship; they were more daemonic than material.

The Guncutter's bolter emplacements fired afterwards as Darrance spun the Guncutter into a 180-degree arc, tracing through the black and smashing into numerous of the attacking craft. Two shuddered under the shots and stopped their momentum; the smoke seemed to grow from them, white-hot against the black.

The rest swung round out of sight, and Darrance grinned as he made the Guncutter slide side to side, wind up and down. Attelus could only clutch to his seat and watch the incredible level of munitions fly past the cockpit to either explode, sending the ship into shudders, or continue onward to Emperor only knew where.

"I have been waiting for something like this," said Darrance as he sent the Guncutter into a brief, deep dive. "Bored out of my skull until now."

Attelus didn't reply; he just glanced at the scanner and the alarming amount of red dots following after them.

"Apprentice," said Darrance. "Can that frig Ulysses do this, huh?"

Before Attelus could ask, 'do what?' Darrance sent the Guncutter into a downward spin and fired las cannon blast after blast into their pursuers before facing forward again.

"Could he do that, huh? Huh?"

"I don't know," said Attelus, remembering the large dark-skinned man with dreadlocks who was thought to be one the organisation's most skilled pilots. Darrance had a rather one-sided rivalry with him since they'd joined the Inquisitor's employ three years ago. Attelus had worked with Ulysses once or twice but never in a combat capacity, so he genuinely didn't know.

"Aww, frig you, then," said Darrance.

Attelus clenched his teeth as Darrance sent the Guncutter into a twirl, then hung left, allowing Attelus to see the entirety of Sarkeath pass by, changing from being on their right to their left in only a few seconds; it made his mind whirl.

"We have to find a place to hide," said Attelus. "Get to one of the moons."

"Shan't," said Darrance while he suddenly slowed, allowing for three of the daemon ships to overtake them, then he blew them into pieces with three separate shots.

"What the hell do you mean 'shan't'?" said Attelus.

"It means 'shall not,' shan't! Do you need to be sent back to the Scholam to re-learn your low gothic?"

Attelus clenched his jaw. "That's...not...what...I meant, frig you."

Darrance laughed again and banked right before twirling through a huge barrage of bolter fire; it was after a good ten seconds of this before he replied. "We can't if we hide those Lightnings will enter Sarkeath atmo and-"

"And attack our Imperial Guard allies," said Kalakor. "Who will be defenceless against air attack."

"Exactly," said Darrance while wheeling the craft into a zig-zag. "It is good to see that one person on this ship has some intelligence."

"But the little girl has a point," said Kalakor. "As much as your void craft piloting skill is impressive, we cannot just do this forever."

Attelus gave the pilot a side-long smirk.

Darrance let out a roar and turned the Guncutter toward Sarkeath.

"What are you doing?" said Kalakor.

"Doing something other than this," said Darrance.

There were three quick-fire beeps from the console.

"What's that?" said Attelus.

"We've got missile lock," said Darrance. "Three of the bastards."

"We are entering the atmosphere too deeply," said Kalakor.

"I know," said Darrance. "Throne take you, all of you frigging backseat pilots, even the ones that are Space Marines."

Much to Attelus' surprise, Kalakor laughed, then the fire began to waver across the glass.

"Well," said Attelus as the fire became brighter and brighter, and Darrance continued on the same angle. "If you know we're heading into the atmosphere too deep, why are we still doing it?"

"Because shut up, that's why," said Darrance and a second after, the console beeped another five times, and he reached out and pushed a few buttons with quick fingers. "Putting all power into shields," he said.

The ship started to rock.

The realisation hit Attelus, and he straightened in his seat, looking at the scanner. The eight blinking red icons were slowly gaining, but he could imagine them wobbling and burning in the atmosphere.

Sweat began to bead and run down his face as the blinking red icons came closer and closer. And after every few seconds, another beep announced another missile lock.

He imagined the servitors slaved to the heavy bolters spewing shot after shot in an attempt to shoot them down.

"Shit, shit, shit," Attelus couldn't help hiss as he realised the sweat wasn't just from nervousness now, but the heat which now sweltered inside the cockpit; the oxygen seemed to seize inside his lungs.

But his gaze didn't move from the scanner, even as the Guncutter's rocking became worse and worse.

The first few red dots were only a centimetre on the scanner when they blinked faster then seemed to disappear, apparently burning up; they lacked a shield and moved faster than the Guncutter, so they were bound to burn up first.

"Evasive manoeuvres," said Darrance as he began to bank up, it only caused the Guncutter to shudder even more, and the heat outside just intensified.

There was another different beep.

"What does that mean?" Attelus said.

"The shield," said Darrance. "It's at below ten per cent, so just shut up and let me concentrate."

Attelus wanted to say that it was too late, that they were just going to burn to death in complete agony, that Darrance's stupidity got them killed, but he literally bit his tongue.

Instead, he looked back to the scanner, just in time to see that most of the other missiles had disappeared too.

The beeping of the dying shield warbled and warbled and warbled; it seemed to warp into his hearing to such an extent it almost felt like it'd been a part of it for his whole life.

When the shrilling finished, it took him a good few seconds to realise it.

"We're on proper entry angle now," said Darrance with a laugh. "All the missiles have burned up, and we are through the atmosphere, now."

A split second after lascannon beams and heavy bolter rounds passed by.

"That is all well and good," said Kalakor. "But we still have those corrupted ships on us."

"I am aware of that," said Darrance while sending the Guncutter into a spin, then a left-side banking, through the shooting and heading straight for a huge city which towered out of the blood dunes like the trees of an oasis.

Attelus said, "is that-"

"No, that is Sorkath," said Kalakor. "It's two hundred kilometres of-"

An explosion shook the ship and interrupted Kalakor, and the city seemed to grow and grow.

There was yet another different beep from the console, which made Darrance curse colourfully.

"And again, what the hell does that mean?" Attelus sighed.

Darrance didn't answer; he just reached out, then without looking, and deft fingers: manipulated the scanner. It seemed to zoom into the green triangle, which represented the Guncutter, then it zoomed in more and revealed a schemata of it. There was a good dozen blinking red dots at the back of the ship in the hangar bay.

"This is just getting frigging better and better; we've got foreign spoors, we have enemies on board," said Darrance. "Apprentice you and your Space Marine bud-"

Attelus had already undone his belt and leapt from the co-pilot's seat before Darrance had said up to: 'this.'

"Way ahead of you," said Attelus as he drew his powersword and activated its edge in a blaze of blue.

As he stepped into the rec room, he exchanged a nod with Kalakor. Attelus couldn't help but wonder: If did their enemy had these capabilities, why hadn't they been used sooner than this? Why now?

That mattered little now; what mattered now was killing these stowaways. Whatever the hell they were.

[Adrassil]

Attelus and Kalakor didn't bother with stealth or subtlety, and the Space Marine led the way as they stepped out of the corridor and onto the hangar's catwalk.

Instantly las and solid shots rained against Kalakor's power armour, and Kalakor raised his bolter and replied in kind.

Attelus slipped past Kalakor and, in a split second, took in his surroundings. The docking bay was now crawling with dozens of cultists and guardsmen. Two huge, hunched, horned daemons were amongst them, standing head and shoulders taller than any of the Resurrected.

Grinning, Attelus smashed aside a few shots and vaulted over the handrail. His sword sliced through one unlucky cultist from head to the groin as he was in mid-fall.

Attelus landed into a kneel then lunged across six metres to cut through the chest of a guardsman as he was raising his lasgun. The throne agent whipped out his foot in a hook kick which sent the corpse's upper half flying and spinning, then smashing into the skull of a charging cultist who collapsed and crashed into a guardsman beside him.

He laughed and dashed aside a withering hail of shots that followed him as he continued to sprint.

A cultist stepped into his path; a chainsword held ready. Attelus slid into a kneel, and the chainsword swing which was meant to tear through his torso passed over his head. Attelus gutted the cultist with a horizontal cut, darted onto the screaming cultist's flank, then onward, so the rounds raining in his wake tore the heretic to shreds.

He charged for the enemy flank, a Marangerian trooper roared at Attelus, stabbing with a bayonet. Attelus sidestepped, then bisected the Maragerian's skull with a downward, diagonal stroke.

A cultist let out an enraged screech and came at Attelus, but before Attelus could counter the cultist's stabbing combat blade, the bastard's head exploded in a haze of red and sent spinning back, the neck spewing out a thick tendril of blood.

Attelus back-pedalled a Velrosian sergeant's whirling chainsword, then his sword parried through a swinging lasgun. Attelus sent a side-kick that bashed in the last guardsman's face. Attelus' backswing then opened the sergeant's throat. He carried his slash into a 180-degree arc that sliced through the elbows of a cultist as he was in the midst of a wild overhead chop.

A thrusting bayonet made Attelus duck, then as the enemy guardsman was about to swing out the butt of his lasgun Attelus kicked him under the jaw with his boot knife; Attelus pulled his foot out and kicked the man back into his ally.

Attelus blocked a slashing axe then weaved beneath another cutting chainsword. He then impaled the axe-wielding cultist through the skull, pulled out his blade, then sliced straight diagonally from the shoulder to hip of the guardswoman sergeant with the chainsword.

A split second later, one of the daemons burst through its Resurrected allies; it snarled and, with a sword as long as it was tall, smashed out a downward, diagonal strike. Attelus danced back of it then ducked its huge reverse swing. The second daemon pushed past the first's left and swung down vertically. Attelus dashed out of its path, and the black, hazed with blood-red blade hit the deck with a deafening clang and smashed in some of the steel.

"Get out of the way," Kalakor said over the vox, and Attelus started darting toward the stairs.

Two frag grenades clanged at the daemons' clawed feet and exploded. It sent them and the six nearest Resurrected flying.

Attelus sprinted up the stairs while drawing his autopistol from its chest holster and stood beside Kalakor.

"You are a fool," said the Raven Guard as he fired bolter round after bolter into the enemy horde, which seemed to grow and grow. "Why did you abandon cover and an elevated position?"

Attelus took cover behind the marine and added his piddling fire to Kalakor's roaring deluge.

"Mostly out of fun," said Attelus. "And a little so I can be a distraction for you to be able to kill as many of the enemy as possible."

Kalakor sighed. "You aim for the mortals; I will take care of the Bloodletters."

"Bloodletters?" said Attelus while sending a cultist cracking, bouncing down the stairs with around to the chest. "Is that what they're called?"

With incredible speed, Kalakor ejected his empty clip and reloaded. "You are a part of the Inquisition, but you do not know what those daemons are named?"

Attelus shrugged as he darted back from a brief fusillade. "We're Ordo Hereticus; the daemonic isn't our speciality. I do know that they are in the service of the blood god, though."

"But you still ally with Xenos, despite the fact that you are not Ordo Xenos, but the alien is not your speciality, either."

Attelus said nothing, just cut down a guardsman as he was starting to advance up the stairs.

His vox bead beeped.

"We're about to enter the city," said Darrance. "Get ready for-"

"Yes, yes," said Attelus. "Evasive manoeuvres, we know."

"Hold on to me," said Kalakor as he magnetised his boots.

Attelus sheathed his sword, holstered his pistol then grabbed the Space Marine by his overly-large backpack.

The ship began to tilt right, and an idea hit Attelus, and he activated his vox bead.

"Darrance, keep the line open and tell us how you and when you are going to turn."

"What?... Oh yes, I see where you are going with this. I am about to turn hard to starboard."

Before Attelus could ask what the hell that meant, the ship whirled right, almost ninety degrees; Attelus cried out and only just managed to hook his hand around Kalakor before he was thrown against the wall. The Resurrected and the daemons weren't so lucky. Their crashes were almost deafening as they hit the wall, as were their pained cries.

Kalakor pumped bolt round after bolt round into the stunned, injured enemy ranks; even if he wasn't shooting insanely powerful miniature missiles, each shot would've been a kill shot.

Attelus found purchase with his left hand, pulled himself behind Kalakor and drew his powersword with the right.

"I am going upward," said Darrance and a second after, the Guncutter straightened and started swinging up.

The Resurrected were thrown back against the airlock doors, but the daemons were ready. They'd already dug their huge claws into the bodywork, but that was what Attelus was counting on as he hurtled at one so fast that it had no time to react before Attelus' powersword sliced through the Bloodletter's chest. The daemon roared. Attelus forward momentum carried him onto the large airlock door, but he'd angled himself so he could roll into a kneel to negate the impact.

He ignored the pain which flared through his legs, stood and faced the huge cultist coming at him, his whirling chainsword smashing for Attelus' skull.

Attelus slipped aside the attack's path, but the cultist turned it into a horizontal cut. Attelus weaved beneath the attack; then, he heard the huge, clawed feet hitting the steel behind him.

He darted past the cultist and sliced his sword across his ribcage on the way. He drew his autopistol and put a point-blank round through the face of a guardsman while he was in the midst of raising his recently retrieved lasgun, then gutted a cultist with another bolt. Kalakor's bolter blasted, and Attelus glanced over his shoulder to see the daemon reeling and writhing beneath the deluge.

His senses sent him dashing left just out the way of a blurt of las. The last blast managed to nick his shoulder, making him reel and pain to flare down his arm, but his flak jacket protected him from the worst of it. With a backhanded throw and an enraged roar, he sent a knife into the eye socket of the guardswoman who'd shot it, sending her writhing and screaming in agony. Attelus dashed forward and put her out of her misery with a horizontal cut that sliced through her hips.

Attelus parried an incoming chain axe, then ducked a swinging las rifle butt. He sent the guardsman smashing against the wall with a sidekick and back-pedalled the cultist's back-swing.

His powersword was a blur as it deflected a few blasts of las-fire.

Then he flinched as another pair of huge, clawed feet smashing onto the door behind him.

Attelus glanced to see the two Bloodletters that towered over him. One of them still had a tear through its elongated torso.

"Fire in the hole," said Kalakor over the vox, and a grenade fell amongst the Resurrected advancing on Attelus. The explosion sent them screaming and writhing off their feet.

Attelus burst out in laughter and sidestepped the first daemon's downward diagonal cut, then darted back as it reversed it into an upward diagonal.

Attelus was still laughing; he imagined the daemons had the sneering face of his father.

"You are enjoying this far too much," said Kalakor as his bolter shots sent the daemon blanching away.

Attelus was in the midst of opening his mouth to retort, but Darrance's voice interrupted him.

"I am about to dive."

"Shit!" Attelus said through clenched teeth as he jumped over the daemon's blade as it arced for his legs.

Attelus heard the Resurrected being shot to shit by Kalakor behind him, and he hunched into a sigh; perhaps going down here wasn't a good idea.

Then the Guncutter began to drop into a dive. Attelus jumped just before it met the apex, so when it did, he was already diving toward Kalakor. It took him less than a second for him to sheath his sword, holster his pistol and grab Kalakor by the backpack and spun to face upward. The abrupt stop caused pain to burst up and down his arms, and he cried out.

Around the Resurrected rained in screams and flailing limbs.

Kalakor's barking bolter also made it rain blood as he exploded heads and torsos into chunks. There was so much blood it almost disturbingly reminded Attelus of the underhive of Omnartus all those years ago.

Attelus was forced to let go one hand and hang aside a guardsman's falling corpse. The two Bloodletters claws had allowed them to keep from falling, and the entire time, they'd been moving into the middle of the door, directly overhead. Their snarling visages stared down at Kalakor as their long tongues flicked and writhed.

A shiver passed through Attelus as a realisation hit him.

"Kalakor, the daemons," he said.

"I know," said Kalakor. "I am going to de-magnetise, jump for the handrail on my count."

"I-"

One of the Bloodletters dropped.

"Now!" said Kalakor.

With a roar, Attelus flung himself off Kalakor and wrapped his fingers around the catwalk's handrail.

Kalakor leapt from the arc of the hurtling daemon's blade, and the crash of their collision with the wall was deafening.

The other Bloodletter let go and flew straight for Attelus.

"Shit, shit shit," cried Attelus and slid left.

The Bloodletter's weight buckled in the adamantium handrail, and it made Attelus' hands slip. With desperation fuelled strength, Attelus managed to keep hold by the tips of his fingers. It wasn't far to fall, but he could hear Kalakor's and the other Bloodletter's fight raging beneath his feet, and he sure as hell didn't want to drop into that.

The daemon turned to him and stabbed its sword for his face, Attelus clambered leftward, and it whistled past him by a hair's breadth.

With a cry, he threw himself up and perched onto the handrail.

He drew his sword and activated its powerfield.

The daemon let what may have been a laugh and swung for his chest. Attelus slipped back from it and cursed; the Bloodletter was a good two metres tall, its reach with its sword almost double that, he had no way to get in close enough to use his sword effectively.

The daemon cut out a large horizontal blow that Attelus just managed to duck; then, he was forced to jump over the reverse swing aimed for his legs. Attelus clenched his teeth and leapt onto the top of the catwalk, and the daemon was a split second behind him.

He stumbled back from another whistling slash, well aware of how he was getting closer and closer to the wall. He parried a thrust and almost made him lose his sword in the process. It then whirled out an upward diagonal cut which he knelt beneath. It stabbed again, and he hurtled himself back so far his back hit the wall.

He stared at the daemon, eyes wide.

It let out what may've been another laugh and drew back its sword.

Las fire smashed against beneath its jaw, a full auto flurry which made it flinch and look down at the source of the shots from down the corridor. It had to be Adelana, yet again saving Attelus' arse.

It gave Attelus the opening he needed, and he pushed off the metal into a sprint. The Bloodletter turned to him and swung out its huge sword, but it was too late. All Attelus had to do was slide beneath it and hold up his blade, so the daemon's arm was sliced off at the elbow by its strength.

It bellowed out in rage and pain, and that allowed Attelus time to close in further. Attelus first cut hacked into the side of its neck, as did the second, but before he could hack, Darrance's voice again came over the vox.

"I am levelling out."

Attelus was forced to dart away from its swinging stump then drew his pistol as another idea hit him.

The Guncutter began to flatten.

More las shots erupted from the corridor and smashed against the side of the daemon's head.

Attelus ejected the clip of standard ammo and slammed in a fresh one of dumm dumm rounds, the daemon was unarmoured, so it was worth a try. He added his shots to Adelana's, unleashing point-blank shot after point-blank shot into its face. Their combined shots blistered its features, exploded its eyeballs and smashed its teeth into nothingness. The Bloodletter growled and backed away, trying to raise its arms to protect itself.

Once it'd stepped far away enough, Attelus charged again; by then, the Guncutter was angled about twenty degrees.

Despite its mashed face, the Bloodletter still managed to swing out at him. Without breaking stride, Attelus ducked its huge claws, then with all his inhuman speed behind him, lunged into a cut that went clean through the last half of the daemon's neck.

Attelus dropped into a silent roll as the Guncutter finally equalised, while the Bloodletter's limp, headless corpse smashed against it with a clang.

He turned to the fight between Kalakor and the last Bloodletter.

Kalakor was on the back foot; his bolter wasn't in his grasp; all he had was his knife, a knife which would've been a long sword for an average person but was minuscule compared to the daemon's. Attelus had the feeling that Kalakor's armour would be but tissue to the Bloodletter's blade as Kalakor was trying his best to keep away from its arcs. Attelus raised his sword and waited for an opening.

"Attelus," said Adelana as she started down the stairs, a lasgun in her hands. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

"It's alright, Adelana," gasped Attelus as the exhaustion from the fight seemed to smash into him. "You made up for it by coming right at the right time. Please stay on the walkway; more might be coming."

"Coming? Coming from where?"

"The warp, I suppose," said Attelus.

The ship suddenly tilted left, causing Attelus to stumble slightly.

"Damn it, Darrance; you were supposed to warn us-"

The pained roar interrupted him.

Kalakor's right hand had his knife buried in the Bloodletter's forehead; his left clutched the daemons sword arm. As it writhed to get free, its other claw was slowly pulling the knife out.

"This...is...your...cue...throne agent," said Kalakor.

"Oh! Right," said Attelus and lunged. His slash took the daemon in the neck, it only went halfway, but his momentum knocked it off balance and made it let go of Kalakor's wrist.

Kalakor then ripped out his knife and tore its head off with one brutal blow.

For a few seconds, they stood as Attelus struggled to regain his breath.

"Well," managed Attelus with a grin. "That was one hell of a fight."

Kalakor's helmet's inscrutable glowing red gaze swung to Attelus as he went to retrieve his boltgun.

"You need help," he said, shaking his head.

[Adrassil]

Kalakor chose to remain in the hangar just in case more Resurrected appeared, while Attelus and Adelana struggled through the weaving, winding ship toward the cockpit.

Darrance warned them of each turn before it happened, which was now almost every few seconds, but that didn't stop them crashing and bouncing off the walls, and for every split second, Attelus expected the Guncutter to explode and consume them in fire.

The fact that it hadn't happened yet was a true testament to Darrance's incredible skill as a pilot.

Incredible was the understatement of understatements.

"You alright?" said Attelus as he helped Adelana prevent herself from smashing her face against the wall.

"I'm fine," she said a bit too fast while tearing her arm from his hand.

"Why'd you storm out-?"

"Seriously, Attelus?" said Adelana. "Now?"

"Yeah, sorry. Thanks, Adelana."

"For what?"

"Thank you for being you," he said. "And thanks for saving my arse back there; how many saves do I owe you now?"

Adelana smiled. "I lost count."

"Yeah, sure you did," said Attelus, and they burst into the recreation room.

The Guncutter swayed left, forcing them both to plant their feet.

"We can just take a seat here," said Adelana.

"To hell with that," said Attelus. "I've gotta see what's happening."

Adelana sighed and said something about 'men.'

Attelus ignored her, dashed the rest of the way into the cockpit, and retook the co-pilot's seat.

He stayed silent while buckling himself in, not wanting to break Darrance's concentration.

The world through the window was a blur of blood sands and grey towers and buildings. This view was almost eclipsed by the massive amount of munitions strafing by. Las cannon shots and heavy bolter fire churned through rockcrete walls, turning it into dust and sent sand into the air in waves of kicked up crimson.

Adelana took the seat at the scanner and peered out the window.

Attelus glanced at the scanner and couldn't help start, seeing only seven red triangles were following them.

"You are all strapped in now," said Darrance. "Now, I do not have to hold back anymore."

"Hold back?" said Adelana.

Darrance's reply was a sudden banking right, making them head straight toward a ludicrously huge tower.

Attelus waited, expecting Darrance to begin going up or around it, but instead, he powered up the lascannons.

"No," said Attelus as icy tendrils spread through his chest. "No frigging way."

"Yes, frigging way," said Darrance, and he opened fire then tapped his vox bead. "All servitor turrets open fire on the building in front of us; spread your fire."

A second after heavy bolter shots joined, raking across the tower.

"You're insane," Attelus shrieked through clenched teeth as he pushed his back into his seat. "You're frigging insane!"

Then they were eclipsed in darkness.

"Servitor turrets, fire lanes of thirty degrees," said Darrance as he pumped lascannon shot after shot while constantly swinging the ship side to side through the enemy shots.

Attelus took another look at the scanner; all of the daemon ships were still following them.

Adelana was screaming, and Attelus couldn't blame her.

The top of the cockpit was covered in sparks and the shriek deafening as the ship skirted the ceiling.

Darrance let out a curse and tried to straighten the Guncutter out but ended up skidding on the floor, the shrieking was replaced by grinding, and the ship slowed. Darrance lifted it, wobbling the ship so much it threw them around in their seats. But by some Emperor given miracle, Darrance stabilised it. And all the while, he still shot the lascannon.

"Shit, that was close," he said.

Attelus couldn't even consider making a reply; his fingers had somehow become paler as they gripped the armrests so hard they were beginning to crack. He couldn't help believe his teeth would've cracked too if they weren't made of wraithbone.

Then they were out of the darkness and headed toward another tower only about thirty metres away.

"Y-you're not doing that again," Attelus cried; the relief hit him so hard it made the words burst from his mouth like machine gunfire as he exhaled. He'd no idea he'd been holding his breath the whole time.

Darrance didn't answer verbally as he sent the ship climbing toward the sky. There was another horrid grounding as the ship bounded off the tower's wall, and the G-forces pinned Attelus to his seat.

Attelus looked up, and his jaw dropped so fast it hurt his cheeks. The huge tower was collapsing in a wave of thick grey dust and debris which rained toward them.

Only two ships were after them now. Some of them must've been crushed by the collapsing tower.

His attention shot forward as Darrance banked the Guncutter left, just a microsecond out of the path of a cluster of falling metal beams. It threw Attelus to the side, and Adelana almost smashed her face into the scanner screen.

"Turrets, aim for the ships," said Darrance. They flew diagonally over the building, which was a blur; Attelus lost count of the number of times Darrance swayed the Guncutter through bits of the falling building. It took only a few seconds but seemed like tens of minutes before the baby blue sky surrounded them.

Now no enemy ships were in pursuit.

Darrance slowed and levelled the Guncutter.

For about half a minute, the only sound was gasping.

"I can't believe..." managed Attelus.

Darrance grinned. "Seeing is believing, is it not, apprentice?"

"I...yeah..."

Darrance shrugged. "It was not all me; if it were not for this ships advanced gravity dampeners, the G-forces would have crushed us in our seats."

"I...I never thought I'd see the day..." said Attelus.

"Never see the day when you would bear witness to such piloting finesse?"

"No, never thought I'd see the day when you'd be somewhat humble about something."

Much to Attelus' surprise, Darrance laughed. "Oh, come on, give me this one, please."

"Yeah, okay, fair enough," said Attelus. "We've really got to head back; we might've already missed our window of opportunity."

"Of course," said Darrance as he wheeled the ship around. "We still have much on our agenda. Just this time, please keep yourself from being impaled again."

Attelus sighed.

[Adrassil]

With a roar and a swipe of her hands, Karmen sent the last few remaining resurrected flying off the ledge with her telekinesis and falling into the depths of the hill with flailing limbs. Each one was different in one way or another, but Karmen had lost the ability to care about the differences. Every one of them was now just the Lost and the Damned.

'Karmen,' said Tathe. 'Shield up, please. We are about to descend into a hellscape beyond your imaginings.'

She couldn't help frown; she was a psyker. She had looked into the immaterium itself; her 'imaginings' could far exceed anything of his. But she realised something; he probably meant himself in that too.

Karmen raised the shield, and a few seconds later, the front line of the Imperial advance stepped over the ledge.

If it weren't for Karmen's kine shield, they would've been torn to slivers by the massed upon the massed gunfire. It made Karmen stumble and clench her teeth as fighting the combined force as it almost overwhelmed her shield and her will. Below, the Resurrected and daemons swarmed throughout the depths, swarmed so thick there was almost no sign of the blood sands beneath their feet. Down, down down, to the base of the tower for almost half a mile.

It was ridiculous, beyond ridiculous; there was no way they could fight their way through that! Tathe was right, damn him. Karmen's mind reeled, it almost made her drop the shield, but around her, the men and women of the Imperial Guard didn't hesitate as they fired back, cutting down swathes of countless Resurrected. Karmen's shield couldn't protect even a tenth of them; once they advanced down there, they would be surrounded and slaughtered. Then join the ranks of their enemies.

She'd been considering why this was for quite some time now, and she concluded...the Blood god was killing them and resurrecting them so they could become more and more experienced in battle, so they can leave Omnartus to make war against the Imperium of Mankind. That was why the Imperials and cultists fought each other before they all began fighting the loyalists. And until every soldier on Omnartus joined him, the warp storm would trap them here.

That was Karmen's theory, anyway. It seemed a logical one, but that was the problem; the stuff of chaos was far from logical. It could just be a game or something for all she knew.

Perhaps the Space Marine was right, frig the bastard.

The loyalists flooded down the hill, laying down shots; many fired from the hip as it was impossible to miss. Hayden stepped to advance alongside Karmen and Tathe, using his long las to headshot Blood Letter after Blood Letter as they charged up the hill. He and the other snipers and many of the Sovrithans took down others with disciplined, massed volleys, despite the range. Yet again, Karmen couldn't help be impressed with their marksmanship. The Sovrithans were truly first-class line infantry. Despite knowing how many of her brothers and sisters had died, she couldn't help be glad the Sovrithans had been in reserve until this last push.

But not even Attelus Kaltos, the greatest swordsman Karmen knew a Space Marine and the Guncutter's firepower could make much of a difference against that horde.

She just prayed that Attelus and the others could get here in time.

Or even get here at all.



So they descended and descended, and Tathe led from the front, ironically placing him amongst the safest. The Karmen woman wasn't the most powerful psyker he had ever seen, having seen those from the perfidious Eldar, the Space Marine Librarians and the horrid mutants serving the arch enemy. But she was easily among the most skilled, even in his, thankfully, ignorant opinion. He made damn sure to make a mental note to thank her if they lived through this; if it weren't for her, many more of his men would be dead. If it weren't for her, he'd most likely be dead too.

Her shield was finite and only able to protect a radius of a few metres, so all around him, more and more guardsmen writhed and fell and died. They couldn't bring the medicae truck down with them, so the injured were either fighting with the able-bodied or being carried on stretchers at the epicentre of the advance.

According to the reports from the rearguard, the enemy had melted away, which concerned Tathe as much as it relieved him. Concerned him as it could mean the enemy were preparing traps for them or just so the Resurrected could place as many bodies between them and the tower as possible, which was a tactic beneath his father's prowess and stunk of the basest of desperation. And relieved him as the rear guard had borne the worst of the casualties, and it meant the advance would be able to take advantage of the high ground while it lasted. Tathe was tempted to have the rearguard stay at the top of the hill and lay down cover fire. Still, their diminished numbers might allow them to be overwhelmed by an attack from the rear, which was much too likely with the enemy's ability to appear out of nowhere.

Tathe had abandoned too many men already; if they stayed together, it might mean more to secure than to hold the tower or at least he hoped.

Two cultists managed to somehow break through the barrage of las and came straight for Tathe. One held a huge double head axe, the other a chainsword. Tathe parried aside the axe as it fell for his head; it opened the cultist up for Tathe's short, almost tender slash across his stomach. The chainsword swung for Tathe's neck, but he put a las bolt through the cultist's chin and out the top of his skull. A monster of a guardsman, a once-officer of the Sovrithans, came for Dellenger, drawing back a chainsword for a horizontal swing. The scout didn't even need to block or parry as the butt of his lasgun broke the Resurrected's chin, then Dellenger reversed the blow to plunge his bayonet into the officer's throat. Then went back to racking las fire through the horde from the hip. Tathe's jaw clenched at the scout's flagrant misuse of automatic fire.

But more and more cultists were getting further and further up the hill, as did their daemonic allies. Tathe didn't need to order his men to concentrate their fire on the Bloodletters, and neither did Dantian, apparently. But the cultists kept onward, flourishing their eclectic collection of weapons and shrieking their psychotic snarls.

The Imperials on the front already had bayonets fixed and, with a crashing roar which Tathe was so desensitised to now, met the cultist's charge.

Laughing, Tathe decapitated the first cultist and everywhere beside and behind came the cries of 'For the Emperor!' 'For Elbyra!' 'For Sovrith!' And many others, morale was on an all-time high for the reason that Tathe could only speculate upon.

For Emperor only knew how long, everything was just a blur of combat, a press of pushing bodies and Tathe was filled with instinct. His sword slew and slew as it cut and thrust and stabbed and slashed, while his laspistol blasted over and over again.

The high ground lent the Imperials a huge advantage as the rear echelon thinned the ranks with a rain of las.

No daemons made it into close combat.

Eventually, the packed mass of cultists seemed to melt away. Tathe was so in it; it took him a good few seconds to realise it.

Tathe, gasping, glanced about, finding that all of the Inquisition agents were alive, and so was Dellenger and Dantian, but many more familiar faces were gone. He looked forwards and found they'd advanced at least fifty metres toward the tower as many more Resurrected were running at them.

Tathe raised his sword to the sky and let out a roar of triumph. This wasn't even a victory, but it was enough for now. The Imperials joined in with Tathe bellowing down at Resurrected, snarling motto's, the Velrosian 1st's 'First among equals!' being the most prolific, some soldiers even began smashing their fists against their flak armoured chests.

The ferocity even gave the Resurrected pause, and by the Emperor, it sent a chill of thrill through Tathe. Somewhere within himself, something said this was out of character for the Elbyran contingent, that they were normally in stoic, disciplined quietness. This may be them finally giving in to the corruption and bloodlust that ruled their enemy even in death. But he didn't care anymore, and he suspected that he couldn't.

It was then that a roar erupted from the base of the tower, a roar which seemed made of aeons upon aeons of bloodlust and didn't just eclipse the Imperial's bellows but murdered them in their throats.

The Resurrected started screaming alongside the tower.

Tathe and Dellenger shared a look. His eyes were wide with terror, an uncharacteristic show of emotion from the scout. They knew that sound, and so did many within the contingent.

The huge adamantium doors into the tower opened, and an at least twelve-metre-tall behemoth stepped onto the blood sands. Its corded arms were as thick as the widths of the hulls of tanks, and its skinless wings were longer than it was tall, as was its huge double-headed axe it kept clenched in a fist the size of a man. Its snout was like a permanently enraged, sneering canine, and its long tongue slabbered and slobbered out its mouth like it had a life of its own. Its skin and armour seemed made of the red of the centre of suns, the red of the thickest gore imaginable.

Several men froze, and the stench of shit hit Tathe's nose. Some screamed; some even dropped their weapons and turned and ran. Some dropped to their knees and buried their faces in the blood sands; two even shot themselves with their lasguns.

In less than a split second, his men's high morale sapped away and broke into nothingness.

The Resurrected below brandished their weapons and laughed, and started up the hill with almost inhuman speed.

'No,' said Tathe. 'No! No! No!'

Then there was another roar, no several roars which quickly converged into one shrieking cacophony. It came from the sky behind them.

Tathe turned to Dellenger, who met his gaze.

'Lightnings,' said the scout. 'Three of them, coming in from the west, on a bombing run. Will be on us in less than half a minute.'

Even when embroiled in utter terror, Dellenger's senses were sharper than any human Tathe had ever known.

Tathe cursed and old Velrosian curse and turned back to the Bloodthirster. Its huge, skinless wings were beating and making it lift off the ground despite its wings being only bone.

'Karmen!' Tathe cried. 'Can you do something about this daemon?'

'I cannot. It is taking every ounce of my will to merely keep this kine shield up.'

The Bloodthirster kept rising and rising, far faster than any creature with wings had any right to fly; it'd risen so high it was almost above the tip of the tower.

'Frig!' said Tathe, shaking himself back into reality. 'Everyone back in line! We-'

'Sir,' said Vark as he held Tathe the vox horn.

'What in hell's teeth is it, frig you?' snapped Tathe.

'It's Attelus,' said the throne agent.



'Where have you been?' roared Tathe's voice through the cockpit vox speaker. 'We have a greater daemon of Khorne on us!'

'W-we see it,' said Attelus, his gaze locked on the daemon through the cockpit's window as they dove down toward the battlefield. 'A-and we're about to take care of your bomber problem. Darrance?'

Darrance answer were three blasts of the lascannon, which sent each daemonic ship exploding and spinning, then to the ground and smashing through the hordes of Resurrected like comets created from fire.

'Great, thank you,' said Tathe; the exasperation in his voice seemed almost like sarcasm. 'Now, can you please send that daemon back into the damned warp, please?'

'We'll find a way,' said Attelus, and he cut the communication while the commissar was in the midst of shouting his first syllable.

Then an idea hit Attelus so hard it knocked him back to some semblance of sanity, and he turned to Adelana. 'I need you to stay here in the ship.'

'What? Why?'

'Because if the daemons and Resurrected decide to teleport in, here again, Darrance will need all the help he can get.'

'You need not worry about them getting in here again,' said Kalakor as he seemed to materialise in the entranceway. Attelus didn't even flinch, now used to the Space Marine's ability to appear out of nowhere seemingly.

'How do you know that?' said Attelus.

'Call it...instinct,' said the Space Marine, smirking his sneering smirk.

'You do know that I don't trust you,' said Attelus.

Kalakor just shrugged.

'So, what in the Emperor's name are we going to do with that daemon?' Darrance almost screamed.

'I need you to get above it,' said Attelus as he unclasped his safety belt and stood.

'What?' said everyone, even Kalakor.

It was then the huge daemon seemed to see them and, with a roar which somehow penetrated through the hull, began to fly toward the Guncutter.

'Frig frig frig,' Darrance cried as he opened fire lascannon and bolter round alike smashed into it, sending it writhing and reeling, but it seemed far, far, from dead.

'Just do it, damn you. Okay? Kalakor, I'd like you to accompany me to the storage bay, please,' said Attelus.

Kalakor's black eyes narrowed. 'Hmm, alright.'

Attelus started out of the cockpit, but Adelana followed.

'You aren't doing something insane, are you?' she said.

'It's as they say; insane times call for insane measures.'

'What? No one has ever said that.'

'Hmm, yes, you're right. I'd just made that up, I think. But it still fits, I think.'

She stopped as they started down the stairs, pursing her full lips, hunched her shoulders and let out a frustrated growl. 'I can't do anything to persuade you otherwise?'

'Frig no, sorry, Adelana.'

'Okay, just don't get killed, okay?'

'I'll try.'

Adelana studied him for a few seconds before shrugging and turning back toward the cockpit, apparently satisfied.

Attelus and Kalakor moved on.

'You are not having the female stay here to protect her, are you?' said Kalakor.

'No.'

Kalakor grinned. 'You are aware that I do not trust you either, right?'

Attelus shrugged. 'Fair enough, just please trust me in this.'

'Oh, I will on this,' said Kalakor. 'I think I have a good idea of what you are planning.'

'You do, do you?'

'Indeed so,' said Kalakor. 'And if I am correct, the female was right. It is completely and utterly insane. And I frigging love it.'

[Adrassil]

Editor's note: Wow, it's been ages since I last updated here. I don't know why; just distracted by a lot of things. Most especially became obsessed with my 40k and minis. My apologies. I hope all of you enjoy it!


Explosion after explosion coated every inch of the Bloodthirster's hide. Adelana had witnessed lascannon blasts burst through adamantium walls and fry people into ash, but all the constant barrage seemed to do to the daemon was slow it slightly.

The Bloodthirster, as Tathe had called it, swooped like a comet made up of blurring blood toward them.

Cursing, Darrance sent the Guncutter arcing away and wheeling onto the daemon's flank, just finding some space out of the vast axe's arc.

'Why won't you die!' he roared; Adelana had never heard the pilot so frustrated before, and she couldn't blame him for it.

She then saw it.

'Darrance, watch out!'

The gigantic cat 'o nine tails whip seemed to grow out of its freehand and swung for them faster than thought.

With reflexes that left Adelana's breath in her throat, Darrance barely managed to bob the Guncutter beneath it.

'Frig you,' Darrance screamed; Adelana had no idea who "you" was. 'You little frigging bastard, Attelus...'

He swayed aside of the whip as it flew straight for them.

'"Get above it",' he said; in the warp, does that even mean...'

The daemon exploded toward them, spinning around in a whirling red blur of whips and axe.

This time Darrance sent the Guncutter banking upward, fast enough to escape the entire arc but not enough to prevent the whip from skimming the bottom of the void craft. The void shield took most of the impact, but it made the entire craft shudder and bound so hard; it made Adelana's head bound so hard it sent pain through her, causing her to cry out.

'How high do you want me to get, huh?' said Darrance, apparently unaffected by the impact. 'And how am I supposed to...'

Adelana wanted to tell him to shut the frig up but didn't dare distract him and didn't want his anger directed at her.

He was losing it; they were all losing it. She just hoped they wouldn't lose it before it was too late.



'That is exactly what I thought your plan would be,' said Kalakor. 'It is as insane as it is brilliant, boy.'

Darrance's evasive manoeuvres had delayed Their advance to the storage bay, evasive manoeuvres which Attelus could tell were incredible despite being unable to see them.

Kalakor had his boots magnetised and didn't try to help Attelus as he lumbered about trying to keep his feet, and Attelus didn't want him to either.

They emerged into the storage bay, and Attelus took the risk of sliding down the handrail on his shoes as Kalakor's smashing footfalls followed his wake.

Attelus ran across the floor and punched the console control, and the doors began opening. He ran over to the supply hooks to take a parachute, ignoring the shrieking of klaxon alarms.

'Apprentice,' said Darrance over the ship's intercom. 'Why is the docking bay airlock opening?'

'Surely, someone with your dizzying intellect would've figured it out by now,' said Attelus.

There was a long pause.

'You are really going to do it?' said Darrance.

'Well, try to, anyway,' said Attelus.

'Well, you better do more than just try!' cried Adelana.

Attelus grabbed the console. 'Will do, now just get above the damn daemon, please. Now wish us luck.'

'Will do,' said Darrance. 'And good luck, indeed.'



Tathe had to fight with every inch of his willpower to keep his attention forwards and on the enemy in front of him, away from the shuttle battling the Bloodletter above. From what he saw, 'battling' seemed too stronger a word, more like evading just for another second or two. And for some reason, he was trying to get above the Bloodletter but couldn't, as the Bloodletter would rise when it tried to rise. Its constant onslaught slowed the Guncutter's climb, which forced it into incredible evasive manoeuvres.

The imperials were advancing again, Tathe having managed to rally them back into sanity, thankfully without having to execute anyone. But the men were nowhere near as passionate or as effective in their advance as before.

And because of this, casualties kept mounting and mounting like never before, the Bloodthirster's presence raising enemy morale while it drained the Imperials.

Then an idea hit Tathe.

'Karmen!'

Her answer came after a long pause.

'What is it?'

'Is the daemon within your range?'

'The daemon meaning the Bloodthirster?'

'Yes!'

'I-I think so, but I will have to drop the shield.'

'I know, but...'

'But what? What do you want me to do?'

'I need you to use your telekinesis to arrest the daemon's flight, to allow the Guncutter to get above it.'

'Why?'

'I don't know...But they might have a plan...so can you do it?'

'It'll open us up for the enemy fire!'

'Yes, yes, I know, but can you do it?'

Tathe couldn't read Karmen's face behind her helm, but he could sense her determination. 'The servants of Khorne are naturally more resistant to psychic power.'

The commissar shrugged.

'But I will try,' she said.



Karmen exhaled and closed her eyes and, with great hesitation, dropped her kineshield. She tried to ignore the screams of the dying guardsmen around her and the slaughtered Resurrected below her. Then she opened her eyes to the sky, and as much as it hurt her eyes and caused sickness to well within her guts. She raised her hands and began to enforce her will, her power upon its wings. She only needs to slow it for a second or two. Clenching her teeth, she began to pull it back to earth. It didn't move, not even a millimetre, but she pushed on and on, pulling, pulling. She began to growl, her brain throbbing inside her skull, her teeth gathered together so hard she swore they would crack.

Her growling turned into a shriek; her brain felt like it'd blow an aneurysm, and blood began to tide from her nose into her mouth and amongst her teeth. The blood then flowed from her ears, and her gaze was blinded, flooded by crimson.

She pulled it for what seemed like an eternity until blood began coming out of her mouth and gums.

She pulled until she couldn't do it anymore, and the blood flowing from her tear ducts started to dissolve and turned into blackness.

But a split second before unconsciousness overtook her, she realised.

She'd managed it.



'It's slowed,' said Darrance. 'How-'

'The how of it doesn't matter,' said Attelus as the daemon seemed to struggle against some force pulling it down about twenty metres below. 'This is just it.'

'This is insane,' said Adelana. 'Darrance, fly down as soon as you can clear that gap for the Elbyrans.'

'It is,' said Attelus. 'It really, really is. Kalakor, you ready?'

'Indeed, I am.'

Then they lunged into empty air. The powerfield of Attelus' sword exploded into a blaze of blue life.



For the rest of his life, commissar Delan Tathe would thank his instinct, or the Emperor or whatever it was which forced him to look up in that split second. For it would easily be the most spectacular thing he'd ever seen. Two figures leapt out the back of the Guncutter as it rose above the daemon. Karmen somehow managed to slow it.

One figure was large enough to be a Space Marine; the other was a far smaller spot which Tathe guessed was Attelus. Both dived toward the Bloodthirster-like comets, straight for its wings.

'Look!' Tathe roared, pointing his sword at the sky.

Many Imperials did as told, and so did many Resurrected, just in time to see both diving figures using their momentum to cut their weapons straight through the Bloodletter's wings.

Tathe watched with bated breath, expecting the daemon to manage somehow to defy gravity, but after what seemed like an age, it began to drop.

'It's falling,' said someone. 'It's frigging falling!'

The Imperials bellowed a triumphant roar while the Resurrected seemed to cry in pain.

'They did it!' said someone. 'They actually did it.'

Tathe couldn't join with the cries of his men as he wondered, where had the attackers gone? He couldn't see any sign of them.



Attelus reversed his sword with a cry and plunged it deep into the daemon's back, as did Kalakor and held on as the daemon fell.

As the wind whipped his hair off his face and bellowed through his ears, Attelus couldn't help but let out a 'woooooo!' as the blood sands grew ever closer and closer. Adrenaline and joy pumped through him like never before, and while Kalakor made no sound, Attelus couldn't help but imagine the Space Marine grinning that snarling grin.

Attelus tore out his sword, kicked himself off the daemon and pulled the cord of his parachute. He was tugged up as the parachute found its full size and activated his vox link.

'Good luck, Kalakor. I'll be able to help you against it on the ground soon.'

'I do not need your luck, boy,' said the Space Marine. 'Keep it for yourself.'

[Adrassil]

'You did it, Karmen,' said Tathe turning to the psyker. She didn't respond but kept stepping; due to the servos of her power armour, Tathe was sure. A chill blasted through Tathe; he hoped he hadn't got her killed. He met the gaze of the nearby Vark and pointed to Karmen. Vark nodded and began to approach her. He took off her helmet with deft hands, and Tathe felt a shiver of shock through him as he saw the blood that coated her face from the nose down. Vark felt her pulse.

'She's alive, unconscious, but alive,' said the stormtrooper. 'I will call up a medic.'

Tathe nodded.

It was then the Greater Daemon of Khorne smashed amongst its servants with the force of a bomb. It hit the hill about fifty metres to the left of the Imperial advance, crushing countless Resurrected under its huge bulk; all they could do was cry out, being too packed in even to attempt to get out of the way. Then it rolled and crashed down the hill, throwing up what must've been tons of sand into the air in its wake. Its roars and bellows as it rolled and rolled were...surprisingly human; tathe could hear, pain, anger, but most of all, and most surprisingly...embarrassment or humiliation. Then, half a second later, its wings fell amidst the Resurrected, crushing even more.

Tathe's attention was torn from the fallen daemon by the familiar, throaty barking of a bolter to see a Space Marine of the Raven Guard standing amongst the Resurrected, his shots scything through them, exploding heads and torsos into red mist and chunks. Any Resurrected unfortunate to get close would be treated to the heel of the Space Marine's boot or the butt of his bolter. The Marine threw out a round kick which sent three Resurrected flying away completely broken, before decapitating another with a flick of his knife.

The Sovrithans, Dantian included, bellowed, 'KALAKOR! KALAKOR!' And exploded into fighting on with breathtaking fervour.

How had this Kalakor got down here? Had he somehow ridden the daemon down? That was the only explanation Tathe could think of.

Finally, the daemon came to a halt by smashing against the tower with such force the reinforced rockcrete cracked outward like an instantly built spider web. The Bloodthirster's hoofed feet were flung up almost comically. The daemon was far from dead, but Tathe had never seen such...a creature brought so low and so humiliatingly.

A thought struck Tathe, and he looked back to Kalakor and his slaughter. Had the Raven Guard used just that knife to cut through the daemon's wing? The knife may have been a short sword for a mortal, but for an Astartes, it was well...a knife.

Even with all his weight, strength and momentum from the fall that shouldn't have been possible, Attelus less so due to wielding a powersword, let alone a mastercrafted one-

The roar of engines drew Tathe's gaze upward and to the Guncutter as it hovered about fifty metres above.

'Air support is here,' said a melodic, arrogant voice over the voxlink. 'Allow me to lend some hands to your effort, commissar. Or shots, to be more accurate. A frig ton of them.' The deafening cacophony of heavy bolters and lascannons tore an incredible fusillade through the massed ranks of the Resurrected. Almost instantly tearing a huge, straight gouge toward the tower's entrance.

Tathe raised his sword and swiped it down. 'Advance!' he roared.

As the Imperials, now running high on morale, moved onward, Tathe caught a glimpse of the lone, grey parachute falling and weaving toward the Bloodthirster as it was snarling and snorting and writhing the remnants of its wings; it seemed to shake its gigantic head to regain its equilibrium, another strange human-like mannerism.

Attelus wasn't...He couldn't be...

Kalakor had also moved a fair way towards the daemon by then, slaying and slaying all in his way with inhuman ease.

'By the Golden frigging throne,' Tathe managed and pointed. 'Provide that insane little fool cover fire now, frig you!'



Attelus hoped the daemon's fall would be enough to restrict enemy attention away from him and his parachute.

And by the Emperor, it seemed to have worked; no las fire or anything flew his way. Not yet, anyway. Nonetheless, he still zigzagged down like sergeant Starkeren of Enandra's Stormtrooper corpse had taught him.

But in all honesty, this whole frigging insane scheme shouldn't have worked in the first place. He'd known the second it'd started how the Bloodthirster had stopped rising but had tried to ignore it. Not just that, but she hadn't just stalled its flight but, perhaps, even managed to pin back the daemon's limbs. He'd been callous towards it, but he couldn't afford to be; it was the corruption getting to him. It was the corruption making him take such insane risks. It was the corruption causing him to feel the rush of battle more than ever before. He needed, needed to regain control of himself.

Yet now here he was, about to fight a greater daemon, he'd regained control, but it was too late to back down now.

Attelus unclipped his harness about two metres off the ground and dropped. One Resurrected, a Sovrithian, looked up at the shadow growing over him just in time to take Attelus' feet in his face, his neck snapping with a crack which somehow overrode the chaotic cacophony of battle everywhere around.

The man was flung onto his back, and Attelus' power sword sliced twice to take the heads off two others. He hit the ground and ducked a cultist's whining chainsword a split second later. Attelus' diagonal slice went from the attacker's hip then out his shoulder.

Another cultist swung down a chain axe which Attelus sidestepped. Before the cultist's axe even hit the sand, Attelus' round-house kick smashed the Resurrected's ribs into splinters, and as the cultist was flung off his feet, Attelus turned his round-house kick into a side-kick into the cultist's face.

Attelus sliced through the chest of a Velrosian as she drew back her bayonet to stab, then reversed the cut to slash a Marangerian stomach open.

He fought the urge to laugh; he fought it far harder than he fought and killed the Resurrected coming for him. They seemed to be turning all their attention for him, as though the hive mind leading them knew he was the one who came up with the plan which laid their champion so low. Or for billions of other conjectures, Attelus didn't even want to start speculating on. That was good; the more pressure on him meant, perhaps, less on the Imperial advance But they couldn't bring their numbers to bear on him as Imperial covering fire swathed through them, mostly focused for enemy ranged fighters and Bloodletters. Attelus was just glad that Tathe had seen him, as he hoped he would. But even so, sooner rather than later, he'd be overwhelmed if something didn't happen. He briefly wondered if he'd become one of them if Faleaseen's owning of his soul would make him immune. He hoped so, as the Resurrected version of himself would slice a bloody, bloody swathe through his friends and allies.

Bolter fire turned at least a dozen of the Resurrected advancing on him into clouds of blood and bone chips.

In the next split-second, Kalakor was advancing by Attelus' side, firing his bolter from the hip. Attelus couldn't help hiss a curse beneath his breath: in his enthusiasm, he'd forgotten to grab some sort of automatic gun from the Guncutter, which would've proved invaluable now.

'Took you long enough,' said Attelus as he drew his autopistol and added his pitiful shots to Kalakor's.

Kalakor's reply was lost as the Bloodthirster's roar eclipsed every other sound, and it climbed to its hooves. Its hate-filled cylindrical eyes were plastered on Attelus and Kalakor; its snarling snout rippled, and blood-tinged saliva drooped from its yellow teeth.

The familiar ice hot tentacles of fear sprouted from Attelus' heart and throughout his entirety. Yet he welcomed it, embraced it like a lover her hadn't seen in an eternity. It'd seemed he hadn't realised its absence until now. Attelus knew fear more intimately than any other human he knew. He knew fear was one of the most important facets of being human. Perhaps it was his earlier moment of self-awareness that brought him back from the brink? Perhaps...perhaps it wasn't blind faith or even a severe level of willpower that was the anathema to corruption? But it was the wisdom of knowing oneself?

Despite the onrush of fear, Attelus stood his ground.

Then the Bloodthirster sent out its whip for Attelus and Kalakor, stretching the one hundred or so metres between it and them in a millisecond and slicing through the dozens of Resurrected in the way...

[Adrassil]

'You did it, Karmen,' said Tathe turning to the psyker. She didn't respond but kept stepping, due to the servos of her power armour Tathe was sure. A chill blasted through Tathe, he hoped he hadn't got her killed. He met the gaze of the nearby Vark and pointed to Karmen. Vark nodded and began to approach her. With deft hands, he took off her helmet and Tathe felt a shiver of shock through him as he saw the blood which coated her face from the nose down. Vark felt her pulse.

'She's alive, unconscious, but alive,' said the stormtrooper. 'I will call up a medic.'

Tathe nodded.

It was then the Greater Daemon of Khorne smashed amongst its servants with the force of a bomb. It hit the hill about fifty metres to the left of the Imperial advance, crushing countless Resurrected under its huge bulk, all they could do was cry out being too packed in to even attempt to get out of the way. Then it rolled and crashed down the hill, throwing up what must've been tons of sand into the air in its wake. Its roars and bellows as it rolled and rolled were...surprisingly human, Tathe could hear, pain, anger, but most of all, and most surprisingly...embarrassment or humiliation. Half a second later its wings fell amidst the Resurrected, crushing even more.

Tathe's attention was torn from the fallen daemon by the familiar, throaty barking of a bolter to see a Space Marine of the Raven Guard standing amongst the Resurrected, his shots scything through them, exploding heads and torsos into red mist and chunks. Any Resurrected unfortunate to get close would be treated to the heel of the Space Marine's boot or the butt of his bolter. The Marine threw out a round kick which sent three Resurrected flying away completely broken, before decapitating another with a flick of his knife.

The Sovrithans, Dantian included, bellowed, 'KALAKOR! KALAKOR!' And exploded into fighting on with breathtaking fervour.

How had this Kalakor got down here? Had he somehow ridden the daemon down? That was the only explanation Tathe could think of.

Finally, the daemon came to a halt by smashing against the tower with such force the reinforced rockcrete cracked outward like an instantly built spider web. The Bloodthirster's hoofed feet were flung up almost comically. The daemon was far from dead, but Tathe had never seen such...a creature be brought so low and so humiliatingly.

A thought struck Tathe and he looked back to Kalakor and his slaughter. Had the Raven Guard used just that knife to cut through the daemon's wing? The knife may have been a short sword for a mortal, but for an Astartes, it was well...a knife.

Even with all his weight, strength and momentum from the fall that shouldn't have been possible, Attelus less so due to wielding a powersword, let alone a mastercrafted one-

The roar of engines drew Tathe's gaze upward and to the Guncutter as it hovered about fifty metres above.

'Air support is here,' said a melodic, arrogant voice over the voxlink. 'Allow me to lend some hands to your effort commissar. Or shots, to be more accurate. A frig ton of them.' The deafening cacophony of heavy bolters and lascannons tore an incredible fusillade through the massed ranks of the Resurrected. Almost instantly tearing a huge, straight gouge toward the tower's entrance.

Tathe raised his sword and swiped it down. 'Advance!' he roared.

As the Imperials, now running high on morale, moved onward, Tathe caught a glimpse of the lone, grey parachute falling and weaving toward the Bloodthirster as it was snarling and snorting and writhing the remnants of its wings, it seemed to shake its gigantic head to regain its equilibrium, another strange human-like mannerism.

Attelus wasn't...He couldn't be...

Kalakor had also moved a fair ways towards the daemon by then, slaying and slaying all in his way with inhuman ease.

'By the Golden frigging throne,' Tathe managed and pointed. 'Provide that insane little fool cover fire now, frig you!'


Attelus hoped the daemon's fall would be enough to restrict enemy attention away from him and his parachute.

And by the Emperor it seemed to have worked, no las fire or anything flew his way. Not yet, anyway. Nonetheless, he still zigzagged down as sergeant Starkeren of Enandra's Stormtrooper corpse had taught him.

But in all honesty, this whole frigging insane scheme shouldn't have worked in the first place. He'd known the second it'd started how the Bloodthirster had stopped rising but had tried to ignore it. Not just that but she hadn't just stalled its flight but, perhaps, even managed to pin back the daemon's limbs. He'd been callous towards it, but he couldn't afford to be, it was the corruption getting to him. It was the corruption making him take such insane risks. It was the corruption causing him to feel the rush of battle more than ever before. He needed, needed to regain control of himself.

Yet now here he was, about to fight a greater daemon, he'd regained control but it was too late to back down now.

Attelus unclipped his harness about two metres off the ground and dropped. One Resurrected, a Sovrithian, looked up at the shadow growing over him just in time to take Attelus' feet in his face, his neck snapping with a crack which somehow overrode the chaotic cacophony of battle everywhere around.

The man was flung onto his back and Attelus' power sword sliced twice to take the heads off two others. He hit the ground and ducked a cultist's whining chainsword a split second later. Attelus' diagonal slice went from the attacker's hip then out his shoulder.

Another cultist swung down a chain axe which Attelus sidestepped. Before the cultist's axe even hit the sand, Attelus' round-house kick smashed the Resurrected's ribs into splinters and as the cultist was flung off his feet, Attelus turned his round-house kick into a side-kick into the cultist's face.

Attelus sliced through the chest of a Velrosian as she drew back her bayonet to stab, then reversed the cut to slash a Marangerian stomach open.

He fought the urge to laugh, he fought it far harder than he fought and killed the Resurrected coming for him. They seemed to be turning all their attention to him, as through the hive mind leading them knew he was the one who came up with the plan which laid their champion so low. Or for billions of other conjectures, Attelus didn't even want to start speculating on. That was good, the more pressure on him meant, perhaps, less on the Imperial advance But they couldn't bring their numbers to bear on him as Imperial covering fire swathed through them, mostly focused on enemy ranged fighters and Bloodletters. Attelus was just glad that Tathe had seen him, as he hoped he would. But even so, sooner rather than later, he'd be overwhelmed if something didn't happen. He briefly wondered if he'd become one of them if Faleaseen's owning of his soul would make him immune. He hoped so, as the Resurrected version of himself would slice a bloody, bloody swathe through his friends and allies.

Bolter fire turned at least a dozen of the Resurrected advancing on him into clouds of blood and bone chips.

In the next split, second Kalakor was advancing by Attelus' side, firing his bolter from the hip. Attelus couldn't help but hiss a curse beneath his breath: in his enthusiasm, he'd forgotten to grab some sort of automatic gun from the Guncutter which would've proved invaluable now.

'Took you long enough,' said Attelus as he drew his autopistol and added his pitiful shots to Kalakor's.

Kalakor's reply was lost as the Bloodthirster's roar eclipsed every other sound and it climbed to its hooves. Its hate-filled cylindrical eyes were plastered on Attelus and Kalakor, its snarling snout rippled and blood-tinged saliva drooped from its yellow teeth.

The familiar ice-hot tentacles of fear sprouted from Attelus' heart and throughout his entirety. Yet he welcomed it, embraced it like a lover her hadn't seen in an eternity. It'd seemed he hadn't realised its absence until now. Attelus knew fear more intimately than any other human he knew. He knew fear was one of the most important facets of being human. Perhaps it was his earlier moment of self-awareness which brought him back from the brink? Perhaps...perhaps it wasn't blind faith or even a severe level of willpower which was the anathema to corruption? But it was the wisdom of knowing oneself?

Despite the onrush of fear, Attelus stood his ground.

Then the Bloodthirster sent out its whip for Attelus and Kalakor, stretching the one hundred or so metres between it and them in a millisecond and slicing through the dozens of Resurrected in the way...

[Adrassil]

Jelket now advanced with the rest of the throne agents. They surrounded Karmen in an escort formation as Halsin tried his best to treat Kamen's wounds as they jogged down the hill in the middle of the Imperial Guard ranks. Jelket's, Vark's and Helma's Hellguns as well as Hayden's long las were dedicated in their firing arcs in taking down the daemons, while everyone else held their shots back. But even still their ammo was nearing empty.

He tried his very best to keep his attention away from the breathtaking battle going on between Attelus, Kalakor and the daemon.

And he tried to fight the tears in his eyes.

'Battle' was too stronger a word as it was impossible for his eyes to follow, but he didn't have to see it to know all they were doing was holding it off. Sacrificing themselves for the Imperials advance.

'Get a hold of yourself, Jelket,' snarled Vark.

Vark's words did nothing but as the tears poured unbidden down his face.

'For frig's sake,' said Vark.

'We should help them,' said Jelket. 'We can't let them face that...monster alone.'

'Don't be stupid,' said Vark. 'Don't be frigging stupid! We can't fight against that and besides...'

'Besides what, Vark?'

Vark's reply was just a grimace.

Jelket repeated his question.

'Just shut it, you idiot,' said Vark.

'Show Jelket some respect, Vark,' snapped Helma.

'What? You standing up for your boyfriend, Helma? Or are you just letting yourself get controlled by sentiment for that shit Attelus? Screw you, the Imperium of Mankind isn't what it is today because of sentiment.'

'And it's a shitty hell hole,' said Torris. 'Maybe it could use a little more sentiment.'

'Frig you,' said Vark. 'You dare you question the God-Emperor's vision? I should shoot you for heresy. Leave them. Leave that idiot to his fate. You hate him too, Torris why are you standing up for him?'

Torris sighed. 'Believe me, Vark. I find Attelus obnoxious, that there's something wrong with him and leaving him and the Space Marine is...logical, but...'

'But what?'

'I-I don't know. I don't want to help, but I don't know...'

'I-I don't want to fight that thing,' squeaked Delathasi. 'I really don't.'

'Why are we even debating this?' said Vark. 'Stop talking, and keep moving!'

'W-we can't-' said Jelket.

'Frig in hell, Jelket,' said Hayden. 'That...boy has just made mistake after mistake after mistake. He manipulated us into working with Xenos. He is responsible for the deaths of billions, an entire world. He's insane, he thinks he's some kind of immortal, he deserves this.'

'Wait? What?' said Halsin.

'You're just pissed you weren't the one who led this mission, Hayden,' said Helma.

'Frig you,' said Hayden. 'You frigging bitch. And frigging right I should have been put in charge!'

'No you shouldn't have,' said Verenth. 'Because you're an arsehole.'

There was a long pause and Hayden's pale face turned bright red.

Verenth didn't wait for a response as he began pushing his way toward the fight.

'Where in the God-Emperor's name are you going?' said Vark.

'Where the hell do you think I'm going, genius?' said Verenth over his shoulder.

'You're just going to get in the damn way,' growled Hayden.

Verenth ignored him.

Jelket smiled and was the first to follow. Then it was Helma, Torris and Delathasi.

'You won't do anything,' said Vark. 'You're throwing away your lives!'

'An Emperor botherer like you should know,' said Helma. 'Only in death does duty end.'

'I'm going too,' said another familiar female voice which echoed with strength and authority and Jelket turned to see Karmen had regained consciousness. Her bright blue eyes were intense against her blood-smeared face, her bolter unclasped from her power armour and in hand. 'I cannot use my powers now but I can sure as hell lend my firepower to the effort.'

'And I can't let my patient go alone without my help,' said Halsin.

'Y-you're nuts,' said Hayden in the strongest outburst of emotion Jelket had ever witnessed from the sniper and it caused him to hesitate in his step. 'This plane... it's getting to you!'

'No,' said Jelket. 'It's getting to you, Hayden. And Vark, too. So screw the both of you. Attelus may be far from perfect, but he's a good man and maybe one day, he'll be a great one after everything he's done and been through he deserves our respect and maybe...admiration. So, good luck in storming that damned tower. Goodbye and good frigging luck.'

With that, he turned and began running toward his certain death without even a split second of hesitation.



Tathe's vox bead crackled to life in his ear and Karmen's voice came through.

'As you may have guessed commissar, I am awake. You and your men may run for the objective.'

'Sir!' said Dellenger, pointing and Tathe turned to see that most of the throne agents were running away from the rest of the advance. Straight for the ludicrously fast melee between Attelus, the Space Marine and the daemon.

'What in the damned warp are you doing?'

'We are helping Attelus,' said the psyker. 'We cannot let him and Kalakor fight that Bloodthirster alone!'

Despite already assuming this, Tathe still couldn't help but drop his jaw.

'But-'

'Do not worry about us. Just get you and your men to the tower.'

Tathe couldn't find a response, he never imagined that agents of the Inquisition could be capable of such camaraderie.

Or such foolishness.

'Don't go! We might need you-'

'This might be the last time we speak, commissar. The Emperor protects, Tathe,' said Karmen then she cut the link.

He couldn't help let out a growling curse through clenched teeth, but he decided not to argue anymore.

'Go! Go! For Sovrith! For Elbyra! For the Emperor!' he yelled, sword held aloft as the Guncutter overhead slaughtered all in their way from above and he and his fellows ran into Emperor only knew what was waiting for them in that cursed tower.


It was almost impossible to believe, but it was reality, here he was fighting perhaps the most dangerous creature of all, Attelus didn't know what a Bloodletter was but he had a good idea of what a Bloodthirster was. After his utter defeat at his father's hand, he shouldn't have been so ready to engage such a horrid monster and yet here he was dodging, darting, weaving and sometimes being forced to subtly parry its constant, constant barrage of blows. Everyone of them more than capable of smashing him into paste with even the smallest touch. Desperate fear and adrenaline thumped through his every millimetre. His every breath burst through his oesophagus out of his mouth with such force it felt like he was breathing out a lung. And they exploded between his ears it was like a bolter firing right beside his skull.

Through this utter chaos of struggling to survive split second after split second Attelus had completely lost track of Kalakor. He hoped the Space Marine was still alive. He hoped Kalakor had some way to defeat it.

Attelus could never defeat it, not in a million years, to last even this long, however, the hell long this was, was amazing in itself.

Then something happened, the daemon let out a laugh and somehow it was more horrid than all its roars combined.

'You are a tenacious little perpetual, are you not?' it said, the daemon's voice echoed with rage and bloodlust, but yet...yet it sounded almost friendly, affable and spoke with an intellectuality which took Attelus off guard. But what took him off guard, even more, was that the daemon had stopped in its assault.

And that he no longer stood upon blood sands, but in a bright white void of nothingness.

Unable to reply as he struggled for breath, Attelus bent over, hands on his knees. But his gaze was locked on the huge daemon as it towered over him.

It smiled. 'I am Kharkartskar, the voice of my lord and master, the greatest god of all, Khorne. And upon his behalf. I merely wish to speak to you, little perpetual.'



Her bolter blasting, Karmen stopped in her advance, her jaw dropping and Kalakor seemed to reel back.

The Bloodthirster and Attelus had gone.

Disappeared into nothingness.

[Adrassil]

'What?' said Attelus.

The daemon smiled or at least it may have been a smile. 'Well...an ultimatum to be more precise. You can either pledge you allegiance to the blood god, or I will just slaughter you and you will become his servant either way.'

'W-why?'

Kharkartskar shrugged. 'If you give your soul it will allow Him to grant you strength. Did you ever wonder why it was always cultists that could match you? That received his blessings?'

'No...not really. I was...too busy trying not to die.'

Attelus couldn't help wonder, why in hell was he treating with this abomination?

The daemon's snarling maw grimaced.

'Then you are a fool.'

Attelus just shrugged.

'You maybe a fool but you do not mindlessly worship that corpse like rest of your kind.'

'I worship no one and nothing,' said Attelus, defiance echoed through the white void despite the fear throughout him and the bemusement. 'And I prefer it stays that way.'

Much to Attelus' surprise the daemon let out a chuckle as dry as the desert. 'Even if you will be given the power necessary to defeat your father?'

Attelus didn't reply.

'Even if you will be treated to a lifetime of slaughter? To be free from the constrains of your Imperium and free to kill and kill and kill. You enjoy killing-'

'I don't enjoy killing, daemon. Don't presume to know me.'

'Oh but I do, little perpetual. The warp knows you. Knows you better than you know yourself. You are a murderer through and through. You fight naught for the anathema nor the foolish, transient realm which you call The Imperium of Mankind. You merely fight to sate your bloodlust. For the joy of the fight. To test your martial prowess against a worthy opponent. Is that correct?'

Attelus couldn't help grimace as the words kind of swept through his mind.

'I fight to bring Etuarq to justice,' said Attelus. 'To make sure his conspiracy is ended!'

'And if you pledge your allegiance to my master, he will make sure you have the necessary power to accomplish that.'

'What?'

The daemon laughed again. 'You do not still think that he is in service to us? You truly are a fool. He is our enemy as much as he is yours. But that is just your ulterior motive. Once all have joined under my master's sway they will leave unto the stars and spread slaughter and the Blood god's blessing and with you at the fore as His mortal champion!'

Despite everything Attelus couldn't help scoff as he began to circle the daemon and it started to circle in turn. 'Champion? If your "god" knows me more than I know myself: it'd know that I'm a shit leader to say the very least.'

'Champion and leader are not the same thing, fool. The former general, Tathe will act as the army's commander as well as his son, the commissar.'

Attelus straightened. 'Will they be immortal out there, too?'

'No,' said the daemon and Attelus hoped it would elaborate, but it said nothing more.

'So, if I pledge my allegiance now; I will be given enough strength to kill my father, right here? Right now?'

Kharkartskar grimaced and the remnants of its wings kicked out in what may've been irritation. 'I explained that already. Your father humiliated you, defeated you with contemptuous ease. Wouldn't you love to inflict such agony upon him? Crave it?

Attelus' cheek twitched, in all honesty he did, he really really did. That bastard, deserved it and more.

'All He wants is that you forever provide skulls for his skull throne and constantly spill blood to sate his never ending thirst. And maybe Khorne will provide you with some much needed intellect as well.'

Attelus shrugged. 'With respect, daemon, this is a rather large decision I have to make so I have to make sure to confirm everything.'

The daemon laughed, a roar of bloodlustful mirth. 'I suppose that is fair enough. So, what say you?'

'Farseer Faleaseen already has my soul, daemon. It isn't mine to give.'

'Indeed she does. The utter stench of that witch's magic radiates off you. But she is nothing compared to my master as He will wrench away your soul for himself as easily as a mortal takes a breath. You will gain power beyond imagining, maybe power enough to one day defeat me. Give yourself unto Him, or I will make you.'

'Hmm, why is Etuarq such a threat to you and your all mighty master?'

Kharkartskar sighed. 'That you do not need to know. You will know all when you give yourself to Him, that I assure you, little perpetual.'

'Do you know where Etuarq is, then?'

A roar bellowed out of Kharkartskar's maw and he sent his whips screaming for Attelus. Attelus danced aside all of it and reactivated his powersword.

'I'll take that as a no, then,' said Attelus.

'You test my patience fool,' said Kharkartskar. 'And you do not wish to test it further. That I assure you.'

'Oh, I believe you,' said Attelus. 'But I feel that is the only complete truth you've said so far, Kharkartskar. Well, beside something else...'

The daemon grimaced. 'What else?'

'You said "us"' said Attelus.

Kharkartskar growled through his razor sharp teeth. 'What? Stop wasting time, fool!'

'You said, "you do not still think that he is in service to us." It isn't just your master involved in this, is it? But the other...things, too. What could make Etuarq such a threat to force you to join forces?'

'It is not just Etuarq,' said Kharkartskar. 'It is not just him. Something else lingers. It is...'

Kharkartskar shook himself and grimaced in obvious distaste. 'Foreseen.'

'W-What else lingers?'

'Enough!' bellowed Kharkartskar while stomping a hoof toward Attelus and swiping down his huge axe. 'Renounce your foolish loyalty to the eldar witch and the corpse which you so insist on calling "Emperor." Kneel before Khorne and receive His blessings and all will be revealed to you. Do it now!'

Attelus grinned.


'W-where did they go?' said Karmen as she and the rest finally managed to fight their way to stand beside Kalakor.

'"Where did they go, lord," said the Space Marine, his attention was fixated on where Attelus and the daemon had disappeared as his body seemed to slaughter any enemy nearing enemy like it was on autopilot.

Karmen couldn't help sigh and roll her eyes. 'Where did they go...Lord?'

Jelket and the others spread out to set up a perimeter

'Hmm,' said Kalakor as he magnetised his bolter to his hip and reached out a huge hand as if to touch the sky. 'That was sorcery.'

'S-sorcery? I sensed nothing. I thought the servants of the Blood god hated sorcery.'

'Exactly,' said Kalakor. 'You are a psyker, a powerful one, but you have not delved into the art of sorcery.'

Karmen pouted, unwilling to admit that she had used sorcery to implant the seeds in the minds of Taryst's men which allowed her to read their thoughts easier. Then later control them to use as cannon fodder against the Space Marines invading their base.

'And what? You have?' she said.

'I have,' said Kalakor as his thumb curled and seemed to tear into reality like it was made of parchment. 'I have indeed.'


'What! Do! You! Mean! No?' Kharkartskar screamed.

'It means what it means, daemon,' said Attelus.

'You are faithless! You are a heretic in their eyes, yet you still insist to pledge your allegiance to them and their foolish Imperium?'

'No,' said Attelus. 'I would rather just defeat my father and his master on my own merits, I've already been just given enough strength. Besides, I would be betraying the faith of my friends and comrades and I will never do that. Never.'

"Given" was too stronger a word, Attelus neglecting to mention the utter, utter agony he had to endure to gain his enhanced strength, speed and reflexes.

'Then you really are a fool!'

'Am I? Am I really? I don't know, selling my soul to chaos seems pretty frigging foolish to me,' said Attelus. 'Anyway, if it doesn't truly matter whether I pledge my soul to him. Then why haven't you killed me, yet?'

'I already-'

'Those rules seem...superfluous. Too limiting for what you call a "god," daemon,' said Attelus. 'It might be somewhat true due the evidence, but the "evidence" could just be a clever ruse. A...manipulation and you have already hinted that it isn't just your master involved in this.'

Kharkartskar didn't reply, just watched Attelus as he circled.

'You know what I think,' said Attelus. 'I think that I have to pledge myself to...Him or else my perpetual soul is immune to becoming His. I'd rather turn my...less than good side to something constrictive. To be its master and not let it master me. So screw you and screw your frigging god.'

Attelus' was off footed as the daemon suddenly threw back its head and bellowed out a laugh. 'Maybe I was wrong; maybe you are not a fool. Or less of a fool than we had thought. You are correct in your observations, little perpetual.'

Kharkartskar clapped a slow, contemptuous clap with his gnarled, curled claw hand on the handle of his whip. 'Ahh but you neglected something. This place along with the...manipulation was a gift from Tzeentch. This place is a realm created by him, a prison to entrap a soul...a perpetual soul. Forever. If only you had given yourself to Khorne, then you would have been spared this fate.'

A fate worse than death, Glaitis' voice echoed through Attelus' head.

Cold fear beyond the point of freezing grew throughout Attelus. His teeth clenched together so hard it felt like they'd fused. Why hadn't the daemon told him this before? But something within Attelus screamed Kharkartskar was telling the truth.

The sound of cracking came and the daemon's and Attelus' attention snapped to it source. A few metres away the white was slowly, slowly tearing asunder.

'That would be your "friends",' said Kharkartskar. 'But their effort is for nothing, you will be long dead before they penetrate the veil.'

Then Kharhartskar was on Attelus, the huge axe smashing down for him.

[Adrassil]

'Where did they go?' Adelana cried. 'Where did he go?'

'I have no frigging clue,' snapped Darrance. 'Shut it and get yourself under control, calm your damned farm and all that crap, damn it.'

Adelana shut it, mostly out of bemusement for Darrance's strange colloquialism.

The beeping from the scanner drew Adelana's attention to it. 'We've got more ships coming on us,' she said.

'Yes I got that, how many?'

'Twelve. From the south-east, will be on us in a few minutes.'

'Great, just frigging great.'

'What do we do? The Imperial force still hasn't reached the tower. If we run...'

'Damn it. I was hoping that would have more time,' said Darrance then he started to flick switches.

'W-what are you doing?'

'Putting more power into the shields. If you wish to abandon ship to look for Attelus, now would be the right time.'

Adelana gaped as the implication seemed to sink into her pores. 'But we-'

'I am sure the Eldar will be able to extract you from the surface once they arrive. No offence but with your skill set you will be far more valuable down there.'

Was that a compliment? An actual, albeit backhanded, compliment from Darrance? They were as rare as-

'But without being able to manoeuvre, you'll...'

'Oh, I know young Adelana,' said Darrance. 'But before I was recruited to become an assassin, I was a pilot and well...I would rather go fighting from a cockpit than with a sword in hand. Now go, go now, before it's too late.'

Despite herself, tears welled in Adelana's eyes, and she found herself giving him a salute.

'Emperor be with you...Darrance,' she said as she began for the door.

Darrance snorted. 'I do not need the Emperor. As He does not need me.'


Tathe's microbead crackled. 'This is the pilot of the Guncutter. There are twelve enemy ships in bound, so my cover fire will be minimised so I can hold them off. I'm sorry. And Throne Agent Adelana is about to parachute down to you, so please give her cover fire.'

It took Tathe about half a second to gain the breath to reply. 'Got that...What's your...name?'

'Darrance, commissar.'

'Your whole...name...please.'

There was a weighted pause. 'Saderth Gocrillian Darrance.'

'Thank you...I will...make sure to remember you and your sacrifice, Saderth Gocrillian Darrance.'

There was a pause.

'You are aware there is a thing called an ejection button, commissar?'

Tathe smiled, choosing not to point out that Darrance would be landing smack bang in the midst of hordes upon hordes of the Lost and the Damned, most likely without support or anything.

'Good luck...You snarky son of a bitch.'

'Thank you good sir. I will take that as a compliment' said Darrance. 'And do not worry about me. I...have a...tendency to get out of insurmountable situations miraculously, with nary a scratch. Out.'

Then Darrance cut the link and Tathe couldn't help shake his head.

All of these Throne Agents were such...characters.

Tathe looked where the other throne agents, but they were lost among the sea of Resurrected.

He frowned and fixed his attention forwards again. The tower was only a few hundred metres away now. This was the worst time to let distractions rule him. He can only hope they would somehow make it.

They weren't bad. For agents of the Inquisition, anyway.


Without Kalakor, the Bloodthirster's attacks were even faster and harder than before. Every split second was a battle to keep from being pulped.

Attelus wanted to roar, to rage against the unfairness, the injustice, but it took all his will, his concentration just to survive. He couldn't win, every dodge, dart and parry was just delaying the inevitable.

Kharkartskar was silent, no roaring, no bellowing came from its grinning maw. Skill and speed fuelled its attacks rather than the ferociousness of earlier.

Attelus couldn't help think that this was the real Kharkartskar that the baying beast of before was just an act.

Attelus was forced to leap back from a downward axe bash which sheered into the floor, but didn't bounce or smash into whatever the flooring was made of.

The daemon's whip flew for him and Attelus dodged aside the first then the tails seemed to gain a life of their own and they wound and flicked his way.

He clenched his teeth and was a blur like never before as he slipped and slid and weaved through it.

Then Kharkartskar was on his flank, the daemon's huge axe sweeping in a diagonal cut.

Attelus managed to duck it and his weary weakened limbs made him stumble another few steps. The axe reversed into a downward diagonal smash, Attelus jumped back and his foot slipped from him and he fell into a kneel before rolling aside another vertical blow.

Every millimetre of him was as covered in sweat as he was in fiery pain. Attelus knew he couldn't keep this up for much longer. Attelus slipped to his knees again.

Kharkartskar loomed over him like a titan of legend.

'I offer you power, I offer you the gift of purpose,' it said. 'Instead you choose an eternity of suffering

With a roar Attelus lunged.

Kharkartskar managed to tilt his head aside enough so Attelus' sword cut through its cheek instead of its head.

Attelus landed just in time to dash aside the daemon's axe swing and he leaped back to get some space.

It was then he realised Kharkarskar was laughing. 'A good try, little perpetual. You almost had me there. Although such a blow would not be enough to kill me.'

Attelus couldn't answer; he could barely breathe.

'If it were up to me, I would never have offered you this honour, this gift. You are a-'

'I'm a...fool...I get...it. But...I'm...still a...fool who...managed to clip...your...wings and...hold out...so...long against...you.'

Kharkartskar seemed to sneer. 'Only because you received aid from the twice traitor and that witch.'

'Twice...traitor?'

'That Space Marine that you have so foolishly placed your trust in...'

Kharkartskar trailed off in its sentence, and a smile creased through its wolfish features. 'You are stalling. You almost had me there, little foolish perpetual.'

Attelus grimaced, hoping he'd hear more about Kalakor.

'But maybe...maybe you are not as foolish as I thought. Only a little, as your refusal of Khorne's gifts is foolishness beyond even the imaginings of Tzeench himself.'

In the next microsecond, Kharkarskar had launched into attacking Attelus again. But before that, Attelus managed to steal a glance toward the tear in the air.

It was halfway open. He had to keep going; he had to fight on.


Adelana hit the button to open the airlock, and the buzzing klaxon alarms began their shriek as the door began to open. She hated that shriek but now seemed almost...almost a friend. She was going to miss this ship.

'Good luck, Darrance,' she said. 'If you won't accept help from the Emperor, maybe you will from fate itself.'

Then she threw herself out the air lock and fell for the crowd below.

[Adrassil]

Karmen was down to her last clip, but Kalakor seemed almost done all the while the bellows of his bolter went in rhyme with hers. She couldn't help but wonder how a simple line sergeant could have learned such complex sorcery, and she came up with many differing and wild theories.

And none of them was good.

For how long they had stood, surrounding Kalakor and keeping the Resurrected at bay, she could only take an educated guess at and with how much of her psychic strength had returned, at least a couple of minutes.

She stole yet another glance at Darrance and the Guncutter above and whispered yet another prayer for him and the void craft. She also gazed at the slowly falling figure beneath the parachute and wondered if anyone else in the group had noticed her. It was Adelana, and she was heading straight for the advancing Imperial Guard. Which was a mistake as they were so very close to fighting their way towards the tower.

Karmen clenched her jaw and gave Kalakor a look. He was almost finished, so she couldn't land in time with them either-

Then an idea hit her; she could save Adelana, but...but should she? This could be a great way of...getting rid of her, and with her dead, Attelus would...

No, that was wrong; despite everything, Adelana was a good person; allowing her to be torn to shreds would be a horrid act, and then she would join the Resurrected number. And besides, they needed all the help they could get. Even if it would make it, she couldn't use her psychic power against whatever was waiting for them through the portal.

Karmen reached for her microbead. 'Adelana! Can you hear me?'

'I can...barely, Karmen,' came the young woman's reply, shouting over the wind and the horrid roaring of the dog fight above.

'I need you to unclasp your parachute.'

'What? Say again, please? Did you just ask me to unclasp my parachute?'

'That's exactly what I said, girl. Don't worry; I will use my telekinesis to slow your fall and bring you to us. You must do it now! We are running out of time!'

"How-'

'You just have to trust me! I know we do not get along, but now, now you must. Please.'

Adelana sighed. 'Okay.'

Then she did.



Despite her initial determination not to scream, Adelana couldn't help but shriek so loud it hurt her throat and her lungs. Her arms seemed to gain lives of their own as they flailed about like they believed they could somehow make her fly.

The blood-covered legion below her grew and grew by every split second. But as it seemed she would smash into them and explode into tiny chunks, they seemed to grow a little less. And less until she stopped completely, her feet hanging over the heads of cultists. They noticed and looked up at her; there was a second of alarm on their faces, and then they began to raise their weapons.

But before they could shoot, everything was morphed into a blur as Adelana swung almost horizontally toward Emperor only knew where. She screamed again, the terror swirling and making her kick and writhe.

'Adelana, it is me! Please stop struggling. I can barely keep hold of you.'

Adelana furrowed her brow and gritted her jaw, and took control of herself. She straightened, pushing her feet together and her arms against her sides.

Then before she knew it, her feet hit the sand, and she was flung on her side. A strong hand wrapped around her arm and hauled her to her feet, but she was so disorientated she couldn't find a clue who it was, even with his distinctive dark-skinned features. He grinned down at her and said. 'That was one hell of a ride, wasn't it?'

All Adelana could do was nod, and her mind seemed to find itself somewhat. 'T-Torris?'

'That is me,' he said. 'It's good to have you back, young Adelana. But I'm sorry to say we've gotta move!'

Before Adelana could make a response, Torris hauled her over his should and was running. Then the sky and the crowd around her were gone.



Karmen and Kalakor were the first through the portal. Side by side, they lunged into the strange dimension, bolters raised. It took Karmen a few seconds for her head to adjust, and they both lowered them at what they saw.

The Bloodthirster was fighting three- no four figures. It was far too fast for Karmen to make out any detail, but she knew it was Serghar and his lackeys. She had no idea why they were protecting Attelus.

Sitting not far away was Attelus Kaltos; his back was to them as he watched on. His exhaustion was almost palpable, even from metres away.

Kalakor was moving, his heavy boots crunching and rocking the floor as he fired from the hip at the daemon.

'Get the boy!' said the Space Marine through the vox.

The sheer power of Kalakor's voice made her run toward Attelus, not daring to shoot at the daemon for fear of it making its attention turn to her and that she might accidentally hit one of the enemy agents.

'Attelus!' she cried. 'Attelus.'

He only turned his attention to her on the second cry of his name. Attelus looked up at her, and she couldn't help but slip to a halt; he looked like he must've been fighting for days upon days. His face was utterly beaded with sweat. His long brown was hair soaked through and even messier than normal.

She wanted to wrap her arms around him; the relief of seeing him alive was almost overwhelming. But she-

'Attelus!' cried a voice, and Adelana ran past Karmen, fell into a kneel and crushed him into a hug. Attelus was so exhausted he couldn't pat her back or even smile.

Verenth and Halsin walked by and separated Attelus and Adelana. They then picked up Attelus and placed his arms over their shoulders.

'Kalakor!' Karmen yelled. 'We've got Attelus. We've got to go!'

Kalakor nodded, broke off his shooting and started back toward them. 'I have closed the portal,' said the Space Marine. 'I will open another; it will allow us to get into the tower.'

'How?' said Karmen. 'And why didn't you do that earlier?'

Kalakor shook his head as his finger began to tear into the air. 'I was not within a strange range. That tower is...warded. This dimension is beyond space and time and the immaterium, so it is far safer to do it here than anywhere. But even still, it is a risk. And we will not be able to get in far. Those fools will hold the daemon off as we escape.'

'Wait,' said another voice and Torris stepped past. He had slung his shotgun over his shoulder and was carrying his meltagun. 'I'm going to try this.'

Before Karmen could reply, he ran a few metres from the horrid melee; he stopped and raised his melta. Seeming to wait for an opening.

'Torris! Wait!' said Karmen, about to follow, but Kalakor's raised hand stopped her.

'Let the fool go if any weapon we have that can hurt the daemon. It is that melta... But we cannot risk you-'

The Space Marine was interrupted as Delathasi, Jelket, and Helma sprinted by. Helma and Jelket fired their Hellguns, and Delathasi joined the horrid melee.

'Emperor, damn it,' said Kalakor. 'They are just going to get in the way!'

Karmen agreed, but she couldn't do anything but watch. Her marksmanship wasn't good enough, and her psychic power was drained for now.

All they could do was wait and hope and pray.

[Adrassil]

Despite being amid the whirling, chaotic melee and smashing and bashing with his precious, now empty long las. Hayden still managed to see the little bitch fall, then suddenly be taken like a child's hand, snatching up a doll and flying a long way. That was Karmen; it had to be her using her telekinesis to bring Adelana to them.

Lucky little-

Hayden's commlink beeped into life.

'Hayden,' said Darrance.

'What in the hell do you want, Darrance?' Hayden roared as he smashed in the top of a Velrosian Resurrected's skull. 'I'm in the middle of a frigging battle here!'

'I'm sorry to avert your attention, old friend, but just let me speak. We have worked together for a long time,' said Darrance. 'Over twenty years now. You have been a good friend, a good colleague. You must have saved me on countless occasions now-'

'I saved you far more than you saved me, frig you.'

'...Indeed. Do you remember what that Eldar warlock said? That this world, this planet, is infected with chaos. You and I are not the most faithful of the Emperor's...employees, so I think you and I are a bit more liable to be corrupted than the Emperor botherers like Karmen or Hark. And it seems to be getting to you, old friend-'

Hayden screamed through his gritted teeth while kicking a chaos cultist in the chest, cracking in his ribs and sending him flying back.

'Just do not let it get to you, don't let it take over you,' said Darrance. 'You are stronger than this, Hayden. I know it. Just try to gain control of yourself. Hayden? Are you listening to me?'

'Yes!' Hayden shrieked while cracking the butt of his rifle into the side of a Resurrected's skull. He just wanted Darrance to frig off now.

'Alright, alright. I am sorry to distract you; I'm going, to be honest with you. I don't think I'll make it out of this alive. That after all these years, old friend, my luck has finally run out. So you take this as my last will and testament. Those are my last words. Even if I do somehow live, you got that.'

Hayden grimaced as he blocked a stabbing bayonet with his long las.

'You get that?'

'Yes! Frig you! Yes!'

'Good, now good luck. My old friend.'

Darrance cut the link.

Hayden scowled and continued to fight. He cursed Darrance's name with every strike and block and parry.

For how long he kept doing this was impossible for him to know.

Just as he didn't know how long it took before the Guncutter exploded.



Torris stood, meltagun raised as he searched for the opening he needed throughout the blurring melee. He only had one shot; if he frigged it up, the daemon would be on him in a split second.

Not just that, if he accidentally hit Serghar or one of his minions or Emperor forbids young Delathasi, it might not have enough power to try to damage it. Combat stimms must've pumped her up to be able to keep up with them. He couldn't help but wonder how long those drugs would last.

He couldn't tell which blur was which, but that didn't stop Jelket and Helma from blazing away with their Hellguns.

'Stop,' said Torris over the vox link. 'You two just frigging stop.'

'What?' said Helma. 'Why?'

'I don't know what the frig has come over you; you might hit Delathasi. In fact, you're frigging lucky to not have his her already. And your shots are doing less than nothing to that daemon. Not just that, but you might draw its attention to us!'

'Well,' said Jelket. 'I'm kind of hoping I might accidentally hit Serghar frigging Kaltos. You know?'

'Yeah, but what about Delathasi? This world isn't corrupting us but making us stupider, too. No wonder the arch-enemy uses such crap tactics and are so damned undisciplined.'

Helma and Jelket grimaced yet still lowered their weapons.

'What are you going to do, anyway?' said Helma. 'That daemon was taking lascannon blasts straight to the face not long ago. I think we should just let those friggers fight the damn thing and escape through Kalakor's portal-'

'That is lord Kalakor to you, ma'am,' said Jelket.

They exchanged looks and then burst out laughing.

Torris waited for their deluge of laughter to finish. 'You saw how the flamers hurt the Bloodletters? A meltagun is just a far more concentrated and powerful flamer. It might hurt this one more than a lascannon. Hopefully.'

Both Jelket and Helma grimaced and exchanged glances. 'I am aware of that, Marcel,' said Helma. 'But a lascannon is a concentrated laser. It's hot too, you know.'

'I know that,' said Torris. 'But I don't know. The flamer could be symbolic or something. I think beyond the Ordo Hereticus using it to kill heretics. Frigging Imperial Guardsmen knew this better than us, apparently.'

Jelket shrugged. 'We're Ordo Hereticus, not Malleus. Daemons aren't our purview.'

Torris sighed. 'Yeah, I know and mores the frigging pity. We should've been more prepped. We should've had a blank in our team at the very least.'

Torris changed the channel before they could reply. 'Delathasi. Disengage when I give you the word.'

'Ac-knowledged.'

'Even if you somehow manage to kill it,' said Helma. 'How do you know it just won't be back in material space in a few minutes?'

Torris grimaced and clenched his teeth. 'I suppose I have...faith,' he said.



Verenth managed to tear his attention from the battle to the limp, almost lifeless form of Attelus Kaltos. He frowned.

'You awake?' said Verenth.

Attelus muttered a barely audible 'yes.' And nodded like a poorly controlled marionette.

Despite himself, Verenth couldn't help but smile. 'History repeats itself, eh? Remember how we were in this situation three years ago? Except it wasn't me and Halsin, but...but...'

Attelus, suddenly wretched, leaned forward and vomited so violently that Verenth couldn't help but fear he might be going into spasm.

He waited for Attelus to recover and spit out the rest of his bile.

'Hayden said something interesting,' said Verenth. 'That you believed you were immortal or something. Is that true?'

'I do, although I have yet to die to...find out...proper,' said Attelus. 'Are you...asking if when...I promised that when...we are...finished with this, you could kill...me. That I knew...then and was manipulating you?'

'Yeah,' said Verenth, his gaze fixed on Attelus. 'I don't know if I want to still do that anymore. I see the bigger picture now. But I still need to know.'

Attelus laughed, or at least tried to, as it came out as wheezing. 'That's more...than...fair enough. And more...than fair enough...you would suspect...me of...that. Me...being me...after all.'

'Did you or didn't you?'

Attelus looked at Verenth, clasping their gazes together. 'I swear, Verenth. I didn't find out until later of my immortality. I'm sorry, I destroyed yours, Arlathan's and Adelana's home.'

He looked at her, and she focused her beautiful blue gaze. His hazel and tears began to well in his eyes. 'I failed at stopping them from destroying it. I failed in defeating my father. And now I can't even keep this promise to you. I'm sorry, Verenth.'

Verenth couldn't even begin to think of a response, so he looked to Kalakor as he slowly opened his tear in this 'reality.'

And he frowned.

[Adrassil]

Despite being in the midst of the whirling, chaotic melee and smashing and bashing with his precious, now empty long las. Hayden still managed to see the little bitch fall and then suddenly be taken like a child's hand snatching up a doll and flying a long way. That was Karmen; it had to be her using her telekinesis to bring Adelana to them.

Lucky little-

Hayden's commlink beeped into life.

'Hayden,' said Darrance.

'What in the hell do you want, Darrance?' Hayden roared as he smashed in the top of a Velrosian Resurrected's skull. 'I'm in the middle of a frigging battle here!'

'I'm sorry to avert your attention, old friend, but just let me speak. We have worked together for a long time,' said Darrance. 'Over twenty years now. You have been a good friend, a good colleague. You must have saved me on countless occasions now-'

'I saved you far more than you saved me, frig you.'

'...Indeed. Do you remember what that Eldar warlock said? That this world, this planet, is infected with chaos. You and I are not the most faithful of the Emperor's...employees, so I think you and I are a bit more liable to be corrupted than the Emperor botherers like Karmen or Hark. And it seems to be getting to you, old friend-'

Hayden screamed through his gritted teeth while kicking a chaos cultist in the chest, cracking in his ribs and sending him flying back.

'Just do not let it get to you, don't let it take over you,' said Darrance. 'You are stronger than this, Hayden. I know it. Just try to gain control of yourself. Hayden? Are you listening to me?'

'Yes!' Hayden shrieked while cracking the butt of his rifle into the side of a Resurrected's skull. He just wanted Darrance to frig off now.

'Alright, alright. I am sorry to distract you. But I'm going, to be honest with you. I don't think I'll make it out of this alive. That after all these years, old friend, my luck has finally run out. So you take this as my last will and testament. My last words. Even if I do somehow live, you got that.'

Hayden grimaced as he blocked a stabbing bayonet with his long las.

'You get that?'

'Yes! Frig you! Yes!'

'Good, now good luck. My old friend.'

Darrance cut the link.

Hayden scowled and continued to fight. He cursed Darrance's name with every strike and block and parry.

For how long he kept doing this was impossible for him to know.

Just as he didn't know how long it took before the Guncutter exploded.



Torris stood, meltagun raised as he searched for the opening he needed throughout the blurring melee. He only had one shot; if he frigged it up, the daemon would be on him in a split second.

Not just that, if he accidentally hit Serghar or one of his minions, or Emperor forbid, young Delathasi, it might not have enough power to try to damage it. Combat stimms must've pumped her up to be able to keep up with them. He couldn't help but wonder how long those drugs would last.

He couldn't tell which blur was which, but that didn't stop Jelket and Helma from blazing away with their Hellguns.

'Stop,' said Torris over the vox link. 'You two just frigging stop.'

'What?' said Helma. 'Why?'

'I don't know what the frig has come over you. You might hit Delathasi. In fact, you're frigging lucky to not have his her already. And your shots are doing less than nothing to that daemon. Not just that, but you might draw its attention to us!'

'Well,' said Jelket. 'I'm kind of hoping I might accidentally hit Serghar frigging Kaltos. You know?'

'Yeah, but what about Delathasi? This world isn't corrupting us, but making us stupider, too. No wonder the arch enemy uses such crap tactics and are so damned undisciplined.'

Helma and Jelket grimaced yet still lowered their weapons.

'What are you going to do, anyway?' said Helma. 'That daemon was taking lascannon blasts straight to the face not long ago. I think we should just let those friggers fight the damn thing and escape through Kalakor's portal-'

'That is lord Kalakor to you, ma'am,' said Jelket.

They exchanged looks and then burst out laughing.

Torris waited for their deluge of laughter to finish. 'You saw how the flamers hurt the Bloodletters? A meltagun is just a far more concentrated and powerful flamer. It might hurt this one more than a lascannon. Hopefully.'

Both Jelket and Helma grimaced and exchanged glances. 'I am aware of that, Marcel,' said Helma. 'But a lascannon is a concentrated laser. It's hot too, you know.'

'I know that,' said Torris. 'But I don't know. The flamer could be symbolic or something. I think beyond the Ordo Hereticus using it to kill heretics. Frigging Imperial Guardsmen knew this better than us, apparently.'

Jelket shrugged. 'We're Ordo Hereticus, not Malleus. Daemons aren't our purview.'

Torris sighed. 'Yeah, I know and mores the frigging pity. We should've been more prepped. We should've had a blank in our team at the very least.'

Torris changed the channel before they could reply. 'Delathasi. Disengage when I give you the word.'

'Ac-knowledged.'

'Even if you somehow manage to kill it,' said Helma. 'How do you know it just won't be back in material space in a few minutes?'

Torris grimaced and clenched his teeth. 'I suppose I have...faith,' he said.



Verenth managed to tear his attention from the battle to the limp, almost lifeless form of Attelus Kaltos. He frowned.

'You awake?' said Verenth.

Attelus muttered a barely audible 'Yes.' And nodded like a badly controlled marionette.

Despite himself, Verenth couldn't help but smile. 'History repeats itself, eh? Remember how we were in this situation three years ago? Except it wasn't me and Halsin, but...but...'

Attelus, suddenly wretched, leaned forward and vomited so violently that Verenth couldn't help but fear he might be going into spasming.

He waited for Attelus to recover himself and spit out the rest of his bile.

'Hayden said something interesting,' said Verenth. 'That you believed you were immortal or something. Is that true?'

'I do, although I have yet to die to...find out...proper,' said Attelus. 'Are you...asking if when...I promised that when...we are...finished with this, you could kill...me. That I knew...then and was manipulating you?'

'Yeah,' said Verenth, his gaze fixed on Attelus. 'I don't know if I want to still do that anymore. I see the bigger picture now. But I still need to know.'

Attelus laughed, or at least tried to, as it came out as wheezing. 'That's more...than...fair enough. And more...than fair enough...you would suspect...me of...that. Me...being me...after all.'

'Did you or didn't you?'

Attelus looked at Verenth, clasping their gazes together. 'I swear, Verenth. I didn't find out until later about my immortality. I'm sorry, I destroyed yours, Arlathan's and Adelana's home.'

He looked at her, and she focused her beautiful blue gaze on his hazel, and tears began to well in his eyes. 'I failed at stopping them from destroying it. I failed in defeating my father. And now I can't even keep this promise to you. I'm sorry, Verenth.'

Verenth couldn't even begin to think of a response, so he looked to Kalakor as he slowly opened his tear in this 'reality.'

And he frowned.

[Adrassil]

Tathe reloaded his laspistol for what seemed the millionth time and blasted a flurry from the hip, taking down about seven Resurrected charging for him; all of them seemed to have Adreen's face, but he ignored it. Did his father think him so sentimental? So pathetic? He was an Imperial commissar; maybe he was a nice one, maybe too nice. But he'd never, never baulked in the service of the Golden Throne.

He couldn't help flinching a little, but not because he parried the chainaxe of a Resurrected and then impaled him through the chest, but because he had realised that wasn't true. He'd baulked from rebelling against Serghar and his cronies.

Well, now he would make sure that wouldn't happen again.

Without the covering fire of the Guncutter, they had slowed down to a jog, but that hardly mattered; the entrance was only ten or so metres away.

'Sir,' came Dellenger's voice over the vox, but Tathe ignored it. 'Sir!'

Tathe decapitated a Velrosian sergeant as he lunged at him with a chainsword.

'Sir!' yelled Dellenger.

'Whaaat?' Tathe roared as he cleaved a cultist's skull down the middle.

'You're laughing.'

Tathe hesitated in pulling the trigger of his laspistol at the Despasian guardsman charging him with a bayonet, so Dellenger cut him down with a single shot.

He was right. How the hell didn't he know that?

'Sir, you're losing it. You and everyone else.'

Tathe roared through clenched teeth as he sliced across the armoured chest of a charging Sovrithian NCO. He wanted to tell Dellenger to shut up. That he was an Imperial-frigging-commissar and he had no right to speak to him with such egregious disrespect.

But he held his tongue, and he didn't know why.

'Listen to me, sir,' said Dellenger. 'Don't let this get to you. What would Adreen want?'

'Adreen would want us to reach the objective!' Tathe snarled. 'She would want us to slaughter all in our way! Why do you have to ask such inane questions now of all times?'

'Yes,' said Dellenger. 'But would she want you to lose your soul in the process?'

'Lose my soul? What a load of ridiculousness.'

'No!' said Dellenger, and Tathe couldn't help but flinch. 'Don't talk like that. You know it's not...You know it's not.'

'Shut up,' said Tathe. 'I am a killer, Dellenger. You are too. Don't think for even a second that we are human. We will reach that tower at any cost, no matter who or what gets in my way. Are you getting in my way, scout trooper?'

There was a long pause, so long that Tathe hoped the scout had actually: "Shut up."

'You're right, sir,' said Dellenger. 'It's so true that we are able to kill even while we debate philosophy. But isn't that all the more important that we keep that last small sliver of our humanity? We were humans first before we were shaped into killers. Unlike Space Marines, we never gave up our humanity in His service. Not completely, so we should treasure what we have left and hold onto it until death. This is the precipice, sir. If you keep going on as you are, the corruption will take you and everyone else who fight alongside us.'

Tathe clenched his teeth, unable to find any way to argue with the scout. Even from the founding, Dellenger had known things, things that no normal trooper should know. About the xenos, the daemon. Tathe had wondered why, but he neglected to push it as his father had always seemed to accept it, even having the scout as an advisor on these matters. It was Dellenger's knowledge which had allowed them to know that fire was so effective against daemons. His almost inhuman fighting skill was also...out of the ordinary.

The commissar snarled a silent curse as he decapitated yet another enemy. Dellenger was right. Frig it!

He just hoped it wasn't too late to be able to come back from that precipice.

Tathe glanced at the men around him; the few left he had fought battle after battle with over the years, and from their insane smiles and screams of blood lust, a mirror of the Resurrected's own.

And tears welled, thick and swirling all through his gaze.

But it was then that the large double doors into the tower suddenly grew, and Tathe ran through and was the first to finally step inside the objective.


Torris, Helma and Jelket watched on. Helma's and Jelket's earlier amusement had melted away, replaced by utter awe.

For Emperor only knew how long Serghar and his cronies and Delathasi fought the daemon.

The speed, the inhuman skill which Jelket's gaze couldn't even follow, made him clench his teeth. There was nothing he could do; if he tried to fight with them, bayonet fixed, he would just get in the way. If he tried to shoot, he might just hit one of the freaks. Something he wouldn't regret, but it might just allow the daemon to break free and attack them.

Jelket managed to tear his gaze from the fight and to Torris and wondered when he would finally fire his meltagun and, most importantly, how the hell Torris would know when to shoot.

The man had always struck Jelket as strange, being so dark-skinned but apparently hailing from a hive world. How he could read people so preternaturally well. How he could be so calm, rational and detached about some things, yet so anger ridden and almost hateful about others. He was a contradiction of the highest order.

Jelket's vox bead beeped into life.

'Everyone, regroup,' said Karmen's voice. 'It won't be long until Kalakor has penetrated the veil. We must be ready.'

'What about Delathasi?' said Torris. 'We can't just leave her. This might be our only chance to destroy this daemon.'

'I will call her when we are about to leave,' said Karmen. 'It will be up to her to make it. Torris, you have to-'

'No, screw you!' said Torris. 'We have to do this. I have to do this. Let me try!'

'It's fruitless, Tor,' said Karmen. 'We are just going to leave Serghar and his...agents take care of it. You don't know whether your melta will make that much of a difference. Didn't you see how the lascannons of the Guncutter did almost nothing? Get over here, now!'

Torris clenched his teeth.

'Do not...worry about...me, Torris,' said Delathasi. 'This is my function...I...I will stay, although I am slowing...the drugs are...wearing...off.'

Jelket wanted to say something, but in truth, he couldn't find who he sided with. Again he found himself useless.

'I-' Torris straightened. 'Delathasi, move, now!'

Jelket looked back to the daemon a split second before Torris opened fire.

To Jelket's peripheral vision, it seemed to take tens of minutes to travel through the air. Wavering and winding like a pillar of magma but much, much brighter, headed straight for the daemon.

Jelket looked away to see a blur which Jelket hoped was Delathasi, wavering away from the fight. For that whole time and with bated breath, Jelket expected the daemon to move like its enemies. To materialise tens of metres away or even behind him. It seemed logical. Or at least logical to the illogical rules of this place.

For all his thirty-six years, never had he been hit with such a powerful wave of surprise when the melta hit the daemon right in the chest and then burst out of its back.

The roar of utter agony, which burst from its maw, shook everything, and Jelket pushed the palms of his gloved hands against the sides of his helmet. But no matter how hard he pushed it couldn't begin to eclipse it. The daemon reeled and rocked, stumbled back, then fell into a kneel, stopping itself from dropping onto its face with the top of its axe. Its whimpering and snorting were so pained, so pathetic, Jelket almost couldn't help but feel somewhat sorry for it.

Then Serghar and his minions seemed to materialise into unreality. All four of them stood over the daemon and seemed unscathed somehow.

Serghar held a small, simple knife in his right hand and a crackling power sword in his left.

'Ohh Kharkartskar,' he said. 'That is not your real name, but it suffices. You tried. You so so tried. But it's all for nothing. Not even you nor your god-like masters can fight the fate we have been making. And guess what?'

The daemon snorted a response.

'You, like my son, are...daemonic, this eternal...Or even...perpetual.'

Even from such a distance, Jelket could see the blood-red eyes of the daemon widen with what may have been fear.

Then, much to Jelket's surprise, Serghar sliced the daemon from crotch to skull with the tiny knife.

The daemon didn't roar but screamed a pitched, almost feminine shriek which no creature like that should've been able to do. Then it shattered into thousands of minuscule shards.

Serghar and his cronies turned away and began to approach. A horrible smile was on Serghar's face.

Jelket and Helma managed to get over their surprise to raise their guns at them.

The vox beeped again, and Karmen cried. 'Get out of there!'

'Oh, lower your weapons,' said Serghar. 'They are useless against us. You, Marcel Torris, I must say you did well, very well indeed. But...'

Torris raised his meltagun; his glare was beyond intimidating.

'You still might have killed me then,' said Serghar. 'And you are a mere nothing in the eyes of fate, so you now must die,'

Helma, Jelket and Torris went to open fire, but before any of them could pull the trigger. Seghar had exploded the distance and sliced Torris' melta in half.

Jelket and Helma tried to draw a bead on Serghar, but in the next microsecond, Jelket was off his feet, his vision spinning, his Hellgun flung from his hands. Then a foot planted on his back, pinning him to the ground.

'For the Emperor,' said Serghar.