With some effort, Ankar and Tsu’gan hauled the Firedrake to his feet. His armour was badly damage, blackened by burns, but he nodded his willingness to fight.
Tsu’gan was ready to go again. ‘How do we kill it?’
‘We don’t.’
‘But Brother Kai’ru–’
‘Is gone.’ Praetor’s face was grim. This wasn’t an easy decision. ‘We make for the convent-bastion. They have given us that chance.’ He gestured to where the Battle Sisters fought and died furiously.
Incomprehension and anger warred in Tsu’gan’s burning eyes. ‘What of vengeance? Our brother’s death demands it!’
Praetor snarled, thrusting his thunder hammer in Tsu’gan’s direction. ‘I’ll fell you where you stand. Obey my orders.’
He showed them his back and stalked away. ‘On my lead.’
Despite himself, Tsu’gan was about to protest again, when Gathimu touched his arm.
‘We’ll win no honour for Kai’ru by dying here, our oaths unfulfilled. Sacrifice is not always physical, brother.’
Grief softened Tsu’gan’s face briefly, before the mask returned and his impotent wrath dominated.
The Firedrakes left the battlefield. The convent-bastion wasn’t far. Tsu’gan knew, in their wake, the daemon-engine would be close.
The heavy drumming of explosions outside sounded muffled through the thick convent-bastion walls.
Father Lumeon was pacing.
Why don’t they feel thick enough?
Since departing with the Crusaders, Ignacia had not returned. Five Celestians remained, a full half of her bodyguard, led by Sister Clymene. They eyed the long corridor beyond the force-shield nervously. It was dark, its emergency lighting low.
He looked away when the shadows started to grow and coalesce in his mind. His heart was racing and he gripped his aquila for support.
Evangeline showed no such anxiety. She was kneeling before the reliquary, serene, bereft of all doubt. Though her lips moved in prayer, she made no sound.
Sister Clymene hunched over a tactical console fashioned like a shrine in one corner of the chamber. She turned to Father Lumeon, who then went over to her.
A grainy pict-viewer displayed the situation beyond the convent-bastion’s walls. Flaring bolter fire polluted the image with bright flashes, overloading the external pict-viewer. Static from comm-link chatter obscured it further. But the picture was painfully clear to Father Lumeon. There was no escape. They would all die here. All that mattered was the relic.
He was muttering a prayer to the Emperor when four armoured forms came into view at the edge of the pict. Lumeon had never studied the Adeptus Astartes in any great detail but he recognised the insignia of the Salamanders and offered up his profound thanks.
Despite their bulky armour, the Adeptus Astartes progressed steadily through the Chaos picket lines, shredding foes with their holy bolters and bathing the heinous masses with cleansing flame. Father Lumeon was transfixed as a bald-headed giant smashed his way to the gate, his warrior brothers behind him. As the barrier wall began to open, a force of Celestians came out to meet the Adeptus Astartes. Desperate to get inside, the Red Rage couldn’t get close. The defenders were just too fierce to breach.
Once the Salamanders were through, the Celestians retreated and the gate banged shut again. Pintle-mounted fire from the towers intensified and a battle tank was rolled into the small outer courtyard to watch the gate.
The vox-unit on the tactical console crackled to life.
++This is Sergeant Praetor of the Salamanders First Company Firedrakes – acknowledge.++
Father Lumeon looked to Sister Clymene, who gestured for him to answer.
His relief was almost palpable. ‘Lords, the Emperor’s blessing you have come. I am Father Lumeon, Missionary High Priest attached to the Orders.’
++We are sealing the inner doors now.++
Father Lumeon’s tone betrayed his surprise.
‘Ah… But how will we get out? The relic–’
++Is in safe hands. Be more concerned that the enemy doesn’t get in.++
There was a short pause that filled the priest’s gut with lead.
++Something is following us. There is little time. Ready the relic, we will be with you soon.++
The vox-link died and silence returned.
Something is following us.
Something.
The words replaying in Lumeon’s head chilled him before he found some resolve.
‘Sister Evangeline.’ She was praying in front of the reliquary and looked up. ‘It’s time.’
The force-shield shimmered once then dissipated before Praetor and his Firedrakes stepped into the sanctum. It was quick to resolve itself again, the waft of ozone from its reactivation souring the air.
Tsu’gan scowled at such fear.
‘That won’t save you,’ said Praetor, looking down at the frail, old priest in front of him.
‘Then we shall have to rely on the Emperor’s grace to protect us.’
If Praetor had an opinion about this, he kept it well hidden.
The priest bowed. ‘I am Father Lumeon.’
The Firedrake sergeant kept the introductions brief. He showed him a small, cylindrical device mag-locked to his belt. ‘Teleport homer. Once locked onto its signal, my ship will transport us and the relic aboard.’ Praetor’s expression became regretful. ‘Its localised field is too small for all of us. Besides, you would not survive translation intact. I am truly sorry.’
Lumeon was already resigned to his fate. He had no fear of death, only of losing the relic.
Praetor’s gaze alighted on the reliquary of Sister Uthraxese where a slim novitiate was kneeling.
‘Brothers, make way.’ The Firedrakes standing behind him spread out. A gap for Praetor and the relic formed between them.
‘When translation occurs, there will be a massive exothermic reaction. Stand well back. Better still, leave the chamber.’ Praetor had moved into position. When he turned the novitiate was standing downcast before him.
‘I am tempered in Vulkan’s forge, sister. I have no need of benediction.’ Praetor looked up. ‘Priest, bring forth the relic. Our time is almost up.’
A dull explosion echoed through the convent-bastion walls all the way to the sanctum. Luminal red bathed the chamber from the tactical console. The outer wall had been breached.
Tsu’gan had a decent view of the screen from where he was standing. The ensuing fire-fight was brutal. A familiar form appeared through the carnage of bolter fire and smoke. Celestians fell like porcelain statues, shattered by its irresistible force.
‘The machine has broken through.’
It scythed through the defenders, crushing tanks and swatting Battle Sisters aside, until it reached the inner gate. Flamers and melta guns were brought up, but nothing fazed it. If anything, the daemon-engine looked bigger, a mutating hulk whose unnatural flesh strained at its corporeal bonds. Tsu’gan’s eyes narrowed when he caught something through the melee. Before he could analyse it further, a stray explosion killed the pict-feed and the tactical console went dark.
Tsu’gan’s eyes met his sergeant’s.
It will be here soon.
Already, the heavy thump of the daemon-engine’s feet could be heard hammering up the corridor towards them.
Praetor’s face was solemn. None would survive. But retrieve the reliquary and it would all be worth it.
‘Now, priest.’
Father Lumeon looked nonplussed. ‘It is before you, Astartes. Sister Evangeline is the relic.’
What might have been anger crossed Praetor’s face. ‘Don’t mock me, priest. If you’ve lost your mind to Chaos, I’ll vanquish you here… now.’
‘Evangeline is the relic, a living relic! She beheld a vision from the Emperor on Earth and it has awoken her grace.’
Praetor saw the truth in the priest’s eyes, and beseeched Vulkan for his strength.
‘Then we have a problem.’
&nbs
p; Father Lumeon was shaking his head. ‘No, no. You’re here now. Rescue Evangeline. The rest of us do not matter. You must do this, lord. I beg of you!’
Praetor ignored the priest’s pleas, addressing his Firedrakes instead. ‘Secure the corridor. Firepoints at every ingress.’
Gathimu and Ankar waited for the force-shield to deactivate again then lumbered through the doorway.
‘Astartes, what are you doing? The living relic–’
‘Is a girl, and thusly will not survive teleportation to my ship.’ Praetor spoke harshly. He wasn’t angry at Lumeon, thrusting the serene-looking novitiate towards him desperately. He was angry at the situation and the fact they faced a foe he knew they couldn’t best with strength of arms. Herculon Praetor was not used to such impasses.
Father Lumeon seemed to shrink with despair. Evangeline, by contrast, was utterly calm. Her serenity and grace emanated outwards. It was slow, but even Tsu’gan was beginning to feel his choler lessen just by being near her.
Praetor felt it too. He reached out to touch Evangeline’s cheek but stopped short.
‘I can see why the Red Rage wants you so badly, child. Have no fear, they won’t claim you.’
Judging by his ambivalent demeanour, Father Lumeon was unsure if that was a good or a bad thing given the circumstances. He looked askance down the corridor where the sounds of battle were growing louder.
‘What do we do?’
Praetor regarded the priest sternly.
‘Return to your reliquary, both of you, and pray.’
Tsu’gan couldn’t avert his gaze from Sister Evangeline as she knelt in prayer. Such poise and calm. She radiated tranquillity. Peace threatened to overcome his rage. Tsu’gan had not experienced such a feeling in a long time.
The din coming from the corridor had lessened in the last few minutes. It could mean only one thing. The Celestians had been defeated.
A ring of explosives rigged from the Battle Sisters’ frag and krak grenades booby trapped the entrance to the sanctum. When the daemon-engine breached the force-shield, it would set them off. By then the Firedrakes and their ward would be withdrawing into the room behind it. Tsu’gan had performed the short reconnoitre himself: from the sanctum to a long gallery, which then led to a transept and finally a chapel. Cloisters and dormitories bled off from this chamber, but the daemon-engine would have caught them at that point and have to be fought.
Tsu’gan didn’t fear it, but nor did he wish to be found wanting when the time came. A desire for flagellation at the brander-priest’s rod had welled up in him during the tour. Upon returning to the sanctum and Sister Evangeline, that masochistic urge had ebbed.
Gathimu’s voice came through on the comm-link. He and Ankar were at the opposite end of the corridor.
++It comes.++ Harsh-sounding bolter fire broke the feed. ++Glory to Vulkan and the Emperor, brothers. I go to them now.++
Gathimu disappeared, wading into the battle that Tsu’gan could only imagine beyond the corridor.
Ankar was behind him.
++Unto the Anvil, brothers.++
Even Evangeline’s presence couldn’t quell Tsu’gan’s anger. He fist was clenched. ‘I will carve their names into its hell-bound flesh.’
Praetor hefted his thunder hammer. ‘Honour their sacrifice with victory, brother.’
Tsu’gan was in no mood for pragmatism.
‘I hope their blood is worth this human’s grace. We don’t even know why she is so important to the Ecclesiarchy.’
Father Lumeon rose from the reliquary where he prayed with Sister Evangeline to approach the Firedrakes.
‘Do you know what true names are, Astartes?’
‘They are a daemon’s weakness, words of power that can banish them into the warp.’
Lumeon faced Praetor. ‘Yes, they are. Sister Evangeline knows true names.’
‘What do you mean, priest? Speak plainly.’
‘By being close to a daemon, she can hear their true names. She can banish the denizens of the warp with but a word! That is why she is so valuable. That is why you must save her.’
Only Evangeline’s presence kept Tsu’gan’s rage from boiling over. He wrenched off his battle-helm. He was livid. Praetor’s outstretched hand warned him to be still.
‘A pity you did not mention this before.’ The sergeant leaned in closer. ‘But what of the fact she is mute? How can she even utter such a word?’
Father Lumeon followed the Firedrake’s gaze to Evangeline then back again.
‘The Emperor’s divine will is not for us to question, it just is. I do not know how.’
Praetor slammed his fist into Tsu’gan’s chest to hold him. ‘Go back to your prayers, but be ready to move.’
He sighed, turning to Tsu’gan as the priest sloped away again. ‘Vulkan give us strength.’
‘There is no way to defeat this thing.’
Praetor’s brow furrowed. ‘Not with the weapons we have here at least.’ He paused, deciding on their final strategy. ‘We hold it as long as we can. Then do what must be done. The enemy must not claim her. Whatever vile sacrifice is in mind for this child will be far worse than death, for her and the sub-sector.’
‘I will do my duty.’
Praetor nodded. ‘If we still live, I will engage the beacon and pull us back to the ship.’
The two ident-runes on both Firedrakes’ tac-displays blinked out.
Tsu’gan’s face was grim. Their brothers were dead. He checked the load on his storm bolter. It was getting low. As Praetor backed away, gesturing for the priest and his novitiate to get up, Tsu’gan stomped into position in front of the force-shield. The five Celestians, including Sister Clymene, formed a firing line with him.
Silence flushed the corridor. Unseen fires sent flickering fingers of dusk across the metal walls. Smoke drizzled outwards like a carpet of fog. The heavy clank of the daemon-engine’s footfalls beat in time with the defenders’ hearts.
Tsu’gan aimed at the end of the corridor. ‘Brace yourselves.’
Five boltguns locked and loaded beside him.
‘Lower the force-shield.’
The energy veil flickered and dissipated at Tsu’gan’s command.
A large silhouette bled onto the gunmetal floor. The daemon-engine lumbered into view.
It was much larger than before. Its flesh strained against the machine shackling it. Blood and oil seeped from every cleft in its armour. Long, hell-runed chains scraped along the floor as it moved. Steam and smoke spewed from the engine on its broad back. And the eyes… the eyes burned with a baleful fire, stoked by the fear and rage of its enemies.
Tsu’gan hesitated for a second.
‘Fire!’
An incandescent bolter storm roared from the sanctum archway. For a few moments the daemon-engine took it, even staggered as the mass reactive shells exploded against it. Then it charged.
Its bulk had slowed it and it took a few seconds to overcome inertia but then it was moving, like a battle tank with engines screaming.
Tsu’gan estimated it would clear the corridor in approximately five more seconds.
‘Back into the sanctum. Now!’
The force-shield was reactivated in their wake.
Reunited with Praetor, Tsu’gan was retreating into the long gallery when the daemon-engine hit the force-shield. The energy veil stretched and crackled, sending jolts of electricity through the abomination’s metal frame. As if it was wading through bands of viscous light, the daemon-engine pushed and strained against the field. Then like rubber put under too much stress, the bands snapped and the veil shut down for the last time.
Tsu’gan’s storm bolter was already blazing halfway down the gallery when the daemon-engine stepped across the sanctum’s threshold and tripped the grenades.
Intensified by the close confines of the chamber, the explosion was deafening and blew smoke and fire in both directions. Shrapnel careened off Tsu’gan’s armour, embedding itself in the walls and floor.
&n
bsp; Laying down suppressing fire all the way, Tsu’gan and the Celestians reached the chapel. Nothing stopped the daemon-engine. They didn’t even slow it down.
Three of the Celestians rushed forward, bolters flaring at close range, righteous fury in their eyes.
They were scattered in seconds, smashed and broken against the walls.
‘Protect them, brother!’ Praetor led with his storm shield, the daemon-engine looming ahead.
It went against Tsu’gan’s every instinct to leave his sergeant. But, shielding the non-combatants with his body and backing off from the battle, he obeyed. He was her last defence. Sister Evangeline needed him.
Expecting to slow, rather than smite it, Praetor was lasting longer against the daemon-engine this time. Its bulk actually worked against it, and the Firedrake was able to get in beneath its guard and land a few blows.
Bolter fire raked down the machine’s torso, before the last Celestian was impaled on a hell-blade. Transfixed, she shuddered once and then died.
Sister Clymene made the most of her comrade’s sacrifice by attaching a melta bomb to the daemon-engine’s blind side. Too close to withdraw, she was cooked in her armour while the abomination was rocked but stayed standing.
Only Praetor remained.
Tsu’gan and the others had almost reached the end of the chapel when he saw the sergeant smashed aside. Praetor was lifted off his feet and left a ragged hole in the wall where he’d crashed through it. His thunder hammer was sent spinning loose, embedding itself in the chapel floor just a metre from Tsu’gan’s grasp.
They’d reached the door to one of the dormitories. The daemon-engine had slowed, sensing its prey was near and at its mercy.
Tsu’gan’s storm bolter was empty. He’d have to crush her neck.
‘Shut your eyes.’
He struck Father Lumeon, as hard as he dare without killing him, knocking the priest unconscious before he could protest.
‘Shut your eyes, Evangeline.’
Tsu’gan reached around her tiny neck, sensed the warmth of her skin against his gauntleted fingers… and stopped. He thrust Evangeline into the centre of the chapel, where she stumbled and fell.
As he dragged Father Lumeon and closed the dormitory blast door behind them, he saw the daemon-engine close on Evangeline.
Hammer and Bolter 22 Page 10
