01.2 - Better the Devil by Steve Lyons - (ebook by Undead)

Author:Steve Lyons - (ebook by Undead)
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Warhammer 40K
Published: 2011-07-27T07:00:00+00:00

The sky was beginning to lighten, the first insects of the morning striking up a low, growling hum while other, bigger creatures stirred in the undergrowth. Through his growing fatigue, Lorenzo heard the screeches of carrion birds as they woke to discover his recent handiwork, now a few kilometres behind him. Not that the barking toads would have left them too much to feed on.

He climbed another tree to take a final bearing from the fading stars—and found to his relief that he could see his destination. The Ashmadia Tower was by some way the tallest structure on Catachan—conceitedly so—and the Imperial Eagle still gleamed at its black tip, despite the best efforts of the elements to erode it.

He had disturbed a retiring bat, which flew at him and tore at his face and hair. With his fang, Lorenzo impaled it against the tree trunk—but a dizzy wave crashed over him, and he almost fell from his perch. He longed to close his eyes, to sleep—but he knew that if he did, alone out here, he wouldn’t wake up again. He buoyed himself with the knowledge that his trial was almost over. If only his temples weren’t pounding so, and his muscles so weak from dehydration…

He dropped from the tree, but his bad leg gave way and he landed heavily on his backside. He forced himself to stand, to march on, making himself focus on nothing more than that endeavour. Scan the ground ahead, left foot forward, drag the right foot after it, repeat… and he thought about the Catachan Devil, and convinced himself that he must have killed it, that Creek would be able to verify that fact, that he’d get his hero’s welcome after all—and Lorenzo wasn’t about to miss that, couldn’t bear to have come so close, achieved so much, to fall at this final hurdle.

He saw the patch of spikers just in time. They were laid out in a thin band, as tall as he was, spreading into the trees to each side of him, and he couldn’t guess how long it would take him to go round them.

He fell back on an old Catachan trick instead: he flushed a small lizard out from a nearby hole, and swiped at it with his fang as it spat venom at him. He left it alive but wounded, blocking its attempts to flee past him until it had just one way to go.

The spikers shot their payloads, and Lorenzo leapt for cover. The air was suddenly thick with black, needle-thin, thorns, and his protective tree trembled with the thuds of their multiple impacts. As soon as those impacts had ceased, he made a run for it.

He ploughed through the denuded plants, moving as fast as his leg would allow him. Already, the spikers’ leaves were bristling anew, and he flung himself to the ground as he drew clear of them, only just ahead of their second discharge.

Hundreds of fresh thorns sprayed over him, but they’d been aimed too high from too far away, and they covered his back without piercing his skin.

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