Cult of the Spiral Dawn (Warhammer 40,000) by Peter Fehervari

Author:Peter Fehervari [Fehervari, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2018-03-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

Kazimyr Senka loved Hope. True to its name, the city was a bastion of freedom in the shadow of Imperial oppression. It hid its true face behind a mask of misery, but that would soon change.

We won’t have to hide much longer! Senka thought fiercely.

As he approached the city’s outskirts a large truck raced forward to meet him, its wheels bouncing across the dirt road. Its carriage was reinforced with riveted iron plates and the flat wedge of its front was fitted with massive cylinders lined with buzz-saw teeth.

Those look strong enough to grind through stone, he gauged.

The servo-arm jutting from the truck’s deck carried a bulky laser weapon that Senka didn’t recognise. He guessed it was designed for industrial work rather than combat, much like the vehicle itself, but he didn’t doubt its lethality.

‘Identify yourself!’ a voice demanded from his vox as the big gun swivelled to track him.

‘Spiral Strider,’ he replied. ‘The watch phrase is Risen Truth.’

‘Welcome, brother!’

The truck swung alongside him and the bald Neophyte operating the servo-arm flashed him the sign of the Spiral. The hallowed symbol was daubed across the truck’s bodywork, though it was unlike any rendition Senka had seen before, its form jagged and lined with ridges. It was nothing like the flowing symbol Xithauli had tattooed between Senka’s shoulder blades.

It’s more like a spiny worm… He quashed a pang of apprehension. It was fitting that the sect would go to war under a harsher icon and leave the Sacred Spiral untarnished.

‘The reckoning is coming,’ he crooned to his Sentinel.

His hopes were confirmed as he reached Openhand Plaza, where his meeting was scheduled. Powerful floodlights lit the square and he saw it had become the staging field for an army. Three more of the armoured trucks were parked along the perimeter, along with several buggies whose hoods had been fitted with guns. Music boomed from the vehicles, filling the square with discordant beats interlaced with swirling, organic harmonies. A throng of citizens in grey coveralls shuffled among the vehicles, hauling fuel drums and ammunition crates, while hairless, pale-skinned Neophyte cultists directed them. The cultists wore rubberised jumpsuits emblazoned with the Spiral Wyrm, though some had upgraded their garb with scraps of armour. All were armed, most with autoguns, but here and there Senka saw more dangerous weapons – lasrifles, shotguns, flamers, even a plasma gun. One pair was carrying a massive, pronged cannon between them. He didn’t recognise the gun, but like the trucks, he suspected its origins lay in Redemption’s promethium industry.

‘Everything can become a weapon in the hands of the righteous,’ Xithauli had told him. ‘Nothing is wasted!’

White-robed Spiralfire Acolytes walked openly among the crowd, their hoods thrown back to reveal bulbous, bone-crested skulls and purple flesh. They moved in a loping crouch, as if they were stalking some unseen prey. Most sported deviant, chitin-covered arms in addition to the natural two, and their jutting jaws were filled with fangs. They were hybrid creatures, their kinship to the feral four-armed monsters Senka had occasionally glimpsed all too apparent.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.