Da Red Gobbo Collection (Warhammer 40,000) by Mike Brooks & Denny Flowers & Rhuairidh James

Author:Mike Brooks & Denny Flowers & Rhuairidh James [Brooks, Mike]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: FLS
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2024-11-16T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Traitor Commissar Marvarry approached the stairway, flanked by a pair of bulkier cultists acting as his shield. There was sufficient cover now, for the grots had dislodged an avalanche of scrap. Sadly, it had buried the majority of his troops in the initial wave. A few of them groaned from beneath the detritus, but they were little use now. Only a handful had reached the top, digging in like ticks and cowering behind what little shelter remained. There was no sign of the grots.

He deactivated his power fist’s energy field before seizing the banister, the armoured gauntlet crushing the glass that had so mangled his minions’ hands. By the Dark Gods he loathed these creatures, perhaps almost as much as the hated Imperium. It made little sense, for he had laboured under the yoke of the Corpse-God for decades before his enlightenment. He had longed to drag down what he once served, to confront former allies and superiors and witness the light die from their eyes even as he crushed them beneath his boot.

But in such fantasies, he had not been plagued by damn xenos making a mockery of his troops. Even now, though his gauntlet allowed him to ascend, his legs still sought to slide from under him. It was hard to maintain his dignity with his feet scrabbling for purchase.

At the upper level the cultists had occupied the balcony but pressed no higher. He recognised the one-eyed cultist who had led the charge. Brave man. If he survived, Marvarry would make a point of learning his name.

‘Well?’ he said. ‘Are you waiting for the Corpse-God to rot? Why are you not pressing on? Someone said they saw the priest.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the cultist replied, pointing to the shadows beneath the great steeple. A figure hung there, suspended on ropes. He was clearly dead, a hole blown in his torso.

‘I think they had him on strings,’ the man murmured.

‘Someone cut him down. Leave the body here. We will attach it to the icon once we have exterminated the last of these pests.’

The cultist nodded, scrambling over to the suspended priest. The rest continued to loiter at the base of the tower. Marvarry glared at them.

‘Well? Why are you not in pursuit?’

His voice was barely a whisper, but at his words they shrunk back.

‘I… Well, we… we sought to reinforce our position,’ one spluttered as Marvarry drew closer. ‘We were unsure what relics might be located on–’

‘Relics?’ Marvarry snarled. ‘You think I care about relics?’

‘I… The Dark Apostle said we were to–’

‘I give the orders!’ Marvarry snarled, smashing his fist across the man’s face. Had the power field been activated he would have torn the cultist’s head from his shoulders. As it was, the blow toppled the man, blood spraying from his nose. He fell limp, and had the good sense to stay down.

Marvarry rounded on the others. ‘Anyone else interested in browsing for relics? Anyone? I’m certain our foes will be accommodating enough to wait.’

He appraised each in turn, the cultists withering beneath his gaze.

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