Soul Drinkers 05 - Hellforged by Warhammer 40K

Author:Warhammer 40K [Warhammer 40K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2012-01-31T19:25:11+00:00

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Sarpedon saw the first of the towers falling. The palace just ahead was perhaps the grandest in the city, its slender towers of rose-coloured sandstone defining Astelok’s skyline. Now one of those towers collapsed across the road ahead, spilling hundreds of tonnes of rubble into the streets. For a moment, some of the palace’s finery could be glimpsed: torn tapestries, gilded portrait frames, painted wood furniture. They all disappeared in the churning mass of stone.

“Salk!” yelled Sarpedon into the vox. “Fall back! Fall back!”

“On it,” replied Salk briskly. Sarpedon could see Salk’s tactical squad sprinting across the street as the palace behind them collapsed. One tower fell towards them, fracturing as it piled into the street. Hunks of broken stone slammed into the street a few metres behind Salk’s squad, and the Soul Drinkers were swallowed by the tremendous flood of dust erupting from the palace’s torn foundations.

“Phol,” voxed Sarpedon. “Where is their siege engine?”

“Still heading right for you,” replied Phol from the Thunderhawk overhead. “I’m losing a visual on it. There’s too much dust.”

“Soul Drinkers!” yelled Sarpedon. “Guns up!”

A couple of Raevenian soldiers, fleeing the destruction, ran between the wings of the mansion that made up one part of the crossroads. Their shapes became dim, and then disappeared, as the bank of dust rolled over them.

“Brothers, the siege engine is our target!” ordered Sarpedon. “If we are to hold the Undying in this city, we must strike at the heart of their attack! Let us see how these xenos fight when their enemies do not flee before their war machine!”

“Nothing like the spirit of improvisation, commander,” said Captain Luko.

“Take the enemy’s strength and turn it into their weakness,” replied Sarpedon. “These were the words of Daenyathos.”

The dust rolled over Sarpedon. The crossroads and the war memorial became a pit of shadow. Even to a Space Marine’s enhanced eyes the dust was impenetrable.

“Commander, I’ve lost you,” voxed Phol from above.

“Keep circling,” said Sarpedon. “Keep low. Don’t give them an easy target. They might still be able to see you.”

“Novitiate!” said Librarian Tyrendian, who was sheltering in the memorial alongside Squad Luko. “To my side. Prepare!”

“Yes, Librarian,” replied Scamander. “I am ready.” Scamander’s gauntlets were glowing, ruddy in the murk, and Sarpedon could feel the heat coming off them.

Sarpedon heard the tramp of metal feet on stone. The ground groaned with the weight of the war machine. A few voices yelled out, soldiers trying to locate their comrades or crying in pain.

“Coming in on your position,” voxed Salk. “Hold fire!” Squad Salk emerged from the fog and huddled down in front of the memorial.

Sarpedon looked out over the top of the memorial’s wall. He could see a few metres down the street, and then just seething darkness.

Then pinpoints of green fire: Undying warriors, hundreds upon hundreds of them, advancing down the road, between the mansions and across the sculpted gardens.

The war engine bellowed again, throwing out a dark pall of ground-up city that smothered the street in black as if a deeper night was falling.

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