The Flesh Tithe - Miles A Drake by Warhammer 40K

Author:Warhammer 40K [40K, Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781785728198
Published: 2017-08-17T07:02:01+00:00

Four of the Death Spectres kept point, with Nevekarion leading. They were faceless in their corvid helms, pistols drawn, over-watching every crossing alley. The other Space Marine moved from rooftop to rooftop, observing from above and jumping the gaps between the buildings without using his jump pack.

Suffering from the pain of her wounds, Sister Lucia kept the centre, her words calming the barely suppressed panic within most of the survivors.

Raul led the militia in forming an outer perimeter around the refugees, even if they were nearly as frightened as the people they were trying to protect. The enforcer’s icy calm demeanour, the Sister’s benedictions and the transhuman presence of the Adeptus Astartes kept the battered band of survivors together.

Three times in the first hour, the enemy emerged in ambush. Ear-splitting static wails preceded the sudden rise of pairs or trios of xenos as they erupted from the piles of the dismembered dead the group passed. These ambushes ended before Lucia could even act. Twice, the Death Spectres reacted quickly enough, cutting down the rising xenos before they could assail the group. Once, however, one of the abominations slipped past the Space Marines and scythed into the beleaguered crowd of survivors, hacking four to ribbons before being ended by a burst from Nevekarion’s plasma pistol.

Lucia rallied most of the terrified people, but several fled into the dark alleys during the attacks. With Nevekarion and his Space Marines already moving on, ignoring the plight of the refugees, Lucia was forced to leave the dead and missing behind.

It continued that way for several hours, the silence of the dead city pressing in upon them, broken only by bouts of frenzied terror when the nightmares materialised from their macabre ambush points. Lucia lost count of the fallen, but it was well over twenty. The Death Spectres seemed to be more focused on conserving their ammunition than stopping the xenos quickly. Several times, one that could have been shot to pieces before it could reach anybody was allowed to close in and reap its bloody harvest before being put down in melee by the Space Marines.

Lucia fought as best as her battered body would allow, putting herself between the xenos and the refugees, and using her bolter to slow the loping monsters, outright felling the occasional one she managed to get a clear angle on. Raul fought as well, throwing himself into the path of one of the stalking horrors, and paying the price for that defiance with a raking wound that sheared clean through his carapaced pauldron.

The Space Marines never slowed, nor allowed for a pause to treat wounds. They simply kept their relentless pace, uncaring of those they claimed they were protecting.

Lucia’s mind raced, a growing sense of unease and suspicion falling upon her. If the Space Marines wanted to save them, then why were they letting them die just to conserve ammunition? Why sacrifice them in the interest of time? Leaving Raul to staunch his own bleeding with a ripped piece of one of her black sleeves, Lucia marched towards Nevekarion.

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