Blood Gorgons - By Henry Zou Page 0,108
did last time.’
The chief stepped back and pointed a lasrifle at Sindul.
‘This is awkward,’ Sindul began. He shot forwards and parried the lasrifle aside with the blade of his hand. His left hand shot out and seized Gumede’s throat.
‘You made it easier than last time,’ the dark eldar hissed through his teeth. He stepped inside and pushed Gumede against the ship’s fuselage. With two strokes, fast and deft, Sindul severed the chief’s vocal cords and collapsed his lungs.
Turning swiftly from his act, Sindul looked for any witnesses but saw none. The hangar was empty but for his own long shadow.
Satisfied that he was alone, Sindul began to pare off his own right cheek. He placed the blade against his own face and sliced deep. Startling, blinding pain almost blacked him out.
The trauma would have sent a human into shock, but the dark eldar was a connoisseur of pain. The sensation, bright and heated, paralysed him temporarily. For a brief second the wound was too much even for Sindul, and he wobbled on his feet before he regained his senses. He forced down the pain and embraced its sensation until adrenaline numbed it.
Stumbling, leaking a trail of blood, Sindul lurched towards his waiting vessel.
THE CITY WAS a vast place of unfamiliar angles and planes. A lesser man would have been disorientated and lost, yet Barsabbas moved with a sure‐footed purpose. The broad plazas, walkways and mezzanines were mapped to hololithic precision in his mind. Retracing the route of his stone chariot, Barsabbas drew upon his short‐term memory banks and the pict-captures from his iris.
Bullets fragmented the stone around him as the enemy tracked his escape, but he was unfazed. Barsabbas ran point, snapping back shots when it suited him. He depleted the last of his ammunition, draining clip after clip. City wardens and Septic infantry soon discovered that lattice bricks did not stop bolt shells and fled at the accuracy of his fire.
Automatic targetters jumped from victim to victim. Barsabbas fluttered the trigger, coaxing a constant burp of bolt‐shot into the overhead ramparts and alcoves. The brickwork was chewed up, forcing the enemy deep into cover.
Behind, Gammadin strode through the smoke. His head was lowered, the antlers of his forehead pointed forwards.
‘I’ve seen this before,’ Barsabbas said, gesturing at a stone arch that framed a causeway.
They turned a corner and the view opened before them, an open courtyard framed by inverted columns. Several bodies were strewn across the flagstones – among them was a figure swathed in a red shuka.
Barsabbas recognised Gumede. His bolter flashed up immediately, looking for Sindul.
Stepping past the plainsman’s body, Barsabbas afforded Gumede a brief glance. He felt a curious sensation, like a man who had lost a valuable tool, but he dismissed the thought immediately.
Some metres away, the Harvester was already powering up as incandescent light speared from its rearward engine pods. Barsabbas tensed up at the sound. Something was wrong, or so his instincts told him. Running into the open, Barsabbas waved towards the Harvester’s cockpit.
In response, the ship swivelled to face him, its engines flaring. Behind the glass viewing shields, Barsabbas could see Sindul’s face.
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The dark eldar actually smiled at him. He smiled through a face slick with blood.
At first, Barsabbas only noticed the stone pillars around him toppling. Only a second later did he hear the Harvester’s nose‐mounted cannons shriek into life.
Barsabbas was already rolling backwards as flagstones around him liquefied, rolled and rippled under the impacts of a hyper‐velocity cannon. He banged back three or four shots with his bolter, feeling impotent as he did so.
As he dived for cover, Barsabbas could hear the increasing whine as the ship’s vector thrusters built up to full power. The Harvester levitated unsteadily as its landing struts folded into its hovering belly. The cannon continued to shred the surrounding area, felling walls and flattening nearby habs.
+ Desist+
A sudden wrench of neural pain tingled up Barsabbas’s spine and into the back of his head. Screaming, Barsabbas fell into a crouch.
Simultaneously, the Harvester seemed to lose balance. Its starboard wing listed and tipped, grazing the flagstones. It righted itself then lurched the other way, its portside wing scraping the tiles with a flash of fat orange sparks.
Barsabbas turned around just in time to see Gammadin raise his hands and hurl another mind bolt.
+ Desist+
This time, Barsabbas tried to duck, but ducking did nothing to protect him. The psychic pain exploded again. The word ‘desist’ echoed in his brain. Barsabbas almost dropped his boltgun and lost control of