Tenebris Resurget: Chapter 6
With a snarl of fury Vorshaan leapt forwards, his Chainglaive descending in a vicious cut, Toran moved to block but the polearm twisted and the haft caught him in the side throwing him off balance. This was followed up by a lightning quick slash from the serrated knife that slipped past his guard to scythe at his head, Toran barely manage to raise his arm quickly enough so the blade merely gouged his pauldron.
Vorshaan readjusted instantly swirling his chainglaive around, Toran caught the haft with his chainsword and gunned the motor to fling the polearm away. The Traitor snarled and attacked in a deluge of hacks and cuts, engaging from all angles.
For Toran it was like standing the path of a waterfall, sheer force coming from everywhere and he was unable to defend every side at once. There was no time for analysis and thoughts of style or timing, Toran was falling back on pure instinct and muscle memory to fight with. If he paused for a moment to think he would be dead and he weaved his chainsword desperately about feeling clumsy and brutish in comparison to his opponent.
The blows were thick and fast raining down upon him like hail and despite his most desperate defence his armour was quickly covered in scores and rents. As the duel swept backwards Toran saw Novak laying on the ground trying to track the enemy with his bolt pistol but the melee was too quick and fluid for him to risk a shot.
All Toran could do was parry and deny but knowing every second he delayed the enemy was another second for his squad brothers to arrive and catch the foe. Even if it cost him his life death would have meaning if by dying he served the Emperor's purpose.
Suddenly Vorshaan bunched to sweep low and Toran was about to move to parry but then he saw the slightest twitch in the wings. He realised the Heretic was feinting to open him up for a strike to his hearts and he raised his Chainsword across his chest instead. The timing could not have been more perfect for the two chain weapons met,their jagged teeth snarling together in an impossible knot.
The motors whined and spat black exhaust as they fought against one another while their wielders struggled merely to hold them. The torque was unbelievable, trying the tear the weapons apart and only the superhuman strength of the Astartes could keep them in place. Toran desperately held on to his juddering weapon knowing if he let go Vorshaan would gut him in a heartbeat.
Despite all his training and conditioning he could not escape an inevitable truth: Vorshaan was simply better than he was. He realised in that moment that all the forms and styles taught to him could not equal his opponent's experience and by all the rules of duelling he would loose.
The only way to win was to change the rules.
Disregarding all his training Toran lifted his thumb from his grip and slid it over the runes and in one jerk reversed the direction of his Chainsword. It was a desperate, foolhardy move that none of his instructors would have approved of and it took Vorshaan totally by surprise.
Braced for force entirely from one direction the Dusk Prince was suddenly wrenched by the unexpected twist and flung away, his wings billowing out and filling with air to carry him a dozen feet before slamming into the ground. The force of the impact rolled him over and over, his wings tangling around his body hampering his movements until he lay prone on the ground.
Instantly Toran charged forwards to hack down with his chainsword, Vorshaan barely got his polearm up in time to catch the blow inches from his helm. Toran roared in anger and slammed down hard again and again on the adamantium haft, trying to wear the Chaos Lord down before he could recover. There was no form or style to the assault only fury and rage driving his arms relentlessly.
Vorshaan met every blow with the haft of his weapon, arms lowering a millimetre with every blow until it was a hairsbreadth from his faceplate. With a snick the stiletto blade shot of the Chaos Lord's boot and he swung it up towards Toran's groin, the Sergeant however was ready for such a trick and pulled back. Unfortunately in doing so he gave Vorshaan a moment of respite and the Dusk Prince twisted, his spine writhing inhumanly like a snake as he leapt to his feet.
The opponents glared at each other and readied their weapons to finish this fight but then a sound carried through, many armoured boots pounding on rock and closing fast. Vorshaan held his chainglaive up before him and hissed, "You are getting better, perhaps next time you may provide some fleeting sport", then he bunched his wings and leapt into the sky.
Toran roared in denial raising his bolt pistol to fire on full auto at the retreating Traitor, the bolts were well aimed but Vorshaan's wings shimmered with Warp light propelling him faster than a jump pack. He evaded the hurtling bolts with a graceful roll and laughed scornfully as he spread his wings and sailed serenely off into the East.
Toran was left fuming in impotence as the Astartes closed on his position, first on the scene was Mylos stomping on his augmetic leg as he wrenched off his helm, "It seems I save your hide yet again" he growled.
"I thank you brother" said Toran in genuine gratitude.
Mylos' face conveyed exactly what he thought of the thanks, but he at least did not say what he was thinking. Instead he turned to the gathering marines and ordered, "What are you standing around for? You all saw what direction the Traitor fled in, form up and get after him!"
With that the squads paired off again and raced East trying to catch Vorshaan before he got too far. Meanwhile Bylan was coming round, half his face filled with a massive bruise and Toran helped him up saying "That was either an incredibly brave or foolish thing to do, surely you knew you could not hurt a Chaos Marine."
Bylan mumbled through a swollen face, "If he turned to kill me it would have distracted him for you Master."
Toran approved the Serf's spirit of self-sacrifice and patted the serf on the shoulder saying, "Well done lad."
Bylan's bruised face lit up at the gruff praise, he stood straighter and raised his head looking in awe at the Sergeant. Toran however just was glad his helm was on so the serf could not see how uncomfortable the hero worship was making him.
Thankfully Novak was getting to his feet, his Transhuman physiology knitting his tendons back together. He stretched and walked a few steps growing more powerful and confident with each pace. Only another Space Marine would have noticed the slight limp to his gait but it would enough to slow him down in combat.
With a nod the trio joined the squads in their chase, Toran pushing forwards with Bylan but Novak was slowed by his limp.
Silently they pressed on with their hunt until the sun dipped low casting their shadows out on the hillside before them. Time was slipping away but there was still no hint of the Dusk Prince's presence, it seemed even the lure of combat could no longer draw him out.
Eventually Toran sighed and said, "We have lost all sign of him".
"Could he have doubled back?" queried Novak.
"Why would he do that?" mused Toran.
Novak remarked, "Why has he done any of this?"
"The ways of Chaos are foul and obscured but it is of little consequence, the Light of Terra is little more than an hour away then he cannot escape." replied Toran
They spied a narrow gully in the hillside and Toran waved to Novak to indicate he and Bylan were going to inspect it. They descended into the dip until they could no longer see Novak and pressed onwards, Toran gripping his chainsword in anticipation.
As they walked Bylan said, "Master, I do not understand this Traitor."
Toran replied, "Caution boy, an open mind is like a Fortress with its gates unbarred and unguarded."
Bylan nodded as if he had just heard the wisest of words yet still said, "Yes Master but it is his tactics that confuse me; he always withdraws in the same direction, East always East. And he lets us see him do so… Why would he do that?"
Toran was startled by the thought for he had assumed Vorshaan had beaten a retreat in the face of superior numbers or force. He had assumed the direction was random and as the Holy Codex taught assumption was the wellspring of mistakes.
Toran mused "I had not considered that, but attacking only to withdraw again makes no sense, all he has achieved is to draw more reinforcements down on his head. Yet the Dusk Prince is infamous for his cunning not his blood lust... so if his tactics are indeed deliberate what does he stand to gain?"
Toran wracked his brain but could not think of any answer that made sense; by any reckoning Vorshaan's tactics were folly.
Then Bylan spoke again saying, "Master, if you say his actions are deliberate then I cannot help but wonder what has the Chapter brought into the equation that Vorshaan did not already possess?"
Toran was stunned by the question and he took a long moment to think about it, then the truth dawned on him and suddenly it all made sense. "Warp curse me as a thrice-damned fool, " he swore then turned and began racing back out of the gully as he keyed his vox on a wide channel, "Everybody return to the battleground, return now!"
"Have you lost your mind cur?" cut in Mylos over the vox, "You would have us abort the mission?"
"Vorshaan has been playing us from the very start" barked Toran, "The Dusk Prince attacks and withdraws, always in the same direction. He drew us further and further into the hills then slipped behind us."
"How do you know this?" hissed Mylos.
"Just get back to the battlefield!" yelled Toran running onto the hillside and turning West, "Vorshaan knew we would rush reinforcements here, he must have left a ship hidden in orbit."
"You are making no sense, what are you talking about?" barked Mylos.
Toran yelled "Vorshaan needs to get off this planet but knows the PDF would intercept any civilian shuttle he could steal."
"He wants the Thunderhawk!"