Chapter Eleven.

Daecus raised his bolter. Zorael marched before him and his battle-brothers, bolt-rounds spanking off of his armour.
The howling Death Company Dreadnought let out a withering hail of fire. Plague Marines and Berserkers were shredded, mutilated and turned to tatters.
'Onwards, brothers,' Daecus. 'If my auspex is correct, we are close to Brother-Priest Marcello's position. Let us join with him and his Devastators.'
With a roar of litanies, the Blood Knights advanced deeper into the traitor cruiser.

Koro Aster brought his power sword down two-handed. It cracked open the head of the Berserker. It was a mass of surgical and battle scars, milky beads occupied eye sockets. The blade cut down, splitting him from his crown to his crotch.
'Aster,' Agorix called over, panting as his eviscerator idlied in his grip. 'Gendus says he has a mass of contacts on auspex, directly ahead of us.' The First Sergeant drew in a ragged breath, he let out a wad of blood-phlegm after that. 'By the Blood, it stinks and they fight as well as gutter-scum. Have we already killed the best of them?'
Coming to stand besides his sergeant, Aster placed an armoured hand on his shoulder guard. 'Not yet, we still have Garan's killer to contend with.'
Agorix nodded.
'Then let us not tarry,' Koro Aster turned to regard his brothers. 'My brothers, we are nearly upon their last. Soon, this battle shall join the walls of the Mausoleum of Sanguine Light. Our dead shall live, not just in the warriors their deaths shall bring, but as immortal names and deeds! So my brothers, to add more deeds, let us end these traitors!'
With a thunder of approval, the Blood Knights carried on.

Marcello fired the heavy bolter from behind the punctured barricade. Brother Graevian was dead, a well-placed bolt-round had seen too that. He would live on, once Marcello had extracted his progenoids.
He had linked up with the rest of Tenth Squad, Sergeant Vytrian was fighting in grimm silence, Directing the bolter equipped junior Marines to fire on the smaller and more agile Berserkers, all whilst the heavy weapon bearing Devastators targeted and brought down the Plague Marines.
'Vytrian,' Marcello said over the din of battle. 'I fear that we underestimated their durability.'
The Deathwatch vetrean let out a mirthless chuckle. 'Perhaps. No matter, they will die the same as any of their kind do. With a bolt blowing their heads clean off their neck.'
Suddenly, the Berserkers began to stumble back, roaring and howling with their pistols.
'Marcello,' Vytrian said, bringing his bolter to his shoulder. 'I believe Garan is dead.'
A traitor appeared, with his bare arm he brought a matt-black armoured body. Garan.