Speculum Enigmate Chapter 31
The way was clear and certain as the future unfolded. The final destination was as yet out of sight but each step along the road carried him towards that goal. It was like being carried down a fast-moving river, knowing that it must inevitably reach the sea. All Manaar had to do was follow the way and he would reach his goal. Anything that stood in his way was but a temporary distraction, nothing more. The certainty filled him and he knew no doubt or fear, which was good because right now he was in the middle of a ferocious firefight.
In a wide street, mobs of Mon-Keigh waged battle in a deadly scrum. Around burned out ground-cabs and charred bodies filthy criminal-caste brutes hunkered down and fired laspistols and autoguns at blurry forms in the distance. Their armour was scant and mismatched, flak jackets and leather bodysuits more appropriate for intimidating rival gangs than a military engagement. Their guns were an eclectic mix of energy and projectile weapons, some of them centuries old and worn from constant use. This was Fysk's so-called army, more a collection of thugs and ruffians loyal to his rule than anything else. But they could shoot, lives of violence in the slums guaranteed that those who couldn't shoot straight died young.
Set against them alien Hybrids laid down streams of disciplined fire, moving with coordination and grace that set the thugs to shame. Waves of lasfire, punctured by the occasional shotgun blast tore apart any ruffian who dared show their face while return fire claimed but a scant few of their number. In the face of an aggressive charge they instinctively formed crossfires with preternatural ease, born from their union of spirit. They were far superior to the ramshackle hooligans Fysk employed and would have butchered the improvised army were it not for the presence of the Inquisitorial retinue.
Manaar was ahead of the main advance, bounding from the roofs of ground-cabs with great leaps of his legs. Each jump took him many metres yet so soft were his footfalls that he barely rocked the machines on their suspensions. Lasfire chased him but the Hybrids were too slow and weren't leading correctly, unable to compensate for his fleetness. One step, two, three and he was in amongst a knot of enemies, somersaulting over their heads as his Phase-blades flashed. A pair of Hybrids collapsed missing their heads before Manaar's feet touched the ground and as he bowed low his arms swept outwards, scything off legs and feet. Blood sprayed from cleaved limbs and enemies shuddered as they went into Hypovolemic shock. Manaar had studied Mon-Keigh weakness and knew they would bleed out in scant minutes. The remaining Hybrids roared as the survivors swung about but Manaar tumbled forward, rolling head over heels and coming up with a rising slash that finished off the last two Hybrids.
One knot of enemies had been dealt with and he looked about to see the rest of the retinue engaging. Lumix was firing from a burned-out cab, his grav-pistol crushing singular foes into tiny balls of skin and bone. Vevara, on the other hand, was firing sweeping beams of purple energy from her pistol, ravening lances that set her foes alight. Mortula was in closer, her greatsword never ceasing to move as she dispatched foes with elegant grace. The Hybrids seemed to become confused whenever she drew near but they fought wildly and her silver armour was chipped and gouged in many places. Further out Eirk was laying down hammering volleys from his Hellgun as he bellowed, "Secure the left flank! You, you there, you are the left flank! Move!"
Manaar saw that for all their rough manners the criminal-caste were hardy fighters, making up for their poor discipline with ruthless aggression and numbers. They were making good progress, despite growing casualties, pushing towards the heart of the city. Vevara seemed to think that was where they needed to go and so they had launched their counter-assault. The violence and the bloodshed excited Manaar, the stench of dead bodies and burning buildings lending savour to the experience. The sounds of guns and dying foes were music to his ears and the patterns of fallen bodies a pleasing artwork. Truly he was making a masterpiece of death and his surging emotions fed his urge to wreck more. Such emotions could be dangerously addictive, from these impulses were Exarchs born, but they also amplified Manaar's skills, elevating him to another level of deadliness.
His reverie was cut short as bulky shadows loomed over the skyline and he cried, "Ware, foes above!"
"Take cover!" Vevara screamed as teams of Hybrids popped up over the lintels of nearby rooftops, aiming missile launchers into the street.
The thug army dove for cover but too slow as three separate teams fired into their midst. Flashing contrails of exhaust described perfect arcs as fat rockets flew into their midst and detonated. Thugs went down screaming as shrapnel ripped into soft bodies, spraying blood in all directions. Manaar felt a piece of metal ping off his carapace but his Aspect armour hardened on impact, the flexible weave spreading Kinetic energy over a larger area and it failed to penetrate. So he kept his position, knowing he was too close to a nearby wall to be targeted directly.
Vevara crouched behind a wrecked Cargo-8 and fired upwards as she yelled, "We're pinned!"
Mortula shouted, "We have to break out!"
Yet Lumix countered, "There is no safe path."
Vevara ducked back and yelled, "Alien… you do something!"
Eirk added, "Come on bug-man, put that fancy armour to use!"
Manaar ignored them, for he had been concentrating. His mind had been calculating distances and angles, judging the optimal solutions and then when he was ready he triggered his Warp-jump pack. The world disappeared in a burst of unlight and Manaar felt himself moving across the surface of the warp. For an instant he hung in that no-place, exposed to the horrors within but he was without fear and they had no purchase on his soul. He emerged a heartbeat later, a mere metre behind the Hybrid team and before they could react he triggered his Deathspinners.
From the armatures hanging at his sides shot forth packets of diffuse threads. Monomolecular chains held in magnetic bottles and spooled into tangled weavings. At his impulse the weapons discharged bundles of these threads, letting them expand as they contacted air. He bore a short-ranged variant of these weapons but in close confines they were utterly lethal. Single-molecule chains impacted the Hybrids, passing through flak armour like it wasn't there. On contact with matter the threads bunched and pulled against each other, slicing flesh like a meatgrinder. The two Hybrids were hit by millions of these threads and simply fell apart, dissolving into piles of stinking offal where once there had been living enemies.
Manaar didn't stay to see the results; he was already jumping across the warp, skimming towards his next target. He emerged behind the second team, who were pointing their rocket launcher over the edge of the roof. Before they could fire Manaar hit them with his Deathspinners, turning them into piles of gore. Two out of three teams were dead but Manaar felt the ticking of seconds running against him and leapt once more into the warp.
He emerged behind the third team and eviscerated them with barely a second to spare but in his haste he failed to see this team had a third member. As the two gunners disintegrated Manaar was tackled by a massive brute with four arms and gnashing teeth. It felt like being hit by a freight train and the pair of them slammed into the rooftop with a heavy thud. The Warp Spider felt the weight of his attacker trying to crush him but his carapace became rigid under the blow and spread the force safely.
Clawed hands tore at his front and razor-sharp fangs gnashed a hairsbreadth from his faceplate as Manaar struggled to get free. He could see the scaled patterns embedded in the foe's skin, the non-human set of its muscles and the slitted irises in the eyes. This foe wasn't entirely human or genestealer; there was something else in its genes, a trace of bestial heritage that elevated it over its regular kin. Manaar had never fought anything like it before but he was not afraid, this was a challenge he could relish.
The foe was trying to tear his armour off and reach the soft flesh beneath but Manaar threw all his weight to one side and gained an inch of clearance. Then he bucked his back and kicked upwards, throwing his foe off him. Instantly he brought up his Deathspinners, intending to finish it off, but the enemy recovered alarmingly fast, hurling itself at him with claws outstretched. Manaar was forced to leap backwards, somersaulting away as the claws swiped the air beneath him and the brute's roar echoed off surrounding buildings.
The wail of animal frustration sounded in his ears but he landed lightly and bowed low, arms held level to the ground, then he powered forward. His Phase-blades flickered, drawing two lines of red over his enemy's chest but to his astonishment they failed to penetrate, some exotic aspect of its hide resisting their shimmering edges. Then a fist like a thunderbolt smacked Manaar out of the air, throwing him to the ground with three rents torn into his carapace.
Manaar hit the floor and rolled over, coming up into a crouch as he gazed upon his foe. Fast and strong and almost impervious to his weapons, the Traitor Marine Manaar had once killed hadn't been this much trouble. Manaar was given a seconds pause but only for an instant, he yet knew one way to beat this foe. The brute snarled in triumph as it raised all four arms high, intending to finish him off. Yet Manaar's resolve was unwavering, he did not know if his opponent had the brains to understand but as he leapt high he cried, "For Furta-Rith!"
The brute's strike missed him entirely as he went straight up, flipping over its head. His arc was sharp and he came down hard, not behind it but right onto its shoulders, landing on its back. The brute screamed in outrage and flung itself about in an effort to shake him off but Manaar wrapped his hands and legs around its torso, then he triggered his jump-pack. Eldar and Genestealer Hybrid disappeared in a burst of unlight, falling into the realm of chaos. Even in the shallowest part of the Empyrean Manaar felt the Daemons of the Warp stirring, his spirit was pure but the brute was filled with rage and abject terror, drawing Neverborn like moths to a flame. All Manaar had to do was let go and then he vanished back to realspace, leaving the screaming Hybrid to be consumed by the maws of a million hungry nightmares.
He appeared an instant later, back in the street where he had been. His heart thundered in his chest and his passions ran hot but he did not let them show as he took in the scene. He found the Mon-Keigh picking themselves up, woozily staggering forward and blinking in shock at their losses. Inquisitor Vevara stalked forward snapping, "Hurry up, stop dawdling. We need to keeping moving. Manaar, are the rooftops secure?"
Manaar didn't bother to explain his feats, the apes couldn't possibly grasp the majesty of his kills, so said plainly, "The way is clear."
Erik beamed as he proclaimed, "Good work, for an alien."
Manaar ignored the human as he said, "I shall scout ahead. You follow."
But Mortula jogged past him shouting, "Ha, see if you can keep up!"
Manaar disdained the banter as he ran down the street, chasing the Null Maiden' fleeting form. Another step on his road had been completed and he was eager to take the next. His heart yearned to finish the mission and he could sense the end was near, soon he would fulfil his goal and woe betide any Genestealer that tried to stand in his way.
