Extremus Fors Chapter 21
Screams arose from the camp of the Frostkin, booming crashes of buildings imploding and the wet slurp of bodies being violated. Noxious smoke accumulated under the ice roof and licking fires painted the dark glacier in shades of crimson and orange. Fierce cries of defiance echoed briefly, only to be cut short with inhuman snarls of violence. Never a large clan, not big or important enough to join the conclave of Technobarbarians, they had fallen swiftly, their defences broken with ease.
Novak peered from a high ledge, seeing a light scattering of stone dwellings clinging to the base of a small Forgefane. From here he could track the violence, see the invaders pressing forward with relentless determination. His keen eyes could tell the attackers were few in number, but mighty in power. The knots of violence were focused upon two or three speartips, but anything that tried to fight them was obliterated. Of the attackers themselves he could see nothing, the smoke too thick even for Autosenses to penetrate. He didn't like the sounds though, whatever was down there was more than merely human.
He inched back and said, "Someone beat us to it."
The others hung back, all equally frustrated. Cortha asked, "Can we slip around the fighting and reach the Forgefane?"
"Not a chance, they're pushing inwards. We will have to face them head on."
Geryon shook his head, "I don't like this, are we sure this is even the place?"
Arvael spoke up, "I sense curdled psychic spoor at play. A vile taint on the wind and a fetid odour at the back of my throat. The warp is loosed below, the veil grows thin."
"The Daemonsword at last," Novak breathed, "We better make haste."
Without further preamble he turned and began picking his way down a narrow slope. The rest followed one by one, Ajax going last. Novak trod carefully, picking every step but his hearts were thrumming with excitement. From the forgotten battlefield they had made their way through the land, exploring several abandoned outposts on the way. Some had been looted long ago, others looked as if they had never been touched, but this was the first they had found with a settlement attached. That was promising.
Novak was keenly aware that time was running short. By his estimate it was less than a week till the Exterminatus fleet reached Lujan Minoris, barely half the time they when they set foot on this world. If they didn't find their objective soon the mission would fail. They would then face a choice, between abandoning their mission and running for the Overlord, or staying to the bitter end and dying in the fires of Exterminatus. Novak hadn't bothered raising the question with the others, they all knew what the answer would be. They were Space Marines, abandoning a mission was unthinkable.
Novak reached the level of the ground and set off, heading for a toppled wall of black stone. Various bodies were laid upon it, eviscerated by terrible wounds that left guts steaming in the freezing air. Novak didn't see a body from any enemy, whoever had done this hadn't suffered a single casualty. That raised the threat level a notch in Novak's estimation.
"Oh..." Micah gulped as the servitor-mule followed in their wake, "I... I think I'm going to be sick."
"Silence," Cortha snapped as he hefted Dread-Hand.
"Seriously I'm going to be sick," Micah whined, "They're so... the smell... how can it not turn your stomach?"
"We're used to it," Novak muttered, "We do worse than this every day."
"I've seen dead bodies... but never like this."
"War is nothing like the Holo-vids, "Arvael growled, "Its ugly work, it chews up the weak and the diffident."
"Is that going to happen to me?"
"Not if you keep behind us and stay silent!" Novak snapped.
The Pariah thankfully shut up as the mule fell behind. Novak kept his sword and shield high as they slipped between toppled huts, the inhabitants laid out upon the ground. Unlike the defenders of the outer walls these ones had not been killed quickly. Their wounds were ragged and broad, their flesh seared in many places. The way they had been dropped suggested they had been killed one by one, their tormentors snuffing them out individually then moving on. Only a true sadist would stop mid-battle to inflict such torments and Novak's hate for whoever did this grew. The minions of Chaos truly were beneath contempt.
A noise ahead brought him up short and he raised a fist to alert the others. Micah whimpered slightly but the rest took arms, ready to engage. Novak tensed, and then bounded around the corner of a building, eager to wreak vengeance. He was brought up short by what he found. Novak had expected a horde of cultists, he had expected vile sorcerers and champions, he would even have expected to encounter a Chaos Marine. This was none of those.
Amid a crowd of dead and dying Technobarbarians three figures stood. They were Transhuman in height and as broad, while their pauldrons and backpacks matched his own, but there the similarities ended. They were withered and gaunt in a way no Space Marine could ever be, Ceramite armour waxy and contorted, as if running out of true in the kiln. Hands and heads were exposed, but there was not a scrap of skin on them, skeletal fingers gripping swords and grinning skulls resting on neck rings, yet they moved like living things. They were vile and hideous parodies of Astartes, mockeries of the Emperor's gene-craft and most bizarrely they were on fire. Red flames leaked out of badly joined plates and gorgets, crowning their heads with haloes of fire.
For the first time in his life Novak froze and he gasped, "What the hell are these?!"
Ajax growled, "LAZAR'S NIGHTMARES: UNDYING!"
The noise drew the travesties' attention and skulls came about to face them, moving languidly as if half-asleep, yet in eye sockets evil fires burned bright. They abandoned their kills and came to bear, readying to charge. Novak braced for the first clash but then a wind blew up, coming out of nowhere. Arvael was the source, the Librarian summoning a telekinetic blast that would send the offensive things flying. Yet Ajax roared, "DON'T!"
Too late came the warning. Arvael unleashed a blast of psychic power, might enough to throw a tank over. The invisible wave hit the Undying and did nothing, merely making their flaming haloes dance. In return the leader waved a claw of hand, as if snatching something from the air and casting it back. Novak was hit in the chest by a sledgehammer, lifting him off his feet and sending him flying into a wall. His bones rattled at the impact, and he saw the others land awkwardly, even Ajax swaying on his feet.
Novak's armour screeched as he slid to the ground and as his boots touched dirt snarled, "What was that?!"
"EMPRYIC CONDUITS, THEY ABSORB AND REDIRECT PSYCHIC ATTACKS!"
"Great," Novak cried, "Take them apart hand to hand."
The three Undying were moving towards the Space Marines, bringing the fires of hell with them. They weren't fast, that was the curious thing about them, they walked with exaggerated limps, every step ponderous and yet oozing inevitability. Novak could easily have outrun them, but such was not his nature.
He lifted his shield and stepped forward to meet the nearest, sword already darting forward. To his surprise the Undying made no attempt to defend itself, merely marching on. His sword point plunged into a Ceramite breastplate and tore a deep furrow, exposing flaming innards to the air. The Undying didn't react, not even a flinch, as he pulled his blade back in surprise. In a claw it gripped a sword that looked to be carved from a single length of volcanic glass, even though such a material was too brittle to form so long a blade. It brought the obsidian sword up with a ponderous swing, angling to shear Novak in two.
Novak reacted smoothly, dancing back a step to avoid the worst and angling his shield to deflect the slow strike. He intended to block with the energy field of the shield and then spear his sword into that grinning skull, expecting a more telling result. What he did not expect was for the glimmering blade to scythe through his shield like wet parchment. That shield had taken blows from weapons mighty and arcane, held against las and shot and fire, it had denied blows from Chaos Champions and Xenos witches alike, yet the Undying tore the lower half clean off, taking two of Novak's fingers with it.
Novak gasped but an instant later the tip cleaved across his breastplate. Ceramite parted and a deep furrow was left over his hearts, had he not skipped back it would have torn him in two. As if energised by the strike the Undying advanced, sword swinging high. Its eyes blazed and from its jaws escaped a broiling hiss, as if heat itself was trying to make a noise. Only the sloth of its arm's swing allowed Novak to leap back, letting the sword carve a steaming crater into the ground.
While he had been engaged the other two had spilt up. One moved to attack Ajax, who met it with a punch to the face that made it sway slightly. The other assaulted Cortha and Geryon, who met it with Crozius and a flaring Photonic axe. Novak had no time to watch their battles play out, for his opponent continued to close. The shining length of black glass swept by and he was forced to sway back to let it pass. He was not daunted and darted in again, scything his blade into a flank. Hexagrammatic runes flared on the perfect steel and he opened up a massive gash in its side. Within were revealed dancing flames, charred ribs and strange devices, whirring machines that moulded energies in ways he could not imagine.
He danced away before a return blow could catch him, then from nowhere Arvael swept in. The Librarian swung a shining Force-morningstar into its back, unleashing potent psychic energies to crush the fiend utterly. It didn't work. The Undying absorbed the blow and spun about, moving twice as fast to try to rip Arvael in half. The Librarian barely got out of the way, staggering back, then the sword went for Novak again.
Desperately he flung himself aside as he yelled, "Would you stop feeding these things more power?!"
"I'm open to suggestions!" Arvael barked as he frantically backpedalled.
Novak had no recourse save to skip back. The Undying followed, utterly relentless and set upon his end. It moved with the inevitability of death, it's intent unyielding. Nothing Novak could do was even hurting this mockery of life and with one hit it could end him. Whatever passed for intelligence in that flaming skull seemed to know it, its drunken steps increasing in tempo as it tried to match his speed. The flaming jaw clattered in anticipation of the kill and the broiling heat of its breath seemed to be laughing in contempt. It would wear him down, tear at him piece by piece until he slipped up and made a mistake, then it would have him. Novak had never been so completely and totally outmatched and he frantically searched for a way to avoid death.
His back hit a low wall and he tensed. The Undying leered as it drew back its sword, then struck. Novak waited half a heartbeat then threw himself aside, letting the sword plunge into the wall. The blade carved deep, tearing the structure apart, then it collapsed. The whole hut sagged sideways, then fell over, landing upon the Undying and burying it in debris.
Novak didn't think for a second that would kill it. He darted away, shaking his left arm where cleaved fingers made his grip on the remains of his shield slippery and imprecise. He ached to tend to the spirit of the machine, and check his trophy Rosarius hadn't been destroyed, but couldn't afford to get distracted.
He cast about and cried, "Ajax, you've fought these abominations before, how do we kill them?!"
"COMPLETE AND TOTAL OVERKILL!" the Honourable yelled.
The Dreadnought matched words to actions, grabbing an Undying's skull in his metal fist. The flaming halo seared the digits but he hoisted it aloft and rammed his assault cannon into the belly. Barrels screeched as they unloaded a storm of shot, spitting bullets like a tornado of metal. Hundreds of rounds, thousands, punched into the Undying, chewing through piece by piece. The breastplate imploded as the fusillade continued, innards disintegrated and then the back tore out, spitting rounds away in a torrent as the lower half of the Undying dropped to the ground.
Ajax twisted at the waist and threw the remains at the other, still battling Cortha and Geryon. It collided with its fellow in a tangle of limbs, bowling them both over. Quick as a flash Cortha was on it, driving Dread-hand into the flaming skull. Built around the finger-bones of a Sister of Silence, the weapon smote with soul-quaking force and the Undying fell still at last.
"Quick," Novak cried, "We've seen what it takes, finish off the last before..." Too late, his words came, for the foe had regained its feet. It rose from the rubble, showering pebbles and from the ruins it dragged a living Technobarbarian. The inhabitant of the demolished hut wailed as the travesty lifted him in one hand. Those flaming jaws opened wide, as if drawing in a deep breath and in doing so ripped something from its victim. Eyes and mouth lit up as vital energy was ripped from the living man, a rush of potency drawing lines of energy between the two. The Undying drank deep of the man, consuming his essence and its halo of flames blazed like a flare at midnight.
"It's draining his life-force," Cortha gasped.
"Worse," Arvael breathed, "It's leeching his soul."
"SOUL-BURNING," Ajax growled, "HERESY INCARNATE."
The Undying dropped a twist of ragged flesh at its feet and lifted both arms high. Novak's eyes widened as the other two Undying jerked and twitched, then erupted back into flaming unlife. One missing a head, the other standing on legs of fire, they rose, ready to resume the fight. The Storm Heralds had thrown everything that had at the Undying and not made dent, the insane creations of mad genius utterly immune to their best efforts. Novak knew they'd have to do this all over again, but then heard a noise that made his spine go cold. From behind the trio emerged two more packs, half-a-dozen Undying come to join their fellows. Three of these travesties had fought the Storm Heralds to a standstill, now they faced nine. A fight they could not possibly win.
"What do we do?!" Geryon cried.
"Fight to your last breath," Novak growled, "And pray for a miracle."
