Extremus Fors Chapter 36
"We're not seriously thinking of going into that," Micah gasped.
"That is the only way," Arvael stated firmly.
"But it's suicide!"
"We can make it," Geryon affirmed.
"Maybe you, can I'll be dead within six steps!"
Novak hated to admit it but the Pariah had a point. Ahead a raging battle unfolded, Technobarbarians against Beastmen against Undying. Screaming fury was pitted against unthinking brutality and infernal intent. Blood flowed everywhere and the noise of metal hacking flesh was loud in the ear. Bodies piled high in all quarters and the ground shook with the impacts of explosion and shot. The purest heart of war made manifest, without restraint.
Rarely had he seen a fight so furious, and never in all his years one so utterly bereft of cohesion. There were no battlelines he could discern, no sense of unit formation or coordination. It was a mad swirl of feuding figures, every man for himself and without the slightest hint of comradeship. Space Marine tactics were built upon a solid tactical foundation, and the unbreakable bonds of Brotherhood, this was utter bedlam.
From the shadows of a tunnel the Storm Heralds watched as screaming carnage played out. Novak, Arvael, Cortha, Geryon and Ajax, and Micah too. They had followed the psychic spoor of their quarry for days, chasing the elusive scent ever deeper and watching their supplies dwindle. Small trouble for a Space Marine but Micah had exhausted all their morpha and food. The Pariah lay nestled in Novak's left arm, broken leg hanging loose. He wept often as pain clawed his nerves but Novak could not afford to relax his pace. Now they must carry him into the most brutal of battles.
"I hate to say it, but the odds of the mortal surviving in that are scant," Geryon muttered.
"I'll carry him," Novak affirmed.
"You'll go into that fight one-handed," Arvael cautioned, "You've never done that before."
"I'll manage," Novak repeated, "Time is short."
That was truer than it sounded. The Exterminatus was mere hours away and their gunship far behind. The point of no return had come and gone days earlier but still they pressed on. The mission was not complete and Space Marines could not turn back, not ever. Novak knew even if they reached the blade there was no way they could return to their transport in time, but if he was to die he would die in victory. Honour demanded no less.
"THERE'S NO POINT ARGUING WITH NOVAK," Ajax rumbled, "THE DAEMONSWORD IS GETTING AWAY."
"Ajax," Arvael blinked "You know who we are?"
"I HEAR THE THUNDER OF WAR AND FEEL MY ANGER STIR. THE COBWEBS CLEAR, I AM WHOLE AGAIN. I REMEMBER IT ALL, EVERYTHING I DID... ALL MY MISTAKES."
"The Honourable has the way of it," Cortha hastily agreed, "We break through or die trying. For the honour of the Chapter."
"Stay to my left," Novak urged, "Guard my lame flank and I'll worry about the right."
"Victory or death," Geryon stated, "For the Red Sands of Mars."
"At least it will be a fight worth remembering," Arvael agreed.
"ON MY WORD, CHARGE!"
As one the Storm Heralds leapt into the fight, racing from the tunnel with their weapons gleaming. Micah cried as his leg jostled against Novak's armour. The Champion put it from his mind as he ran, concentrating on the fight ahead. He steered right, keeping his Brothers to the left, without using his left arm he was vulnerable and would need them to guard his flank. He expected the enemy to turn and engage the second they emerged, but surprisingly the bold charge drew no notice. The Storm Heralds were few and the battle vast, most of the combatants didn't see them arrive and those closest were busily engaged already.
Pounding Ceramite boots churned bloody mud in their wake as they tore for the edge of the fight and the range shrank swiftly. Novak spied a grappling pair of warriors in his path, a lithe woman with metal limbs and a snarling beast. His sword ran the pair through before they even noticed he was there, plunging through her back and out the other side to spear the other's larynx. He withdrew his blade and ran past before they had even hit dirt, carving open the chest of a warrior who died with the most surprised look upon his face. Another and another and another, Novak's arm never stopped attacking, weaving a deadly web of steel and every strike was a kill.
To the left Ajax led the way, his wrecking ball fist shattering anything that opposed him. He strode through the melee as a man walking through a meadow, his thighs stained by gore instead of sap. Arvael's Morningstar created patterns of light as he swung and smashed, Telekinetic might unmaking any foe. Cortha strode proudly as he advanced, his Crozius breaking skulls left and right. Geryon's photonic axe made short work of both man and beast, the energised head disembowelling and decapitating with eager swiftness. The sharp arrowhead of the Storm Heralds was pushing deep into the horde, making more progress than Novak had expected, they were doing it, somehow against all odds they were doing it.
"They're barely putting up a fight!" he yelled as he removed a horned head from a shaggy neck.
"This rabble are no true soldiers," Cortha snarled, "They lack any leadership."
"WE SHALL TEACH THEM TO FEAR US!" Ajax yelled as he compacted a man into his boots with a vertical strike.
"Wait.." Arvael breathed, "I sense…"
Novak's ears squeezed the insides of his head painfully a moment before an actinic flash of light ripped across the battle. From the far side of the horde lightning flared, blasting away a whole sweep of foes. Flame and thunder rolled after, shaking everyone from their individual fights. The battle paused and Novak saw shining figures in silver armour driving out of a distant tunnel, purifying auras blazing. Grey Knights, Hypras had found the battle too and joined in the most stunning fashion imaginable.
"That's the last thing we need!" Geryon spat.
"The limiter!" Novak cried as his thumb hung over the rune.
"No! Not yet, we aren't close enough to affect them," Arvael barked, "Hold till we meet them hand-to-hand."
"FORGET THAT, WE HAVE BIGGER PROBLEMS THAN HYPRAS," Ajax snarled.
Novak's eyes widened as he saw the tone of the battle changing. The arrival of the Grey Knights had shocked the Beastmen and Technobarbarians from their fights, and now they saw the twin spearheads of Space Marines in their midst. Every warrior of both breeds recognised a greater threat, Beastmen despising Astartes on sight and Technobarbarians seeing lines familiar to the Undying. As one both sides abandoned their fights and turned on the intruders. Two armies stood united and the Storm Heralds suddenly found themselves outnumbered ten thousand to one.
"Oh crap," Novak breathed as a wall of enemies came at him, screaming in fury.
"FORM CIRCLE!" Ajax roared.
Instantly the Storm Heralds pivoted, slamming shoulder to shoulder to guard each other. Novak found himself positioned between Ajax and Arvael, nearly he shifted his arm to shield the Dreadnought's rear but Micah's shuddering body was nestled in the crook of his arm and he could not drop the Pariah. There was no time to adjust for the enemy was upon them.
A screaming man threw himself at the Space Marine, twin blades held high. Novak speared him mid-air then pulled back and cleaved a skull apart, then opened the ribcage of the next, then tore out a throat. He killed anything that came at him, but no matter how fast his blade he could not take down every foe. Hundreds pressed in, desperately clawing to reach him and his defence was not tight enough.
A slathering Beastman with a mastiff-face dove into his left side and tried to stab his hip. Novak's instinct was to smash his broken shield into the face, but his left arm could not be moved and the knife slipped past his guard. A prick of pain tore his flank and his teeth ground together in pain. Bereft of an arm he leaned right and kicked out, pulverising the abhuman's pelvis into dust. The move ended that enemy but the moment of distraction allowed five more to rush him.
Novak was nearly bowled over, his stance imperfect to receive a brute charge. Only the weight of a Space Marine saved him, his density too great to so easily shift, still he wobbled back, feeling claws and knives tear at his belly armour. Desperate Novak swivelled back, placing his left leg to the rear and presenting a narrower front. His sword was his only defence now and he fought for all he was worth. Slice, stab, slash, hack, even using the pommel to bludgeon heads. The tip of his sword became bloody and the energy field frazzled as he fought. This was not his style, he was as good with his feet as his arm, accustomed to moving and repositioning constantly, but now he was forced to plant his boots and hold the line. He killed furiously, faces blurring in his eyes and he could not tell how many he had slain. No matter how well he fought he could feel the fight slip out of control, they could not last much longer.
Ajax was sweeping his arm left and right, barrelling foes away as he roared, "COME AT ME AND DIE!"
But Cortha yelled, "They're too many!"
"I can't guard every angle!" Geryon yelled.
"We must press on," Novak cried, "Drive them…"
He was cut off as a knife slipped into his armpit, held by a hairy hand. He snarled as pain tore into his bicep, clawing across the reinforced mass of his ribs, weakening his arm. He swung low but the Beastman weaved back, avoiding the response. Novak had missed, he had let one get away and as if it were a signal the rest piled in. A score of foes rushed him and Novak yelled in denial as they piled on. He could not drive them off, could not move his left arm and they smashed him back, breaking his stance.
Novak could have died then, bowled over by too many foes, but then a shimmering wave passed over him. A Telekinetic blast ripped enemies from him and threw them away, hurling them far. The wave spread out, surrounding the Storm Heralds and creating a barrier, an impenetrable force dome none could pass. They beat upon the wall and gnashed their teeth but Arvael held firm, both hands raised as his face screwed up in concentration and sweat dripped off his brow.
"Micah, reach under my arm and grab that knife," Novak hissed.
"I can't reach."
"Do it!"
The Pariah leaned over and shoved a hand under Novak's arm, yanking out the crude knife. Novak breathed in relief as he felt the blade slide free and his genhanced physiology burned hot as it went to work. "My thanks, I need a minute to recover then we press on."
"I don't think we have a minute," Geryon hissed.
Novak looked up and saw hundreds of foes hammering at Arvael's barrier, seeking to batter the dome down with sheer brute force. The Librarian was in agony, every impact a blow to his mind. His chin was in his neck and sweat poured off him, arms shaking as he struggled to keep them aloft. His jaw clenched so tight blood dripped from the gums, staining his lips red. Novak could see him faltering, unable to hold so many at bay and his knees wobbled as strength slipped through his fingers. Arvael was failing, no amount of wishful thinking could make it not true.
"He can't hold them all," Micah gasped.
"If he can't we die," Novak hissed.
"We move as one," Cortha declared, "Straight forward, a speartip into the heart of them."
"You'd need five squads to pull that off, we can't make it like this!" Novak snarled as Arvael fell to his knees.
It was then Ajax growled, "YOU WILL MAKE IT."
"Ajax?"
"WHEN THE DOME FAILS I WILL DRAW THEM AWAY. YOU WILL HAVE YOUR OPENING."
"You can't do it alone! You'll never make it!"
"I CAN, I MUST. I HAVE BEEN LOST, SO CONFUSED, SO WEAK. NO MORE, AJAX WILL NOT DIE A GIBBERING DOTARD. I SHALL NOT BE REMEMBERED A DEMENTED OLD WRETCH. REMEMBER ME WELL BROTHERS, REMEMBER AJAX'S LAST CHARGE!"
"No, don't!" Novak cried but the dome failed and the crowd surged forward, only to find Ajax barrelling down on them. The Contemptor Dreadnought smashed into the closing ranks and his slaughter was terrible to behold. His fist obliterated foes in droves and his assault cannon roared, sawing enemies in half. Metal feet shattered bodies and his bulk struck like a battering ram, toppling any who stood in his way. He charged into their midst as a bulldozer, tearing a path deep into the masses. The foe responded the only way they knew how, closing in from all sides, ten thousand bodies tearing at the Dreadnought's armour as he waded ever deeper.
Novak and the others were nearly forgotten, only a handful of foes left to confront them. Novak made short work of them as he cried, "We have to help Ajax!"
"No," Arvael barked, "He's drawing them off so we can break through."
"But it's Ajax!"
"He's sacrificing himself to save us," Cortha snarled, "Do not shame him by making it worthless."
Ajax was surrounded, trapped in a closing vice of flesh. They tore at his flanks, ripping at exposed cabling and climbing up his back to tear at the reactor housing. He was being buried in enemies and still Ajax fought on. His fist spewed flames from an in-built flamer and his cannon never ceased to fire. He strode onward, ploughing ever deeper into the horde, letting them surround him so to keep them engaged. He was magnificent and as he fought on he bellowed, "WE ARE THE EMPEROR'S STORM!"
"No," Novak cried, "Not like this!"
But Ceramite hands grabbed his pauldron and dragged him away shouting, "We have got to move!"
"Ajax no," Novak breathed, as he was hauled away, eyes locked on the embattled ancient.
Ajax fought alone, battling foes beyond counting. He wreaked havoc but could not hold them all off. Slathering beasts and raging savages pressed in, hacking and biting as they climbed all over him. No matter how brave, no matter how bold, no one Dreadnought could withstand such odds and Ajax disappeared under a sea of foes, his last cry, "WE ARE HIS WRATH!"
