Extremus Fors Chapter 37

The inside of the Templum was hardly any better. Armies had already penetrated the interior and fought tooth and nail amid soaring capacitors and pulsing charge-coils. Hairy Beastmen savaged lurid warriors covered in obscene tattoos, while Technobararians gutted grunting brutes. Blood flowed freely and lives ended among the ancient machines, a battle as fierce and swift as the one raging outside.

The Forgefane itself was dark and brooding, lit only by flaring discharges of lightning between free-standing capacitors. It was nearly hollow inside, one vast chamber so large that rain clouds formed under the roof. Strange devices lurked in corners, heavy with ancient purity seals and dead cyber-cherubs lay rotting where they had fallen. Cogitators of black crystals stood in lines, glowering with evil menace, the Machine Spirits within made bitter and spiteful by millennia of neglect. Heat pumped out of them, driving back the cold of this world and making the air moist and dank. Large dishes hung from the walls, focusing lenses for energy matrixes of potent nature, and spiralling tubes carried strange fluids high into the dark. The vast floor was a single metal plate, inscribed with Binaric formulae and entreaties to the Machine God. The entire place reminded Novak of something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

The Storm Heralds veered right as they entered, ducking behind a thrumming capacitor. They needed to orientate themselves and try to figure out where they could make a difference. It wasn't easy, Novak could barely see any sign of order amid this anarchy, the clash ferocious and wild. He could barely understand who was who, and more of both sides poured inside with every passing minute.

"Anyone see the Daemonsword?!" Novak called.

"Not yet," Arvael hissed as he peered around the other side of the capacitor.

"Keep looking, it's got to be behind those baffles."

Geryon corrected, "Multi-dimensional tunnellers and matter/energy convertors."

"What?"

"Surely you see it, the projector vanes, the spatial sifters… this entire place is one giant Teleportarium."

Novak looked again and it struck him why this place was so familiar. The devices on display resembled a Teleportarium, those arcane devices that projected objects through the nightmarish realms of the warp to another location. The scale had thrown him off, they usually didn't come so large, this was another product of mad genius. The possibilities were dizzying, if they could master this place then they had a way off-world in an instant, but more immediate concerns pressed.

He leaned back into cover and set Micah down whispering, "Stay here and remain hidden."

"You can't leave me here!" the Pariah yelped.

"I have to go out there and find the sword. You'll be safer here."

"And do what exactly?!"

"Stay out of trouble and don't die."

"Don't die, I can do that."

Novak stood up and leaned out of cover, his eyes traversed the battle and he saw a flash of wild motion in the centre of the Forgefane. Two blurs of colour fought in an epic duel, one unknown but the other all too familiar. Lurid plate, sinuous motion, debased flesh: Jubila in all his depraved glory. The other was smaller and weaker, but somehow kept up with the warlord. A Slaaneshi acolyte, Novak took him for, yet he bore a heavy blade that was gnarled and twisted: the Daemonsword.

"I see it!" Novak barked.

"There's a lot of foes in the way," Arvael replied.

"We'll clear a path," Cortha declared, "Novak, it'll be up to you to claim the sword."

"Got it."

Arvael cautioned, "Remember, don't pick up the sword, it will corrupt your soul. Only Micah can handle it safely."

"Understood, let's finish this!"

At that all four Storm Heralds burst from cover, racing into the fray. Novak lagged a step behind, letting the others run ahead. The trio ploughed into the fray, smashing aside foes. Geryon struck limbs from torsos while Cortha battered down foes and Arvael blasted them away. With strength and ferocity they drove back the milling combatants, allowing Novak a clear run at the duelling rivals.

He gripped his sword tight then threw himself into the fray. He aimed to ram his blade into Jubila's back, judging him the more dangerous of the pair, yet somehow the warlord saw him coming. Jubila contorted like a snake and suddenly wasn't in the path of his blade anymore. Novak flew past and hurriedly redirected, thinking to take the acolyte instead. The sword steered for the man's chest and yet the Daemonsword reversed direction and moved to block. It wasn't that the man was swinging the sword but more like the sword moved itself and the man was dragged along. Infernal steel met shining blade and Hexagrammatic runes flared as Novak's sword repulsed the loathsome thing. Novak didn't let himself get caught in a contest of strength, instead twisting his arm and pivoting, bringing his guard up, just in time to catch Jubila's sabre coming at the back of his head.

A loud clash of steel rang and Jubila cried, "Is that… Novak?! You're here too, oh this is fate!"

Novak snarled, "I'm going to end you traitor!"

"This is too damned good!" Jubila laughed, "I get to kill you at last, and claim the sword too, after I kill whatisname here."

"Lugdac," the champion growled as he stepped right, the Daemonsword twitching with eagerness to kill.

"No one cares dear," Jubila snorted, "We won't remember you after…"

Novak cut him off, rotating his wrist to slide past Jubila's defence. He tried to rip out that laughing mouth but Jubila moved too fast to follow, jerking aside as the sabre lashed low. Novak was forced to jump back to avoid being gutted, only to find the curved point coming at his face. He fell back, weaving a web of steel before him, deflecting and parrying for all he was worth. Jubila was as good as he remembered, faster than fast, fearsomely skilled and lethally innovative. His moves followed no pattern or style Novak could discern, invented entirely in the moment and completely unpredictable. Yet Novak was a superlative swordsman himself and met every lashing thrust with a perfect counter.

Their duel was fast and furious, but then was interrupted as Lugdac waded in. He charged into the middle of the lashing blades, his feet slow and ponderous compared to theirs, but the Daemonsword somehow moved itself to intercept both blades and caught them in a lock move. Instantly Novak jumped back, clearing room as the sword rotated in a circle, trying to rip Jubila's blade from his grip. The warlord was too good for that and swayed with the move, spinning on his heel to keep his sword in hand.

"I don't know how many duels you've been in, but the point is to stick it in the other guy, not bash up against his blade!" Jubila taunted.

"No one mocks me!" Lugdac snarled as he gave chase.

Novak saw his chance and launched himself at the exposed back. His strike was sure and true and yet the Daemonsword whipped about, spinning Lugdac as a top to block the move. Novak's arm ached as Hexagrammatic runes flared on the length of his sword, then the Daemonsword came at his face. He ducked aside, letting the thrust sail past. He thought to strike low and tear Lugdac's legs off, only to find Jubila coming at his flank.

Novak hefted his shield arm and just managed to catch the sabre on the broken buckler, knocking the blade away. A counter to the hip was deftly dodged, then a slash from the right signalled the Daemonsword coming at him again. Novak swayed back, only for Jubila to stab left, trying to spear Lugdac through the head. There was no sense to this duel, no hint of teamwork or two warriors uniting against the third. It was a wild free-for-all, with everyone fighting entirely for themselves. A dizzying display of wild swordsmanship, then it got worse.

A thunderous clap announced the Grey Knights entering the fray, wreathed in lightning as they poured inside. Hypras, Agriff, Mordad and Pelleus, charging inside with righteous purity. Instantly Novak's thumb hit the limiter and their powers dwindled, but they seemed not to care. They charged with weapons gleaming, trusting to the strength and skill of an Astartes to win through. Three waded into the fight, but Pelleus steered straight for the duel, twin blades leading the way.

Novak met the steel with a slashing parry, knocking a strike aside. Jubila did the same to the other sword, jumping back with a merry, "I was wondering when you'd show up!"

Novak threw aside the blade and thrust for the heart, only to be blocked by the other sword, and a snarled "Novak, you shall pay for taking Galhuan's life!"

"Pelleus, you are no match for me without your power!"

Jubila threw back his head and laughed, "You've met! My my my, the galaxy is a small place indeed!"

"Do none of you ever stop talking?!" Lugdac snarled.

The duel resumed, only this time with four combatants. Novak was lost in the clash of steel, struggling to keep up. He dodged a blow from the Daemonsword only to find Jubila's blade at his throat. He barely avoided being decapitated with a desperate evasion, only to have Pelleus' sword score over his belly armour. He thrust back, tearing a deep groove over a pauldron, but exposing himself to a follow-up blow from Jubila. Novak was forced to spin on his boot, left arm flashing out to grab Pelleus' pauldron and heave him into the warlord. They met in a clatter of spinning blades, creating a glittering shimmer of light as their swords clashed.

All was madness and anarchy, without space or time for thought. There was only the clash of blades and the wild calamity of insane combat, perfect in its imperfection. Novak traded blows with Lugdac, dancing backwards to avoid the snarling blade. His feet moved faster than the mortal's and he noted the blade was sweeping wide with every blow. Something was different; Lugdac was swinging the blade, not being moved by it. His motion slow and predictable. The Pariah, Novak realised, Micah was suppressing the Daemonsword too, leaving Lugdac well-armed but still a mortal in a Space Marine fight. That he could use.

Novak's back slammed into something hard, Pelleus' backpack, and an idea formed. He spun about, leaving Lugdac hacking at air as Novak came about and shoved Pelleus hard. The Grey Knight stumbled with the unexpected impact, his imperfect footwork leaving him off-balance. He fell back, feet staggering and slammed into Lugdac's face. The heft of an Astartes lent him inertia a tank would find respectable and Lugdac was thrown back, face a bloodied mess.

Pelleus regrouped swiftly but Novak taunted, "Need to work on your stance!"

Jubila was at his side and agreed, "His footwork is rather basic, too much emphasis on his hands not enough on body angles. He should study some Baalite forms and he'll see what I mean."

"Baalite?" Novak scoffed, "Too vertical, leaves one vulnerable to unexpected counters."

"Not the way Raldoron did it," Jubila sniffed.

A moment passed before it struck Novak he was conversing with his hated enemy, then the duel resumed. Novak struck first, tearing a furrow over Jubila's hearts, had the warlord not been twisting to attack he would have died. Novak felt the sabre score over his gorget, an inch from tearing out his throat. He countered with a bash from his broken shield, tearing off several spikes from Jubila's armour. A moment opened, a single moment when Jubila was off-balance from the impact, vulnerable to a stab to the centre. One thrust and Novak could split the cur like a rotten ploin. He tensed for the strike, determined to finish this once and for all. And that was when Pelleus charged back into the fray.

Novak was forced to break off and spin to counter the new threat. He met twin swords with a dazzling counter, deflecting both thrusts with one swipe. Pelleus seemed determined though, set upon Novak's death. He gave chase, hacking and stabbing in a frenzy. Even without his powers he was a swift swordsman and Novak was forced to dance away, feet skipping over the metal floor. His shield and sword moved constantly, meeting every strike and keeping the blades at bay. Pelleus was good, driven and powered by fury, but Novak was far more experienced in a Transhuman fight and held his own. Then he struck back.

A bash from his shield knocked Pelleus' left arm out of alignment and then Honour's Edge was soaring into the gap. There was no tensing, no shifting of weight, Novak willed it and the blow simply was. The tip plunged under Pelleus' pauldron, slicing deep into his left shoulder, severing tendons and cracking bones. A snarl of frustrated rage escaped the Grey Knight's lips as his left arm fell dead and Novak withdrew his sword.

Novak drew back his blade, preparing to end this foe with a single thrust. One-handed Pelleus would be no match for him, Novak was sure, but then he spied something in the corner of his eye that made him pause. Jubila was engaged with Lugdac, fighting the mortal with blurring speed. Free of distractions the cur could focus full-attention on the man and his superiority was evident. Lugdac had not the benefit of the Daemonsword's power and could only move at a merely human velocity; he hadn't a chance.

Jubila slashed a tip over that bloody face, cutting through bone and sinus to expose the upper half of the mouth. Lugdac gushed blood as his defence faltered, weakness stealing in. It was all Jubila needed to whisk the sabre about, tip kissing the edge of Lugdac's throat. Such a gentle motion, so light and delicate, and yet it opened up his windpipe and severed jugulars, leaving him dead on his feet. Lugdac swayed for a moment then fell to his knees, lifeblood gushing over his front. Jubila however swept the blade down, neatly cutting off Lugdac's hand, sword and all.

Jubila caught it before it hit the ground, snatching it up in his free hand. He shook the severed hand from the hilt then tossed it high to catch it again. Novak could only look on aghast as Jubila lifted the Daemonsword over his head and cried, "The Gladius Incandor is mine!"