Chapter 4
A Brutal Assault
Resthaven was one of the five defensible points that Wesser had alluded to. It was a fairly large city in the middle of a huge open expanse in the lowlands. No matter which direction you left Resthaven, you were going uphill. A tired body comes to rest in haven, as the locals liked to say.
And those bodies were coming in their thousands. Refugees fleeing the smaller villages and hamlets for fear of swift death. Resthaven lacked the defensive walls of the capitol, but if there is one thing the Imperium is good at, it's erecting a defensive position on the fly. Troopers, civilians and tech-adepts laboured with sandbags, defence lines and all kinds of cobbled together makeshift barricades.
Unusually, it was daytime. The sun was in an early morning position, just having overcome the mountains in the distance. Buildings cast huge shadows as people moved around in the crisp, fresh air. At this moment, a column of about a thousand people, mostly farmers and their family was making their way in.
There was baying, and the people at the back of the column began to die as dog-like daemons, literally right out of nightmare, pounced. Huge muscled bodies bowled people over as they rampaged, enormous fangs cracking bone. Any who fell but were not killed were set upon by howling flocks of razorwings, stripping flesh from bone.
There were bigger beasts too. A trio of elephant sized creatures, loping quadrupeds with heavy armoured heads crushed and gored as the column began to stampede away in fright. Troopers at the city edges had begun to react to the slaughter in the distance, but now faced the very real prospect of being trampled to death.
They split as best they could, to allow the rush through, while picking off the beasts at a distance. A Leman Russ prowled up to the edge of the city, and a huge flock of birds disappeared in an instant as it spoke with the Emperor's voice. From on high, Beastmasters returned fire with their splinter pods, picking off a trooper here and there.
In the course of a few minutes, the defenders found themselves in an advantageous position, picking off the enemy at a distance from behind defensive barricades. A monster went down as a battle cannon shell removed its head and most of its shoulders. The dogs were hellishly tough, but went down too.
A disciplined layered fallback saw the remaining beasts taken out as they reached the village's boundaries, and the Beastmasters fled, their charges gone. Cheers were short lived as the diversionary tactic was revealed.
All eyes pulled to the beasts, there were precious few to watch as the main attack occurred at about one hundred and twenty degrees to that attack. Dozens of Raiders, all carrying Wyches swept in low, accompanied by Venoms and howling Reavers. But overtaking them in an instant was a flight of three Razorwings.
Murder Squadron, using intel passed on quickly by the Beastmasters, locked on to the handful of precious vehicles the PDF could muster. In their first pass, a Leman Russ and two Chimera died, in a gout of flames. One also got a good run on a cluster of refugees, shearing them in two with a monoscythe missile.
Then the Raiders reached the cities' edge.
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Straining their engines to the max, the Reavers engaged first. At breakneck speeds they rushed down narrow streets, decapitating troopers and civilians alike. Even killing them was dangerous, as bikes crashed down into streets with no room to avoid them, crushing more people.
Caltrops fired, impaling more people, but the Troopers had regrouped enough to seek cover and drive off the light craft. They flew past the engagement zone, seeking easier prey in the cities' centre.
By that point, Wyches had begun to alight, disembarking from their swift moving transports. Wave after wave of warrior women moved through the weakened defensive cordon, killing as they went. Now inside Resthaven's perimeter, the fight moved into a close range brawl.
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"She's attacking in broad daylight?" Kuras exclaimed. "What the hell is she thinking?"
Daring to offer an answer, Silkaro spoke. "To a degree, being able to see the death incoming is a greater type of fear than that which you can't. She may simply be trying to broaden our approach…"
"I don't care about that!" Kuras interrupted, snarling. "Think of the casualties! There's no way that she can retrieve them all. Once we leave behind evidence of our being, we lose a vital element of terror! We become tangible, defeatable."
"Master," said Malathys, inclining his skull-faced helmet, "then perhaps the best solution is to assist her. If we make sure the human settlement is completely wiped out, we'll have time to retrieve our assets."
Kuras drummed his fingers on the arm of his throne, perceptibly thinking. A failure by Arianys would weaken her standing in the Kabal. That would be good, and he could replace her fairly easily if he so desired.
Helping her out would also be a form of discrediting her, but a different one. His own involvement would make the politics a little trickier, but the spin would be fairly simple, he supposed.
But…what if she succeeded? Turned a disastrous result into a crushing blow? What if this was purposefully orchestrated so that she could play an asset later to tip the balance? Was she that clever? Kuras sincerely doubted it, but still…
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Arianys hadn't bothered to draw her agoniser yet. Instead, she was enjoying the simple pleasure of knife work, getting in close and drawing blood. The current clutch of enemies defeated, her Bloodbrides and she had to dive for cover as a PDF squad poured fire down the road.
"This is a disaster," stated Ouraca, her Syren, brazenly. Unlike the Succubus, she'd already drawn her agoniser, treating the situation with the full respect it deserved. Arianys fixed her with a withering stare, but the Syren's truculent expression never wavered.
"We're winning," Arianys said offhandedly.
"Of course we are!" Ouraca snapped. "It's about how well we will win." In the next second, the Troopers foolishly tried to storm the position. Instants later, they were little more than corpses as the elite Hekatrii went to work, moving like quicksilver.
A Razorwing screamed overhead, and could be heard unleashing missiles. There was a distant explosion as another vehicle went up in smoke. But a lucky missile found the Razorwing, shearing a wing and sending it to explode into an enormous inferno, the thatched houses quickly igniting.
"Shit…," breathed Ouraca. That had been unfortunate, but all fortune, good or bad, fell upon Arianys. She smiled. More bad fortune, if the universe would be so kind. Maybe Arianys hated her brother, but Ouraca wouldn't mind serving him.
The battle raged on for a long time. Waves of Wyches pushed forward through streets and ruins, hugging cover to close range as PDF soldiers fell back in staggered waves, keeping the distance open for as long as possible. There was no help coming, the defence stratagem required them to hold. There was nowhere to flee.
Huge masses of civilians died, many simply in the way, some trying to defend their homes and families. The Wyches maintained better cohesion than the Warriors had, seeking worthy opponents over torturing. They pushed deeper and deeper into Resthaven.
Then there was a droning noise. Eyes snapped up as a full squadron on Thunderbolts, the twelve members of White Hunter Squadron engaged. There were only two Razorwings left in the sky, but they fearlessly engaged into the dogfight. Many a flyboy would tell you of the horrendous effectiveness of Eldar fliers.
They rolled and jinked out of the way of incoming fire, flickerfields hiding them almost perfectly. They took down three Thunderbolts, but the weight of fire was too much, and both remaining aircraft went down. Thunderbolts are not ground attack craft, but they were laden with missiles, and came around in a lazy, slow turn to get a good run on the Eldar.
Raiders rose to meet them. Though not fully fledged fliers, Eldar skimmers were manoeuvrable, and lance fire reached out. Two more Imperial craft fell out of the sky, but they switched over to the new targets, raking the vulnerable skimmers with punishing fire.
As they climbed after that pass, they found themselves beset from another angle. Five more Razorwings were inbound.
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"Where did they come from?" Arianys shouted angrily at the sky.
"Greetings, dearest sister!" She snapped around to that asshole, Kuras, walking calmly towards her, Incubi bodyguard fanning out behind him. She snarled.
"This was my raid! You have no right to interfere!"
Kuras spread his hands wide, placating. "Dearest sister, you do misunderstand me! We are here to help, not criticize!" Of course, that manner was calculated to anger, not placate. Arianys hand went to the agoniser coiled at her hip, and every single Incubus tensed their grips. No such loyalty emanated from the Bloodbrides.
Splinter fire rang out as Silkaro's Kabalites joined the fray, adding the long range punch to the Wych assault capabilities. Pain Engines surged forwards, tanking firepower for the fragile Eldar. Overhead, Abattoirs appeared, ready for the imminent capture.
Arianys shook in impotent rage. If the Haemonculi were here to capture civilians, then nothing could stop that from happening. This city would disappear from the map, but her role had suddenly been shrunk. She turned away from Kuras, stalking into the city deeper.
"Come, little brother, unless you are afraid to test your mettle."
Kuras grinned, drawing his sword, Father. He felt the Djin blade's power flow into him. He advanced swiftly, and his Incubi came with him.
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"Gone…?" Mehan was distraught.
Wesser nodded glumly. "All we found were corpses of our people. No Eldar, no survivors."
"We were supposed to be able to hold…," Mehan said, "It was only five cities, but can we not save even that much?"
"We need help," Wesser stated.
"I know!" Mehan stood, raging. "But we are on the edge of Imperial space. We're not going to get any help in the near future." He frowned. "I want every able-bodied person over the age of eighteen given a gun and basic training."
"That's…logistically impossible," Wesser started.
"Then do what you can! We need bodies, and we need them now! We don't even have a single confirmed kill, for the Throne's sake! Sure, we must have, but there's no proof. We're fighting phantoms. What is more important than skill is watchful eyes everywhere."
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Kuras sat back on his throne, wiping the blood of his foes off of his face. "Ahh, some exercise is nice!" He handed the towel to Keri, and with her other hand, she gave him the drink he had requested earlier. He took a sip and gasped over-dramatically. "That really hits the spot!"
Arianys glared at him, in line with Silkaro and Korolion. The Haemonculus was pleased with his haul, and Silkaro seemed happy that someone else was in line to suffer a fall.
"Good work, dearest sister!" The trio all reacted in surprise to the words. "You moved the schedule up a bit, but taking out one of their main settlements with no survivors? Just think of how scared the others must be!" His face was gleeful at the prospect.
But despite his word, Arianys understood the implication; if she tried to take any glory, it would be instantly thrown back in her face. She'd needed help, after all. No, not needed; she'd had it forced upon her.
"I humbly accept your praise," she said, bowing to hide the anger in her face. Kuras smiled smugly, understanding what she was doing. He gestured, and Keri carried a platter of three drinks to the generals. They took them with varying levels of disdain towards the human. Xenos manservant's were common due to the treachery of their own kind, but all felt that Kuras was …overly familiar… with his. Keri did not linger long before Korolion's gaze.
"Now, my loyal followers," he said amiably, "allow me to fill you in on the details of my raid. I will be requesting support from all of you in order to make it a reality."
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+++Message started+++
Timestamp: 968:061
Source: Nocturne's Core
Distress call received.
The Salamanders acknowledge.
The Emperor Protects.
+++Message ends+++