Chapter 27

Toran roared as he swung his sword, the edge of blade catching a lithe figure in the midriff and tearing it in two. Thin blood sprayed over Toran's armour and the Dark Eldar wailed as it collapsed before him. Toran wasted not a moment on his defeated enemy but looked up, searching for the next. All around him battle raged, Storm Heralds throwing themselves the Dark Eldar, the crew of this ship going down in a frenzy of hacking and stabbing knives. The Astartes had boarded the ship in full force and were sweeping it end to end, killing all they found. True they could have just blasted the ship to ash from afar but such was not their way. Blood had been shed and honour demanded it be repaid in person, blade to blade. Not even Jediah had protested the order to launch a boarding fighting was going well and everybody, save a lost combat squad, was reporting that the ship would soon be cleared. Toran focussed on his immediate surroundings, with him was his command squad, wreaking havoc with their energised blades. They had become isolated in the melee but were making swift progress regardless.

The last Xeno fell and Toran was about to order them on but then a new opponent entered the fray. Emerging out of nowhere came a lone warrior, clad in thicker armour than the rest of its kind and bearing a two-handed Klaive blade. The Dark Eldar moved like liquid lightning, effortlessly leaping over the piled corpses, it was Dramaq and he was coming for all of them. Furion yelled, "Incubus!" but Toran was already moving to intercept the newcomer. He wasn't fast enough though for a blue blur sped past him as Novak leapt into the fray. His power sword and Combat Shield rose as he shouted, "Honour and Glory!"

The Incubus met him with a parry that threw him off to one side then lashed out so fast that even Toran's enhanced eyesight could barely see it. Novak however caught the blow on the edge of his combat shield and struck back with a flurry of attacks, his arm blurring as he struck over and over, a dozen thrusts in the space of three seconds. It was a perfect remise of strikes, over and over without withdrawing. Dramaq however was unfazed and met every blow with perfect deflections. He allowed the onslaught to come for a few seconds then he counter-attacked. His Klaive became a smear of silver light as he riposted, forcing Novak onto the defensive.

Back and forth they duelled, moving so fast that Toran could barely see them, one-second one was on the attack the next the other and then they swopped again. Both were sublime artists of their craft, both inhumanly fast and skilled, neither finding a break in the other's defences. Toran tried to intervene but the duel was moving too fast for him to process, he could not even see an opening for him to join. Novak snarled in anger as the Incubus coolly parried blow after blow, each time flowing back into a perfect counter-attack. Novak's anger and frustration were growing and that was when he made a mistake. He lunged with a fearsome strike, trying to break through with sheer strength where skill had failed. Dramaq however dove away from the shining sword, dropping one hand as he did so. The power sword flashed by harmlessly over his head as his hand brushed the ground for balance, while he simultaneously extended in a flawless Passata Sotto. The monofilament edge of the Klaive caught Novak in the chest and the tip of it ripped through his plate to score across his ribs. Novak was left off balance for a single moment, exposed and vulnerable. Dramaq's Klaive twisted and Novak's sword went flying, torn from his grip with an elegant flourish. Toran was aghast at the sight, never had he seen Novak bested with a blade and not once, not ever, had he been disarmed so. Novak almost died then as the Klaive came back in a slash for his throat but he managed to get his combat shield up and caught the blow before it could decapitate him.

Novak fell back step after step, combat shield dashing from side to side to catch the Klaive but all he could do was block and retreat. Dramaq followed him as a relentless destroyer, Klaive spinning and jabbing over and over as it looked for an opening. Novak desperately defended himself but could not stop the Klaive as it scored up over the edge of his shield and flashed up to gouge across his helm. Novak's helm was wrecked, leaving him blind and helpless and in that moment Dramaq leapt into the air, both feet extending to catch the Champion full on in the chest. Novak went flying backwards, skittering upon the floor like a fish out of water as he skidded backwards.

Toran roared in anger to see his Company Champion bested so and he leapt at the Incubus with his sword already swinging towards his back. Dramaq however wasn't caught off guard, bending forwards to let the sword pass over him. He came about with an elegant thrust that Toran moved to parry. Too late he realised that this was a feint, for the Klaive rose over his guard in a class Coupé to head straight for his eye lens. Toran desperately twisted his head to one side and was just able to avoid a killing blow but the blade caught his helm hard with a blow that made even his transhuman head ring.

Toran staggered and his guard fell but he didn't die, for at that moment Bylan leapt in crying, "You shall not touch the Captain!" He swung the haft of the Standard like a polearm, forcing Dramaq to step back. Bylan swung again but the Incubus scoffed with contempt and merely thrust over the pole, plunging the tip of his Klaive into Bylan's chestplate. All fell silent for a single moment and then Dramaq withdrew, letting the standard bearer wobble drunkenly before crashing to his knees. Bylan's head bowed as blood began to pour from his helm's mouth grill and he had to cling to the standard to keep from toppling over.

"No!" Toran screamed as his Standard Bearer fell but before he could move there was a furious roar and two blue forms charging at the Incubus, attacking as one in an attempt to overpower him. It was Jediah and Persion, moving in concert with a Red-hot Friction axe and a Fractal-edged short sword already lashing out. Dramaq saw them coming and bunched up, leaping between them to flying horizontally through the air, dodging their blows with perfect grace. His boot kicked out as he flew past, slamming Jediah in the side of the helm with enough force to send him to the ground. Dramaq however had worse in store for Persion, the Klaive twitched and with barely a gesture he severed the Astartes' axe-arm. Persion fell to the floor in a clatter of plate, his right arm gone below the elbow and his weapon cooling upon the deck.

There was a hammering of armoured boots and suddenly Furion was barrelling into the fray, his heavy Mark III plate making the deck ring. He had seen his Brother's skills bested so he didn't try to be clever or elegant. Instead he thundered at the Incubus with arms outstretched, smashing bodily into him and snatching Dramaq up in a great bear-hug. Furion growled as he lifted the Incubus up off the floor, squeezing for all he was worth and trying to crush the Dark Eldar to death. Dramaq didn't seem concerned, merely reaching behind Furion and slipping his Klaive up under his backpack generator. One and two then three sharp movements saw him slice into the power cables and with expert, practised ease he sundered the armour's energy supply. Furion snarled impotently as his plate ground to a halt around him and the Incubus slipped free.

By this time Toran had regained his equilibrium and he leapt at Dramaq with a furious roar. He swung wildly but Dramaq spun to avoid the sword and it slipped by unbloodied. There followed a rather complicated moment of twisting grace and then somehow Toran was flying through the air, tumbling head over heels to smash down upon his back. The Captain was aghast at these events, his entire Command Squad had been systematically taken apart. Never had he seen such skill and grace, never before had one foe bested all of them at once.

Dramaq stood over the prone Captain and he heard the Incubus sniff in contempt as he said in a lilting accent, "Is that it? Is that really all you've got?"

"You!" came an unexpected voice, "You haven't finished with me!"

Toran twisted his head about and saw that Novak was back on his feet, hunched over in readiness to charge. His had wrenched his helm off and was holding his combat shield in his right hand, while his left was clenched into a fist. He was grimacing in anger and clearly about to engage a superior foe without his sword. With a cry of anger Novak charged, hammering his boots down hard as he barrelled forward, running right at the Incubus. Dramaq sneered in contempt and lowered his Klaive, meeting the charge point first. The two Champions slammed together in a crash of plate, and Dramaq's blade ripped deeply into the Astartes' guts. Novak however was grinning as he raised his left fist, holding it up to his rival's face and opening his grip to reveal what he held within: a Frag-grenade.

There was a flash of light and a thunderous bang as the grenade detonated between them, blasting the two apart from each other. Dramaq hit the deck with a screech of pain and agony, his armour speared through in a dozen places by metal shards. He thrashed and screamed at the damage wrought on his flesh, unable to comprehend what had happened. However Novak was already back on his feet, his armour peppered with shrapnel and his face a mask of blood. He dove upon the stricken Incubus and slammed the edge of his combat shield down hard, shattering ribs and crushing his heart with brutal force. Dramaq's chest collapsed and his heart stopped, a gasp left his lips and he sighed, "But… it was so vulgar," then he fell silent.

Toran picked himself up and saw that the battle was over. Toran stalked over to Novak and saw that the Champion's once handsome visage was forever ruined; his face scarred with flash-burns, broken bones and embedded with jagged metal shrapnel. His left hand was a horrifying mess of mangled fingers and blood but he transferred his combat shield back over his wrist to cover it and Toran realised that he must have deliberately swopped arms earlier to preserve his precious sword-hand.

Toran clapped him on the shoulder and tried to reassure him saying, "Well done Brother, another triumph."

For once Novak didn't seem jubilant and lowered his head as he wearily said, "When you tell the tale of this day… pretend I said something pithy and memorable."

Toran nodded, knowing how badly wounded his Champion must be and gave him a moment to recover. Elsewhere the command squad was picking themselves up and addressing their wounds. Jediah was attending to Furion's power generator, piecing the links back together in a quick and dirty fashion. Persion however was wandering about looking for his lost arm, the stump already clotting with Larraman cells. He found it with a cry of delight and bent to scoop up his Friction Axe, hefting it one handed with an eager swipe.

Toran was concerned and asked, "Are you able to fight?"

Persion gripped his axe and replied confidently, "Don't fret, it only takes one hand to swing this. I am good to go."

There was a sigh from behind him and Toran saw Bylan staggering to his feet, Standard held high. Toran was amazed by his recovery and said, "Bylan how… how are you alive?"

Bylan rapped his chest and proclaimed, "Luckily he caught me right in the augmetics, I only experienced a few moments of disruption"

"The Emperor Protects," proclaimed Furion as his armour awoke around him.

Toran was glad that they had all survived and as they gathered their weapons up he said, "This isn't over yet, come the final fight await us."