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Da Portal of Darkness Chapta 19 | |
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Da Portal Of Darkness Chapta 19 |
Droyle looked up at the darkening sky. His orders, like those of the other unit commanders was to gain access to the orks’ airbase after dark and cause as much damage as they could before falling back to the south, hopefully enticing the orks to pursue them while governor Highbalt and his personal guard, along with the marine contingent that had joined them carried out whatever the secret operation to the north was. Droyle grinned, he had spent his entire life hearing of how good life was for loyal citizens under Highbalt’s rule before the orks came and destroyed everything, now he was about to take part in the operation that would set everything back how it was supposed to be. “Now?” a voice asked from behind him. “No, not yet,” he replied, adjusting the position of the rifle slung over his shoulder, “we need to wait for night to fall properly to cover our advance.” “’Ere,” Hazug said to Sophie, handing her the tau viewing device, “I wants ya to take dis.” “Won’t I need a gun too?” Sophie asked, taking the device. “Nah,” Hazug told her, “ya won’t be doin’ any fightin’ tonight if I can ‘elps it.” “You can’t leave me here Hazug,” Sophie protested, “I want to help you.” “Ya will, by usin’ dat viewin’ thingy to watch wot’s goin’ on. Dat Imperial killer bloke is goin’ to need someone else to ‘elp ‘im keep an eye out for dat Highbalt, and ya is da only one ‘ere wot knows wot ‘e looks like. So when ‘e leads us to da pansies’ gateway ya is goin’ to stay back with ‘im and Thuggrim while dey uses dare snazzy shootas to keep everone else’s ‘eads down while da rest of us get stuck in. Goddit?” Sophie nodded, and slipped the tau device into her pocket. This was not the first time that Hazug had ordered her to stay away from the fighting, and every time it happened she feared that Hazug would not return. “Da lads is ready Hazug,” Two Heads said from behind Hazug, “We’ve got all da ammo and bombs wot we can carry. I don’t like leavin’ da battlewgon unguarded, but none of da lads want to be left out of dis fight seein’ as ‘ow we’ll be goin’ up against beakies.” “Good,” Hazug said to the Evil Sun, “But dare’s somethin’ we got to do first, we’ll needs Drazzok for it.” “Drazzok?” one of Two Heads said, “Wot do we need da weirdo for?” “We needs to warn warboss Kromag about da attack on da airbase wot Sophie said is goin’ to ‘appen, and we can’t spare any of da lads to send someone to tell so we needs to send da message another way.” There was a strange smell coming from the braziers that the Word Bearers had set up according to instructions from Nillotep Highbalt decided, an unpleasant odour to be sure, but not so unpleasant as to make him want to back out of the ceremony that was to grant him power. His own men were gone now, positioned in groups all around to prevent the orks from stumbling onto this place and ruining everything at the last minute. His immediate security now came from the Word Bearers who ahd now formed a circle around the eldar webway while Nillotep continued to chant and scrape his knife across Rhia’s back. The woman who had until recently been his loyal servant was now covered in lacerations. On its own, each of these was just a shallow graze that was calculated to be just deep enough to draw a small amount of blood, but together they had turned her back into a mass of bloody wounds. Nillotep had cleverly ensured that Rhia had remained conscious throughout the ritual, her screams of pain acting to draw in the being that Highbalt and the assembled marines were serving. Suddenly, Highbalt heard his name being called out. “Governor Highbalt, you are needed now,” Krixus called from beside
Nillotep, and Highbalt entered the circle of marines. “You are the vessel,” Nillotep said, looking down at Highbalt. The sorcerer’s face was hidden behind the faceplate of his crested helmet, but from what Highbalt knew of the marine, his face would be displaying no more emotion than the helmet, “Do you consent to be the instrument of our patron’s manifestation and power?” Nillotep continued. “I will,” Highbalt answered. Soon, he thought, the power promised to him would at last be his. “Then step forwards and be marked as such,” Nillotep told him, and Highbalt stepped closer. Nillotep reached out and tore Highbalt’s shirt from him, exposing his flabby torso. The sorcerer dragged his knife blade down one of Rhia’s arms, drawing more blood. Nillotep then jerked the knife towards Highbalt, flicking blood from the blade onto his skin, he repeated the motion several times until no more blood flew, all the while chanting in the strange language he apparently need for the ritual. “The vessel is marked,” Nillotep announced, “let our praise now bring forth our patron,” and with that all of the marines began to chant. The sound they produced was less like words, even in some alien tongue, than it was a continuous droning that came from them all while Nillotep continued to bleed Rhia dry. Luggnort used his staff to move a gretchin out of his way as he made his way back towards his hut. The creatures had been late with the weirdboys’ evening meals, and all of the weirdboys were taking their frustrations out on the smaller creature, at least one of who had been eaten in addition to the food he had brought with him. Luggnort was the last of the weirdboys to finish eating, deliberately taking his time so that the gretchin would have to wait for him. Luggnort suddenly stopped still as he got a strange feeling in his head, as if someone was pushing on his brain from inside his nose, and from somewhere he was sure that he could hear the sound of a group of orks chanting and stomping their feet as though they were deliberately trying to increase the strength of the psychic field that weirdboys like him drew on when using their powers. “Ah crap, not now,” he said, his eyes beginning to glow, “Damn ya ‘ide Drazzok, ya is doin’ dis on purpose,” and he vomited over the nearest gretchin. “Wot’s up with ya master?” another gretchin asked as the one Luggnort had just vomited over ran off looking for something to clean it off before it ate away his skin, “Is ya sick?” “No I aint sick,” Luggnort snapping, lashing out at the gretchin with his fist, “Its dat bleedin’ Drazzok sendin’ me a message when ‘e knows it makes me sick.” “We’ll ‘elp ya back to ya ‘ut master,” the gretchin said and he offered a hand to the weirdboy. “Never mind me ‘ut,” Luggnort replied, “I got to go see da boss, ‘e’ll kill me if ‘e finds out dat I got dis message and didn’t give it to ‘im.” The warband moved on foot through the woods, following Jarr towards the eldar webway gate. Well aware that there could be sentries posted, Hazug had the madboys stay at the rear just in case they were unable to refrain from making a lot of noise. He was glad of this when Jarr sudden held up his hand in a way that Hazug understood to be a human signal to halt. “Wot is it?” Hazug asked the assassin. “Four men ahead,” Jarr replied, keeping his voice low, “two in the centre, and one more off to each side.” “I don’t see ‘em,” Hazug replied looking into the darkness ahead and he began to rummage through his pockets for the tau viewing device before remembering that he had given it to Sophie who was now at the back with Thuggrim and his madboys. “The centre two are there,” Jarr said, pointing directly ahead, “and the others are there and there. I think the centre two are bait, and the others there to give covering fire and to warn Highbalt of an attack.” “Den we take dem two out first,” Hazug said and he turned and handed his rifle to Two Heads, “’Ere,” he said,” kop ‘old of dis while we goes and sorts out some gits would ya,” and then he unslung the warscythe from his back. While he did this, Jarr also discarded his rifle, wrapping it in a cover that he produced and rolled from a belt pouch and placing it carefully flat on the ground, then he drew his own knife. “I’ll take the one over there,” Jarr said indicating the location where one of the individual sentries was located. “Right den, I’ll go da other way,” Hazug said, agreeing, then he turned to Two Heads, “Stay ‘ere,” he said,” and keep everyone quiet,” and both of Two Heads just nodded. Both Jarr and Hazug now made their way through the undergrowth, carefully avoiding stepping on anything that would alert the sentries to their approach. They moved outwards at first, putting some distance between themselves and the outlying sentries that were their targets, and then began to make their way around behind them. Jarr was the first to reach his target, with the aid of his mask he could see far more clearly in the gloom of the woods that Hazug could, and he was soon staring at the back of the sentry. The unsuspecting man was crouched down and leaning against the trunk of a large tree, in his lap he cradled an automatic rifle with an extra magazine of ammunition taped to the one loaded into it. Silently, he moved towards the man, holding his knife out pointing ahead of him. This wasn’t Jarr’s preferred method of killing, but he was more than capable of doing it this way. With one swift movement, Jarr reached around the man and clamped his free hand over his mouth and pulled the man back towards him. At the same time he thrust the knife in through the man’s ribs and twisted it, opening the wound further to prevent it closing as he withdrew the blade. Then he lowered the man down to the ground and let go of his grip. Jarr could see that the man was trying to call out to warn his comrades, but with the hole in his chest preventing him from drawing in breath properly, all he could manage was a faint gurgling before he died. Jarr stayed low, waiting to see if any of the other sentries had noticed the death of this man, but he could see that they were all still exactly where they had been earlier, oblivious to what had just transpired. More significantly, he could see that Hazug was now creeping up on the other lone sentry. The second lone sentry also used a tree to support himself, but unlike the one killed by Jarr, the man stood with his back to the trunk. Hazug kept his approach downwind from the sentry, he knew that the human sense of smell was often good enough to pick out the approach of orks even when they did not use their traditional method of approach and charge at them screaming as loudly as they could. This path brought Hazug up behind the man, with the tree trunk between them. Hazug thought about moving around the tree trunk to decapitate the man, but then he decided against getting so close. Inside he activated the energy blade of his warscythe and pointed it directly at the tree between him and the sentry. Without moving his feet, Hazug thrust the warscythe forwards, with its blade pointing directly ahead of him. The strange alien weapon sliced through the thick hardwood tree trunk without effort, and emerged where the sentry’s spine rested against it. The weapon passed through the man’s chest just as easily as through the tree behind him, cutting through his spine, heart and lungs and he died instantly and silently. Hazug stepped forwards and took hold of the man’s corpse before withdrawing the warscythe and deactivating it. Then he lowered the dead man’s body to the ground. He was about to move off when he caught sight of one of the weapons he carried, it looked identical to the compact automatic that he had bought for Sophie and had been taken when she was kidnapped. Hazug bent down and ripped the belt that held both the weapon and extra ammunition from around the dead man’s waist before tossing it over his shoulder. Then he looked around to try and see where Jarr had gotten. Hazug saw that the human had killed the other lone sentry, and was now making his way towards the remaining pair. Treading carefully, Hazug began to make his way towards them also. Jarr stopped when Hazug approached him, and the assassin looked around to make sure that his was his ork ally and not another previously unseen sentry closing in. Hazug grinned when he saw Jarr looking at him and he pointed towards one of the remaining sentries. “I’ll take dat one,” he whispered, and Jarr nodded in agreement before turning around once more and making his way towards the other man. Jarr moved faster than Hazug again, and it was not long before he was right behind his target without the man being aware that he was in any danger at all. Jarr held out his knife but refrained from striking the man down until Hazug was in position to simultaneously take out the other sentry. Hazug’s strike came sudden, taking advantage of his greater height; the ork nob was able to swing his warscythe out in front of him at the level of his chosen sentry’s neck. Even without activating the energy field of the alien weapon, its blade cut right through the man’s neck and severed his head from his shoulders with a single blow. Before the second man could react to the death of his comrade Jarr also struck from behind, angling his knife upwards and plunging it into the back of his neck and severing his spinal column before the blade went into his brain, another instant kill. Now both ork and human looked around, keeping their weapons at the ready just in case more human guards lurked unseen. Then, satisfied that the way ahead was now clear the pair rejoined the rest of the warband. Jarr remained at the front of the group when they reached it, while Hazug made his way further back until he encountered Sophie and the madboys, where Drazzok also stood. “’Ere ya go,” Hazug said, handing the auto pistol to Sophie, “dis ought to make up for loosin’ da other one,” and Sophie smiled as she took the weapon from him. “So da gits is dead den is dey?” Drazzok asked. “Yeah dey is dead,” Hazug answered with a grin, “I is silent and
deadly.” Sophie clamped her hands over her nose and mouth. “Throne, that’s disgusting,” she said, her voice muffled slightly behind her hands, “I think I can taste it.” From his vantage point Droyle looked at the airbase perimeter ahead of him, something just didn’t look right. The resistance had often scouted out the airbase and made many notes regarding the behaviour of the greenskins based there. For some reason there were fewer signs of movement than normal, especially around the cluster of buildings where the aircrew were know to congregate in the evenings. “Surely its dark enough now,” the man beside him said, “if we don’t attack soon the orks won’t commit their forces before the governor makes his move.” Droyle didn’t like this. He knew that something was going on at the airbase, but could risk delaying the operation. “Very well,” he said, “tell everyone to move in.” The first men to the airbase fence could hear the sound of an engine from somewhere, the deep rumbling of a ground vehicle instead of the more high pitch tone of a jet or rotorcraft, but they ignored this as the cut through the fence and then moved through the gap and took up a position against a crude ork structure immediately inside the fence. They waited as more units breached the fence at different location before they ran around to approach the main hangars. And were promptly all killed by gunfire from the battlewagon positioned behind the building. The supposedly stealthy attack suddenly degenerated into a noisy rout. All over the airbase, mechanised ork units raced towards the lightly armed humans attacking the airbase, and the night was filled with the noise and flashes of heavy weapons fire. Some of the orks didn’t even bother to shoot, instead steering their vehicles towards the humans and grinding them into the ground beneath their wheels and tracks. The screams of the dying joined the sound of engines and gunfire. Fully a third of the attacking humans were killed before they made it back to the gaps they had cut in the fence and made their way back through them. But any hopes the humans may have had that the fence would slow down the pursuing orks was in vain, the heavy ork vehicles simply ran over their own wire fence and crushed it, allowing the lighter trucks buggies and bikes to pass through behind them unimpeded. The humans continued to flee into the night, followed by and then overtaken by the orks who showed no mercy. Droyle made it to the nearest tree line, and lent up against a thick tree, gasping for breath. Hopefully, he thought, the orks would be unable to pursue him through this terrain. The he heard the sound of an engine as an ork vehicle halted nearby and he risked a look around the tree to see what it was. The vehicle was one of the larger armoured ork fighting vehicles, and he felt relieved that it was far too large to move quickly through the dense vegetation around him. He ducked back behind the tree as the orks inside the vehicle caught sight of him and opened fire, then he ran deeper into the woods. When he stopped for breath he realised that he was being followed, he could hear the sound of something breathing heavily behind him. Perhaps another escaping resistance fighter, he thought to himself and he risked calling out into the darkness. “Hello? Who is it?” No one called back in reply, but there was the sound of undergrowth being disturbed by movement and Droyle turned towards the source of the sound just in time to see the round, red shape of the attack squig that leapt at him. Outside the woods the orks from the battlewagon heard the sound of Droyle’s dying screams and the group’s leader held up an hourglass through which sand was running. “See, Mister Gobby got da git before da sand ran out, now pay up,” he said, and teeth were exchanged as a result of the wager. |
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