Deathwatch - Novels 01 - Warrior Brood.pdf - Deathwatch - Pomidoros

WA R R IO R B R O O D

by Unknown

WARRIOR BROOD С S Goto IT IS THE 41st millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the

Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will

of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting

carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of

the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

YET EVEN IN his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets

cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by

the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his

name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space

Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms arc legion: the Imperial Guard and

countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tcch-priests of the Adeptus

Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the

ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse. To be a man in such times is to be

one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. These

are the talcs of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been for-

gotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim

dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and

slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods. CHAPTER ONE: MANTIS WARRIORS [Three Days

Remaining] THE GROUND CONVULSED and shuddered, as though retching at some violation. In

the haze of his peripheral vision, Shaidan glimpsed a sudden flash of orange light and snapped his

head round to face it. On the horizon, across a sea of seething arachnid bodies, a shaft of flame

lanced into the dark sky, incinerating a brood of flapping gargoyles that screeched helplessly into its

path. A fraction of a second passed before the engine core detonated and the barely visible Mantis

Vindicator exploded into a burst of destruction, sending concentric shock-waves of flame rippling

through the dark ocean of insectile tyranids. A moment later, a sleet of molten, alien flesh rained

down on the command squad, sizzling with heat and toxins. But already the distant ring of death

had been overrun by a wave of talons and claws, each intent on reaching the Mantis

Warriors' command post. ‘The Vindicator?' Shaidan pulled his eyes away from the ruin of me tank

and turned to face his captain. 'It's gone.' Audin nodded a brief acknowledgment to his librarian.

'How long till the Thunderhawks arrive?' 'Minutes,’ answered Shaidan calmly, as his spun his crack-

ling force staff and drove it through the bony neck of a diving gargoyle, its barbed wings clattering

in shock. 'Just minutes, but perhaps too many,’ The Mantis Warriors, captain ducked under the

claws of a swooping beast, firing off a volley of bolts into the advancing ground swarm as he did

so. As the gargoyle overshot, Audin slashed blindly behind him with his power sword and rent the

creature cleanly in two. ‘We must hold this vantage point until the hawks arrive - it is our only hope

of extraction,’ 'Understood,’ whispered Shaidan, exhaling through gritted teeth as he fought to free

one of the bayonet blades of his force staff from the skull of the snarling beast at his feet. With an

imperceptible nod of his head, Shaidan sent a jet of blue light dancing along his staff, bursting the

hormagaunt's head into shards of alien bone and freeing his blade. Not for the first time, Shaidan of-

fered silent thanks to the Emperor for this unusual weapon - a double-bladed force staff forged in

the long forgotten fires of Badab Prime. As he pulled it clear of the carcass, his weapon jerked

backwards and sliced the barbed wing off a gargoyle diving towards Lodur, the standard bearer,

sending it sprawling across the roof of the bunker. Without even breaking the rhythm of his bolter

fire, Audin swept his power blade across the skittering creature's throat, silencing its screeches. Lo-

dur showed no signs of noticing. All of his attention was focussed on the brood of hormagaunts

struggling to breach the line of Mantis Warrior Devastator Marines to the west of the bunker. His

melta-gun hissed with superheated death as the giant banner of the Mantis Warriors rippled in bril-

liant greens against the night sky. Spinning the force staff to clean the blades, sending threads of

ichor and sparks of power flicking off into the ever darkening sky, Shaidan turned again to survey

the scene developing below them. The Second Company was in full retreat. Some squads had al-

ready been extracted, hoisted out of the mire of talons and teeth by the shimmering green Mantis

Thunderhawks. This bunker was their last stand. Theirs were the last human feet on Herodian IV,

and theirs were barely human. Looking south, in the near distance Shaidan could see Sergeant Mag-

nir and his Devastator squad blazing away from an island of rock in the jagged sea of xenos organ-

isms. They had been surrounded and cut off by the tide of tyranids that flowed over the desert to-

wards the command bunker. Magnir had made a stand, buying a few vital moments for the com-

mand squad to reach its vantage point. But now, peppered from the sky by balls of bio-plasma,

vomited from the screaming guts of circling gargoyles and besieged on all sides by broods of bray-

ing termagants, Magnir's squad was a fury of death and glory. Shaidan watched the flashes of las-

cannons and great plumes of fire from the heavy flamers. He saw an arc of flash points, defined by

the continuous discharge of heavy bolters, arranged in a disciplined, defensive line. Atop the highest

rock, Shaidan could see Magnir himself defiantly battling the swooping gargoyles with his

chainsword. Away from Magnir, over to the east, immediately in front of the bunker, were Sergeant

Hoenir's Terminators. They were holding a line against impossible numbers, their storm bolters un-

leashing a continuous torrent against wave after wave of barbed claws and taloned feet. A huge

bank of dead, arachnid aliens was growing in front of them, like an organic sea defence. But the

swarm just kept flowing over the barrier of its dead, uncaring and utterly unsentimental. A cloud of

gargoyles pestered Hoenir's Terminators from the sky, but they were little threat to the ancient ar-

mour of Mantis Terminators. When they came too close, Hoenir would swat them away with his

power sword, or the Terminators would shred them with their chainfists. And from

the top of the command bunker behind them, covering fire strafed over the heads of the Termina-

tors, riddling the gargoyles with bolter shells; Veteran Marine Balder was encamped on the roof of

the bunker with his trusted heavy bolter, relentlessly loosing hellfire shells into the cloud of flying

creatures. On impact, the shells exploded into tiny stars in the night sky, sending fragments of dead-

ly shrapnel splintering into the brood. Balder's fellow veterans were in forma- tion around him, dis-

charging volleys of lasfire from their multilasers, providing support for Hoenir's squad. Silently

praising the might of the Mantis Terminators, Shaidan turned away to the west, where Sergeant Ru-

inus's Devastator squad was falling slowly back into the bunker's precinct. Their heavy bolters were

cutting swathes from the advancing horde, but it was a losing battle. The numbers were simply too

great. Brother Nerthus was behind the line of his battle-brothers, firing salvoes from the squad's las-

cannon, attempting to knock out the largest of the tyranid foes: giant warrior creatures on whom the

bolter shells appeared to have little effect. Ruinus himself was in the centre of the retreating line.

His boltgun had been spent long ago and he was in the thick of the hormagaunts with his power fist,

smashing the giant scything talons and cracking tyranid bones with lightning speed and ferocity.

Circling over the heads of Ruinus's squad like glorious green and gold avenging angels were the As-

sault Marines of Sergeant Soron, their jump packs blazing with fire against the encroaching dark-

ness. The Assault squad rained frag grenades into the organic sea, creating miniature ripples of

flaming death, buying precious moments for Ruinus's Devastator squad below. With flamers, bolt

guns and chainswords, Soron's Assault Marines fought to keep the gargoyles off their retreating

batde-bothers, straggling to part the clouds of flying aliens, desperately trying to keep them away

from the command squad ensconced on the roof of the bunker. Bringing his attention sharply back

to the command bunker, Shaidan cracked his force staff into the rockcrete at his feet, sending a

javelin of power forking through the humid air and smashing into a six-legged, viciously taloned

creature leaping towards Chaplain Aegir. The hormagaunt seemed to disintegrate as it flew and the

chaplain turned just in time to have his ornate deathmask splattered with charred fragments of the

alien. For as far as Shaidan could see in every direction, there was nothing but arachnid forms,

barbed scales, dripping claws and the glint of sharp teeth. The sky itself was crying with toxins and

the air was thick with microscopic parasites eating into the Mantis Warriors' lungs: the planet was

beginning to be consumed by the tyranid hive. The swarm was without end and it pushed forward

relendessly, fixated on annihilating this last point of resistance on Herodian IV. The last stand of the

Mantis Warriors' Second Company was all but over. BEHIND THE GURGLING cries of the gar-

goyles and the ceramic clashing of claws, Magnir could hear a faint whisde. Distracted for a frac-

tion of a second from the frenetic action around him on the rocky summit, the Mantis sergeant was

thrown from his feet by the impact of six clawed legs, pinning him against the rock face. The crea-

ture stood over him, trapping his limbs under its own, dripping with blood and fizzing with streams

of toxic ooze. The hormagaunt threw its head back and screeched, raising the giant scythes that pro-

truded from its massively muscled forelimbs. Magnir stared straight into the red eyes of the alien

beast, watching its unthinking hate pour back at him through the streams of saliva that puddled into

the eye sockets of his helmet, glinting with bestial passion. He struggled against the xeno's hold,

thrashing with his own inhuman strength, but his limbs were trapped beneath the weight of the beast

and pierced with its vicious claws. A splintering crack cut off the hormagaunt's victorious keening

and Magnir watched one of its fore-scythes shatter under the impact of a hellfire shell. The beast

reared in shock, screaming into the darkness below, its red eyes searching for the source of the shot.

The shell ruptured on impact, sending a rain of lethal fragments riddling into the beast's chest and

peppering against the power armour of Magnir beneath it. As the creature shifted its weight, Magnir

ripped his right arm free, dragging his flesh across the claw that pinned him down. A flash of sear-

ing pain shot up his arm before his enhanced nervous system shut down the pain receptors.

More bolter shells hissed over his head, impacting on the rock all around him. Gargoyles fell from

the sky like insects, shot through with gaping holes where lascannon fire had ruined them, or de-

formed into molten lumps were the squad's multi-meltas had cooked them. The tyranid beast was

ignoring the frenzy around it, its attention having been tugged back to Magnir as he freed his arm. It

drove down with its remaining scythe, straight towards Magnir's primary heart. But the injured

sergeant was ready, parrying the thrust with his chainsword, push- ing it off target. The talon slid

along the serrated blade of the sword, sending sparks of bone cascading into Magnir's face. The

creature screeched in frustration and then pain, as a volley of fire from Magnir's squad at the base of

the rock found its mark, strafing the hormagaunt's hardened thorax. It twisted away from the fire,

stabbing down with its talon with desperate ferocity. Magnir pushed upwards with his chainsword,

letting it slide along the creature's talon, transforming his parry into a thrusting attack. In a sudden

moment of agony, the giant scythe pierced Magnir's shoulder, running straight through into the rock

below. At the same time, the sergeant's chainsword punctured the tyranid's abdomen, where it

whirred, churned and spat alien flesh. For an instant there was peace, with each silenced in shock

and pain. Then the hormagaunt simply stopped moving and fell sideways onto the rock beside Mag-

nir, the gaping wound in its abdomen already filled with tiny maggots greedily consuming their

host. Magnir took a breath, waiting momentarily for his Larraman's organ to kick in and stop the

rush of blood from his wounds. Then, in the background, he heard the whistling again. Climbing

back onto his feet, the Mantis Marine scanned the scene below him. Off to the north he could see

Audin and the command squad holding the extraction point, supported on each side by squads of

Devastators and Terminators. On the crest of the command bunker was Lodur, the Company's stan-

dard bearer, his melta-gun glowing fiercely in one hand with the Chapter's banner held high in the

other. The brilliant green and gold of the standard stirred Magnir's heart; the flaming Mantis claw at

its centre seemed to shine like a beacon of hope. He strained his augmented hearing, filtering out

the frenzy of battle around him: the whistle was getting gradually louder - something was whistling

through the air above his head. 'Ordnance!' The spore mine flew straight over Magnir's position,

clearing the sea of creatures between him and the command bunker in a couple of seconds, arcing

through the air on a gentle parabola. It came down just short of the command squad, busting against

the side of the bunker with an organic splash, sending jets of toxic bio-plasma squirting across the

rockcrete. Even from this distance, Magnir could see the rockcrete melting away where the viscous

ooze splattered against it. In his mind he calculated the trajectory of the mine, following its path

back down to the south, deeper into the ocean of claws behind him. Sure enough, there, in a tiny cir-

cular clearing in the midst of the advancing horde, was a bulky, giant quadruped with a hideous de-

formity protruding from its back. Every minute or so the massive beast convulsed, lurching back-

wards as the immense muscle spasm fired a spore out of the growth on its back. Magnir surveyed

the distance between his squad and the biovore-cannon to the south. It was about two hundred me-

tres, thick with a seething mass of tyranids. But, turning to the north, he knew that there was no way

that his squad would make it to the command bunker either. Moreover, watching the impacts of the

spore mines against the walls of the bunker, he knew that the exposed command squad would not

last much longer against such an onslaught. 'Devastators!' he cried from his elevated position on the

rock promontory - reaching his decision without hesitation. He knew that his squad could hear him,

despite the frenzy of battle below. He raised his chainsword into the air, pointing across the swarm

to the south, to the organic cannon that was spitting spores of death into the air, and called again.

'Devastators! For Redemption! For the Mantis Warriors! For the Emperor!' In immediate acknowl-

edgement, his squad turned their guns to the south and released a united salvo. Magnir leapt from

the summit of the rock down into the wave of gaunts that broke against the fire of his squad, his

spluttering chainsword alive with the promise of death.

THE IMPACT OF the spore-mine shook the bunker, and Audin planted his feet against the Shock-

wave as it rippled through the rockcrete, never once breaking the rhythm of his fire. The smell of

toxins and vaporised rock meandered through the clouds of smoke, easing between the lashing

talons and swooping claws of the incessant gaunts. In the background, filtered through his Lyman's

ear implant, Audin could hear the thud and whistle of another spore mine on its way. 'Incoming!'he

yelled. The fleshy spore bounced into a slide as it hit the roof of the bunker, skidding across the

ichor- slicked surface as though it were on ice. Its tail thrashed viciously, trying to find a crack or

protrusion on which to anchor itself. Audin launched himself into a roll, taking his weight on his

shoulder before spinning back onto his feet, boltgun coughing. The rest of his squad parted to let the

mine slide between them, never taking their eyes from the swarm of incoming tyranids that threat-

ened to overrun their bunker, never relenting in their barrage of bolter shells, flames and bursts of

melta. Shaidan saw the danger first, but it was already too late. The spore slid desperately past the

front line of veteran Marines, who hardly seemed to notice it or its flicking and snaking tail. In the

heart of the squad, banner held proudly and defiandy to the heavens, Lodur stood immovably, his

melta-gun hissing with power. ‘Audin - Lodur!' yelled Shaidan over the tumult, directing his captain

to the threat. The Mantis Warriors' captain spun on his heel, seeing the danger just as the call

reached his ears. Lodur himself glanced down at his feet just in time to see the impact of Audin's

bolter shells punch the spore off course as it slid towards him, pushing it off to the side. The head of

the spore seemed to buck in indignation as it slipped off the far side of the bunker, its tail lashing

and twisting in a desperate attempt to find a hold. Suddenly, a tendril darted out of its tip, flicking

itself around Lodur's ankle and constricting until his armoured boots started to buckle. With an an-

chor point at last, the spore caught its fall and started to pull itself back onto the roof of the bunker.

Lodur felt the pressure around his leg but his reactions were not swift enough. As the spore was

dragging itself back up onto the bunker, its weight was pulling Lodur towards the edge. Sensing the

danger, the standard-bearer drove the armoured stem of the standard down into alien tentacle and

rattled off a volley of fire from his bolter, shredding the liana with a line of small explosions. At the

same time, a forest of rope-like tendrils flashed out of the spore and caught hold of Lodur's arms,

jamming his bolter and binding the Mantis Warriors' standard into his hand. The Marine thrashed

against the constrictions that enveloped him, battling to save the Chapter's standard from being

drawn into the braying mass below. But it was no use; the vines held him fast and the weight of the

spore mine dragged across the ichor-slicked roof, finally tugging him off the edge with the Mantis

standard still fluttering in his hand. As soon as Lodur cleared the roofline, the spore exploded, and

the rain of bio-plasma followed his fall into the swarm of gaunts below. Before he hit the ground,

his armour had already dissolved, and as he thudded into the earth he was instandy consumed by a

wave of alien teeth. 'Lodur!' cried Shaidan as he bore witness to the standard-bearer's heroism, his

yell lost in the cacophony of batde. He clenched his jaw to harness the hate that rushed into his ner-

vous system as he watched his batde-brother's life smothered and the Chapter's standard torn to

pieces. With a curdling cry he vaulted off the bunker and launched himself down into the swarm,

his power staff spinning into a storm of blue lightning. He landed with a crunch, just a couple of

metres from the desecrated body of Lodur. The Mantis Staff burned in his hands, spinning rapidly

and defining an impenetrable orb of power around him. Its blades sliced through limbs, claws and

talons, sending tyranid blood and specks of blue power showering out into the xenos sea around

him. He could feel the power of his forefathers coursing through his body, giving him strength,

feeding the staff that seemed alive in his hands. From the roof of the bunker behind him, a volley of

hellfire shells punched into the swarm before

him. Balder had seen Shaidan's purpose and had abandoned his firing point on the east side to pro-

vide cover. As Shaidan scythed his way into the breach cut by the veteran Marine, the gaunts

swarmed all over him, hiding him from Balder's view. The librarian was rapidly submerged and yet

his staff flared and power ran through his veins: the sphere of lightning etched into the deadly sea

by his weapon could not be breached and he left a wave of ruined tyranids in his wake as he fought

his way forwards, deeper into the swarm. With a sudden explosion of power, his staff spasmed in

his hands as it spun. The flare cleared a radius around him in all directions, incinerating gaunts and

sending their charred remains scattering into a wide fountain. In the fraction of a second of clarity

that this provided him, Shaidan stooped to the ground and snatched up the remains of the Mantis

Warriors' standard, thrusting it into the air with a flourish. The tattered remnants of brilliant green

flapped in the heavy air. As he did so, volleys of supporting fire raked out from behind him -

Balder's veteran Marines had formed a firing line along the bunker's edge. In their midst stood

Chaplain Aegir, his Crozius Arcanum held high, glowing with power. Behind the tumult and the

Deathwatch - Novels 01 - Warrior Brood.pdf

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