Secret War: Upon Blood Sands by BAD Agar, Adrassil (i want to read a book .txt) 📖

Chapter 10

 

There was nothing there, and Attelus faltered. There was no sign of the hill he'd fallen down, just flat sand and buildings.

"What the? How?"

"I brought you here," said the voice. It was like nothing he'd ever heard; it seemed to snarl each syllable but still soft, almost soothing. What was strange didn't echo through his thoughts but seemed to reverberate from every surface, every wall, and every floor. Like the world, itself was speaking.

"Why? What are you?" he demanded, his heart thundered in his ears, and he felt the urge of panic.

"I wished to speak to you; you are not like the others. In fact, I have not seen anyone like you for many millennia."

"What? A perpetual?" Attelus blurted out and winced as he realised.

"Indeed. Ten thousand years ago, one like you came to this world. But unlike you, he was a powerful psyker. I could have communicated with him like I am with you, but I did not need to."

"What are you?"

"That, you did not need to know. But I am here to help you, little perpetual."

"How?"

"Look west."

Attelus hesitantly did as told and found himself standing barely a kilometre away from the tallest tower of Kelitia. Then it blazed into a wildfire, causing Attelus to scream and cover his face.

"There, you will find the source of the taint chaos to this planet!" said the voice, but it was no longer soft; it roared like a rabid animal. With as much violence and intensity as the flames. "There, you will find that which those I cannot see, seek! There you must destroy it before they can find it!"

"What the frig is it? Where? What the hell is-"

Before he could finish, Attelus found himself back in the shadow of the sixteen story hab block in mid-stride. It caused his mind to whirl, to stumble.

"Master Kaltos? Is everything all right?" said Delathasi.

Attelus didn't answer as he tried to shake away the dizziness.

"Master Kaltos?"

"Yes! I'm fine!" he snapped, more forceful than intended. "Just stop calling me master Kaltos, okay?"

"Y-yes, sorry," said Delathasi.

Attelus sighed and turned to her. "Sorry I snapped, Delathasi. I'm not your master; we're all on the same level here. Understand?"

The young apprentice shrugged and frowned.

Attelus opened his mouth to elaborate but was interrupted by the vox link crackling into life.

"Movement west, half a kilometre down the left side street," Hayden hissed.

"Well, shit. We'll check it out, said Attelus as he and Delathasi disappeared. He was hoping to have time to consider this strange development, but of course not.

In silence, Attelus and Delathasi slipped from shadow to shadow, pistols drawn.

They were a few hundred metres down the street when they saw the figures moving slowly, methodically into sight from the corner of an old, cracked ten-story building—a large, old commercia complex. At first glance, Attelus knew they were guardsmen or were once.

Attelus and Delathasi darted behind a crumbling wall and took out their scopes.

They weren't like the cultists they'd ambushed earlier. They wore battle-damaged flak armour. Their uniforms, shredded beyond recognition. Both had wild, shaggy, long hair and beards. Like everything on this Emperor forsaken world, the crimson covered them from head to toe. Seemed etched into their skin and hair. They moved with admirable discipline and stealth. Their Las guns held with the confidence of seasoned veterans.

"Are they your people?" said Delathasi.

"Not sure," said Attelus. "We'll have to get closer to make any identification. But they're patrolling, guarding something."

"What do we do?"

"Hmm," Attelus mused and opened the link to Hayden and Adelana. "Hayden, Adelana, we've spotted possible hostiles. We're going in to have a closer look; watch our backs."

Hayden and Adelana chorused their confirmations.

Delathasi and Attelus waited for the pair to disappear around the next corner before they started to move.

They stopped.

"Shit!" said Attelus.

"Las fire!" said Delathasi.

Quickly, but carefully they converged on the building, and as they advanced, the sound of combat grew louder and louder. Clashing and snarling and the roar of chainswords. What disturbed Attelus was it already came from inside the commercia complex.

Attelus gritted his teeth so hard he feared they'd crack. He wanted, no needed to break into a sprint, and he had to fight every fibre of his being not to. They could be Elbyran! They could be being slaughtered!

Delathasi and Attelus climbed through a window and stepped onto a large balcony a good six metres wide. Stalls lined the north, south and western walls and to both their surprise, the blood sands weren't on the inside. They could see all five stories down to the ground and the flare of las and solid projectile fire through the darkness and the balconies below.

"Stairs!" Attelus hissed, and they started left and, when they turned the corner, found corpses. Half a dozen cultists lay, torn apart by las fire.

Without breaking stride, they ran over the sprawled corpses and down the rockcrete stairs.

They came upon a skirmish on the fourth floor. Two mobs of cultists, four on the west balcony, five on the east: exchanged fire with a holed up enemy they couldn't see. The cultists took cover with surprising skill behind the stalls, their backs to Attelus and Delathasi.

"Delathasi! You take west. I'll take east!" Attelus commanded and opened fire; the dumm dumm round exploded the skull of the nearest cultist.

He burst into a sprint and killed another, blowing out the base of his spine before the others noticed him and turned. One fired a flurry with his autogun, which Attelus ducked before he threw a knife into the brute's throat. The fourth attempted to swing the butt of his las rifle at Attelus' skull, which Attelus swayed underneath before drawing his sword and cut through his torso. The last, a brute even bigger than the others, dropped his autogun and drew his chainsword, roaring out his devotion to his god as he swung.

Attelus darted back, and his sword's power field burst to life. Despite this, his opponent didn't hesitate, charging forward with such speed it took Attelus off guard, and he barely stepped aside of the cultist's downward swing, and his pistol knocked from his grasp.

The cultist laughed and recovered into a wild horizontal cut Attelus ducked. Attelus' reposte was an upward diagonal cut, and he was shocked when the cultist back stepped it.

It allowed the cultist a split second to swing out, forcing Attelus to throw himself out of reach by such a small margin the onrush of air caused him to stumble. Attelus wanted to block, but even with his enhanced strength, he doubted he could.

The huge cultist laughed again. Attelus flicked his wrist and threw the knife at the cultist's face. Who tilted his head out of his path, the distraction allowed Attelus to dash in and thrust his sword. The cultist sidestepped, but Attelus predicted this, and his roundhouse kick hit the cultist in the side of the knee. The boot knife plunged through skin and bone, and the cultist's leg gave out. Attelus' front kick sent the cultist over the rail, and he plunged out of sight.

Attelus sheathed his sword, picked up one of the fallen lasguns, and then looked to the west balcony. Delathasi was locked in combat with two cultists. He raised his gun to fire but stopped, it was a good eighty metres away, and he didn't trust his long-range shooting skill at the best of times.

Attelus had underestimated the cultist. His god must've granted him speed and strength beyond normal human parameters. Attelus hoped they wouldn't encounter many others of his kind. If one of the others did... At least now he knew, and knowing was half the battle.

He looked down onto the next balcony, and seven more cultists were locked in a firefight with their still unseen enemy.

Attelus clenched his teeth and started to sprint to help Delathasi, but the sound of heavy footfalls made him stop and turn, gun raised.

Six bloody, beaten guardsmen ran his way, lasguns covering him.

Around twenty metres away, they slowed and started spreading out.

"Inquisition!" Attelus said. "Lower your weapons!"

They didn't. They were wild-eyed, as twitchy as Obscura addicts on withdrawal.

"I am a throne agent of the Ordo Hereticus! We're on the same side! Now, I'm just going to reach into my jacket for my badge! Don't shoot me."

The guardsmen didn't acknowledge, didn't even move.

With slow, deliberate movements, while constantly stealing glances at Delathasi, Attelus reached into his flak jacket and slipped out his rosette. The ones Inquisitor Enandra gave to her most senior agents. He held it out so they could see, trying to strike an authoritative, intimidating stance.

They stiffened.

Then opened fire.

 

Attelus sensed this just a microsecond before they fired. His shock was overwhelming. It was his body, his instincts, that made him sprint and vault over the handrail as laser rounds tore through his wake.

"Shit! Shit! Shit!" he roared as he fell, spun and grabbed the next handrail. Dropping his new las gun in the effort.

He hauled himself onto the balcony, and two cultists were on him in an instant.

Attelus ducked a swinging short sword and barely sidestepped the other's chain axe. His uppercut smashed into the jaw of the first, shattering it and sending him reeling. Attelus drew his sword and sliced through the chest of the other as he rose his chain axe. Attelus impaled the first with a snarl and kicked the corpse off the blade and against the wall.

He turned just in time to see three guardsmen, around thirty metres away, open fire. He darted, ducked and deflected as he dashed forward. Cursing and spitting the entire time.

His kick hit the chest of the far right one, sending him careening to the floor, head over heels. The next tried to turn, but Attelus' sword sliced his lasgun in two, then his back fist mashed in the trooper's face. Sending the guardsman's back smashing against the floor.

Attelus kicked in the last's knee and, as he fell, finished him with a round kick to the face.

A las round kissed Attelus' forearm. He cried out in pain, reeled and gaped as he saw everyone on the opposite balcony, cultist and guardsman alike were aiming their weapons his way, and he dropped behind the rockcrete railing just before they shot.

"What the hell is going on?" he screamed and activated his vox link. "Deltathasi?"

"Mas- Attelus?"

"Where are you?"

"I am still on the fifth level. I am pinned down. The Imperial Guardsmen have turned against me."

"Well, they seem to be working with the cultists, now!" said Attelus. "I'm pinned too! They were fighting each other a second ago! What the hell is going on here?"

"I am assuming that to be a rhetorical question."

Attelus clenched his jaw, as over the shooting, he heard heavy, running footsteps headed his way On the south side balcony. He had to assume they were advancing along the north as well, attempting to flank him.

"Idiot! Idiot! Idiot!" he said.

"I am assuming those insults are to yourself, not me."

Delathasi was right; they were at himself. He was the idiot for letting his idiotic sentimentality get them into this situation.

"Delathasi! We need to regroup! Get to the fourth floor ASAP!"

"Understood, Attelus."

He switched channels.

"Adelana! Hayden! We've run into trouble! We need back up! Now!"

He cut the link as they started to respond. A cultist came around the corner, and Attelus shot him through the skull. Then the Throne Agent took out a frag grenade, pulled the pin. Tossing it as two guardsmen and another cultist came into view. He dashed out of their line fire as the grenade exploded at their feet, sending them flailing, screaming and dropping heavily.

Attelus made it behind a shopping stall cover as the enemies flanking from the north opened fire. He caught a glimpse of them, and there were at least a dozen of the bastards!

His instincts screamed there were many more on the