Knight's Vengeance

[Helfyre]

Ezekyel Harrow couldn’t remember the last time the Knights of the Rose had been cornered this badly. Warpfire raged on the other side of the wall, casting an eerie glow on the dark grey stone of the outer cloister, and the shrill sound of the traitors’ demonic laughter rang outside. Ezekyel smiled to himself. So complacent in their victory. They may have caught him flat-footed with this attack but they had underestimated the First, and that would be their undoing. He glanced back at the Knights of the Rose, crimson armour practically glowing in the light cast by the inferno that New Hope had become, and felt pride at their remarkable self-control in this situation. He had trained them well. A momentary regret pulled at the edge of his thoughts as he realized that in all likelihood they were all going to die. Just as quickly as the doubt crept into his head, he quashed it. And they shall know no fear. The words rang in his head as he turned back to his squad and nodded, they already knew what to do. Ezekyel drew his longsword, all three feet of crystalline matrix, cold steel and murderous intent, and risked a glance over the defilade, pulling back down as a spray of heavy bolter shells tore great chunks out of the walls where his visor had been. A missile fell wide of it’s mark and carried on to smash into the inner walls in a gout of flame. There was no way over the wall and he knew it. Think. Another barrage of heavy bolter rounds strafed overhead. The implicit message they carried was clear. There is no escape. He tried again to raise the vox and got an earful of static for his efforts. Then a familiar sound reached out to him. The bloodthirsty battlecry of the second’s captain, Xander Kruger, was unmistakable. He heard the heavy bolters open up again, but this time tracer fire wasn’t whistling over his head. He hoped that Xan had thought out the plan before moving. Brilliance overpowered by zeal, the chaplains had said of Second Captain Xander Kruger. With the Havocs distracted he vaulted over the defilade with The Rose close in tow. The smell of carnage and the lunatic shadows cast by so many demonic infernos greeted him. New Hope was ablaze and his heart filled with fury. The Word Bearers had somehow managed to assault Malta without even being detected by the orbital defence. The entire ordeal smelt of treachery. He half expected to see a warp gate opened somewhere in the square, spewing out demons and traitors, but there was nothing but fire and gunshots. And the Havocs. That it was his chapter’s homeworld only heightened his fury at the turn of events. The nerve of it all, attacking a chapter stronghold. And winning. The Havocs were firing frantically at something to their right flank, but through the rubble and smoke he couldn’t tell what it was, but could only surmise that it was Xan and the second. Eager to silence the traitors who had had him pinned earlier, he hurtled towards them, bellowing at the top of his lungs.

 

“Forward the First!!”

 

The chant was taken up by his command squad even as Brother Lionel crashed to the ground with three or four fist sized holes in his chest, previously concealed squads of Word Bearers marines letting fly with all guns, their mocking laughter echoing through the square from all angles, and Ezekyel couldn’t tell whether he was surrounded or if the acoustics were playing tricks on him. Johnen was the next to hit the ground, going down on one knee with two smoking craters in his chest. His power armour had held against the bolter rounds, but the concussive impacts had winded him. He was swiftly hoisted back to his feet by Brother Borean, who all but dragged him forwards while hoisting the First’s banner in the other hand. Johnen began to regain his legs as he rolled his power sword in his right hand, shield cast before him, bolter rounds crunching against it’s hide and leaving blackened craters across it’s form. Johnen was the company champion and looked every inch the part. Ezekyel snapped off a trio of shots with his pistol, felling a Havoc, the enemy’s finger holding the heavy bolter’s trigger down even as he fell to the ground, spraying stray shots everywhere. Then Ezekyel was all but knocked off his feet as Honoured Brother Pieter’s massive form emerged from the smoke like a wraith, bowling into the havocs like a battering ram, tearing them apart in his fury. The havocs had managed to destroy Pieter’s right armature, and Ezekyel could understand the dreadnought’s indignation at such an assault. Ezekyel turned his attention to the Word Bearers units positioned in the rubble, redirecting the charge towards the traitors. He hurled a grenade into the rubble, and one of the Word Bearers leapt clear of the cover to avoid the detonation. Borean put a searing bolt of plasma through the heretic’s faceplate, ending him forever. Johnen was the first over the pile of rubble, no doubt furious at the pile of indignities his chapter was suffering at the Word Bearer’s hands, and eager to prove that their bolters could not stop him. Ezekyel cleared the cover just in time to see Johnen gut the enemy squad leader, his power sword passing through the traitor’s cuirass, even as he put a burst of bolts into the aspiring champions forehead. The rest of his command fell upon the heretics with a fury like the Blood Angels, and Ezekyel passed through the Word Bearer’s ranks like a phantom, putting down the last enemy with a trio of quick slashes. He turned to see the dreadnought form of Brother Pieter sear a ruined building with his heavy flamer before crashing through the wall to wreak his vengeance on the squad within. Ezekyel turned his attention away as wet snapping sounds and the metallic laughter of the dreadnought reached him.

 

“Burn, heretics! Flee, for the Emperor’s holy wrath is upon you!”

 

Further across the square, the telltale blue flash of Terminators materializing caught his eye, the Knights of the Lance making their presence felt even as their assault cannons began to spin up. Ezekyel was very fond of the awful finality that the presence of the Terminator squad represented, and was even more fond of the bloody trauma of the assault cannons. He was going to form up with the Terminators before the sky above was lit up and great pillars of blue fire punched through the atmosphere, grounding three blocks north in a series of thunderous booms. That must be where the heaviest fighting is. The Chapter Master had either called down the orbital barrage to deal with heavy resistance or to act as a rallying point. Ezekyel didn’t know which, but as the sergeant of The Lance began making his way towards the beacon, he certainly knew where he was going.