Chapter 5: Dead Man's Alley Nathaniel leapt off the embankment, wheels spinning in afternoon sun, jinking desperately from side to side as Shuriken fire and burning plasma bolts whirled by, burning death inches from his face. Hitting the ground hard, Nathaniel lifted his body from the fuselage of Swift Runner and rode out the impact with a fluidity which came from hours of training. He was off and running as shurikens and plasma erupted in sand motes seconds where he had been. The Falcon and Vypers that pursued him barely gave him pause and strafed the canyon face relentlessly, pilots easily compensating for the restricted airspace. Nathaniel rode at full throttle, wind in his face, almost screaming with the sheer joy of the chase. Any second now. He rounded a tight corner, bike skewing almost parallel to the ground, and turned, one hand on the accelerator, to fire off a fusillade of bolt pistol rounds. The Falcon rounded the tight corner, banking upright, but one of the pursuing Vypers did not have such luck, wing clipping the edge of the canyon and spinning out of control into the desert valley. Explosion touching his back, Nathaniel dashed underneath a rock arch and came screeching to a halt at a dead end. The Falcon and Vyper flew into the alley, heading straight for the lone Ravenwing straggler. Calmly, Nathaniel loaded his bolt pistol and popped it, bright phosphorous charge lighting up the dark canyon. As if summoned, A trio of Valklyrie Land Speeders dropped down behind the charging Eldar vehicles and unleashed a hail of Assault Cannon shells down the narrow alley, into the Falcon's rear, shredding engine and wraithbone. The Falcon spun, flames licking its back, anti-gravity plates failing, smashing, hurtling, flailing towards Nathaniel at the end of the alley. It hit the ground, sparks flying as it ground at diminishing speed towards the Biker. It came to a neat stop, trailing edge almost reaching Nathaniel's foot. The Eldar pilot stumbled out, coughing, cockpit billowing smoke, and tripped over the wing into the sand. He looked up and straight into the barrel of Nathaniel's bolt pistol. "Suffer not the Unclean to live." The shot rang loud across the now silent canyon, and with a muffled roar the Valklyries departed, leaving the dead man soaking in a pool of his own blood, splattered against the sides of the alley. The valleys around Foggsarch Ruilick rang with thunder as Vyper hunted Landspeeder and Ravenwing fought Wildrider. Skull squadron and Valklyrie squadron had sighted a small Saim Hann tribe and moved to engage, sweeping into the valleys, ambushing, hunting and were in turn hunted. Both sides carried out a desperate war through the confined alleys, survival based only on wit and skill, and death was a handspan away on the unforgiving desert floor. Nathaniel and the Landspeeder triad sped up above the valley, searching the canyons below. The radio traffic was alive, screams of victory, screams of death. The landspeeders veered off to the left, pilots raising their hands in farewell, and he saw the Vypers climbing from the canyon floor. He could do little, and banked left, homing in on his squadron. Swift Runner fell into formation with the Valklyries, and Exarie raised a hand in greeting, Nathaniel noticing his right arm limp at his side. "Greetings, youngling! How fare your ambush? " "Well enough, Brother. The blood of the alien doth sully the ground aplenty! What calamity befall your arm?" "Aye, some Eldar scum did actually manage to hit something finally!" "Radio silence now, Brethren. Incoming message," signaled Malkaviel to the Valklyries, and the chatter died down. "Hail, Brethren! I have just received word from Magos Alchemorin that several convoys are under heavy attack from eldar forces. It appears that this was a diversion. Skull Squadron, hold the valleys of Ruilick while Valkyrie Squadron disengages. Your new headings have been uploaded to your HUD. Emperor be your guide, Master out." Malkaviel signaled to form vanguard formation and the three landspeeders formed up the rear, hovering silently above the sandy landscape. Banking hard port, Valklyrie squadron sped into the desert, leaving a sandstorm in their wake. Chapter 6: Bellicum Campitor Gloria Sandstone crunched as Malkaviel rolled to a halt on the ridge and dismounted with ease and skill. Nathaniel pulled up beside him and joined the Sergeant, prone on the ground, looking over the ridge with a pair of image intensifiers held to his eyes. Careful not to let the burning sunlight glint off his eyepiece, Nathaniel removed his helmet. There below in the valley marched a sizeable Eldar task force, guardians by the dozen and several multicoloured groups of Aspect Warriors dotting the enclave. "There, youngling!" whispered Malkaviel. He pointed at the small landfall where the valley parted into the plain. Nathaniel nodded his acknowledgement. The Veteran handed him the image intensifier and he began counting off the aspect warriors for record. For two days the Valklyries had tracked the Saim Hann infantry warhost through the valleys of Caiin Serah. Yesterday they were joined by the 2nd Ravenwing Dragoons, Heavy Cavalry, ideally suited for dealing with the massed foot force facing them this day. "Fare thee well, Brother. May the Emperor guide you," bid Malkaviel farewell. "Take care, venerable Sergeant. Lion watch over your shade," replied Nathaniel formally. They parted ways, Nathaniel to guide the Dragoons down the pathway, Malkaviel to lead the Valklyries in support. The first Saim Hann guardians broke into the sandy plain, a depression in the midst of the archipelago of canyons. They marched gracefully, with the elegance of Eldar, not men going to battle. It was short march to their destination, and soon they would leave this barbarous planet, secrets intact. Then they heard the roaring of engines. Ravenwing had come for them. "Steady, steady," coaxed the Dragoon Sergeant Lossow. "Would you care to join us, O Valklyrie Nathaniel?" he inquired cheerfully. "It is not anyday that Dragoons get such favourable conditions for battle," Indeed, this was as fine a place as any, where the ground was firm and the enemy unprepared. The Dragoons were impatiently revving their engines as the guardians spilled onto the plain. "Draw Sabres!" came the command. The air was filled with the rasping of heavy swords from scabbards. "Shoulder Arms!" was the second, and the Dragoons pressed the sword to the hollow of their shoulder. Nathaniel drew his chainsword, and whirled it in the anticipation of the next command. "CHARGE!" A cavalry charge starts slowly, wheels gaining at a trot, slowly accelerating, slowly gaining speed. Several guardians were looking around in surprise at the sudden rumbling of ground. The earth started to shake. Stones began to rumble on the ground. And the Ravenwing came down through the alley at charge velocity, jet-black bikes shining in the sun, pennants flapping in the air. The light glinted off the now raised blades, a shining black tide sweeping towards the Eldar. There was a glory in the charge that Nathaniel had never experienced before. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, the raising of the blades, the screaming of war-cries, the imminent enemy before them and the exhiliration of time with your sword raised high. There was a moment when a man became immortal, the tidal wave of the force carrying him along, the pure unadulterated ecstasy of the charge, glorificus in excelsis. He barely noticed the cries of the Eldar, the shurikens snapping across his armour, only the miliseconds before the charge smashed the warhost and the slaughter began. The solid mass of Dragoons and bikes barreled into the exposed Eldar formation, smashing through a dozen ranks before losing momentum. The colummn split up and took to the carnage, and the heavy blades rose and fell, rose and fell, split heads, cracked skulls, severed arms, gashed shoulders, hacked and slashed and thrust and clubbed and killed and killed and killed. The blood of eldar was everywhere, on the ground, splashed on the hilts of the great blades, the armour of the Dragoons, it soaked the ground, the bodies of the eldar, the mangled bodies of the guardians. Nathaniel had swung his chainsword till his shoulder grew tired and he lost count of the number of alien scum that he had cleansed. Blood stained his sword till the forearm, splattered on the Spirit Runner. He rested in the saddle as the battle raged about him. The Eldar had not a chance; they put up a pittance defence before turning tail and running. Fleet footed they were, but they could not outrun the Dragoons on bikes. The roar of engines made him turn to see the Valklyries mopping up the few survivors, and a flock of black dots filling the eastern sky. "Well met Nathaniel! I see before me an Angel covered in blood. Woult thee paint thy armour red and succumb to the black rage?" grinned the old Exarie. "Ha, not today, friend," grinned Nathaniel back. Then Malkaviel sped past them shouting into the comm-link. "Dragoons! Scatter and meet at rendevous point! I don't care how many are left! This is an order!" The black horde that filled the east had become red. The Wildriders had arrived.

"IGNIS ET TEMPESTUS" By Yihaen Raen Ragnarok ( Asmodai Asmodean )

NEVER ENDING FABLES

INCOMPLETE STORY AUTHOR MISSING!

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