‘You must leave him behind, Sergeant Cannor,’ Corax replied quickly. ‘We will return for him later. Move the rest of the squad up to the second archway on your left. The doorway ahead of you will be closing in seven seconds.’
‘Mathan is still alive, barely. He needs treatment.’
‘You have your orders,’ Corax said coldly. The gene-tech – the rebirth of the Raven Guard – was a prize greater than any individual life. There could be no delays. The Labyrinth would already be moving towards its next configuration. To falter would be to fail, and that would make every life lost a vain sacrifice. ‘Move your squad now.’
‘Confirmed, Lord Corax.’
Distracted by the event, the primarch had almost missed an opportunity to get Agapito’s lead squad across a bridge that might ascend into the heights when Arcatus’s men entered the chamber ahead of them. Corax made a swift calculation and judged there still to be time enough for the crossing.
THE RAMP AHEAD seemed innocuous enough to Arhuld Dain, special weapons bearer of Squad Seven, though Lord Corax had warned the squad to approach with caution. The ferrocrete causeway rose ten metres above the floor of the chamber, leading to a circular door that looked like a ship’s airlock. Dain looked up and saw a similar opening directly above, and what appeared to be the rungs of a ladder leading from one of the walls across the ceiling.
‘How would anybody get up there?’ he asked, adjusting his grip on his flamer as the five-man combat squad advanced towards the causeway.
‘I have no idea,’ replied Sergeant Caban. ‘Stay focused.’
With a loud hiss, the double doors through which the squad had entered slid shut behind them. Dain detected vibrations pulsing through the floor at the same time as a distinctive crackling came to his ears.
‘Wait!’ the legionary snapped, stopping in mid-stride. Sergeant Caban took another step onto the causeway before turning back.
‘What is…’ The sergeant’s voice trailed away as the whole chamber lurched, spinning quickly on its axis, spilling the squad into the air.
Dain felt himself go light, drifting away from the floor. The ceramite underfoot provided no purchase for the magnogrips of his boots and he floated away, the rest of the squad lifting up around him. Sergeant Caban slipped past him, propelled through the air by his last step, gently inverting as he slowly glided towards the wall behind Dain.
The Raven Guard found themselves suspended about three metres above the floor, which had become a wall. Dain tried to twist towards the rungs of the ladder, whose purpose became clear. Angling his flamer, he fired a short burst, using it as a crude propellant to send him flying towards the ladder.
‘What are you doing?’ demanded Caban. The sergeant came to halt against the far wall, one hand outstretched to stop himself.
Dain reached out with his left hand, flailing for the closest rung. His fingers closed around the metal.
The crackling noise increased in pitch, becoming a pulsing whine. Dain looked around, trying to find the source. The ladder was thrumming with energy between his fingers. Realising his error he let go and tried to push himself away with his legs.
Lightning arced from the ladder, coruscating across Dain’s armour, earthing through exposed cabling around his midriff. The muscles in his abdomen tightened as electricity surged through the legionary, his spasm causing him to kick out, hurling himself across the room as spark erupted from his armour and flames burst from melting seals and blown circuits. He could feel his flesh charring and cracking, the pain muted by a sudden rush of anaesthetic compounds produced by his body. Dain’s jaw felt as if it had been welded shut while agony flared through his head.
Spinning madly, he blacked out, his last vision that of the room turning again, his companions plummeting towards the new floor.
‘INCOMING ORDERS,’ SAID Dor, motioning with his bolter for Marko and Alpharius to move through the doorway ahead. ‘Distributing on squad channel.’
Alpharius and Marko edged through the opening with their weapons ready. They found themselves on the edge of a large, vaulted chamber. Ten metres from them, the floor dropped away into a dark chasm, a natural fault in the strata of the mountain. With the thermal sight of his suit, Alpharius could see the telltale glint of power cables and weapons positions on the ceiling above, not yet activated.
‘In thirty-two seconds, a bridge will descend to your position,’ came Corax’s voice, relayed through Sergeant Dor’s vox-unit. ‘You will have forty-three seconds to cross that bridge.’
‘There are seven weapons turrets,’ Marko reported. ‘Irregularly spaced. We only have clear lines of sight to three of them from this side. We will have to get onto the bridge before we can see the others.’
‘No cover,’ added Alpharius. ‘We’ll be targets on a shooting range.’
‘Blind grenades,’ replied Corax. ‘They will disable the units for twenty seconds.’
‘Still not enough time, lord,’ said Dor. ‘The gorge must be at least two hundred and fifty metres wide.’
‘Sprint, sergeant,’ came the primarch’s clipped response.
Alpharius was about to protest but held his tongue, as if the order had been given by his own primarch. The others seemed willing to trust in Corax’s judgement and he could not afford to show any dissent.
‘I’ll go first,’ he said. ‘Marko, can you target that second turret on the right?’
‘From the edge of the chasm, yes,’ said Marko.
‘Wait!’ snapped Dor, as Alpharius readied a blind grenade from his belt. The Alpha Legionnaire froze in place.
The sergeant took a few steps past the pair, looking around.
‘Save it for when we reach the bridge,’ said Dor, lifting his bolter towards the darkness that hid the far side of the chamber. ‘We can take out these turrets before we cross.’
A deep rumbling reverberated around the cathedral-like hall, sending dust shaking down from jagged stalactites that had grown up around the heavily riveted girders that held back the weight of the ceiling. From a recess far above, a metal structure descended into view, swaying on dozens of chains each as wide as a legionary’s shoulders.
‘You have forty-three seconds.’ Corax’s voice was calm, almost emotionless.
Dor spat out a string of orders and the squad burst into action. Alpharius headed towards the metal pillars that marked where the bridge would fall. The clumpof his boots activated a sensor and a turret directly above his head extruded from the metal of the ceiling. Lukar fired his bolter, shredding the gun’s casing in a storm of sparks.
Alpharius carried on, trusting to his squad to protect him as he primed the blind grenade in his fist. The whine of the multi-melta filled his ears for a split second before another turret disintegrated into a mist of molten metal that rained down on the Alpha Legionnaire’s armour.
With a thunderous clang, the bridge hit the braking pillars and rocked to a halt. Alpharius was already bounding along its length as it settled, his boots sending up flakes of rusting metal from the mesh of its floor.
‘Thirty-five seconds,’ Dor warned them, his words almost lost in another blaze of bolter fire, this time from Velps. Another turret burst into flames.
Alpharius ran across the bridge, blind grenade held ready, arms and legs pumping, his armour-assisted run covering three metres with every stride. He heard the clamour of the others following behind, and tensed, waiting for the distinctive snap of a las-bolt.
‘On the right, quadrant three!’ barked Dor. Alpharius did not look, but heard the sound of Velps behind him sliding to a halt. A red flash blazed from the gloom, melting through the bridge just a metre behind him. Velps’s bolter roared and the defence turret was silenced.
‘Grenade away!’ Alpharius bellowed, hurling the blind field detonator far ahead of him. The orb arced through the darkness, glinting ruddily as another turret opened fire, its blast scorching a line across Alpharius’s vision as it bit into the bridge decking just in front of him. The machines controlling the turret had adapted and anticipated his run; only the momentary pause to throw the grenade had saved Alpharius from a direct hit.