'Tell Lygris to move it.’ called Luko over the vox, 'We're taking fire!'
'From the Septiams or the Stratix?'
'Neither.’ came the reply. 'Adeptus Sororitas!'
SISTER AESCARION DUCKED into the cover of a column as a spray of fire spattered against the front of the basilica. She paused for a second and charged out again, firing as she went, the boltguns of her Sisters covering her as she led the way to the next patch of shelter. The Stratix and the Septiams were locked in a mad, swirling melee behind her, two sets of savages getting to grips with knives and rifle butts, and if she and her Sisters got dragged down into it they would never get out.
'Marine!' yelled Sister Mixu behind her. Aescarion glanced and saw a flash of deep purple as a Space Marine blasted at them with his boltgun, ducking back in time to avoid the return volley of bolts that shattered the marble around him.
It was the first living Soul Drinker that Aescarion had ever seen, the first glimpse of an enemy her faith required her to fight. More fire lanced from the sheltered Marine squad and Aescarion heard a scream as one of her Seraphim died, drilled by a bolter round through the abdomen that found a weak spot in her armour and blew out her lower back.
Aspasia! Get the flamers to the fore and pin them down!' ordered Aescarion as her Sisters dived for cover, a whole Space Marine squad now blazing away at them. The dying Seraphim was dragged into shelter and Aescarion threw herself against the closest column, feeling bolter shells impacting against the other side of the stone.
She could see across the forum from where she sheltered, and she quickly scanned the expanse of broken marble for more Marines. She spotted some battling amongst the ruins of a shattered basilica, swarming over an autocannon artillery piece, cutting through the Septiams defending it. Another was in massive hulking Terminator armour, something Aescarion had never seen before, and more were moving out of a shell hole by a statue plinth to find better cover as Septiams tried to push onto the forum away from the assaulting Stratix.
Mutant. The glimpse she got of it was so fleeting she couldn't believe it was real - but when the Soul Drinker dodged from cover again her suspicions were confirmed. The Marine's legs were like those of a huge and monstrous spider, insectoid and tipped with long talons. The Soul Drinker's armour was more ornate than that of his battle-brothers, and from the force staff he wielded Aescarion recognised a Librarian, keeper of the Chapter's psychic lore and power.
The Sisters of Battle despised witches, and regarded even those in the employ of the Imperium with suspicion. Aescarion had never seen the psyker's art result in anything other than corruption and Chaos. The Librarian would be a target even if he wasn't who Aescarion suspected: Sarpedon. Commander of the Soul Drinkers, leader of the rebellion, and the primary target of Strikeforce Thaddeus.
'Rufilla, Aspasia, give us cover!' yelled Aescarion over the din of gunfire and the whistle of bullets. Sister Mixu dived down to Aescarion's side.
'That him?' she gasped.
'Do not pause to rescue me if I should fall. He will not fail to kill me and we need lose no more Sisters here than we have to.'
'Can you take him?'
'Probably not. Keep the other Marines away, the only chance is for me to catch him alone.'
Aescarion charged, firing at Sarpedon with her pistol in her left hand, her power axe in her right. Sister Mixu and the three remaining Seraphim charged out behind her, twin pistols blazing at anything that threatened their Sister Superior as flame from Squad Aspasia washed over the Marine squad in the ruins. Rufilla's Sisters sent sheets of rapid fire across the forum. On the other side of the battlefield, the autocannon mount was shattered by krak grenades and the Soul Drinkers assault squad fell back from the collapsing artillery piece as Aescarion sprinted the last few paces through the bullets to reach Commander Sarpedon.
SARPEDON SAW THE shimmering diamond of the power axe before he saw the Sister herself. He knew no Septiam, and precious few Guard officers, would ever have a power weapon - the charging figure was a Sister of Battle, a soldier of the Imperial Cult, fanatical and fuelled by pure faith.
If he was lucky, she would think he was a Chaos Marine, mutated by exposure to the magics of the Enemy. If he was unlucky, she would be a part of the Inquisitorial taskforce that Sarpedon had known was following the Soul Drinkers since their assault on House Jenassis.
He dug a talon into the ground and pivoted; his great weight - Marine, armour, altered legs - swivelling on a pin. One hand gripped the force staff and he let it swing out in a wide arc. The staff met the axe in a huge flash of sparks.
The Sister was a true veteran, with a lined, strongly-featured face and red-brown hair streaked with grey. Her armour was glossy black with no order markings, free of ornamentation. She swung away from Sarpedon, reversing the swing of her axe and trying to bring the butt of it into Sarpedon's ribs. He raised a leg and deflected the blow but the leg's joint folded under the impact and he lurched to one side, almost forced to put a hand down to the ground to steady himself. He rolled with the motion and lashed out with two legs, catching the Sister with a glancing blow, and knocked her back a pace. There was a pause, a fraction of a second, as the two sized one another up and tried to anticipate the next move.
Traitor.’ hissed the Sister, hefting her axe from one hand to the other, her pistol holstered and forgotten.
'No traitor.’ said Sarpedon levelly 'Just free.’
The Sister struck first, an easy feint, striking at Sarpedon's head in the hope that he would raise his guard and open himself up to a chop to the legs. He deflected the high blow with the head of the staff and the low blow with the other end, handling it like a quarterstaff. He struck back with a leg, stabbing at the Sister's throat with a blow she dodged with enough speed to instil some respect in Sarpedon. She was a born fighter, this one, with her instincts honed across scores of battlefields until she had the faith to take on a warrior like Sarpedon.
Faith was power. Faith was the straitjacket that had held the Soul Drinkers prisoner since the days of their founding, and faith was the force that kept them fighting now even when so much of their world was gone. Sarpedon had learned long ago to respect faith, and to treat it as the deadliest weapon there was.
There was a roar overhead and Sarpedon didn't have to look up to know it was Lygris in the fighter craft. The Sister hacked down at him with a lack of finesse that was well beneath her, driving the shimmering axe blade down at the Soul Drinker. She stamped down on Sarpedon's front foreleg - the one that wasn't bionic - with her foot and Sarpedon felt the joint wrench, ligaments torn inside the chitinous exoskeleton. Sarpedon parried her next blow and reached out with his free hand, grasping her armour at the collar. With strength even a normal Marine didn't have, he picked her up and swung her over his head, smashing her body into a huge chunk of fallen masonry.
The glistening, metallic fighter craft above sent incandescent lances of energy burning into the buildings along one side of the forum. It dipped low, openings forming in the side and a tongue of metal flowing from the hull to let Marines of Squad Luko scramble on board. Sarpedon spotted the Assault Marines following Tellos from the wreckage of the autocannon mount as the fighter swooped low again, close enough to the ground for the Marines to run onto the lowered ramp. Small arms fire rattled along the hull of the fighter and bolter fire ripped back from inside the passenger compartment.
The Sister crashed to the ground, winded but not broken. Sarpedon swung the force staff round and drove it, head-first and double-handed, towards the woman's midriff. She rolled aside and grabbed one of Sarpedon's legs, using it as leverage to swing herself up and ram an armoured elbow into the side of Sarpedon's head.