Sure enough, they were close to the great crushing machine that ground up the dead Chaos Space Marines and transformed them into genetic matter for the daemonculaba to feast upon.
But as before, his gaze was drawn upwards to the centre of the chamber, to the massive form of the Heart of Blood, the daemonic creature that hung suspended above the lake of blood on a trio of great chains.
He tore his eyes from the imprisoned daemon and saw that they were part of a great, curving procession of red bulldozers parked next to the iron ramp that led up to the gantry of the great, daemonic wombs. Their hellish conveyance was but one of perhaps a dozen or more of the bulldozers, lurching in fits and starts towards the blood-smeared conveyor that led to the sticky crushers and rollers. A pulsing forest of pipes pumped a pinkish, gristly matter from the machine to the cages of the daemonculaba and Uriel felt his gorge rise at such a blasphemy against what had once been the sacred flesh of the Emperor's body.
Vacuum-suited servitor mutants on a raised platform stabbed wide hooks attached to lengths of chain into the dead flesh in the tenders then wound the chains through heavy pulley mechanisms. They worked quickly and efficiently, loading the corpses onto the conveyor in a manner that spoke of many years of repetition.
Beside the conveyor, Uriel saw a cruciform frame holding what looked like a rack of meat, positioned close enough to be spattered by blood spraying from the grinding rollers. Uriel paid it no mind as he searched for any of the dark-robed monsters that were macabre lords of this place.
Seeing none, he eased his body up and over the edge of the tender, dropping lightly to the wet, churned ground.
He tapped the tender and said, 'Come on.'
Pasanius clambered to join him, cleaning blood from the action of his weapon and wedging the bolter between his knees to rack the slide. Leonid followed suit, wiping blood from his eyes and scouring the vent-breech of his lasgun.
The three warriors crouched in the shadow of the tender, breathing heavily and clearing their bodies of as much coagulated blood as they could.
'Well, we're in,' said Leonid. 'Now what?'
Uriel glanced around the edge of the tender. 'First we destroy that machine. If the Iron Warriors cannot feed the daemonculaba genetic material…'
'Honsou will not be able to create more Iron Warriors!' finished Leonid.
'And there will be no more of the Unfleshed,' added Pasanius.
Uriel nodded. 'And after that, well, we make for the ramp behind us and slay as many of the daemoncu-laba as we can before the Savage Morticians kill us.'
His companions were silent until eventually Leonid said, 'Good plan.'
Uriel grinned and said, 'Glad you approve.'
Pasanius put down his bolter and offered his left hand to Uriel, saying, 'No matter what happens, I regret nothing that has led us here, captain.'
Uriel took his friend's hand and shook it, touched by the simple affection of the sentiment, and said, 'Nor I, my friend. No matter what, we will have done some good here.'
'For what it's worth,' said Leonid. 'I wish I'd never even heard of this damn place, let alone been dragged here. But I am here, and that's the end of it, so what are we waiting for? Let's do this.'
Uriel racked the slide on his own bolter and nodded.
But before he could do anything more, he heard a great, bestial howl that was answered by a demented chorus of roars and bellows that echoed from the chamber's ceiling.
He rushed to the edge of the tender in time to see the Lord of the Unfleshed rear from hiding in a fountain of blood and limbs, and tear one of the mutant butchers in two with his bare hands.
The Unfleshed erupted from the blood-filled tenders in a thrashing mass of knotted, deformed limbs, ripping into the mutants feeding the crushing machine with the frenzy of predators who had held their anger and hunger in check for far too long.
Uriel watched as the Lord of the Unfleshed's massive jaws snapped shut on a screaming mutant, biting him in two at the waist and silencing his screams forever.
The beast Uriel had fought at the outflow pulled the arms from another foe before hurling its victim into the crushers of the grinding machine. The Unfleshed slaughtered a score of the servants of the Savage Morticians in the blink of an eye, and Uriel was horrified and grateful at the same time for their savagery.
'Damn it,' cursed Uriel. 'There goes the element of surprise!'
'Now what?' asked Pasanius.
'It will only be a matter of time until the Savage Morticians come to investigate, so come on. We don't have long.'
Uriel and the others broke from cover, running over to the roaring machine that had a potent aura of malice and hunger to it, its dark purpose imbuing it with a loathsome evil. The sooner it was destroyed the better, knew Uriel, as he drew near and a clawing sickness built in his gut.
Leonid staggered as he approached and coughed a flood of gristly vomit, the daemon machine's vile presence too much for his cancer-ridden body to bear.
'Uriel!' he shouted, holding out the bandolier of grenades he had taken from the rain of Berossus's army on the mountainside.
Uriel snatched the grenades and ran towards the machine, passing the cruciform frame that held the dripping rack of meat, sparing it but a glance as he did so.
He pulled up short and turned to face it as he realised that it was hot a rack of meat at all.
It was Obax Zakayo.
Uriel felt nothing but revulsion at the sight of Obax Zakayo's ruined, mutilated body, but part of him wondered at the cruelty of creatures that could do this to another living soul. The Iron Warrior - or what was left of him - was pinned to the frame and drooled thick ropes of saliva from the corner of his twisted lips. Trailing clear tubes pumped life-sustaining chemicals into his ravaged frame.
'Guilliman's oath,' whispered Uriel as the Iron Warrior raised his beaten and bruised face towards him.
'Ventris…' he gasped, sudden hope filling his watering eyes. 'Kill me, I beg of you.'
Uriel ignored Obax Zakayo as Pasanius attempted to form the Unfleshed into some kind of defensive perimeter, and snapped grenade after grenade from the bandolier. The machine roared as he approached, filthy blue oilsmoke venting from corroded grilles and an angry bellow growling from its depths.
The gnawing sensation in his gut increased, but Uriel suppressed it and began attaching the grenades to the machine at power couplings, axle joints and even climbing on top of the machine to place one at the base of the forest of gurgling feed tubes. He worked swiftly, but methodically, ensuring that the machine would be comprehensively wrecked upon the grenades' detonation.
Uriel climbed down from the machine in time to see Leonid standing before Obax Zakayo, his lasgun shouldered and aimed squarely between the Iron Warrior's eyes.
'Do it!' wept the broken Obax Zakayo. 'Do it! Please! They feed me piece by piece to the machine and make me watch…'
Leonid's finger tightened on the trigger, but he released a shuddering breath and lowered the weapon.
'No,' he said. 'Why should you get off easy after you tortured so many of my soldiers to death? I think I like the idea of you suffering like this!'
'Please,' begged Obax Zakayo. 'I… I can help you defeat the half-breed!'
'The half-breed?' said Uriel.
'Honsou, I mean Honsou,' wheezed Obax Zakayo. 'I can tell you how you can see him dead.'
'How?' asked Leonid, stepping in and slamming the butt of his lasgun against the Iron Warrior's chin. 'Tell us!'
'Only if you promise that you will kill me,' leered Obax Zakayo, spitting teeth.
'Uriel!' shouted Pasanius from the barricades of the tenders. 'I think they're coming!'