Damn, but it felt good to fire a weapon in anger again! The chaos of the bloody struggle swirled and raged around him, the Unfleshed battling with a primal ferocity against their creators and their slaves to give the Ultramarines more time to bring down the Heart of Blood.
The Lord of the Unfleshed bellowed as he slew, his powerful fists bringing death to his enemies with every blow. A black-robed monster reared up on great pneumatic legs equipped with shrieking blades, but another of the Unfleshed, a gibbering horror of limbs and mouths, landed upon it and tore its legs off with savage jerks.
Leonid rolled into the cover of the smoking remains of the crushing machine to reload as the Savage Mortician collapsed and its killer leapt for another victim. The limbless form of Obax Zakayo screamed, 'Kill me!' from his cruciform rack, but Leonid ignored him, too intent on the battle around him.
As ferocious as the Unfleshed were, the Savage Morticians had been practitioners of the art of death for uncounted millennia, and if there was one thing they knew, it was the weaknesses of flesh. Even when it was as resilient as that of the Unfleshed.
Flying razor discs lopped off thick limbs and heavy darts coated with poisons that could only exist in the Eye of Terror stabbed into pounding veins to slay their victims before they were even aware they were hit.
Creatures were dying and even the relentless fire of the Savage Morticians' servants was taking its toll, volley after volley cutting down the Unfleshed where they fought.
Leonid rose from cover and saw a Savage Mortician with massive chainblades for fists scuttle behind the Lord of the Unfleshed as he tore the torso from the mechanised track-unit of yet another foe. Leonid swung the barrel around and squeezed off a burst of bright lasbolts.
His aim was true and the Savage Mortician's head exploded, its twitching form slumping to the ground behind the Lord of the Unfleshed. The massive creature spun as he heard it fall, his confusion at its death turning to savage joy as he saw who had saved him. He beat his fists on his chest and roared, 'Now you Tribe!'
Even as Leonid ducked back into cover, he heard the thump of booted feet behind him. He spun, bringing the barrel of his lasgun up, seeing half a dozen mutant slave warriors armed with cudgels and billhooks bearing down upon him. An iron-tipped club slashed for his head and he hurled himself backwards, too slow, the tip of the weapon thudding against his temple.
He dropped his lasgun, hands flying to his head as the world spun crazily and bright starbursts exploded before his eyes. The ground rushed up to meet him and he slammed into the hard rockcrete, closing his eyes as he waited for the killing blow to land.
The shadow of something hot and heavy fell across him and warm blood splashed him.
He opened his eyes and shook his head, regretting it the moment he felt hammerblows of concussion reverberate inside his skull. The Lord of the Unfleshed towered above him, his thickly-muscled body pierced by a score of long blades and burned by innumerable lasburns. The creature reached down to lift him to his feet, and Leonid saw the bodies of those who had been about to kill him.
They looked like an explosion in an anatomist's collection, a mass of severed limbs and burst-open bodies.
'Thank you,' managed Leonid, wiping blood from the side of his head and bending to retrieve his fallen weapon.
'You Tribe,' replied the Lord of the Unfleshed as though no other explanation was needed. Without another word, the creature hurled itself back into the fray. Scores of the Unfleshed were dead, but the remainder fought on, unrelenting in their savagery. More and more of their foes were pouring into the chamber and Leonid knew it would not be long until they were overwhelmed.
He looked up towards the gantries surrounding the chamber, willing Uriel and Pasanius to hurry.
The veins on Uriel's arms stood out like steel hawsers as he pulled on the chain. Bracing themselves against the raised edge of the scaffolding before him, they hauled with all their might on the chain.
Uriel's booted feet slipped and he spread his stance to gain better leverage. The grinding pain in his chest and neck from his cracked bones tore into him as he pulled, but he focussed his mind, using all the discipline he had been taught at Agiselus and in the Temple of Hera to shut it out.
'Come on, damn you!' he yelled at the chain, hearing the ferocious sounds of battle and knowing that the Unfleshed were dying for him.
He could not let them down, and redoubled his efforts.
Pasanius strained at the chain also, sweat popping from his brow as he hauled on the chain. The sergeant was much stronger than Uriel, but had only one arm with which to heave at the chain.
Together, they put every ounce of their hatred for the Iron Warriors into their efforts.
Uriel roared in pain and frustration as he kept on pulling.
And suddenly he felt give…
Yelling in triumph, the two Ultramarines pulled even harder, feeling tendons tear in their shoulders and arms, but pushing their bodies to the limits of power.
Without warning, the awl-chain tore loose and Uriel saw a flaring spurt of white fire as the silver spike ripped free of the ancient daemon's flesh.
The red-scaled creature dropped, silver-white flashes exploding against its body where its falling weight tore the other two silver awls from its body.
It landed in the lake of blood with an enormous splash, sending a tidal wave of crimson spilling throughout the chamber. It vanished beneath the churning surface of the lake and Uriel felt a prescient sense of inevitability seize him as he watched the hissing red pool.
'We did it!' shouted Pasanius.
'Yes,' agreed Uriel, watching as the surface of the lake parted and the massive daemon reared up to its full height, arc lightning playing about its lustrous, scarlet flesh, 'I am beginning to wonder if we should have.'
High up in the tower of iron, Onyx cried out as though struck and dropped to his knees, clutching his head as his soulless silver eyes blazed with sudden awareness. Honsou saw the movement and looked up, irritated at having his battle-planning with Cadaras Grendel interrupted.
Then he saw the look of alarm on Onyx's face.
'What is it?' he demanded.
'The Heart of Blood!' hissed the daemonic symbiote.
'What about it?'
'It's free…' said Onyx.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Heart of Blood threw back its horned skull and roared in lunatic pain, its bellow of rage and madness filling the chamber at a pitch that pierced the soul and drew screams of primal fear from almost every living thing within it. The lake of blood boiled where it stood and its eyes burned with white fire that blazed with ancient malice.
Its shaggy, horned head twisted as it surveyed its surroundings, as though seeing them for the first time, and its bloated body threw off great bolts of dark lightning that exploded with red fire.
The Heart of Blood's flesh was scaled and thick tufts of shaggy, matted hair ran down the length of its spine. The great wounds on its back, where the Savage Morticians had removed its wings, smoked with a liquid, red bloom, like a cloud of ink released underwater.
Its chest heaved violently, the thudding echoes of its heartbeat filling the chamber as it ripped away the pulsing red tube that pierced its chest and fed it the tainted blood of psykers. The flood of vital fluid gushed into the lake.
'Guilliman preserve us!' breathed Pasanius as the daemon stepped forwards, striding purposefully to the shore, the spark of its hoofed feet on the lakebed throwing up gouts of flaming blood.