Leonid stroked Larana Utorian's cheek, tears spilling down his face as the burning pain that had been his constant companion since he had been taken from Hydra Cordatus sent another spasm of hot fire into his belly. He knew that he did not have much time left - the cancers had devoured most of him already - and, looking at Larana Utorian, she did not have much time left to her either.
They were the last of the 383rd and the fact that they would die together gave him great comfort. He thought back to the men and women of his regiment and the last time he had fought beside them at the fall of the citadel. They had been magnificent.
Castellan Vauban, a courageous and honourable warrior. Piet Anders, Gunnar Tedeski and Morgan Kristan: his brother officers. And not forgetting Guardsman Hawke, the worst soldier in the regiment, whose unexpected depths of courage had very nearly saved them all.
They were all dead, and soon he and Larana Utorian would be with them again.
Colonel Leonid looked up, hearing a sibilant hissing, and drew a sharp intake of breath as he saw the two daemons stagger from the lake of blood. Both were ravaged and battered, their armours torn and rent by the mighty blows they laid upon one another. The violence of their struggle had devastated much of the cavern and portions of it continued to rain down in avalanches of rocks and rubble.
The Heart of Blood reeled from a terrible blow dune to it by the Omphalos Daemonium… the Slaughterman… Leonid was not even sure he understood the distinction between these two beings, or that he wanted to even if there was one.
The daemonic Iron Warrior hammered its long billhook against the Heart of Blood's unguarded flank and hurled it backwards into a giant pile of mortuary tables and swinging cadavers. Bodies and debris clattered down amid the ongoing destruction and Leonid saw the Slaughterman turn and cast its gaze around the chamber.
No, Ultramarines, you do not escape my vengeance so easily…
Leonid cried out as he heard its filthy, loathsome voice in his head.
The Sarcomata shall feast on your souls for all eternity!
Leonid saw the eight daemons that were the servants of the Slaughterman dissolve once more into their smoky aspects, swirling in the air for a moment before speeding after Uriel and Pasanius.
'No!' shouted Leonid in rage. 'You will not have them!'
The Sarcomata ignored him, too intent on their prey, until he remembered their hunger for corruption. Leonid pulled the frayed collar of his uniform jacket away from his skin, slashing the rusted edge of Larana Utorian's dogtags across a swollen, cancerous melanoma growing on the pulsing artery of his neck.
Polluted, dirty blood spilled down his skin, pooling in his collarbone and soaking his uniform jacket. He smelled its coppery, unclean stink and shouted, 'Over here, you daemon spawn! This is what you want, isn't it?'
Almost as soon as his polluted blood sprayed out, the smoky comets of the Sarcomata twisted in the air and sped towards him, scenting the malignancies devouring his body as the choicest sweetmeats.
Colonel Leonid slumped to his haunches and pulled Larana Utorian tight, reaching into his breast pocket and removing something round and flat.
'All dead, all dead, all dead, all dead…' whispered Larana Utorian.
'Yes,' agreed Leonid. 'We are.'
Red mist enfolded them, sickening and moist, then vanished in an instant, leaving the two Jourans surrounded by the cancer-hungry Sarcomata, their writhing-maggot touch stroking their swollen sicknesses.
The daemons bit and tore at their flesh and he cried out in pain.
For the briefest instant, his eyes met those of Larana Utorian, and he saw the last fragment of her mind reach out to him.
She smiled at him and nodded.
Leonid pressed the detonation stud of the grenade he had taken from the crushing machine next to Obax Zakayo, obliterating them and the Sarcomata in the white heat of a melta blast.
'No way out this way, Ventris,' said Honsou, gripping his axe and widening his stance ready for combat. The master of Khalan-Ghol and a score of Iron Warriors had emerged from the passageway just as the Ultra-marines had reached it, and Uriel saw that there was no way past them. The silver-eyed daemon-thing that had called itself Onyx stood apart from the Iron Warriors, its movements tentative.
An Iron Warrior with the brutal face of a killer and a mohawk stood next to it, a huge gun that resembled a bolter with an underslung melta pointed at the daemonic symbiote.
The cavern continued to rumble as the two daemons fought at its heart, but a stillness held sway here, as though the universe held its breath and awaited the outcome of this particular drama.
'It is over, Honsou,' said Uriel. 'Your fortress has fallen.'
'I can build another,' shrugged Honsou. 'This one wasn't really mine anyway.'
'True, but it's Toramino's now,' shouted Pasanius.
'Yes, or at least whatever his sorcerers and artillery leave of it once they have pounded it to rubble,' said Honsou.
The Iron Warrior pointed towards the ugly red skies overhead. 'Tell me though, is this your doing as well, or another of your master's sorceries?'
'My master?'
'Come on, Ventris!' laughed Honsou. 'The time for games is long past. Toramino!'
'We have no master save Lord Calgar and the Emperor,' said Uriel.
'Even now you play your games,' sighed Honsou. 'Well, no matter, it ends now.'
'Aye,' agreed Uriel, raising his sword before him. 'It ends with your death, traitor.'
'Perhaps, but you'll follow me into hell a heartbeat later.'
Uriel shook his head. 'You think that matters, amid all this? I will fight you and I will kill you. That will be enough for me.'
'Fight me?' said Honsou, spreading his arms to encompass his warriors. 'You think we're going to fight a duel? My warriors and I outnumber you ten to one! What makes you think I'd give you a chance to trade blows with me?'
The Iron Warriors aimed their weapons at them, knowing that blood was soon to be spilled here, but waiting for their master's command before unleashing death.
Pasanius leaned close to Uriel and said, 'You take the ten on the right and I'll take the ten on the left.'
Despite himself, Uriel chuckled and stood back to back with his oldest comrade.
'Courage and honour, my friend,' said Uriel.
'Courage and honour,' repeated Pasanius.
The two Ultramarines prepared to charge as the Iron Warriors cocked their bolters.
The Heart of Blood fell to its knees, the Omphalos Daemonium's billhook tearing into its warp-spawned flesh and opening a great gash in its body. Dark ichor spilled down its armour and its strength was fading: too long imprisoned within the depths of Khalan-Ghol had robbed it of much of its diabolical vigour and power. Another blow smashed into its chest, sending it hurling across the width of the chamber.
'Eternity awaits you!' roared the Omphalos Daemonium. 'An age trapped in fire will be nothing to torments you will suffer!'
Smoke and rubble fell in a constant rain from the walls, crashing anything exposed on the cavern floor.
'You cannot destroy me. I am the Heart of Blood!'
The Omphalos Daemonium ran towards it, fierce, vengeful hunger burning in its eyes. The Heart of Blood sprang to its feet and lashed out with its whip.
The blow struck its foe's head, drawing a bellow of pain and a spray of dark blood as it severed one of its gnarled antlers.
The Heart of Blood staggered away in the respite its lucky blow had gained, wading back into the lake of blood, feeling the invigorating fluid enter its immaterial flesh and new strength seep into its essence. But this was poor, stagnant blood, polluted with the taint of psychic energies and devoid of the hot, urgent nourishment it needed to defeat its foe.