C. Goto - Dawn of War

I do not want your thanks, sorcerer, replied Isador, realising the nature of the voice at last. And I will use the powers I glean from this ancient knowledge to destroy you.

Oh, Isador, you poor, misguided fool. I will be waiting for you on Mount Korath, and then we will see who will do the destroying… whispered the voice, trailing off into silence.

I’ll be there, sorcerer, thought Isador as he crested the rise. He nodded a greeting to Gabriel, without meeting his eyes, and turned back to the crater in time to see the three Space Marines blast into the air, flames pouring out of their jump packs as they distanced themselves from the altar. A sudden explosion shook the ground, sending a plume of smoke and sodden earth mushrooming into the sky, chasing the trails left by Matiel and his Marines.

After a slight delay, a second explosion sounded with a tremendous crack-flames and fragments of rock blew diagonally out of the crater, and the sides of the pit started to collapse. Isador and Gabriel took a step back as the ground subsided beneath their feet, and waves of earth slid down the banks to drown the shattered remains of the altar.

“Jaerielle’s storm squad have caught the tail end of the Chaos Marines’ column near the summit of the mountain, farseer. He has engaged them, but he is badly outnumbered. A ranger detachment is with him, but they are no match for the heavy firepower of the Marines,” reported Flaetriu as he swept into an elegant bow.

Seated in meditation upon a large, smooth rock which held her clear of the foliage in the forest, Macha opened her eyes and looked at the ranger. “Yes, Flaetriu, the Storm squadron will not be able to hold the Chaos forces on their own. They will need help, but it is not clear that we will be able to provide it.”

“Are you saying that all is lost, farseer?” asked Flaetriu, raising his head and staring at her, his eyes flashing with stung passion.

“Calm yourself, ranger. I am saying no such thing; we do not have it all to lose,” replied Macha cryptically. “And what of the other humans? The soldiers in red?”

“They have found the altar, farseer. One of them, a psyker I think, studied it briefly, but then they destroyed it. Those mon-keigh have no idea what they are doing, farseer. They just stumble on blindly, destroying everything that they do not understand,” said Flaetriu, his voice dripping with disgust.

“And yet they are coming this way.” Macha was talking to herself as much as to Flaetriu-pondering the role of the Space Marines in the larger picture. “Perhaps they are not as stupid as you think. This psyker, did he know that you were watching him?”

“No farseer, we were cloaked in the edge of the forest. There is no way that he could have seen us. And we made no contact with our minds. There was something…” Flaetriu trailed off, unsure of the words.

“Something else, ranger?” prompted Macha.

“I’m not sure. But it did seem that there was more than one psychic presence in the area,” replied Flaetriu, unconvincingly.

“Perhaps one of the other humans is also a psyker. It is of no concern to us,” dismissed Macha, her mind already on other things. “Let us set an ambush for these red Space Marines. Flaetriu, take a detachment of Falcon grav-tanks and a wraithguard squad back down to the Korath Pass-that is the perfect location for an ambush, especially if the mon-keigh are on their way to the summit of Mount Korath.”

“Excellent, farseer. The humans will walk straight into our trap,” replied Flaetriu, the passion of battle already beginning to flow into his temperamental soul.

“Yes, they will walk into the trap, Flaetriu, but they will not be unprepared; you can never ambush a Space Marine, for they expect treachery and war around every corner. However, we should be happy to validate their paranoia…” said Macha, already sliding off into meditation as she spoke.

“We will destroy the Space Marines, and then concentrate our wrath on the forces of Chaos,” said Flaetriu, flourishing his cloak into an ostentatious show of deference for the farseer.

“Perhaps, young ranger, perhaps,” said Macha, her eyes closed and her voice barely a whisper. “But just as we have locked the mon-keigh into their path, so they have surely locked us into ours. As we lay traps for the humans at our heels, they trap us between their own forces and the forces of Chaos that we chase. I do not trust the mon-keigh to understand their importance on Tartarus-they have already failed us once. But the future is hazy and confused, and I am not sure that we can do this on our own. Only time will reveal the full character of our respective paths. For now, we must fight everyone: war is not an end in itself, ranger, but it is the most powerful tool we have.”

Half way up the sparsely forested side of Mount Korath, two eldar Vypers skimmed out to the flanks of the Alpha Legion column, hissing through the evening air as their anti-gravitic engines propelled them up the mountain slope. Each skimmer was supported by a pack of jetbikes that spread out in wakes behind them. They were racing against the armoured column of Chaos assault bikes that roared with brutal power as they bounced and tore their way over the ground behind them.

The Vypers wove and slid gracefully between rocks, trees and the hail of fire that spasmed out of the horde of Chaos bikes. Their weapons-turrets spun smoothly, and their gunners released a constant tirade of shuriken fire from the heavy cannon fixtures. Behind them, the jetbikes bobbed and swerved with incredible manoeuvrability, darting between obstacles and cutting through the crossfire as they flew past the Vypers and pushed on towards the summit.

At the head of the Alpha Legion bikers, Krool screamed into the reddening dusk as the engines of his bike roared with passion and hunger. A splattering of shuriken projectiles clinked into the armour of his left leg, sending pins of pain darting through his nervous system as they penetrated his skin, parting his armour at the molecular level. His bike responded to his rage as though it were an extension of his body; it snarled and spat energy as the Chaos Marine struggled to direct the twin-linked bolters mounted on either side of the front wheel. He clicked the thumb-triggers, and parallel streams of bolter fire seared out of his bike, tracing the wake of a fluttering Vyper but finding no target.

Roaring in frustration, Krool demanded more speed from his bike and it let out a high pitched shriek as it strove to satisfy his bidding. He banked abruptly to one side, throwing his weight towards the ground to tighten his turn as he peeled off to the left of his comrades. Then, flipping the bike back over to the right and almost laying it on its side, Krool brought himself into the slipstream of the offending eldar vehicle. Nobody was going to flank a squadron of Alpha Legion bikers, and certainly not a delicate bunch of effete aliens.

Krool could see the gun-turret on the back of the Vyper spin round to face him, and he laughed out loud at the idea that the eldar would have time to get off even a single shot. Again he clicked the thumb-triggers, and a stuttering burst of fire flashed out of the twin boltguns. This time he found his target, and the bolter shells punched into the rear of the Vyper, shattering one of the stabiliser-fins and spinning the Vyper laterally. Its gun-turret spun wildly as it tried to compensate for the erratic motion of the vehicle, and a gout of shuriken sprayed out towards the rest of the Alpha Legion bikers.

As his bike closed on the hobbled Vyper, Krool drew his bolt pistol and placed the reticule directly onto the head of the rear gunner, clicking off a single round that cracked the eldar’s helmet and lifted him out of the turret. Before he hit the ground, Krool had riddled him with fire from his bike’s guns.