This is my Sisters of Battle short story. I hope you enjoy, and I recommend listening to something like Globus, Epica, or Two Steps from Hell while reading.
Perfection
The scent of burnt cordite assaulted
her nose with every breath as the woman strode atop a heap of rubble
that had once been a shrine to the God-Emperor of mankind. Dirt and
debris crumbled under her boots as the woman starred out across the
blasted and burning scene before her. She found it quite fitting to
have halted the heretic advance at this holy place, and for that
small mercy she silently mouthed a prayer of thanks to her Emperor.
Her eyes beheld what had once been a beautiful and thriving Imperial
city, but taint and rebellion had succeeded in erasing any trace of
beauty the landscape once held. All that remained of that once proud
city was a glowing inferno that never seemed to recede. It was as if
she were staring into the eternally burning fires of damnation
themselves.
With her shadow growing ever longer,
and the setting suns turning the sky the same deep red as her spiked
hair, Canoness Lysandra walked amongst her assembled forces. The
heretics had slowly pushed back the Sororitas for days. Bloodied as
they were, Lysandra's Sisters still had plenty of fight remaining in
their hearts. The Sisters' slow withdrawal had indeed only been
necessary because of the sheer weight of enemy numbers, but the
situation had changed. With the Emperor's merciful blessing, the
Sisters had been able to hold this hallowed soil and blunt their
enemy's advance.
The Battle Sisters surrounding the
Canoness were filthy and exhausted; their pure white armor discolored
by grime and encrusted with the blood of both friend and foe.
Lysandra saw Hospitallers dart past her, sprinting from cover to
cover as they dressed wounds and carried their more seriously injured
Sisters to makeshift medicae stations. Ecclesiarchal priests,
exposing themselves to the enemy fire that constantly cracked by
their heads, chanted hymns and delivered sermons of Imperial faith to
the many groups of Sisters assembled in cover at their feet. The
Canoness looked into the faces of these women and beamed with pride
to be amongst them; for no matter what their outward appearance,
their eyes betrayed not a single sign of shaken faith or resolve
amongst them. In truth she expected nothing less for they were The
Order of the Sacred Rose.
This rock hard resolve was nowhere
more powerfully illustrated than on the countenances of the
Celestians trailing a few paces behind the Canoness. They were her
most able veterans and she more than trusted every one of them with
her life. With the evening sky quickly darkening and choked by the
smoke of countless fires, the Canoness turned to her beloved Sisters.
“Something drastic must be done my
Sisters,” the Canoness' voice was as firm as the blade of the power
sword that hung by her side.
“What did you have in mind, honored
Canoness?” intoned Sister Mirith. Lysandra turned to regard the
commander of her Celestian squad. Mirith's short hair, the same
flawless white as her armor, gently rustled in the breeze as the air
around them was pulled into the ever growing infernos dotting the
ruins. Returning her gaze once more to the ruins, Lysandra
continued, “We are without a doubt the only real defense remaining
to this world. What remains of the PDF and Imperial Guard are far
too scattered, and in most cases isolated, to provide us with any
real support. Once again we must rely solely upon our faith.”
Mirith replied without hesitation,
“His presence is the only support we shall ever require, M'lady.”
“M'lady, in His name the Sisterhood
will obey whatever your orders.” This outburst came from the lips
of Lysandra's banner bearer, Sister Lydia. While the girl may have
spoken out of turn, the Canoness could not help but to betray the
slightest hint of a smile at the younger woman's eagerness and
loyalty. In fact, Lysandra was overcome with the pride she felt for
the actions of all of her Sisters during this campaign.
“Praised be His name,” whispered
Lysandra slightly bowing her head. “Sisters, I know that you will
do all that is asked of you and far more. Aye, I know you already
have. Without the courage and sacrifice of you and all of your
Sisters, this planet would have already been devoured by taint. This
world will yet be saved by the actions of the faithful.”
With her eyes moving along the length
of what were once the shrine's walls, Lysandra caught sight of
something magnificent. For an instant, her breath was stopped as she
beheld a marvelously ornate statue of the Imperial Aquila. Standing
alone and unblemished amongst the ruins, the majestic golden image
gazed defiantly through a ruby eye towards the enemy lines. The
Canoness advanced towards the statue; and in its presence, she saw
reflected the unrelenting fortitude and belief of her Sisters.
Taking off her gauntlet, the woman placed a bare hand upon the
surface of the Aquila, tracing her fingers along the platinum inlay.
With tears streaming down her face, Lysandra had never felt so close
to the Emperor than at this very moment; she knew in that instant
what had to be done. The woman slowly knelt before the onyx talons
of the statue, talons that tightly gripped a coiling scroll full of
painstakingly carved prayers of salvation, and crossed her arms
across her chest forming the holy sign of the Aquila. The Celestians
quickly followed her example and were in turn followed by others,
until soon her entire command was gathered in sight of the statue and
kneeling in silent prayer to their god. The Canoness finally rose
and issued her orders, “With the Emperor as my witness, we purge
this city of its filth!”
Her declaration was met with cheers as
her Sisters dispersed to see to their war gear.
As Lysandra jumped back onto the
rubble at the foot of the Aquila, she starred into a face washed
clean by tears of faith.
“Sister Miranda reporting, M'lady,”
said the newcomer, managing to choke out the words between sobs of
pure ecstasy. Half of the woman's face was covered with a dirty
bandage. Earlier that day, the Sister had suffered a glancing wound
from a lasround to her brow. Now, like all of her Sisters, the
Sororitas stood before her commander with a barely contained urge to
deliver the Emperor's vengeance.
“The Hospitallers saw fit to release
you, Sister?” asked the Canoness.
“After your actions just now M'lady,
those nurse maids had no chance of restraining her.” Lysandra
turned her attention to the woman standing next to the bandaged
figure. The smiling face was that of Sister Ratina, a jovial woman
who fought like a daemonette. “In fact, I'm sure that none of us
can be restrained from executing His will for much longer.”
Lysandra's Celestians all nodded their agreement.
As Lysandra cast her eyes upon each of
the women, her chest filled with such pride for these her most dear
Sisters that she almost began weeping anew. She walked amongst them,
clasping the pauldron of each woman in turn; looking into their eyes,
she knew that she cherished these women like a mother does her
daughters. With one last look at the women with whom she willingly
entrusted her life, the Canoness leapt atop the rubble drawing the
attention of every Sororitas to herself. Raising her power sword
high above her head, the energy snapping in the air, and gesturing
towards the lurking enemy forces with her plasma pistol, Lysandra
bellowed, “There is holy work to be done here my Sisters, and
remember that His eyes are upon you now.”
“Blessed be His name,” chorused
the assembled women. Then from out of the crowd came a single
question. “But M'lady, what is the rally point?”
With her jet black combat cloak
flowing in the breeze, the Canoness smiled widely as she replied “The
Golden Throne. I will meet you by the Emperor's side!” Lysandra
turned and with a hymn as her battle cry, she led her Sororitas into
the twilight.
The moment that the holy chant began
to stream from her lips, Lysandra was greeted with a torrent of
lasfire. The bright red beams screamed towards her and hissed as
they kissed her armor. With enemy fire cracking dangerously close to
her head, Lysandra raised her pistol and sent burning bolts of plasma
into the burnt out husks of the ruins before her. Immediately she
was joined by her Sisters, whose bolters blew chunks out of the
decaying buildings. Lysandra's hymn to the Emperor's glory was
raised high above the sound of battle as her zealous warriors all
joined in the chorus. The Sororitas' fervor was at a climax and had
the Canoness any remorse, she may have pitied the heretical bastards
she was about to face. “Purge the unclean, Sisters! With flame
and fury send them to her judgement!” The crumbling buildings were
soon splattered with blood as the Sisters blew apart every heretic
they encountered.
As Lysandra led the charge down the
hab block's main road, two men charged out of a doorway with bayonets
leveled. What remained of their armor had been defiled with the foul
fetishes of the ruinous powers. With jagged blades aiming to pierce
her sacred power armor, the heretics rushed forward shouting
blasphemy. Without breaking stride, Lysandra pivoted and fired her
pistol into each of the men. Their heretical braying instantly
turned into screams of agony as the plasma quickly ate through armor
and flesh. As she passed their corpses, Lysandra chanced a quick
glance to her right to watch as a white armored figure emptied her
heavy flamer into an adjacent building; the entire time, with a hymn
of the Emperor's might upon her lips. The woman just snorted as
burning heretics crashed through windows and doors, their skin
blackening as they burned in the streets; only through flame could
these creatures be redeemed.
Lysandra found herself momentarily
disoriented as a blinding flash, immediately followed by a deafening
explosion, stole away all sense of time and space. Slamming her back
into the nearest wall, the woman attempted to quickly regain her
bearings. Looking to her right, she saw her Celestians filling into
cover behind her and was heartened to know that they were still by
her side. Throwing her gaze down the road to the left, she caught
sight of the source of the searing light. A Chimera sat in the
middle of the street a blazing wreck, and the Canoness felt the rage
well up inside of her chest at the sight of white armored bodies
turning black as they burned. Then as an unimaginably bright beam of
energy flashed down the gap between the buildings, she caught sight
of the culprit.
Through the gathering gloom of the
fast approaching night, Lysandra's attention was drawn to a building
facing the intersection at the end of the street; and in the second
story window, she saw the illuminated barrel of a lascannon. To
make matters worse, the adjacent window flashed with the barking form
of a heavy bolter as it threw it's exploding shells down the street
into the advancing Sororitas. Return fire from her Sisters was
mauling the building's facade, but was otherwise proving ineffectual.
As a Rhino burst into flames, further clogging the attack's main
route,the Canoness instinctively knew that the time for decisive
action was at hand.
Turning to her Celestians she yelled
over the cacophony of the battle, “Sisters, if we don't silence
that position we are going to lose what little armored support we had
left.”
“Aye, M'lady.” came the reply from
Mirith, accompanied by a terse nod of her head. The woman leaned
towards the Canoness and shouted into her ear, “If it would please
you, I could take the squad down that right side alley and hit them
from the flank.”
“A sound plan, Sister; just leave
Ratina with me and they shall find themselves in a pincer.” With a
slap to her shoulder, Lysandra sent the other woman on her way. The
Canoness then turned to address the remaining Sororitas, “On me
Sister, and keep that melta ready.”
“I am always ready to spread His
light, M'lady.” Lysandra could not see the other woman's face
behind her sabbat helmet; but by her voice, she had no doubt that
Ratina was smiling as she hefted her meltagun.
As Mirith reached the other side of
the street, she paused and looked back at her commander. Lysandra
gave her the signal to advance; and as her Celestians disappeared
into the darkened alleys, she began sprinting towards the objective
with Ratina only a step behind. Throwing herself into cover beside
one of the burning vehicles, the Canoness paused and glanced to her
Sister who gave her a nod of readiness. The beautiful sound of
melodic female voices that mingled with the crackling fires and
thunderous weapon discharges made for a most eerie atmosphere, but it
was in that atmosphere that she felt the most comfortable. With the
reassuring sounds of praise all around her, the Canoness made for the
left side of the street.
As the two moved from cover to cover,
groups of battle Sisters shifted their fire to make way for their
comrades. Once on the other side, Lysandra knelt before the corner
of a building and signaled for Ratina to halt. Peering around the
edge of the rubble, the Canoness beheld a most vile act. Her stomach
turned as she saw a group of heretics violate the body of one of her
fallen Sisters. Her anger was so extreme that before Ratina could
even think to suggest a more cautious plan of action, Lysandra had
fallen upon the despicable group with a scream of vengeance. She
assailed the heretics with such ferocity that the other Sororitas
felt inclined to keep her distance for fear that the Canoness would
accidentally slay her in her blind fury.
Lysandra's power sword effortlessly
severed limbs and heads as she swept through the assembled foe like a
scythe through wheat. Any that attempted to run quickly received a
bolt of plasma for their troubles. The sound of her own pulse
throbbing in her ears was so great that she could not even hear the
screams of the men as they fell around her. As she rounded on the
last hostile, the rage in her eyes was a terrifying sight. But not
nearly so terrifying as the tremendous strength the Emperor granted
her in her fury. Grabbing her enemy by his shoulders, she lifted him
into the air and skewered him upon her power sword with such force
that the weapon became imbedded into the plasteel frame of the ruin.
Before she could retrieve the blood soaked blade, Lysandra heard the
crack of debris behind her.
“M'lady!” came
the scream from down the alley.
The Canoness turned just in time to
see a heretic lunging for her throat with a bayonet in his hand.
With not even a milisecond to react, Lysandra locked eyes with her
killer. At that moment, the alley lit up as brightly as if it were
noon; and as her assailant was turned to ash, the after image of his
no longer human eyes was burned into the woman's retinas. As the
gloom reestablished its hold over the scene, Lysandra was able to
adjust her vision enough to see the form of Sister Ratina warily
approaching her.
“Canoness?” asked the woman in a
state somewhere between shock and awe. Ratina had served beside her
commander on countless fields of battle, but had never witnessed
anything even resembling the brutality that had just occurred before
her eyes.
“Everything is alright, Sister.”
replied Lysandra in a surprisingly soothing voice.
Ratina cautiously moved towards her
leader as the other woman, her face and armor still soaked in the
blood of the unbelievers, knelt and gingerly pulled the corpse of her
fallen Sister to the side of the alley. With her meltagun dangling
limply by her side, the woman watched as Lysandra closed the eyes of
the fallen Sororitas and covered the body with the woman's combat
cloak exhibiting a softness that seemed oddly out of place against
the backdrop of such carnal destruction.
“How could they...” Ratina could
not even finish her sentence; such was the vileness of what was done
to her Sister that she was rendered speechless.
“These creatures no longer bask in
the Emperor's light, my Sister,” replied the Canoness as she
withdrew her sword from the dangling corpse. As the body crashed to
the ground she continued, “I do not assume for any of us to
understand the reasons for such sacrilege.” Lysandra was finally
able to pull her eyes away from her fallen Sister, “In any case we
cannot delay here any longer, our Sisters still require our
assistance.”
“Understood, my Canoness.” With
the reply still fresh upon the woman's lips, the two had resumed
their trek towards the enemy stronghold.
Warily aiming their weapons into every
opening they encountered, the women steadily advanced towards the
heaviest firing. Once they came to where the road forked, Lysandra
called another halt to ascertain the situation. The dull register of
bolter discharges was thick in her ears, and a glance down the road
informed Lysandra that the heavy bolter still held her Sisters at
bay. The Canoness spied a gaping hole in the wall facing her and
could detect the shifting of shadows and movement inside. With
Ratina at her side, they ran at a crouch towards a low wall only
meters from the opening.
Dashing towards
their entry point, Lysandra could hear voices speaking blasphemy from
the other side of the wall. Creeping closer to the hole, the
Canoness made out two men standing just next to the opening.
Signaling Ratina to make ready her combat blade, Lysandra activated
her power sword and beseeched the Emperor for strength. In one fluid
movement, she set upon her enemies. Grabbing the first man and
throwing him to Ratina, Lysandra pinned the second against the inside
wall and decapitated him. Turning to look towards the other end of
the building, Lysandra saw Mirith put a bolt round through the head
of a heretic descending the stairs.
The squad regrouped at the base of the
stairs, hearing the enemy heavy bolter drumming above them, knocking
dust from the roof's supports with every report. “It is good to
have you all with me again, Sisters,” said the Canoness, grateful
to see that all of her Celestians had made it through the fighting
thus far.
“As always we are honored to be at
your side, M'lady,” replied Mirith with a slight bow.
As Lysandra began to ascend the
creaking staircase, she looked back and called to the others. “With
me ladies, our task remains.”
At the top of the
stairs, two closed doors stood to the right side of the hall. The
cacophony within assured the women that they had reached their
objectives. Mirith took position on the first door with Miranda and
Lydia, while Lysandra and Ratina took their posts at the second.
When she saw that both Ratina and Mirith had frag grenades primed,
she gave the signal and both Sisters shattered the doors with their
boots and tossed in the grenades. A small pause to wait for the
explosion, and the Sisters stormed into the rooms firing. Ratina
disintegrated three surprised heretics with a blast from her meltagun
as the remaining blasphemer charged Lysandra. The unworthy man did
not take more than two steps before the Canoness fired into his head.
She gazed without remorse or compassion as the steaming plasma ate
away at the man's skull, spilling half charred brain matter onto the
floor.
“Clear!” came the call from the
next room as the sounds of firing slowly died.
“All clear!” Shouted Lysandra, as
she moved towards the window. Slowly striding across the room, her
boots clanked upon the ruined floors. As her hands came to rest upon
what was left of the window, the still hot barrel of the lascannon
hissed and steamed. Gazing down the roadway laid out before her, the
Canoness saw that a third vehicle had been destroyed before she had
been able to silence the position. The scene before her was a house
of slaughter as bodies of heretics and Battle Sisters filled the
streets and dangled out of windows. Blood pooled in every crater and
shell hole, and the burning wrecks cast a solemn glow over the entire
scene. Hearing boots approach, Lysandra quickly recited a prayer for
her fallen Sisters.
“Honored Canoness,” began Mirith.
“By the Emperor's grace alone the day is ours. Reports all over
the vox state that the enemy is in flight along our entire route of
advance.”
“The Emperor's grace and your skill
Sisters,” replied Lysandra with a genuine smile of gratitude. But
as she moved closer to the other woman, her face quickly took on a
semblance of grave seriousness. “But I am not interested in the
enemy's retreat, only in their destruction. We must hound them, and
purge this planet of every last one of those wretched creatures.
Their existence alone is an affront to my faith.”
“M'lady, as long as a single Sister
draws breath, none of the unclean will survive!” The resolve in
Lydia's voice was unmistakable.
“Then so be it my Sisters, on me.”
With their Canoness' command, the Celestians filed out of the door.
Lydia carried her banner aloft as she led the way with her bolt
pistol. She was immediately followed by Mirianda who constantly
scanned the gloom with her bolter for targets. Lysandra covered the
two women with her pistol as Ratina and Mirith took up the rear.
Moving down the hall, Lysandra's pistol cast a ghostly glow along the
walls. The moment she planted her foot upon the top of the staircase
she felt something wrong, something unnatural in the air. Before she
had time to even question her feeling, a horrible scream sliced
through the air.
Miranda instinctively snatched the
falling banner as Lydia grabbed her head and tumbled down the stairs.
The woman was emitting almost inhuman screams as she raked at her
hair and began to spasm on the floor. Lysandra snapped her eyes down
the stairs to see a lone form standing in the center of the room.
The flashing light and crackling energy that surrounded the figure
illuminated the entire room.
Psyker
The thought had not even formed into
a word before all of the women were pouring their fire into the
creature. It was quickly obvious that their efforts were to no avail
as an energy barrier surrounding the psyker stopped their rounds
dead. After a few seconds of firing, Lysandra felt an irresistible
force driving her back. Before she knew it, she and all of her
Sisters were thrown into the wall with a mental push from their foe.
Fighting against the sheer energy pummeling them, the squad slowly
rose and worked their way down the stairs against a torrent of
psychic energy. It was a contest of their willpower against his.
Bolt and plasma rounds were effortlessly deflected from their target,
and even Ratina's meltagun could not penetrate the infernal defenses.
Slowly the Sisters struggled forward
and eventually surrounded the abomination before them. Now that they
were so close, the women to more clearly see their tormentor through
the dancing energy encompassing him. His body was covered in open
bleeding wounds, and a mark of Chaos was carved directly into his
face. He was slightly levitating as he deflected the blows of the
Battle Sisters, and it was almost difficult for Lysandra to fathom
how such a twisted and malnourished form could possess such power.
It would had been difficult had she not seen similar occurrences
countless times before.
“Throne!” spat Mirith emptying
another clip from her bolt pistol into the energy field. “We
cleared this room, where did this damned witch come from!”
“That matters not Sister, all that
matters is we kill it!” Lysandra emphasized her point by venting
her plasma pistol and renewing her firing.
With another wave of raw energy, the
Sisters were scattered across the room. Soaring through one of the
few intact windows, Lysandra fell to the ground with glass raining
all around her. As she pushed up from the ground, her hand caressed
a familiar form. Turning her head, the Canoness saw that her hand
had fallen upon a discarded flamer unit. “From the Emperor's hand
to mine,” said the woman as she lifted the weapon and stepped back
through the window.
Ratina lay upon the floor still
sending streaks of light from her meltagun roaring into the
glistening energy shield of their attacker. Lysandra could see that
expelling the amount of energy needed to hold the Sisters at bay was
beginning to tell on the psyker, and she fully intended to stretch
him to the breaking point. Leveling the flamer, she began to pour
gouts of cleansing fire into the room. The area quickly became
filled with so much light that it became difficult to see anything.
As she emptied the last of the fuel canister into her target, Ratina
also was forced to reload her meltagun. For a moment, all was quiet
as the four Sisters stared at the heretic in their midst inside his
crackling orb of sanctuary. In a blink of an eye, the silence was
shattered by a cry nearly feral in its ferocity.
Lysandra stared in awe as Lydia leapt
upon the witch's shoulders. The poor woman's face was distorted with
the pain of the unrelenting attack on her mind. Yet her faith
steeled her and allowed her to throw what little she had remaining
into her final assault. With her flowing hair sparkling like
obsidian in the lightening that danced around her head, the woman
plunged her combat blade into the base of the heretic’s throat.
The energy field began to slowly dissipate as the psyker focused all
of his energy upon ripping apart Lydia's mind. With blood flowing
down his back, their enemy dropped to one knee. As blood poured from
her eyes and nose, Lydia screamed in agony as she began to saw at the
monster's neck. Finally the creature's head rolled across the floor,
and what had once been a stream of blood became a river. With his
final act of malice, the witch threw the force of his entire mind
into Lydia's skull; with a sharp crack and a flash of blinding light,
the woman careened into the wall behind her. As darkness once again
engulfed the women, broken only by the soft glow of their weapons,
they slowly rose and knelt in a semicircle around the broken heap
that had once been their friend and comrade.
“The Emperor knows your name, my
Sister,” Lysandra managed to keep her voice level as a tear slowly
rolled down her cheek.
“If only we could all know such a
noble death,” intoned Miranda
“Indeed,” replied the Canoness,
turning to face the other woman. “She has taken her place amongst
her Sisters at the Emperor's side. One day we will all see her
again, but for now we must be content to merely honor the memory of
her sacrifice.”
“Glory to the Emperor,” began
Mirith. She was joined in chorus by her Sisters, “Blessed be His
name.” As the Sororitas rose to their feet, Lysandra led the way
out into the broken and burning streets towards the next hab block.
The Sisters had not been in the
exposed street for more than a few minutes when their ears were
filled with an ominous shriek.
“Incoming! Get to cover!”
Screamed Mirith as she dove for the nearest ruin. Lysandra tried to
do the same but could already feel herself lifted into the air. The
concussion of the blast hammered at her body through her power armor
as she was flung to the ground like a rag doll. Landing face down in
the rubble, the Canoness' ears were ringing and her head pounding as
she attempted to simply figure out which direction was up. All she
could detect were blurry shapes and muffled sounds, and then she felt
herself moving. Things were still too hazy for Lysandra to fully
understand what was happening, but she felt pressure on her gorget
and was sure that someone was dragging her out of the street.
As the shifting shapes before her eyes
began to materialize, Lysandra made out Ratina kneeling next to her
keeping as low as possible. To her right she saw Mirith holding
Miranda down as she extracted a shell fragment from the other woman.
After administering a dose of stims, Mirith laid the woman down to
rest and headed towards Lysandra.
“Canoness, are you injured?”
Lysandra tried to force her mind to
focus. She gave herself a cursory look over and found no wounds nor
did she feel any outright pain.
“No Sister, nothing more than a bit
of singed hair,” she coughed. “I believe it just rattled me.”
She tried to manage a smile to the other woman, but her head was
still swimming so much that she was not sure if the attempt
succeeded. Mirith softly patted her pauldron, “Just take a moment
to rest, M'lady.”
Lysandra took the woman's advice and
softly laid her head upon the rubble. Rest did not come easily with
the constant vibration of the artillery being felt deep in her bones.
The world slowly became more clear to her, and her ears felt less
and less like they were under water. The woman lifted her body and
peered through the dust and gloom surrounding her. She found Ratina
still by her side watching the far entrance, while the other entrance
was covered by Mirith from the other side of the room. Miranda's
skin had lost much of its color, but she was slowly regaining her
composure. Lysandra saw that the bandages that were previously
covering the woman's face were now wrapped tightly around her leg.
The woman gave her Canoness a weary nod of greeting as their eyes
met.
Lysandra listened through the
crackling static of her vox. Reports flooded in about a massive
artillery bombardment all across the front. The heretics seemed to
be using every last gun they could muster. Anyone foolish enough to
venture out into the street vanished in the firestorm. The myriad
flashes were so constant that one did not even need the use of a
torch to see. The voice of her Sister Superior grabbed the woman's
attention.
“Their situation must be entirely
desperate to focus their arty like this.”
Lysandra slowly turned her gaze
towards her Sister, “I would warrant that they are simply
attempting to stall our attack, and thus buy time to set up another
tier of defense. Remember Sister, never underestimate the base
cunning and determination of the heretic.”
“My Canoness,” Miranda's sharp
voice carried above the rumble of shells. “With all due respect
M'lady, no amount of determination can contend with the faith of the
Emperor's righteous.”
“You are very correct my Sister,
that's why I only said stall,” retorted the Canoness with a
smile.
“Let them gather,” chimed Ratina,
her usual merry manner had transformed into grim resolve. “It'll
just make them easier to kill. I'm tired of chasing these creatures
from house to house.”
Lysandra rasped the woman on her
helmet as she replied, “Not to worry Sister, the hunt will be over
soon.”
“Cover!” cried Mirith as a
screaming shell detonated dangerously close to the Sisters' refuge.
The women pressed their faces into the rubble as dust cascaded
through every orifice of their sanctuary, turning their armor as
black as that of Our Martyred Lady. Trying to expel her lungs of the
choking dust, Lysandra coughed and spat as she slowly rose and
searched through the haze engulfing her. “Sound off!” cried the
Canoness, as she staggered to the center of the rubble. Slowly every
woman responded an affirmative and Lysandra offered a silent thanks
to her God for protecting them. For a single moment the world was
eerily silent, no comms chatter, no explosions, no screams; and then
she heard it.
Slowly it began, with a single barely
audible voice emerging from Lysandra's vox. The tiny voice chorused
words that brought comfort and joy into the women's hearts. Before
she was even conscious of what she was doing, the same words were
streaming from Lysandra's lips. One by one, every woman on the field
began to take up the melody until it was no longer simply crackling
out of the vox, but was echoing off of the walls of the entire city.
The women lifted their voices in praise with such strength that they
began to mute the concussions of the artillery, until finally the
explosions died out all together.
Bits of rubble clattered down the
slope as Lysandra carefully got to her feet. The hymn had come to
its conclusion and the women waited for the next salvo of high
explosives, but they never came. Through the stifling air, she made
out the forms of her Sisters waiting for her command. A breeze
shifted the dust hanging in the air, softly blowing it through their
hair and scratching their faces. When she spoke it was not only to
her Celestians, but to her entire command.
“I ask of one last push from you my
Sisters,” began the Canoness. “One more act of holy vengence,
and we will stamp out this sickening taint once and for all. Now go,
do the Emperor's work!” She was answered by cheers and battle
cries ringing through the vox.
“Emperor grant me strength,”
mumbled Miranda as she clumsily got to her feet and led the way
towards the exit.
“The Emperor protects!” Called
out Mirith taking position behind the other woman. The phrase had
only left her lungs when the squad's progress was brought to a dead
halt. No sooner had Miranda taken her first step into the street
then she erupted into a geyser of blood and broken armor. There was
no mistaking the dull thud that had preceded Miranda's demise. It
was a sound that was increasingly ringing in Lysandra's ears.
Throwing herself into cover against a decaying window, the Canoness
gazed out into the street and her heart stopped at the sight that
greeted her.
Traitoris Extremis
The menacing forms of the
hulking warriors were spread across the ruins before her. Seemingly
filing out of every building, more came into sight with every passing
second. Their armor seemed an even deeper red in this dark night,
with flames reflected off of the shinning silver trim. What had once
been armor religiously maintained to do the Emperor's will had
devolved over 10,000 years into something hideous to the Sister's
eyes. Their armor was defiled with the trophies and talismans of the
Dark Gods. Their helmet lenses seemed to burn into the soul of every
woman that saw that sickening green glow. The enemy discharged their
bolters at every step, and all across the line the Sororitas
immediately engaged this new and dire threat.
Mirith had taken up Lysandra's banner
and was pouring fire into the enemy with her bolt pistol. The woman
spat out a curse and as bolt rounds blasted her cover to pieces she
exclaimed, “Word Bearers, what is this? There aren't supposed to
be any traitor Marines in this sector!”
Between shots, Ratina shouted a
response over her shoulder to the Sister Superior, “Why don't you
tell them that, Sister.” Ratina's manner suddenly changed and the
woman went stark still. “Did anyone hear that?” Just as she
asked the question, the wall to her right violently collapsed and a
Chaos predator made the room suddenly crowded. Lysandra and Mirith
both had to roll to get out of the vehicle's path, then they began
dodging the crimson bolts of lasfire from the tank's lascannon as
they made for the back of the building. Ratina on the other hand was
hemmed in against the wall with nowhere to go and the enemy closing
in with every passing second. Acting on instinct, the woman quickly
fired her meltagun into the tank's tracks immobilizing it before
vaulting onto the vehicle's hull. Standing atop the tank, she poured
holy fire into the housing for the lascannon's energy coils. With
the telltale signs of the coils reaching critical mass, the woman
catapulted to the ground and sprinted towards her Sisters. “Go!”
She screamed as she pushed the other women through the ruined
windows and into the street.
Bright red flame erupted from the
building and poured out into the night. The women were barely able
to capture small glimpses of the burning wreck between fresh gouts of
flame, but their victory was very short lived. Enemy marines strode
silently through the inferno, their armor hissing from the kiss of
the flames. Lysandra quickly brought up her pistol and dropped the
first few Marines to make it through the ruins. Even with venting,
the warning indicators of her plasma pistol displayed that the weapon
was dangerously close to overheating. Her attention was suddenly
drawn to her right by a series of automatic bursts.
The Canoness looked just in time to
see the decimation of a group Battle Sisters as they ran for cover.
A heretic Marine caught the women in the open and with his heavy
bolter, he tore them to mangled shreds. Her eyes aflame with scorn,
Ratina turned her weapon on the Marine and turned his armored form
into a melted husk. The traitor fell with a sickening mix of screams
and laughter. His scream was joined by another as bolt rounds found
purchase and detonated against Ratina's armor. The woman's upper leg
was a mess of bone and shredded meat. Mirith came to her Sister's
aid and attempted to drag her to cover, but she had only managed to
pull the woman a few meters before bolt rounds slammed into her chest
sending her to the ground gasping for air before stealing her
consciousness. As her banner clattered amongst the rubble, Lysandra
found herself alone amongst the ever increasing hordes of traitors.
The sight of her Sisters' twisted and
broken bodies mixed with the presence of the most hated of all
traitors caused Lysandra's anger to rise to a level almost beyond her
control. Her muscles were tense as her entire body shook within her
armor. With a guttural, almost animalistic scream, the woman
launched herself at her foes with a reckless fervor bordering on that
of the Repentia. Pure unfettered hatred burned within her eyes as
Lysandra shot, hacked, and slashed her way through the tide of
crimson armor. Blood flowed so freely from her victims, that the hue
of the Canoness' armor soon began to match that of her enemy.
Lysandra thrust her humming power
sword ruthlessly through the throat of one Marine, and used the
momentum to carry her through a brutal slash to her rear. Blood,
glistening in the fires of the night, flew from her blade as the
weapon stole the head from a monstrous warrior that had come up
behind the Canoness. As the lifeless bulk of the traitor collapsed
to the ground, Lysandra felled two more of the abominations before
she had the sense of mind to realize that her foes were backing away
from her. Standing in the center of the street panting, her armor
heaving up and down as her body desperately attempted to cope with
her exertions, the lone woman saw that she had allowed herself to
become surrounded.
Movement from inside the inferno
caught her eye. Lysandra watched in disgust as a revolting
perversion of a Space Marine strode out of the rubble, his power maul
pointed directly at her. The weapon teemed with Chaos energy, and
Lysandra could almost hear it screaming for her blood. Shadow and
light danced across his armor making it seem as if it were a churning
sea of blood. The armor was adorned with trophies of human, xenos,
and daemon alike. Hooked chains dangled from his pauldrons forming a
cape that rattled against the ground as the warrior advanced.
Amongst this grotesque spectacle, the Sororitas found nothing so
repulsive as what lay upon the creature's chest. A pair of severed
hands forming a mocking parody of the holy sign of the Imperial
Aquila was nailed to the front of the Marine's armor. Lysandra's
disgust at such blasphemy could not be hidden.
“You like it, do you? I couldn't
have done it without the help of one of your priests,” said the
massive warrior with a malicious laugh. The words drew the woman's
attention to the Marine's helmet grille, or more so where the grille
should have been. There was only a gaping hole in the center of the
helmet filled with a collection of jagged and razor sharp teeth as
black as coal. Above the teeth, the unblinking emerald lenses shown
bright. “I am Xanathor, Champion of the Word Bearers,” bellowed
the warrior slowly inclining his spike encrusted helmet. “What are
you called, girl? It simply would not do to offer a nameless
sacrifice to the gods.”
“I will never have my name touch
lips that have uttered such blasphemies,” Lysandra answered
defiantly.
“So be it,” growled the champion
as he hefted his weapon and crunched across the ruined street towards
his quarry.
The impact resonated throughout the
ruins as Lysandra, gripping her sword with both hands, brought the
weapon up to meet her foe's attack. The force of the strike was so
violent that, even with the enhanced musculature of her power armor,
the Canoness could barely maintain her footing. With quick strokes
Xanathor assaulted the woman again and again, slowly beginning to
force her backwards. After Lysandra's last parry, Xanathor broke
contact and took a step back to regard her from behind those
malicious green lenses. The woman quickly regained her composure and
began to close the distance between them.
“Is that all you have fiend? I
would have expected more from a Chosen of Chaos,” taunted the
Sororitas as she brought her blade down in a cleaving stroke. Her
arms shook with the effort needed to keep her weapon tight against
that of her foe. Pressed face to face with the repugnant creature,
Lysandra could see his teeth shimmer as blood constantly passed
through them to drip over the lip of the helmet. “You had such
potential,” cursed the woman as she shoved away from his weapon.
“Had? The potential of Chaos is
limitless, girl!” roared the warrior as he launched another series
of brutal attacks against the Canoness. Checking her assailant,
Lysandra crashed the hilt of her power sword directly into the side
of Xanathor's helmet. As the champion stumbled, she slashed at the
opening in his defenses, but a lightning fast flick of his wrist saw
that her attack was for naught. The parry was quickly followed by a
gauntleted fist into the woman's chest. As she pulled herself up off
of the ground, Lysandra's fingers slid across the dent in her armor
caused by the unnatural force of the blow. Putting her weight on her
sword, the woman rose to face her foe once more.
Catching her breath as she stared down
the Chaos warrior Lysandra asked, “Why did you do it, slave? You
were created as the perfect example of humanity. The Emperor gave
you everything, yet you spat in His face and gave yourself to the
Ruinous Powers.”
Spitting frothing blood towards her
Xanathor replied, “As I spit at you! He gave us nothing, he
abandoned us!” With unrelenting vehemence the champion continued,
“The Dark Gods gave us freedom, you are the slave. A slave to your
ideals and your corpse god!”
“I follow Him freely, blasphemer!”
cried Lysandra as she assailed her enemy with a tirade of blows. Her
righteous fury proved to be no match for over 10,000 years of honed
skills as the Marine easily deflected each attack. His counterstrike
unbalanced her for a moment, and that was all Xanathor needed to
reach in and grab the Sororitas by the throat. Lifting the woman
into the air, the warrior stared impassively as his prey.
“You know not what you follow wench!
Never forget that I knew him while he still lived. I saw his
treachery as he abandoned us at the height of the Crusade!” The
passion in his voice carried above the ruins.
Clawing at the armored fist around her
neck, Lysandra gasped in air as best she could. “I'm sure you know
all about treachery,” she managed. Drawing in as deep a breath as
possible, the woman continued, “You were created to be the
salvation of humanity, yet you betrayed your own kind!”
“My kind?” scoffed the warrior.
“But I am proud to have severed my ties to humanity, such a weak
and pathetic species. I am so much more now, no longer constrained
by ties of loyalty to a maggot ridden hypocrite.”
Rage cascaded through Lysandra as she
bridled at the insult against her god. “Traitor! It is only the
weak who break their bonds of fealty and honor.” Fiery hatred
burned behind the woman's eyes as she spat her words at the champion.
With an almost supernatural strength Lysandra tore the helmet from
the warp spawned filth, and with screams of malice she bashed the
piece of armor into Xanathor's spike crowned skull. Reeling from the
sudden assault, the massive Marine stumbled and released the
Sororitas from his grasp. As soon as she hit the ground, Lysandra
threw herself at the offensive beast. With all the power she could
muster, the Canoness forced Xanathor to the ground and set upon him.
Her furious fingers found their target and she began to squeeze his
muscular neck with all of her might. A sudden force of impact saw
the woman sailing across the street as Xanathor kicked her off of his
body. As a walled ruin brought her to a sudden jarring halt,
Lysandra could feel cracked ribs and a searing pain coursing through
her body. She knew that without her power armor, the blow would have
instantly liquified her insides. Quickly injecting herself with a
numbing agent from her personal medipack, the Canoness looked up to
see the Chaos champion stalking directly towards her with power maul
in hand. His eyes literally burning with the fires of Chaos.
“Before I am done with you girl, you
will be praying for a quick end,” growled Xanathor as he raised the
weapon high above his head.
“I only pray that I serve His will
unto my final breath,” responded the woman, steeling herself for
the vicious blow she was sure to follow.
As the Dark Gods' champion of ten
millennia finally began to bring his weapon down in a debilitating
arc, Lysandra's mind turned from resignation to confusion as she saw
Xanathor burst like a ripe tomato. The harsh report caused the woman
to momentarily lose her hearing as bits of meat and ceramite bounced
off of her armor. Lysandra slowly looked up and beheld a black
armored warrior wreathed in spectral flame. Her mind boggled as she
easily saw glistening white bone where bits of the obsidian dark
armor were missing. The storm bolter in the warrior's hand was still
smoking from the life saving burst it had just fired. Lysandra's
eyes then locked on the glowing blood red lenses of her mysterious
savior's helmet. With tears rolling down her cheeks, she eagerly
took the Marine's outstretched hand.
“Legionnaire! Emperor's mercy,”
gasped the woman in sheer ecstasy.
“Merciful, yes, but tonight we are
His retribution.” Said the Marine, pulling Lysandra to her feet
before striding away towards the enemy.
The Canoness looked around and was
amazed as she gathered her weapons from where they had fallen.
Scores of majestic Space Marines, all cloaked in fire, had seemingly
materialized out of the blazing ruins themselves. These Legionnaires
were slaying the heretics with such ease that it seemed little more
than simple butchery. No command was needed, for the surviving
Battle Sisters unhesitatingly followed their dark armored deliverance
into the maelstrom. A blasphemous battle cry forced Lysandra's mind
back to the task at hand.
She parried a wild slash from a Chaos
Marine before sweeping her blade down, taking his leg, and then
sliding her glistening power sword straight through the warrior's
breast plate. Moving forward, she saw her savior grab an enemy
Marine in mid step by the gorget and slam him into the ground sliding
his combat blade under the traitor's helmet. Together they fought,
killing and pushing ever onward. The blazing glow cast by the
Legionnaire illuminated the streets brighter than any moon.
Lysandra ignored her pain as best she
could. Any enemy she encountered was greeted with plasma and
Imperial steel. Slaughtering their way through the corpse choked
ruins, Lysandra and the Legionnaire were artists of death and this
inferno was to be the canvas for their masterpiece. The hymns and
battlecries of the Sororitas stood in stark contrast to the grim
silence of the Legionnaires. Building by building and block by
block, the faithful eradicated all traces of taint from the city.
Lysandra vaulted over a ruined window
sill, and was greeted with the sight of a penitent engine charging
headlong into a Word Bearers dreadnaught with flamers blazing into
the night. The dreadnaught fired its multi-melta directly into the
penitent nearly vaporizing her from the wiring of the control
console, but not before she had gotten close enough to lunge at the
defiled sarcophagus. The sheer mass of the crippled war machine
pinned the dreadnaught to the ground while Legionnaires and
Retributors used meltas and lascannons to turn the machine, and
mangled traitor inside, into a molten wreck.
Her combat cloak flowing and ruined
rockcrete crunching under her armored boots, enemy mortars bracketing
her the whole way, Lysandra led the way for her Sisters. Beside her
at every step was the Legionnaire, unfaltering in his advance and
unscathed by enemy fire. It seemed no harm could ever befall these
warriors, the Emperor's will made manifest. Pouring bolts of
vengeful flame into their foe, the Legionnaires exacted the Emperor's
wraith. The purgation continued throughout the night until every
last vestige of Chaos had been scoured from the ruins.
As dawn began to break over the
horizon, the last blood choked scream of agony drifted into the
sullenly still sky. With their task complete what remained of the
Sororitas detachment stood in silence amongst the burnt out hulks of
enemy vehicles. The streets and buildings were strewn with bodies
and the blood saturated everything. Hospitallers saw to the
Sororitas wounded, as Battle Sisters stalked the streets confirming
that every heretic was in fact purged. Amongst this grizzly scene
the scent of blood and burnt meat signified victory to the Sisters.
The women gazed in awe upon the fire
enshrouded warriors as they silently returned to the flames. One by
one, their armored saviors marched into the inferno, vanishing back
to where ever it was they had come. Some Sisters whispered prayers
under their breath, while others just watched as silent as the
warriors they viewed. Lysandra's bosom swelled with the feeling of
love and gratitude to both her God and His warriors.
“M'lady?”
Lysandra turned and saw Ratina leaning
against a Hospitaller with Mirith at their side. Mirith no longer
wore her breastplate and her torso was tightly wrapped in bloodied
bandages. While Ratina, with her leg missing, appeared barely
conscious.
“My beloved Sisters, how are your
injuries?” asked the Canoness, fighting the urge to embrace the
women to whom she owed so much.
“By the Emperor's mercy, they shall
both return to their duties soon enough M'lady,” replied the
Hospitaller. The woman noticed the worry on Lysandra's face as she
stared at Ratina. “They are already preparing a bionic leg for her
M'lady. She is heavily sedated against the pain, but she wanted to
see them first.”
“Truth is Canoness, we all wanted to
see them,” added Mirith wincing at the effort required to speak.
“Aye,” softly
replied Lysandra. “I thank the Emperor for His generosity in
allowing us to survive this night.”
“I do believe M'lady, that is a
sentiment shared by all of our Sisters here,” said the Hospitaller
with a weary smile.
“Canoness?” managed Mirith. “Who
were they?”
Lysandra cast her gaze over her
assembled force, and saw in their eyes that every Sister wished to
know the same thing. Ignoring the pain in her chest, Lysandra leapt
atop a wrecked Basilisk to command the attention of every last
Sororitas. “My honored Sisters,” she yelled. The same soft wind
that blew whisps of smoke through her hair, ensured that her voice
was easily carried into the ears of every woman in the assembly.
“Daughters of the Emperor,” she continued. “Tonight we have
witnessed a miracle. I already hear whispers and rumors concerning
the dark armored warriors, and I wish to illuminate you all with the
truth on this new day.” Every Sister in the crowd was staring
intently at their commander. “The warriors go by many names: the
Dark Brotherhood or the Legion of the Damned to name but a few. But
they are more than that my Sisters. These warriors are the Emperor's
wraith and love, His mercy and justice. They are His creation, they
are the instruments of His will, and above all they are perfection!”
