Richter did not fall. He stepped away from Macharius, his eyes now several centimetres further apart than they had been but still focused on his former commander. When he spoke his words seemed to come from the surrounding air, the voice of an angry god who had been defied.
‘I told you I am immortal,’ he said. ‘It appears you do not understand what that means.’
His flesh and bone started to knit together again, leaving his features deformed but intact. I noticed that the amulet at his throat had changed colour, losing some of its lustre as it did so. More bolter shells impacted on his body, ripping flesh to the bone.
Instead of blood a strange green pus emerged. With a hideous sucking sound, the flesh began to flow together again, leaving the heretic’s form intact but a little more deformed. I glanced around to see where the bolter shells had come from. Grimnar had risen, his carapace armour cracked and bloody. His bolter was steady in his hand. Drake’s bodyguard too had taken careful aim and opened fire.
‘Do not let up,’ Drake shouted. ‘Do not give him a chance to concentrate or we are doomed. That amulet holds awesome power.’
He unleashed another psychic bolt at Richter. The heretic screamed and shuddered and Macharius brought his chainsword down once more. Richter stepped aside and grabbed Macharius by the wrist. His strength was daemonic. Bones splintered as his fingers closed. The chainsword dropped from Macharius’s grip.
The two generals went to the ground still grappling. Macharius fought like a wounded lion but Richter was stronger and appeared to feel no pain. The baleful amulet glowed on his chest as he exerted his greater strength. Macharius rolled over and over, his motions taking the two of them towards the chainsword. No one save Grimnar and Drake’s bodyguards continued to pump bolter shells into the heretic’s body. I held my fire for fear of hitting the Lord High Commander.
With the force field down, a melee erupted. The heretics raced forward, as did the Lion Guard. Like their leader they seemed superhumanly strong, and like him they had no doubts as to ultimate victory. I pulled the trigger on my shotgun and sent them tumbling backwards, flesh torn, but they rose again, apparently as unkillable as Richter. Their wounds knitted more slowly but the same process seemed to be in effect.
I fired again, moving towards Macharius. I heard wolf howls as more of the Space Marines recovered and hurled themselves into the battle. One of the cultists launched himself directly at me. I sidestepped and smacked him on the side of the head with the butt of the shotgun. Bone broke but the cultist still moved. His fellows opened up. A hail of bullets erupted around me. Something heavy hammered into me and I hit the ground, convinced for a moment that I had taken a bolter shell.
A heavy weight lay on top of me and I felt metal touching my flesh. I looked around and saw it was Ivan, his body riddled with bullets. He had thrown himself forward to push me out of the way and taken the blast of fire meant for me.
‘What th... Where’s Anton when you need him, the useless frakker? He’s the one who’s supposed to stop bullets.’ He looked around, the light dying in his eyes. ‘Protect Macharius!’
They were the last words he said. I pulled myself out from beneath him and looked around. Macharius and Richter had rolled right over to where the chainsword lay, still sparking as its teeth bit into the rocky floor. Macharius tried to reach it but Richter was on top of him, casually battering him with his mighty hands. In the surge and press of the melee, no one else could get a clear shot. I pushed forward until I could get the barrel of the shotgun against the heretic’s chest and pulled the trigger.
The shotgun kicked. The force of the blast lifted Richter off Macharius. The Lord High Commander rolled to one side and grasped the chainsword with his off-hand. He raised it up and slammed it down against the heretic’s neck, pushing it forward, cutting through muscle, vein, gristle and vertebrae. The expression froze on Richter’s face as his head rolled clear. Macharius grasped the chain of the amulet and tugged it from the body, pulling it away until it separated from the flesh.
A wailing noise emerged from Richter’s mouth. His body suddenly collapsed in on itself like a balloon deflating. Black corruption boiled up from the middle of it. Rot spread across the flesh and drove along a tide of white mould – within a few seconds his armour was all but empty, leaving only blackened bones and a scum that might once have been his flesh. His henchmen lost all cohesion, seeing their champion defeated. Their wounds ceased to mend, as if the killing of Richter had caused his unholy sorcery to stop working.
We tore through the heretics like a chainsword through diseased flesh and then the battle for Richter’s citadel was over, leaving us to count the cost.
Grimnar surveyed the carnage around the cathedral nave with something like satisfaction. He wrinkled his nose when he looked upon the outline of Richter’s fallen form. He strode over to Macharius and extended a hand to aid him to his feet. Macharius was not too proud to take the Space Wolf’s grip. He stood triumphant in the midst of his final battlefield.
‘I thank you for your aid, Logan Grimnar,’ he said. ‘Whatever debt of honour you feel you owed me is more than repaid. I am in your debt now.’
Grimnar shook his head. ‘Such a battle as this is its own reward. By the Allfather, there will be those among my battle-brothers sorry to have missed this fray.’
‘It is done here,’ Macharius said. ‘Richter is defeated.’
He looked down at the amulet he held in his hand, ‘And this thing – it must be destroyed.’
He looked at the Space Wolf expectantly.
‘I will see to it,’ Grimnar said. ‘It is a bauble not meant for mortal men.’ He picked up an ammunition drum, dropped the amulet into it and then sealed it. ‘This will do until it can be properly dealt with.’
He tipped his head to one side, obviously listening to something on the comm-net and then said, ‘There is still a battle to be fought out there and I must go and aid my brothers. Till we meet again, Lord High Commander,’ he said, tipping his arm in salute and with that he was gone.
Drake watched him go with something like an expression of relief on his face.
‘It seems we have survived after all,’ he said. He sounded like a man who did not quite believe it. His bodyguard returned; it seemed he had been exploring the chambers at the back of the cathedral.
‘Inquisitor, Lord High Commander, there is something you should see,’ he said. Drake nodded and looked inquiringly at Macharius.
‘Lead on,’ Macharius said, clutching his crippled hand. The pair of them moved towards the chamber. I moved to follow. The bodyguard raised a hand. ‘This is for the eyes of my master and the Lord High Commander alone.’
There was something familiar about the voice. ‘I don’t take your orders,’ I said. ‘I take them from General Macharius.’
‘As you wish,’ said the storm trooper.
The room was a small antechamber. The corpse of a cultist sprawled on the floor, a heavy autopistol clutched in his hand. On an altar table were spread a number of grimoires and sheets covered in strange and evil runes. Macharius stood over them and shook his head uncomprehendingly. I heard the door click closed behind me.
Drake stood alongside him, shaking his head. ‘These are an unholy ritual. With the amulet and these words, a man could draw on the Ruinous Powers. How long were these in Richter’s possession, I wonder?’
‘Why don’t you tell me?’ Macharius said.
‘What do you mean?’ the inquisitor asked.