Dark Disciple(科幻战争)-第47章

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Drak’shal　roared　in　frustration　as　once　again　his　claws　found　nothing　but　air。
For　all　his　anger　he　could　sense　that　there　was　a　pattern　forming　in　the　creature’s　attacks。　It
attacked　and　jumped　away；　always　moving；　and　always　attacking　from　a　different　angle。
As　the　shade　disappeared　once　more；　Burias…Drak’shal　spun　around　on　the　spot；　anticipating
where　its　next　attack　would　come　from　and　lashing　out。　The　eldar　appeared　where　he　had　expected；
and　even　its　alien　speed　and　reflexes　were　not　up　to　avoiding　the　icon　bearer’s　pre…emptive　strike。
Burias…Drak’shal’s　talons　closed　around　the　slender　eldar　neck；　and　he　pulled　the　creature
sharply　towards　him；　throwing　it　off　balance。
“Got　you；”　growled　Burias…Drak’shal；　pulling　the　alien　straight　onto　his　rising　knee；　which
thundered　into　the　creature’s　sternum。
Burias…Drak’shal　grinned　as　he　felt　the　bones　and　tendons　under　his　grip　strain；　and　he　clubbed
the　creature　in　the　back　of　its　head　as　it　bent　over　double。　It　was　slammed　to　the　ground；　and　Burias…
Drak’shal　followed　it　down；　driving　his　knee　into　the　small　of　the　eldar’s　back。
Burias…Drak’shal　pulled　his　right　hand　back；　and　thrust　down　with　all　his　enhanced　might；
seeking　to　drive　his　talons　through　the　back　of　the　creature’s　skull。
It　disappeared　from　beneath　him；　his　talons　spearing　deep　into　the　ice；　and　the　icon　bearer
snarled　in　frustration。
Flicking　his　head　to　the　side；　he　saw　that　his　brother　warriors　had　been　engaged　by　the　bulk　of
the　eldar　raiding　force；　and　with　a　hiss　he　began　loping　painfully　towards　the　escalating　battle。
Baranov　could　barely　contain　his　satisfaction　as　he　hauled　the　bay　doors　of　the　Rapture　open　and　the
pompous；　condescending　elite　of　Perdus　Skylla　gaped　in　horror。
Eldar　warriors　were　standing　just　outside　the　bay　doors　of　the　Rapture。　Several　of　the　courtesans
screamed；　while　others　whimpered　in　terror　or　merely　gaped　and　soiled　themselves。　Baranov
grinned；　and　stepped　to　the　side。
A　screaming　woman　was　dragged　from　the　shuttle　by　her　hair；　and　the　remaining　high…ranking
guilders　shrank　back；　only　to　be　pushed　forward　by　Baranov’s　burly　crew　members。
Chuckling；　Baranov　swung　away　from　the　spectacle。　For　a　moment；　his　gaze　was　drawn　towards
the　shimmering　integrity　field　that　covered　the　yawning　docking　bay。　It　was　almost　imperceptible　to
the　naked　eye；　looking　as　though　nothing　separated　the　inside　of　the　ship　and　the　vacuum　of　space；
and　it　always　made　him　feel　slightly　uneasy；　as　if　he　would　be　sucked　out　into　the　void　at　any
moment。
Ikorus　Baranov　stepped　back　alongside　the　dark　eldar　lord’s　proxy；　his　arms　folded　across　his
chest　as　the　wailing；　weeping　guilders　and　their　lovers　were　led　away　in　glimmering　manacles　that
crackled　with　energy。　He　had　never　learnt　the　name　of　the　eldar　pirate；　nor　that　of　his　representative。
Not　that　it　mattered；　he　thought。　He　would　be　unlikely　to　be　able　to　pronounce　it　anyway。
“You　have　done　well　for　me　these　past　months；”　said　the　eldar；　his　voice　as　smooth　as　velvet。
The　eldar　spoke　a　curious　form　of　Low　Gothic；　his　pronunciation　pitch　perfect；　but　with　a　strangely
singsong　inflection。
“I　am　glad　that　your　lord　has　been　pleased　with　my　deliveries；”　replied　Baranov；　trying　to　keep
his　voice　calm。　In　truth；　the　eldar　terrified　him；　but　they　paid　well。　“That　will　be　the　last　of　them；
I’m　afraid。　I　won’t　risk　another　run；　not　with　the　tyranids　so　close。”
Baranov　flashed　a　glance　at　the　eldar’s　face；　trying　to　read　him。　Normally　a　good　judge　of
character；　he　found　it　galling　that　he　could　not　gauge　the　eldar’s　emotions　in　the　slightest。　Never
again　will　I　work　with　xenos；　he　thought；　though　he　knew　as　soon　as　he　thought　it　that　it　was　a　lie。
“The…　what　do　you　call　them？　Tyranids？”　said　the　eldar。　Baranov　nodded。
“Your　pronunciation　is　perfect；”　commented　Baranov。　The　eldar　stared　at　him　for　a　moment；　and
he　felt　himself　shrink　under　his　unfathomable　gaze。
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“The　tyranids　might　well　exterminate　all　of　the　lesser　races；　in　time；”　said　the　eldar　casually。
“They　are　a　menace；”　agreed　Baranov；　unsure　where　the　conversation　was　leading；　and
uncomfortable　making　small　talk　with　the　deadly　eldar　lord。
“If　all　of　your　kind　are　eradicated；　where　then　will　my　lord　find　such　slaves？”　asked　the　eldar；
gesturing　towards　the　guilders　being　dragged　away。　“Your　race　breeds　like　vermin。　Your　race　is
vermin；　but　you　have　your　uses；　don’t　you；　Ikorus　Baranov？”
“I…　I　believe　we　do；　my　lord。　Or　at　least　some　of　us　do。”
“I　am　glad　that　you　believe　so；”　said　the　eldar。　He　gestured　more　of　his　warriors　forward；　and
they　began　to　surround　Baranov　and　his　crewmembers。
“Ah；”　said　Baranov；　“I　think　we　should　part　ways　now；　honoured　lord。　I　won’t　press　you　for　the
payment　for　this　last　group。　Consider　it　a　gift；　a　gift　to　honour　the　friendship　between　us。”
“Friendship？”　said　the　eldar　slowly；　as　if　savouring　the　word。　“A　curious；　irrelevant　mon…keigh
concept。　And　honour？　Where　is　the　honour　in　betraying　your　own　kind？　Delivering　them　to　an
enemy；　albeit　superior；　race？　That　is　honourable　in　your　eyes？”
Baranov　felt　the　sweat　running　down　his　back；　and　his　throat　was　suddenly　dry。　He　flinched　as
the　eldar　walked　behind　him；　but　he　felt　rooted　to　the　spot；　unable　to　think；　unable　to　move。
“You　are　a　detestable　race；”　said　the　eldar。　“Your　very　stench　offends　me；　and　yet；　you　have
your　uses。　Your　soul…fires　burn　so　bright；　and　your　fear…　your　fear　is　delectable。”
The　eldar　spun　away　from　the　petrified　mon…keigh　worm。
“Enslave　them；”　he　said　in　the　eldar　tongue。
Marduk　took　careful　aim　at　one　of　the　frenzied　eldar　wyches　as　it　darted　towards　him。　Squeezing　the
trigger；　the　eldar’s　head　disappeared　in　a　mist　of　blood。　The　eldar　warriors　were　almost　naked；　their
flesh　covered　only　by　totemic　war　paint　and　ritual　piercings；　and　they　moved　like　deadly　dancers　as
they　cut　into　the　warriors　of　the　XVII　Legion。　Their　strangely　fashioned　weapons　wove　dazzling
patterns　through　the　air；　their　movements　at　once　enthralling　and　deadly。
A　score　of　them　had　died　as　they　approached；　ripped　apart　by　the　murderous　swathe　of　fire　that
the　Word　Bearers　had　laid　down。　More　had　perished　when　one　of　their　hovering　skiffs　had　been　shot
from　the　air；　the　fragile　vehicle　tipping　onto　its　side；　throwing　its　occupants　onto　the　ice　before　it
smashed　down　upon　them；　impaling　several　on　its　bladed　sides　and　crushing　more　beneath　its
weight。
Now　the　wyches　had　engaged　them　in　melee　combat；　and　the　odds　were　tipping　towards　the
greater　numbers　of　the　eldar　warriors。
Parallel　beams　of　incandescent　light　speared　through　the　night　as　a　Land　Raider　fired　upon　the
knife…like　shapes　of　the　dark　skiffs　that　circled　the　battle；　searing　a　pair　of　holes　through　one　of　its
barbed；　sail…like　uprights。　The　raider　vehicle　veered　to　the　side；　moving　with　remarkable　speed　and
grace　as　it　avoided　another　pair　of　shots　directed　towards　it；　and　another　of　the　vehicles　returned
fire；　a　beam　of　darkness　stabbing　into　the　front　of　the　Land　Raider；　which　was　rocked　by　the　blow。
Jetbikes　streamed　out　of　the　night；　screaming　low　through　the　fight；　peppering　the　Word　Bearers
with　splinter　fire。　Marduk　spun；　his　chainsword　roaring；　and　cut　the　arm　from　one　of　the　jetbikers　as
the　vehicle　screamed　past　him。　Blood　pumped　from　the　wound　and　the　rider　lost　control　of　his
jetbike；　which　flipped　into　a　sudden　dive；　skidding　into　the　ice　and　smashing　headlong　into　Kol
Badar。
The　Coryphaus　saw　it　coming　out　of　the　corner　of　his　vision　and　braced　himself；　leaning　his
shoulder　into　the　careering　jetbike。　It　shattered　against　him；　breaking　apart　as　it　knocked　him　back　a
step；　and　the　rider　was　catapulted　over　the　handlebars；　blood　spraying　in　a　wide　arc　from　the　stump
of　his　arm。
Marduk　fired　his　pistol　into　the　chest　of　another　of　the　wyches　as　it　closed　on　him；　and　the
painted　figure　was　hurled　backwards　by　the　force　of　the　shot。　He　spun；　targeting　matrices　lighting　up
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around　him；　and　saw　another　of　the　wyches；　her　gaudy　dyed　red　hair　swinging　behind　her　as　she
ducked　under　a　swinging　blow　from　one　of　Sabtec’s　coterie　brothers　and　slashed　a　blade　through　the
warrior’s　leg；　cutting　it　off　at　the　knee。
Marduk　judged　that　this　was　the　leader　of　the　wych　troop。　She　moved　with　exquisite；　savage
grace；　her　serpentine　whip　writhing　with　a　life　of　its　own。　The　whip　cracked　out；　and　its　multiple
barbed　tips　lashed　around　the　arm　of　another　warrior　brother。　Energy　coursed　up　the　length　of　the
whip　and　the　warrior　of　the　XVII　Legion　dropped　to　the　ground；　his　body　convulsing。
Marduk　levelled　his　bolt　pistol　at　the　wych’s　head；　but　before　he　could　fire；　a　net　of　fine；　razorsharp
wire　wrapped　around　his　arm；　pulling　his　aim　off　target　and　slicing　through　his　vambraces。　A
tri…forked　spear　stabbed　towards　Marduk’s　chest；　but　the　First　Acolyte　swatted　it　aside　with　his
chainsword　and　hacked　into　the　eldar’s　neck；　ripping　his　chainblade　through　flesh。
Untangling　himself　from　the　wire　net　that　had　cut　half…through　his　vambrace；　Marduk　turned　and
staggered　back　from　the　furious　assault　of　another　of　the　wyches。　It　danced　towards　him　with　a　pair
of　long…bladed　swords　weaving　before　it。　Each　of　the　swords　had　a　guard　that　protected　the
wielder’s　hands；　and　they　had　curving　blades　for　pommels。
The　blades　moved　faster　than　Marduk　could　follow；　and　he　was　losing　ground　before　their
flashing　advance。　Snarling；　he　leapt　forwards；　his　hatred　fuelling　his　servo…enhanced　strength。
One　of　the　blades　slashed　for　his　neck；　and　Marduk　blocked　the　attack　with　his　forearm；　while
the　other　sword　slashed　up　towards　his　groin。　He　met　the　blow　with　one　of　his　own；　and　for　a
moment　the　two　combatants　were　locked　together。　Then　the　eldar　flipped　backwards；　first　one　foot
and　then　the　other　cannoning　into　the　base　of　Marduk’s　helmet；　snapping　his　head　backwards。
The　two　blades　stabbed　towards　Marduk’s　heart；　but　he　twisted　at　the　last　moment；　and　they
scraped　a　pair　of　furrows　across　his　chest。　The　First　Acolyte　grabbed　one　of　the　eldar’s　wrists；
pinning　it　in　place；　and　smashed　the　spiked　guard　of　his　chainsword　into　the　wych’s　face；
pulverising　its　skull。
Dropping　the　lifeless　corpse　to　the　ground；　Marduk　surveye