Secret War: Warhammer 40,000 by Ben Agar (romantic novels to read .TXT) 📕

as Torris, Garrakson, and Arlathan joined me.

"Why would he try to take me in close quarters?" I asked.

Torris shrugged. "Outta ammo, maybe? He almost had you, though. You were very deep in la-la land there for a second or two. I would've warned you, but it all happened way too fast for me. And what did I tell you about running forward all on your lonesome without telling us again?"

"I did tell you," I said.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Well, yeah, but not very well."

"Alright! Enough of the damned talky!" roared Arlathan as he fired. "And more damned fighty!"

And for once, I agreed with him.

The explosion sent the large double doors flying off their hinges and falling into the enormous old dining room beyond.

We were ready for the inevitable counter, hugging the cover of the sandbags as the mercs fired through the kicked-up smoke.

There were fifty of us, mostly made up of Taryst's mercs. There were more before, but we'd lost over two dozen men overwhelming the well-entrenched enemy in this corridor alone. I couldn't help wonder how many more were going to die attacking this place.

For what felt like forever, we waited for a lull in the storm; when it finally came, that's when Garrakson opened fire with the remaining working heavy stubber along with the rest of us.

The enemy had set up their defences well; they'd turned over the long, thick dining tables for makeshift cover and reinforced them further with more damned sandbags, which made me wonder how the hell on a hive world like this did they get so much sand? Was it rockcrete sand? Or...?

I smiled and shook away the thought, now was the worst time to get hung up on such details.

Fighting the urge to flinch from every sight and sound through the utter chaos, I did a very quick, very rough headcount. There were two balconies situated along each length of the room, gunfire rained down from them, but they were too elevated for me to make out anything of importance and on the floor were three makeshift walls four metres separating each.

"I count approximately twenty-five on the floor!" I shouted. "Nine behind the first, eight behind the last two!"

"Twenty three now!" roared Garrakson as he cut down two with a withering hail of fire, and I treated him to an equally withering look, which he ignored entirely.

"What about on the decks?" asked Arlathan.

I just pursed my lips and shrugged, wondering why he thought I'd know.

"If we give you covering fire, you think you can get onto one of them?" yelled Torris as he fired a flurry of shotgun shells.

I smiled. "You were all upset about me running off by myself but now asking me to suicidally climb up there?"

Torris shrugged. "I only get upset when you do it without telling us about it! We can't help you if you don't! Your teamwork skills kinda suck!"

I clenched my jaw, wanting to point out how Castella and I had worked together well against the daemons earlier and remind him of how Elandria and I used to team up all the time.

I frowned, and my gaze fell to the floor at the thought of Elandria.

"Kid! I wouldn't ask you this if I didn't think you could do it!" he yelled, taking me from my reverie.

With a sigh, I looked over the sandbags again, the balconies were a good two and a half metres off the floor, and both ascending staircases were situated at the other end of the room. Three, half-metre wide, dark wood pillars held them aloft, but I could tell they were only there for decoration. Taking them out wouldn't collapse them at all, which was my initial hope.

I slipped back into safety and shook my head.

Torris gritted his teeth and growled with incoherent rage.

Just then, we heard Garrakson cry out and throw himself to the floor as his heavy stubber was abruptly torn apart by concentrated fire.

"We've gotta do something about the enemy on those damn verandahs!" snarled Torris. "Even if we take care of the ones on the floor, we try to advance; we'll be caught in a damn crossfire! From enemies on an elevated position no less!"

Garrakson climbed to his knees, brushing himself off as though he'd just had dust thrown on him instead of potentially deadly, jagged shards of shrapnel.

"Well, why don't we have Mr little freaky speedy here just run through them, to the other side of the room and climb up the stairs, while we lay down cover fire," he said.

I sighed and placed my hand on my face; why did all these plans involve me rushing forward through gunfire. I guess it was my frigging fault for showing off so much before.

"Could actually work," said Torris.

"Only if we can bloody coordinate properly," said Arlathan.

"Or if I could use my bloody autocannon," said Garrakson, as he not to subtly glared at me.

I sighed and glanced back at the other mercs taking cover behind the sandbags further down the corridor, pinned down, just as we were; I wasn't going to get any cover fire from them, sure as sure.

With a frustrated growl, I turned to Garrakson and mumbled something.

"What?" yelled Garrakson, but I could see him smiling slightly.

"I said, damn it! You get it your way!" I bellowed through clenched teeth. "Use the frigging autocannon!"

Garrakson's face lit up like a child who'd just been told all his birthdays were all rolled into one.

"Alright!" he said, rubbing his hands together eagerly, then began gathering up the oversized bullet hose. "You ready, kid?"

I swallowed and only nodded nervously.

"Be aware, kid, I'll only be able to pin the bastards on the floor. The ones up there on the balconies, not so much!"

"Torris and I could throw some grenades," suggested Arlathan. "We could try to get them onto those balconies!"

I looked at him, eyes wide with surprise, glanced at the room beyond, seeing just how high and how t the angle was, then back to him.

"But you'll have to expose yourself to do it," I said.

Arlathan frowned and furrowed his brow. "Why are you so worried? You've got to run through that hell!"

I turned to Torris, who shrugged and said, "I agree, kid. It's an idea. I'm willing to give it a go."

I nodded and glanced at Arlathan, still surprised he'd risk himself so. Whatever had happened to him during his unconsciousness must've changed him somehow.

My eyes narrowed as another thought hit me; perhaps I wasn't the one Brutis should be worried about.

"We ready?" asked Garrakson eagerly.

"Yeah, we are," I said as I tossed Torris and Arlathan a grenade each. "Jeurat, blaze away."

"With pleasure!" he beamed, climbed to his feet and began firing over the sandbags, ignoring the countless munitions flying his way.

"Wish me..!" I yelled but stopped as simultaneously, both Torris and Arlathan were standing and throwing their grenades.

I didn't wait to watch where they went as I was up and sprinting into the room, knowing that Garrakson, with all his skill, would miss me.

Everywhere, I saw the devastation wrought by Garrakson's Autocannon as it tore through everything, punching holes through the sandbags and turned over tables as though they were made of paper. I saw at least five defenders torn apart as they cowered behind the first wall. Inwardly, I cursed that we'd been forced into using it so damn early in the peace, but desperate times, I guess.

It must've taken me less than a second or two to sprint to the first wall, but it felt like forever; it was even more intense than the siege outside than even in the close confines of the corridors.

Just as I vaulted over the first wall, the grenades Torris and Arlathan had thrown went off. I heard no screams, no nothing; I couldn't even tell if they'd been thrown right, but I had no time to dwell on that.

I just had to have 'faith' in my friends; they'd done it right. Well, the definition of 'faith' meant belief without evidence. I didn't have 'faith' in Torris; he'd proved time and again that he was skilled and highly competent. It was bloody Arlathan I had to put faith in, and I didn't like that.

The defenders behind the first wall were already dead, and Garrakson's fire pinned down the ones behind the second and third.

I could see in my peripheral vision and somewhat feel the gunfire from above, and my heart sank as I realised that it was a frigging crap ton of them, and most of them were automatic.

Despite this, I didn't break my stride; I just kept sprinting forward, hoping my insane speed would outdo them.

As I ran, an idea hit me, and with quick hands, I took out my last grenade, pulled the pin just before lunging over the wall and in mid-air, dropped it amongst the five defenders as they gaped up at me in shock and awe.

I bounded onwards as it exploded, covering my ears, so I barely heard the screams of the defenders as they died.

The defenders behind the far wall started to peer over it, so in the blink of an eye, I drew my autopistol, firing with utterly no accuracy in the hope to pin them back in place, unloading the entire clip faster than I thought possible. Much to my relief, it worked, and with no time to reload, I vaulted over the wall, pistol-whipping one over the skull in flight.

I landed and drew my sword, simultaneously roundhouse kicking one in the face as he turned to attack me. The other three, still crouched, raised their guns to shoot, but before they could even think, I'd dashed forward, right into their midst, so their shots only cut through the empty air. One on my Left, two on my right

My powersword sliced through the torso of my left side attacker, and I slid into a sidekick that connected the first Right's sternum with a crack somehow audible over the chaos, and he was thrown onto his back so fast, and so hard, I could've sworn it broke his spine. The last had backed up about a metre and showered a frenzied point-blank, full-auto burst that I barely managed to weave out the way from. But in his panic, he'd stood, exposing himself and my allies no longer pinned, so a tidy shot from Emperor only knew who took off the top of his head. Which was lucky; I was pretty sure I wouldn't have been able to dodge anymore.

The next thing I knew, I'd retrieved one of the autoguns off the floor and was moving, sprinting up the left side staircase, laying down a barrage of automatic fire that caused the merc guarding them to him throw himself out of its path.

Then I was at the top, smashing the butt of the rifle hard into his throat, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and utilised the poor bastard as yet another human shield, allowing me a second or two to take in my surroundings as he got shot to hell.

I saw four smaller sandbag walls, only two metres in length and three apart; four mercs were behind each wall, except the furthest; they were already dead. I dropped my borrowed autogun, took my new shield's one and over his writhing shoulder, sprayed a wild flurry that was so inaccurate, no one bothered to duck for cover, and soon I found my human shield torn from my grasp.

With a desperate roar, I dashed forward, firing the last of the autogun's clip from the hip in a spray not much more accurate than the previous but somehow still caused them to duck.

I vaulted over the first wall, my power sword relieving two mercs of their heads before I Ianded and sprinted on, their fire missing me entirely in spite of such short-range, my insane bravado and inhuman speed taking them off their game.

I reached the next wall in a split second; only now were the men behind it getting up. So instead of vaulting over,