Read Online Deathwing by William King, David Pringle, Neil Jones - Free Book Online

Emperor.
     It
     is
     for
     our murdered
     clans. Our
     last
     battle
     shall
     be
     fought
     in
     accordance
     with
     our
     ancient
     ways.
     Let
     us
     perform
     the
     rite
     of
    Deathwing."
     
* * *
     
    Two
     Heads
     Talking
     ran
     for
     his life.
     Through
     the
     darkened streets,
     Genestealers pursued,
     loping
     along,
     swift
     and deadly.
     He sensed
     their presence
     all around.
    He leapt over a
     pile
     of
     rubbish
     which
     lay
     in
     his
     path
     and
     swept
     round
     a
     corner
     into
     a
     main
     road.
     Two
     workers
     poked their heads through
     a doorway
     to see
     what was going
     on. They
     swiftly withdrew.
    Two Heads
     Talking ran wearily. His heart
     was
     pounding,
     and
     his
     breathing
     was
     ragged.
     The
     strain
     of
     maintaining
     the spell of concealment
     for so
     long had
     sapped
     his strength.
     He wondered
     how long he could
     keep up this
     pace.
    He risked a
     swift
     glance
     over
     his
     shoulder.
     A
     Genestealer
     had
     just
     rounded
     the
     comer.
     He
     fired
     his
     storm
     bolter
     at
     it, but
     his shot
     was inaccurate,
     and
     the
     Stealer lurched
     back into cover.
     
     

    Sensing
     danger
     in
     front
     of
     him,
     he
     turned.
     From
     out
     of
     a shadowy
     doorway,
     a
     Stealer
     uncoiled.
     He
     had
     just enough time to raise his force axe before it sprang.
     He thrust
     the
     blade
     out
     before
     him, chopping
     into
     the
     monster's
     chest.
     The momentum
     of
     the
     thing's
     charge
     knocked
     him
     over.
     A
     claw
     cut
     into
     his
     arm,
     searing
     it
     with
     pain.
     If
     his
     blow
     had
     not landed
     cleanly, he realised, he would have
     been
     dead.
    Ignoring
     the
     pain, he rolled onto
     his belly,
     catching
     a
     clear
     glimpse
     of
     his pursuers
     as
     they
     charged.
     He
     squeezed
     the trigger of his bolter and stitched
     a line of fire across
     their chests.
     The strength
     of the
     armour allowed him to hurl off
     the ambusher's carcass
     with ease.
     He continued
     on his way.
    Not
     much
     further,
     he thought,
     forcing
     himself
     to
     reel
     onward.
     He
     could
     see
     the
     huge
     walls
     jutting
     upward
     above nearby
     buildings.
     He recited a spell to free his mind of pain and
     made for the
     gates.
    His heart
     sank
     when he saw what awaited him - a mass of hunched,
     evil-faced men with
     dark,
     piercing
     eyes.
     Some
     held ancient-looking
     energy
     weapons.
     Some
     gripped
     blades
     in
     their
     three hands.
     Towering
     over
     them
     were
     purestrain Genestealers,
     flexing their claws menacingly. Two Heads
     Talking came to a halt. facing his foes.
    For
     a
     moment.
     they
     eyed
     each
     other
     in
     respectful
     silence.
     The
     Librarian
     commended
     his
     spirit
     to
     the Emperor.
     Soon Deathwing
     would
     be
     carrying
     him
     off.
     His
     bolter
     was
     almost
     empty.
     With
     only
     his
     force axe,
     he
     knew
     he
     could
     not withstand
     so many.
     As
     if
     at
     an unspoken
     signal,
     the
     Genestealer
     and
     their
     brood surged forward.
     A
     bolt
     from
     an energy
     weapon
     burned
     into his armour, melting one
     of
     the
     skulls
     on
     his chest
     plate.
     He
     gritted
     his
     teeth
     and
     returned fire, cutting
     a great
     swathe
     of death.
     There was a loud click as
     his bolter jammed. He did not
     have
     the
     time to clear it,
     so he charged
     to meet his foes,
     chanting
     his death-chant.
    He rushed
     into a sea
     of bodies
     that
     pressed
     against
     him, hitting
     him with
     blades
     and
     rending
     claws.
     He
     summoned
     the last
     dregs
     of his strength
     to power his force axe and
     swung
     it in a great
     double
     arc. He