Editing Trip Into Hell (Warhammer High) (section)

===Death Ride===
The battle didn’t last much longer once the XVIII committed themselves to the fight. The Orks fought hard, but they were no match for the sons of Nocturne. Tactical Support Squads armed with Flamers and Volkite weapons scoured the Orks from the rubble they were concealing themselves in, and assault squads tore apart those Orks who tried to escape. Within a few minutes, the massed Ork assaults were broken and the survivors hounded to destruction as they fled.

Ahriman reviewed these facts as he talked with the Caorst commander, a capitaine colonel named Luc Harcourt. They had lost nine Chimeras, five Russ, three Malcadors and at least four hundred troopers in that fight, every company had suffered heavily. They wouldn’t be able to reach the Bunker on their own now; they would need the help of the Salamanders.
As if anticipating his train of thought, the Salamanders leader strode up to Ahriman. He’d seen him tear apart a mob of Nobs on his own, if anyone could get them through it would be this son of the forge.

“Chief Librarian Ahzek Ahriman of the First Fellowship, well met. I am Brother Captain Zichar Ir'Sem, Lord of the Burning Skies, and Brother Captain of the Fourth Great Company.”

“Welcome Brother Captain, your arrival is most timely. The Orks had the convoy pinned, and time is of the essence, so I will not beat about the bush. We need to get to the outer Defence Laser bunker as fast as possible, and we need the help of your warriors to do so.”

“Why there? Surely you should be concentrating your efforts on cleansing the outer city of the Greenskins? That is what we thought you were doing when we saw the Orks pouring on you.”

“Were it anything other than what it is, I would be. But this is something far bigger than mere Orks. There is another force at work here.”Ahriman didn’t want the news to spread, least of all to Mortarion. He didn’t need him accusing Ahriman of bringing the Daemon here with his presence. But if he wanted the Salamanders to aid him, they would have to know. “There is a Daemon here on Seadelant hiding within that bunker, and I must destroy it before whatever foul plan it has comes to fruition.” 

Ir'Sem frowned at that piece of news. “We were not informed of any Daemonic presence. How can you be sure?”

“I am Ahzek Ahriman of the Corvidae, of course I’m sure. I have witnesses who can testify they saw the hell-spawn. Don’t inform Lord Mortarion, you know how he sees me and my Legion, I don’t want to give him reason to suspect me to blame for its presence here.”

Ir’Sem stiffened and nodded. “Very well Lord Ahriman, my brothers and I will be proud to lead the way to destroy this Daemon. The Orks won’t be much of a problem; we have just the tool for the job.” Ir'Sem said as a convoy of Salamanders vehicles ground up. Ahriman recognised several Deimos Pattern Predator Infernus, a common and favoured design amongst the Salamanders Legion but the lead vehicle is what caught his interest. It was a standard Leman Russ, but it was very unlike the Caorst ones it was painted in a vivid green, with a scale motif in orange. Its gun was the biggest difference, instead of a Battle Cannon, Demolisher cannon, Vanquisher cannon or Executioner Plasma Cannon it mounted a strange weapon vaguely resembling the Mega-Bolters mounted on some tanks and Titans, or the Bolt Cannon carried by the Avenger Strike Fighter.

“That’s new.” Ahriman remarked.

“Just out of the Magma City’s forges. A new Russ variant specifically for combating the Ork menace. This is its first field test; let’s see if it proves itself up to the challenge.”

The Leman Russ had a Salamander poking out of the Cupola, resting on a pintle-mounted Storm Bolter. A Hunter Killer tube sat beside him. This tank was loaded for bear.
The convoy reorganised under Ahriman’s and Ir’Sem’s commands with the Salamanders at the head, supported by the remaining Baneblade and Ahriman’s Chimera. The Caorst were mixed in with the Salamanders to ensure the Marines were on hand to support the human troops. When Ahriman returned to his Chimera, he found Julius, Summer and Flynn drenched in blood and with their weapons drawn sitting outside it. He was hardly surprised, Julius was hardly likely to obey his barked order, and more than his father would have. Julius and Isis shared one big thing in common; they had a lot of their fathers within them and always strived to live up to their father’s legacies. No wonder the two had come together. Ahriman once again looked over the woman, Summer. It didn’t take a psyker to tell that Julius and she had got close. He mentally shrugged. He for one didn’t want to get caught up in this. Let poor Julius have to explain himself to Lady Lupercal once all this was done.

They mounted up, and once again the convoy started moving, grinding on towards the bunker. It wasn’t long before the Orks made their presence felt again.

“Orks to the left!” Ahriman commanded as he felt their psy-field flare. The Russ, he had been informed it was called a Punisher, turned its turret towards the oncoming warband. The Punisher’s cannon roared, an ear splitting scream like a massive saw cutting through metal. Within seconds the entire Ork mob was gone, torn apart in a rain of bullets. The surviving Orks began to chant something in their crude tongue, “Dakka dakka dakka.”
They were clearly impressed, even as it slaughtered them.

Several more mobs confronted them, but each suffered the same fate, either mown down by the Punisher, or blasted by the Baneblade and torched by the Infernus Predators. They were barely fifteen minutes drive away from the Bunker, and the Orks were no longer slowing them down. Unlooked for hope blossomed in Ahriman’s twin hearts. They would pull this off, the Daemon would be defeated and the war won. Hope can be treacherous.
A faint rumbling, like the first signs of an oncoming earthquake. Ahriman thought little of it, but as it grew and grew he became more concerned, until he opened the vox to the Caorst Sous-lieutenant.

“Do you have any idea what that…” his words were cut off as a massive roar rose up from the other side of the inner wall. It could be only one thing.
The Deathstrike was launching, slowly rising on an immense column of flame, the roar drowning out the sounds of battle. Every head turned to watch the sight as it rose, slowly at first but then faster and faster as the chains of gravity were broken. It was a sight straight from the annals of man’s early history, when rockets like that first took man beyond the skies of Terra and into the void beyond.
After a few seconds Ahriman snapped back to reality as he realised what that launch meant.

“I will have the Graf’s head for this!” he roared as he opened the vox link and demanded to speak to her immediately.

“Graf, I gave express instructions not to launch! When that thing comes down, half the liberating Legion forces will be wiped out! I imagine Lord Mortarion will be most interested to hear your explanation before he skins you alive.” He roared before she could even get a single word in edgeways.

She stuttered, tried to keep her failing composure as she replied. “My…My Lord, I…I didn’t touch it. We saw a suspicious individual lurking near it, and next second it launched! We couldn’t do anything to stop it, and the self-destruct mechanism is fused!”

Cursing, he disconnected and turned to Ir’Sem. “Brother-Captain, in less than five minutes that warhead is going to land and everything within a seven kilometre radius will be wiped out. Fortunately for us that one is targeting the Rok fortresses and not the outer city. Fortunate for us, but not for the Legion forces besieging those fortresses. You have access to the Legion network; tell them to evacuate everything from sector D-nine through G-eleven as fast as possible. Hurry!”

Ir’Sem caught Ahriman’s urgency and sent a series of messages to the other Legion Lords. Soon the renewed roar of engines revealed that they had cottoned on to his message. For several minutes the skies were full of Stormbirds and Thunderhawks evacuating the Legion Forces away from the blast zone. They were just in time.
A nearly invisible streak betrayed the falling Warhead, and Ahriman braced himself for what would come next. But that would turn out to be something completely different.

The warhead blossomed into a half-sphere of violet light, everything touched by the light consumed by the warp. 

“Vortex Warhead.” Ahriman whispered as it penetrated. He repeated it. “How the hell did the Deathstrike have a Vortex Warhead loaded?! We checked it before we loaded it!”

Next second Ahriman felt a sickening blow to his very soul, as something began to shift in the Great Ocean beneath him. the aetheric impact threw him off his feet, the raw horror of what was taking place below them as potent as the Vortex warhead, with far greater consequences. The veil between worlds was thinning, the power of the Great Ocean pressing in on Seadelant, and he could feel it assaulting his senses. The warp rift opened by the Vortex warhead wasn’t collapsing as it was supposed to; it was staying strong and feeding off something. Beyond it vast shoals of void predators were already massing as the walls of reality grew thinner, swirling armies of formless monsters, fanged beasts and destructive entities. All were servants of the Primordial Annihilator, and all were answering the call to battle, a call Ahriman was too late to stop. He had failed, again, and the forces of the Imperium were about to pay the price.

“Ser, what the hell is going on?” Julius bent down over him, concern on his face.

He spat out one word through bloody lips.

“Incursion”