Editing Story:Another Continuation of LCB (section)

===Chapter Fourteen===

Screaming. Shouting. Searing white wafted in front of the Farseer’s face. She had pressed herself against the cliff. The hiss of water, still bubbling and boiling, reminded her of the surf.

“''Why didn’t I see it coming?''” She reached for her spear. The steam masked their opponent as well as themselves.

One moment, everything was still. The next moment, they were about to drown.

Taldeer had saved Liivi in time. Just barely. And she had almost saved Mellorena. Almost.

But almost doesn’t count in games of life or death.

The little medic was still screaming somewhere beneath the steam cloud.

Melta. Unmistakable.

Thoughts rushed to her unbidden.

''KILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILLKILL''

Extensive, mind numbing pain. It grew fainter as the screaming ceased.

Courage. Or stupidity. She could just barely make out the guardian as he leapt into the mist. All this time, he hadn’t even spoken. She wondered if he would ever speak again.

Liivi’s mechanical mind working faster than usual. Formulating a response. She heard his voice cry out nearby. “Eversor!”

She perceived it all in a flash. The fates, like the thoughts and the mist, swirled and twirled around her in flows and eddies. The foamy surf, bubbles of possibility ceaselessly appearing and disappearing, was high on the beach. Now, it was rushing out to meet the incoming wave.

A strong and sudden current emerged to her front left. A reaching hand. A wounded chest. Death.

“<Get down!>” Somebody in there, whoever it was, hit the deck. The instant her psychokinetic barrier was complete, a fist hit with such force that it was nearly breached.

The tide beckoned out to sea.

----

Liivi lay against the cliff, half a meter away from Taldeer. The steam hurt his bare chest. Blood again poured from his wound, the crude stitches having given way under strain. Not two seconds ago, the guardian next to him had leapt into the steam, presumably to rescue the medic.

“''Melta bomb. No lasgun fire. No shouting. No stomping. Unconventional breaching tactics. High probability of assassin dispatched.''”

It wasn’t the only possibility, but...

“Eversor!” He was just loud enough to hear, but not quite loud enough to make his precise location obvious.

“''Scanning with IR. Steam obfuscating silhouette. N20…''” Hesitantly, gingerly, he kicked the rifle away, and stowed the pistol behind him. “''Should distract, buy time.''”

His well honed eyes scanned the mist for movement, desperately trying to reveal the situation. But it was to no avail. The cloud was too thick. He was bleeding too heavily. Tactic after tactic poured through the vindicare’s mind. But there were none applicable. Engaging the eversor at this distance would lead to his immediate death and net loss for allied forces - one less gun for little to gain.

He glanced at his wound. The grey fluid leaked alongside crimson. It needed to be dressed, and dressed now, if he was to survive long enough to contribute to the fight and protect the primary.

----

Maubryn was not an especially brave individual. In fact, he was conscripted to fight this particular battle for Ulthwe. An artisan from one of Ulthwe’s center districts, the young eldar was not particularly cut out for war. He had no fondness of the enemies who would see his race extinguished, but he had no fondness of killing in general. He could scarcely harm a fly. So it was that he rarely relinquished his war mask. It numbed the emotion, the pain. Dulled the memory. He still felt his emotions, of course. But he didn’t care.

Most of the time.

A war mask should leave you as a rational agent. A rational agent would recognize that the squad has already taken one casualty. He did not know who, or what, was in that mist. He did not yet know the location of his squadmates, or how to respond to this threat. There was too little information. And as tragic as one casualty is, two is worse than one.

All of this information flew through his head, and was subsequently discarded the moment her voice vanished from the choir of screams that rang out around him.

Maubryn leapt into the mists, desperately feeling around for Mellorena on his knees. She was no conscript. She had volunteered. Twice now she’d saved his life. She was not going home inside of a rock. Not if he could help it.

And if she was already in a rock, well, he’d make sure it didn’t get crushed by whatever monster was responsible for this.

She was easy to find, resting face down in the steaming snow.

“<Get down!>” He dropped onto the flat of his stomach, the back of his helmeted head landing adjacent to hers. The very moment he hit the ground, a black boot landed centimeters from his helmeted face, cracking the ice beneath it. 

“''Another one of the mon-keigh's pet horrors.''”

----

The eversor stared at the steaming hole for a millisecond, appreciating its handiwork, before leaping in.

It was finally here.

''HATE''

The end of this long hunt.

''HATE''

So what if the other one left? The eversor didn’t need help. There could be no more waiting. The the anticipation, the hatred, the two felt fit to burst its skull. Which made the IR obscuring steam all the more frustrating. Spittle flecked beneath the mask. No more melta bombs. No more steam. Guns and blades. Only guns and blades. Because they needed to die. Not just die, but die painfully. They needed to die knowing fear of the Emperor. They needed to die screaming, covered in blood. And they needed to die NOW.

Somewhere in the steam, the witch screamed. A hazy outline appeared and vanished. The eversor leapt towards it, hoping to find something to be torn limb from limb.

All it found was hardened air.

''HATE''

----

Gilfavor was not happy with this turn of events. This was evident from the way he screamed into his comms.

“Sound off!”

“Tanlon!” 

“Ysukin!”

“Eversor!” Unfortunately, the mon-keigh had made it.

“Taesan!”

“Barroth!”

"Get down." So had the Farseer.

“Elnys!”

No response from the guardians.

A litany of eldar curses ran from Gilfavor’s mouth. He already had two casualties from the crash.

Taldeer’s voice bounced around in the steam. “<When I call, run through the breach, weapons ready!>”