Death Rider – Rhuairidh James

The big Mordian grinned mirthlessly. ‘I want you to put all your anti-radiation kit, all your chems, and all your ammunition into this’ – he gestured to the bag – ‘and hand it back. Don’t be brave. You’re alone here. Drop your weapons in the water.’ Valian raised a hand in protest. ‘There’s a misunderstanding here. We’re Guard.

We’re on a mission.’ The scarred man spat. ‘So are we. To survive. Fill the bag.’ ‘There’s an evacuation. You’re relieved.’ Valian tried to keep the desperation out of his voice. ‘And here we all are. Save it for the infantry.’ ‘Please, we’re–’ The scarred man roared with laughter, and his ragged crew joined him.

‘They really are Death Korps! When have you ever heard a commissar say please?’ Lance spoke up before Valian could stop him. ‘You’re a shame to the Iron Guard.’ The scarred figure turned. His lips were drawn back. ‘Someone from the old country. What’s your name?’ ‘Vox-operator First Class Lance Czarr. Shame on you.’ ‘Easy, I outrank you. Tank Commander Alphonse Bazan. You can call me sir. Now. Let’s see a salute.’ Lance held the tank commander’s gaze. ‘You’re angry, yes?’

Bazan said. ‘You came all this way to win this war. You’ve bled, and you’ve suffered. You’ve seen good people die. And now somebody wants to take everything from you and leave you out here. We know what that feels like, don’t we?’ There were murmurs of assent from the tank crews. Valian scanned them for weak spots, troopers who weren’t fully on board with this madness – only frightened and pretending to be.

Opportunists looking for their own time as petty despot of this band of deserters. He saw only bitter, scowling faces. Valian tallied crew numbers and scanned rank insignia. There – he spotted an odd man out. Something shabby and half-broken in the uniform of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica. Hunched and filthy as the rest of the crews, but apart from them. Bloodshot eyes roved in his head, filled with fear. ‘The Imperium’s tried to kill us twice now. They nearly killed us when we pulled back for extraction, and they tried to take our vehicles.

And they tried again when they sicked the Death Korps on us to go fight their little war in the south. They’re not going to manage a third attempt.’ Valian decided to play for time. He’d learned how to talk to deserters at Schola. Imperial loyalty was incredibly hard to break. The baroque justifications Guardsmen found often withered when spoken aloud. ‘Perhaps I can assist,’ he called. The muscles in Bazan’s face contracted. It took Valian a moment to realise the movement was voluntary, and he was expressing amusement.

‘Yes. You can. Your combat sign is good. So you’re going to help us get out of this swamp and into the mountains. Our vox is done for, so we need a hardline. That’s going to be you.’

For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind. By the might of his inexhaustible armies a million worlds stand against the dark. Yet, he is a rotting carcass, the Carrion Lord of the Imperium held in life by marvels from the Dark Age of Technology and the thousand souls sacrificed each day so his may continue to burn.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. It is to suffer an eternity of carnage and slaughter. It is to have cries of anguish and sorrow drowned by the thirsting laughter of dark gods.

This is a dark and terrible era where you will find little comfort or hope. Forget the power of technology and science. Forget the promise of progress and advancement. Forget any notion of common humanity or compassion. There is no peace amongst the stars, for in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

OceanofPDF.com OceanofPDF.com DRAMATIS PERSONAE THE OFFICIO PREFECTUS, HARBINGERS OF DISCIPLINE, HIS CLARION VOICE Valian Hesh, commissar (Death Korps) Maximillian Shang, commissar (Attilan Rough Riders) Katarin Ven Der Ganz, lord commissar (Rezlan VI Combined Defence Forces) THE DEATH KORPS OF KRIEG 472ND SIEGE REGIMENT, HIS MOST UNMERCIFUL INSTRUMENT Jens, prefectus militant Harviek Bronner, colonel Constantin Cernau, master of cavalry THE REMNANT REGIMENTS OF REZLAN VI; A WRETCHED MASS OF FALLEN HUMANITY, WITHOUT COMMAND, DISCIPLINE OR HOPE; THE VERY SCUM OF THE EARTH, HIS LOST AND HATED Ashe Godehand, Chirus Levy, medic (equine and human) Lance Czarr, Mordian Iron Guard, vox-operator Nehemiah Shand, battle psyker, formerly Accario Electric Rifles OceanofPDF.com PROLOGUE JENS She saw it first.

Nobody else would have recognised it, even had they been looking at the sky. They looked at each other, at faces, hands, weapons, or didn’t really look at all. Maybe if there had been another Korpsman here. Valian was no Korpsman and was thus still asleep. The auto-scribe scratched in the corner. She didn’t read the orders on it.

It was all over now. She looked at the object in the sky again. It had the false slowness, the stillness, of all things of terrible size. It was very far away. A quick artillery officer’s calculation. It was not far away enough. She was in battle dress.

She slept in it. That bought a minute or two. The steeds were always ready. They did not sleep at all. If the wind blew north, they’d live. It was picking up now. Jens reached over to Valian and shook his shoulder, gently but firmly. OceanofPDF.com THREE FILES COLLATED FOR THE CAEDES OMNIS INVESTIGATION FILE 1: DESCRIPTION OF THE PLANET REZLAN VI, FROM THE NAVIS IMPERIALIS COMPLEAT ALMANACK OF LESSER PLANETS (PREV. EDITION) Rezlan VI is a temperate MIXED REGISTRY world found in the deep regions of the Eastern Fringe.

This is a short excerpt from the opening of “” by Unknown, quoted for review and introduction purposes. All rights belong to the copyright holders.

Book Information

• Unique ID: ae0e43707e80296d
• File Extension: .pdf
• File Size: 2,750,945 bytes (2.624 MB)
• Title: –
• Author: Unknown
• Pages: 335
• Language: English (en)

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• Total Words: 86,320
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