The Shadow-pattern Stormbird circled, descending, seeking a wide landing spot in the treacherous mountains. The Vessorines did not hear the roaring engine until it was fifty meters from a cliff peak. Etrich's sharp eyes finally found the black iron bird.
He saw the massive bombs under its wings and instinctively ducked behind a black basalt rock.
The Sorbor warriors followed suit, hiding behind the rocks.
They watched warily as the black iron bird landed. A squad of black-armored warriors emerged.
They were like smaller versions of the winged giant descending from the sky.
Their skin was lustrous, like marble. Their eyes were black, like obsidian.
Etrich suddenly remembered the giant's word: "son."
So many giant sons?
THUD, THUD, THUD...
A squad of black-armored giants leaped from the cliff, landing before Nareth.
"Lait." Nareth called to an Honor Guard member with an orange longsword on his right shoulder.
He and Pierre Lait, recently promoted to 3rd Company Captain of the 8th Chapter, were both from the largest family on Kather, House Lait. He had recently passed scrutiny and become a "Warrior."
Though he estimated the "Warrior" Lait's combat skills were slightly inferior to Mandragore Carrion's, Gregor Eisenhorn's killing of the Emperor's Children veteran had been somewhat lucky.
Ten thousand years later, the Sorbor tribal chieftain Etrich's skill was comparable to Eisenhorn's. Lait, with his physical advantages, even if slightly behind in technique, could still fight.
"You will fight Sorbor tribal chieftain Etrich."
Etrich and the Sorbor stared in surprise at the black-armored, golden-winged giant. They had never said they were the Sorbor tribe, nor mentioned the name Etrich.
How did he know?
He gripped his falcon short sword. Was he truly a god?
No. He must have learned it from a neighboring tribe.
He stared at the black-armored warrior's large gun, smaller than the winged giant's, and the sword at his waist.
He suddenly swung his sword, lunging at the black-armored warrior.
Lait, proud to accept his father's mission, was bowing slightly in the Kassai dueling etiquette when he felt a sudden rush of wind.
The Vessorine in animal hides had no honor.
The "Warrior" Lait, his thoughts flashing, quickly drew his psychic blade and swung in a Lesef-style, intending to deflect the attacking short sword.
The moment the gleaming psychic blade met the falcon short sword, its light vanished.
He felt a tiny, grain-sized chip in the blade forged by the Kassai master-smith, which he had carried for twenty-eight years, closely linked to him.
'How is this possible!'
As Lait was shocked, Nareth was not surprised.
The Kassai master-smiths were skilled. Their blades had an advantage over most weapons, including Astartes weapons, but not over the falcon short sword.
He remembered that this short sword, with its falcon-carved hilt, had not shattered when clashing with Eisenhorn's Barbarisater ten thousand years later.
Barbarisater was the best weapon Eisenhorn used in his legendary career, comparable to weapons revered by many races.
It was forged from Sincall's magic mirror. Eight adamantium drill bits had worn out just to obtain the material.
Magos Burr of the Mechanicum had hammered the blade nine hundred times, carving ten pentagrammatic runes on both sides.
Finally, under the Triumphant Light of the Golden Throne beneath the Emperor's statue, and the light of the Machine God, it became a pentagrammatic psychic power sword.
Yet this divine weapon had no advantage against the unremarkable falcon short sword.
He knew that besides the Sword of Vaul at his waist, only Leman Russ's two weapons could surpass the falcon short sword.
Etrich was also a powerful Blank. The Kassai blade's psychic power would be suppressed.
In terms of weapons, Lait was at a complete disadvantage. He had to defeat his opponent quickly.
If the fight dragged on, his blade would be shattered.
Lait stared in surprise at the barbarian's short sword. It had a hook, but its gleaming blade was not as bright as his psychic blade.
Yet in their clash, the other's blade was undamaged, clearly tougher and stronger.
Etrich was thrown back two steps by the impact. His long arms tingled. He looked in surprise at the giant, stronger than him.
No Vessorine dared wrestle him. But the black giant's strength far surpassed his.
They charged each other. The "Warrior" Lait was faster. In one step, he swung a Tarn-style chop at the enemy's right arm.
Etrich saw a black blur, its speed trailing afterimages.
'He's not only stronger, but faster.' The thought flashed through his mind. He instinctively dropped and slid, his short sword thrusting at the giant's thigh.
The "Warrior" Lait twisted his wrist, reversing his blade, swinging a reverse Tarn-Vira-style at Etrich's back.
They passed each other, their blades flashing.
Nareth watched this duel, a millennium early: Kassai "Ulvira" style versus Vessorine killing art.
"Ulvira," meaning "blade's talent" in Kassai, its spinning blade like a storm.
The Vessorine, a master of the killing art honed in bloody combat, wielded his blade with ease.
His attacks had a unique rhythm, lunging and circling Lait, stepping and cutting.
Every strike of the deadly short sword was unexpected, impossible for a Shadows of Order warrior to anticipate.
The Sorbor watched in silence, like silent killers.
They gripped their weapons, arms tense.
The children, knowing the danger had passed, ran from the fortress, nimbly climbing the black basalt rocks, chasing the two figures.
They gasped. The black giant could actually match the powerful tribal chieftain Etrich.
Amidst the crackling clashes, neither wanting to meet the other's blade, they could not avoid it.
In the screeching of energy colliding, sparks flew from the psychic blade.
Etrich's wrist bent. He was forced to grip his sword with both hands.
Both knew they had to end it.
The "Warrior" Lait spun his blade, executing a Urakh combo.
A shower of light rained around him.
Etrich leaped, rolling, hooking his short sword on a protruding black basalt rock.
With a sharp scrape, he propelled himself, lunging, his deadly blade aimed at the black-armored warrior's head.
The "Warrior" Lait knew he could not avoid the fatal blow. His uncle Pierre's teaching flashed through his mind.
The only option was to weaken or control the blow.
Such techniques had many forms, collectively called Gekuafu-style, meaning "pulling back from the brink" in Kassai.
Imagine the opponent as an unmanageable mount, let it charge over a cliff.
He raised his blade, turning it into a long rein, able to control its movement.
He lunged, shoulder dipping, thrusting upward.
The psychic blade leaped, its tip striking the falcon short sword, wrapping around the gleaming blade like a rein controlling a horse.
He twisted his blade, throwing the short sword and the Vessorine away.
CRASH!
Etrich slammed to the ground. He instinctively adjusted, rolling to his feet.
He arched his back. A cold blade was at his head.
The Sorbor children gasped. Their tribal chieftain , the powerful Etrich, had lost.
The Sorbor warriors stared in silence at the black-armored warrior.
Nareth felt a sense of time and space intertwining.
'Eisenhorn also used the Gekuafu-style to gain a brief advantage.'
'Hmm, the difference is he then drew his gun, shooting Etrich without honor.'
'Lait won the duel... though his blade is damaged.'
He watched the sparks fall and looked approvingly at Lait.
'The first step to subdue the Vessorines: demonstrate overwhelming force. Complete!'
....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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