友情提示:如果本网页打开太慢或显示不完整,请尝试鼠标右键“刷新”本网页!
Death World(科幻战争)-第33部分
快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完,想下次继续接着阅读,可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能!
falling with it; toward the bloodthirsty pack that Lorenzo knew must have gathered below。 His
instinct was to go after his comrade; to do what he could to help him—but not only was it hopeless;
101
he would have been doing him a disservice。 Armstrong had sacrificed himself to save Lorenzo; to
give him a chance at least—because Lorenzo had let him; because he hadn’t spoken up first; because
he hadn’t told his comrade that his life was over anyway; that if the orks and the quake didn’t finish
him the poison would。
Armstrong was relying on Lorenzo to tell that story—which was all that kept him going now as
he yanked on the lantern; tore out the taut cables from one side of it and gathered the loose ones to
the other。 He looked for a safe landing spot; clear of orks and lava and falling rocks。
That was when he saw it。 Amid the chaos below; a great brutish ork; trapped on the far side of
the lava stream but walking taller; more confidently; than its fellows。 It was surrounded by an
entourage seven…strong—one of which was festooned with bizarre totems and carried a staff。
As Lorenzo watched; two of the guards seized another gretchin; and bore it face…first into the
lava。 First the larger ork then the shaman used it as a stepping…stone; hopping onto its back and
across to safety before it boiled away。 Then the big ork turned and shouted impatient curses at its
guards; and they tried to follow but without any such assistance。 Four of them made the leap; two
did not。
Lorenzo didn’t care about them。 He had eyes only for their master; with its tough; leathery skin
and its gleaming new axe; twice the size of the other orks’ weapons and with ceremonial trappings。
He had no doubt that this was him。 The warboss。 Big Green。 He even knew; with a flash of insight;
what the strange…looking ork with the staff had to be; why it was getting preferential treatment。 The
source of Big Green’s vaunted intelligence。 An ork psyker—a weirdboy!
Everything he had ever wanted。 His blaze of glory…
Lorenzo wrapped his hands around the entwined cables; calculated the trajectory of his swing。
The ork leader was facing away from him; at the edge of the lava flow。 One kick between the
shoulder blades; with enough weight behind it; would send him reeling。 Hit him at the right angle;
and the weirdboy might even go with him。 And the fact that Lorenzo would doubtless follow both
orks into the fire—well; that was good too。 A fitting end for a hero。
Only; he realised; with a pang of despair; who would see it? Who would tell the story of this; his
greatest moment? He hesitated。
Which; in turn; made him angry with himself。 Not this time; he thought。 His last chance to
count; to make his life mean something。 At least he’d know。
So; Lorenzo pushed himself off from the rock; and his heart leapt as he saw that his path was
true; that even the quake hadn’t shaken him off…course。 He saw his destiny rushing towards him; and
in that moment he knew that someone; somewhere; would tell a story about this some day。
Even if it was only the orks themselves。
102
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Everything had changed in an instant。
Lorenzo was on the ground; fighting unconsciousness; not sure how much of the violent;
lurching motion around him came from the earthquake and how much from inside him。 He tried to
put together the pieces of what had just happened。
He had seen it lain out before him: the rest of his life。 His heroic death。 The ork warboss;
growing larger and closer until there was nothing else in the world; nothing else that mattered。 Only
the warboss; and the river of fire。
Only Big Green; somehow; had heard him coming; or maybe a follower had shouted a warning
or his psyker had muttered a prediction; because he had turned—and; with no time to swing his axe
nor to sidestep; he had leapt instead; and met his oncoming attacker head on。 His muscular arms had
encircled Lorenzo’s legs; and they had hit the ground together but the warboss had landed on his
feet while Lorenzo had been smacked down onto his back。
He expected to die a failure—until he realised that the warboss had staggered; at least。 He had
taken a step back to brace himself—and his foot had slipped into the lava stream。 The psyker let out
a panicked chittering sound at his master’s peril and hobbled away。 Lorenzo held his breath but the
warboss’ self…control was incredible。 He triumphed over what must have been searing agony to keep
his balance—and he loomed over the Catachan with his axe raised high; though one of his legs now
tapered to a dripping; cauterised stump at the ankle。 Lorenzo still didn’t know what to do; because
he hadn’t planned for this situation; hadn’t planned to survive this long。
So it was just as well that his instincts took over—and he kicked out at the warboss’ intact leg
with all his might; and he managed to fell him but not backwards as he’d hoped。 Lorenzo scrambled
on top of the huge ork; still hoping that somehow he could roll them both into the lava—but Big
Green was too heavy and unyielding; and Lorenzo was seized from behind by two of his four
remaining bodyguards。
He kicked and yelled as he was dragged from his foe—as more orks streamed towards him from
all directions; disregarding their own peril in the face of his threat to their leader。 Rarely had he seen
such a display of loyalty from the greenskins。 Now a curtain of snarling faces closed in front of
Lorenzo; and he couldn’t see the ork leader anymore; and he knew it was all over。
The sounds of las…fire seemed distant at first; as if they came from a world that was no longer his
concern。 It was only when the orks began to scatter; when one of those that held him was hit and
loosed its grip; that Lorenzo realised a new element had entered the equation。 Or rather; two new
elements。 Sergeant Greiss and Braxton。 Lorenzo didn’t know where they’d come from—a tunnel
opening beneath the collapsed gallery was his best bet—but they had bought him another chance
when he had thought he was out of chances; and he wasn’t about to waste it。
He tried to throw his remaining captor; but failed。 Again; his instincts came to the rescue;
predicting the patterns of the quake; telling him when the ground would buck beneath the ork’s feet;
which way to push when it did。 The greenskin squealed as it fell; surfed the shifting floor on its back
and wound up with its head in the lava。
Lorenzo drew his gun; and immediately found a target。 The greenskin psyker。 He had thought it
long gone; but it must have run into the new arrivals and reversed its flight。 At least; he thought as
he killed it; that was the end of the warboss’ advantage。 He was just a normal warboss now。 But his
103
squad’s orders hadn’t been to kill the psyker; they’d been to kill Big Green himself; and he intended
to do just that。
The warboss couldn’t have gone far—not with only one foot。 Indeed; there he was; just a few
metres distant; being helped along by two guards。 But Greiss was closer; and Lorenzo could see the
familiar gleam in his sergeant’s eyes; knew he had spied an opening and would take it; heedless of
the cost to himself。 While Lorenzo’s path was blocked again; and he couldn’t clear; it in time—
though he ploughed into the orks anyway; lasgun flaring; fang flashing; and he wasn’t sure if the red
mist he could see was a product of his own unreasoning anger or his poisoning or just an afterglow
from the lava stream。
All he knew; in that desperate moment; was that he had to reach the warboss before his sergeant
did。 He couldn’t help himself。 Greiss was tired of life; wanted to go out on a high—but he had
earned his name。 Weren’t there enough stories told of him already?
Greiss was wading through orks like they were nothing。 They’d given up trying to shoot him;
because it was hopeless aiming through the quake; and they were throwing themselves at him to be
hurled aside or gutted or just trampled as they mistimed their rushes and fell at Greiss’ feet。 Lorenzo
was so busy watching this performance that he was barely aware of his own actions; moving on
autopilot; stabbing at an ork throat here; reacting to the whistle of a descending axe there。 It was
only as a substantial chunk of the chamber’s roof fell; as Lorenzo danced out of its way and a dozen
orks were crushed; that he realised what he’d been doing: drawing his foes to him; bunching them
together; setting them up for a fate no man could have predicted… could he?
Dust billowed black around him; rubble made his footing treacherous; and the last of the lanterns
toppled from its high perch; smashed and died。 The only light now came from the lava—and
Lorenzo almost plunged into it as; scrambling to find the warboss; he slid on a layer of scree。 Then
the earth cracked again; and suddenly the molten stream had a hundred narrow tributaries; crazing
the cavern floor。 Lorenzo vaulted them two at a time; he knew where he was going; almost as if he
could sense his prey’s ponderous; one…legged footsteps through the ground itself。
There he was—stranded on an island; only one guard left at his side; the lava flows around him
thin and shallow but impassable to one with his disability。 As Big Green saw Lorenzo; his eyes
widened with fear and hatred; and he yelled and gesticulated to his guard; ordering it to lay itself
down as a bridge for him。 The ork signalled its refusal by swiping at the warboss’ neck with its axe;
evidently; loyalty had its limits; especially when an ork sensed that its leader’s day was done。
But Big Green had earned his position for a reason。 Some warbosses had been known to go toe
to toe with Space Marines。 Displaying the same lightning reflexes with which he’d met the Jungle
Fighters’ first attack upon him; the warboss caught the axe’s blade between both hands; a centimetre
from his slavering sneer; and twisted the weapon right out of his startled guard’s hands。
Lorenzo was firing frantically—but like the orks; he found his shots knocked astray; the warboss
had his traitor guard by the neck; had wrenched its arm up behind its back; and was pushing it down;
and it looked like he was about to get his bridge after all; so Lorenzo sprang for the warboss’ back。
He timed his leap just right; to benefit from an upsurge beneath his feet; Big Green whipped
around and swung his giant axe; but Lorenzo was higher than he could have expected; and the blade
passed beneath his feet—and then he was on the warboss’ shoulders; and he plunged his knife into
the ork’s eye and tried to work its point up into his brain。
Big Green howled and threw back his arms; trying to swat the Jungle Fighter from his back。
Lorenzo held on as long as he could; but between the warboss and the quake it was like trying to
straddle three grox at once。 He pulled his knife free and jumped before he could be thrown; landing
nimbly on his feet。
He parried an axe thrust with his knife; and simultaneously kicked out at the warboss’ injured
leg; making him howl again。 But Big Green didn’t fall。 He barely even flinched—and Lorenzo had
been counting on at least a momentary respite to drop back into a defensive position。 The axe blade
104
whistled toward him again; and the flat of its blade struck a reso
快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部!
温馨提示: 温看小说的同时发表评论,说出自己的看法和其它小伙伴们分享也不错哦!发表书评还可以获得积分和经验奖励,认真写原创书评 被采纳为精评可以获得大量金币、积分和经验奖励哦!