Eisenhorn being a badass part 2

THE TWO KILLERS nearest me turned and opened fire with blunt, large calibre autoguns. I suppose the sword in my hand was a damn give away, but they’d have killed me anyway, even if they had mistaken me for a wayward bystander.
They were professional killers, Vessorine janissaries. They had a job to do, a contract to fulfil, and anyone in their way was a target.
The fact that they were using solid-round weapons confirmed they were Vessorine. The ultimate military pragmatists. They’d tailed the train in a poorly-insulated speeder and deployed through a blizzard. In those conditions, standard las-weapons might have died, their cell-power drained by the cold. But a well-lubricated autogun would fire below freezing. It had only to rely on its percussive hammer action.
Vessorine janissaries. I had faced them before without knowing what they were. Now I knew, and their formidable reputation almost gave me pause. Vessorines, three of them. Plated in combat armour and firing heavyweight man-stopper ammunition. Frankly, I’d rather have squared off with angry Kasrkin.
But Barbarisater was in my hand, alert and alive. I had been using my will openly for some time, and that had quickened its strength. I made a ghan fasl, the figure-eight stroke and smashed the first three shots away, impact sparks sheeting from the energised sword blade. Then I struck an uwe sax, an ulsar and a ura wyla bei in rapid series, deflecting squashed rounds into the panelling around me. Wood splintered.
I dived sideways as further shots punched into the hallway carpet and exploded on the inter-wagon doors. People were screaming in the cabins all around.
I rolled and came up on my feet as the first Vessorine rounded the car-end corner and fired half a dozen times. His ejecting shell-cases pattered off his torso in a fog of blue smoke and his gun muzzle lit up like a blowtorch. Point blank.
Except I was behind him.
His gunfire shredded the wagon wall and ruptured the window frame. Barbarisater removed his head.
The second one was charging and firing too. He let out a mask-muffled bellow as he saw his comrade collapse in pieces.
I threw an ura geh sequence that diverted the white blurs of his bullets, then followed in with a uin tahn wyla that chopped the barrel off his weapon, a reverse tahn stroke that severed his forearms, and then the ewl caer. The death stroke.
Hot red blood was already spurting from his arm stumps and steaming in the freezing air as Barbarisater plunged through his ceramite chest armour and burst his heart. The gunshot walls were painted with instantly frozen dribbles of bloody ice.
…
Spitting blood and made angry by the pain, I dragged myself forward through the elemental deluge. I saw shapes ahead of me in the white-on-black maelstrom. Three more armoured figures on the edge of the roof.
They had lowered a directional detonator onto the window of the cabin I had shared with Aemos. As I watched, they triggered it and blasted the window inwards in a hail of glass and fire. The first janissary began to rope down to swing in through the blown window. His comrades were hunched on the rooftop, anchoring his lines.
I leapt up and Barbarisater flew out, crackling in the wet air.
The augmented Carthean warblade came down, splitting the lines in two and cutting deeply into the wagon roof. The descending killer shrieked as he fell away down the side of the two storey carriage.
The other two jerked round like lightning, one going for his sidearm, the other leaping at me with clawing hands. A tahn wyla met him and bisected his head like a ripe gummice fruit.
The corpse rolled off the car top into the darkness. I stood ready, Barbarisater twitching in my hands. The remaining Vessorine backed away, aiming a large calibre autopistol at me. The two of us could barely stand, such was the blizzard’s windshear.
He fired once. An ulsar flicked the round away. He fired again, his feet slipping, and I made an uin ulsar that spat the bullet off into the darkness.

Eisenhorn Omnibus