There was little time to think about that, though, as a shadow moved in my peripheral vision, and I moved aside by reflex just in time to avoid a swipe from a faintly humming chainsword of a peculiar ossiform appearance. A pair of eldar had flanked us in the lee of the covering fire their comrades had laid down, no doubt intent on neutralising the threat of the melta in the most direct manner possible. I reacted instinctively, drawing my own weapon, and blocking a second blow as my assailant tried to decapitate me on the backswing. He or she – it was impossible to tell inside the green-and-purple armour – had the advantage of height, looming over me as I still crouched behind the boulder I’d used for cover, and while they retained it this could only end one way. So I took a swipe at their leg, which they anticipated, turning with inhuman grace to block the blow.

Which was just what I wanted, cracking off a shot with the laspistol still in my other hand while their attention was elsewhere. The las-bolt took the xenos in the throat, where the helmet joint made the armour relatively weak, and they fell back, their carapace pitted and charred. Whether the wound was fatal, or even incapacitating, I never found out. I brought my chainsword up as I surged to my feet, the teeth whining as they chewed through armour, flesh and bone.

Ciaphas Cain: Choose Your Enemies