Knightsblade

by Andy Clark

  ‘Noted, lady,’ said Percivane. ‘Can the militia cope with the strain?’

  ‘Five of their Chimeras are now filled with weak and wounded, Sire Percivane,’ replied Lady Kassendra. ‘If there are additional transports available to take over from them, I believe the lieutenant’s men would be grateful.’

  ‘I will see what can be done,’ said Percivane. ‘But remember, the Emperor looks with favour upon those who toil in his name.’

  ‘I’ll remind the lieutenant of that,’ said Kassendra. ‘I’m sure he’ll find it a comfort.’

  Percivane ignored Kassendra’s wry tone. Many of the Draconis Knights found his piety chafing at times, but Percivane didn’t begrudge them that. They were warriors, fiery of temper and deed. His faith was absolute, and his appointed duty was to use that faith to shield his fellow Knights and those over whom they watched. The Emperor had always rewarded him with blessed good fortune. They would be glad of faith and fortune both when the orks came, of that he was sure. Percivane reached up to touch the aquila that hung on a silver chain from the ceiling of his cockpit.

  ‘Sire Garath,’ Percivane voxed, switching to a longer-ranged channel. ‘How fares your evacuation of the Golden Swathe?’

  ‘Slowly,’ came Garath’s response. ‘The chattel couldn’t organise themselves into a straight line if they had the help of three-dozen Sacristans and an explicatory tapestry. Milling idiots.’

  ‘Have faith in them,’ said Percivane. ‘They are the Emperor’s servants, just like you and I.’

  ‘When they can sit a throne and steer a steed, they will be equal to you and I,’ replied Garath irritably. ‘Until then they’re cattle, and stupid cattle at that. We’ve had three delays, two of them from the same herd of grox panicking at the sound of engines and scattering all over the place. The second time, I had Lieutenant Drahn’s men shoot the bloody things.’

  ‘Sire Garath, those livestock are the property of House Draconis’ serfs,’ said Percivane sternly. ‘The crown will have to reimburse those crofters for their loss.’

  ‘If the crofters live through what’s coming, I’ll reimburse them myself,’ said Garath. ‘All I know at the moment is this refugee column is still twenty miles out at the head, and over thirty at the arse-end. The damn xenos aren’t going to wait for us to get to safety.’

  ‘There is time, Sire Garath,’ said Percivane. ‘The Emperor protects.’

  ‘He does,’ said Garath. ‘But He’ll find it a lot easier once we’ve got these simpletons corralled behind the Draconspire walls. I don’t want to be out here playing nursemaid when greenskins start falling from the skies.’

  ‘Our column is nearing safety,’ said Percivane. ‘I’ll leave Sire Reikard in charge and travel to you, to see if I can offer assistance. At full stride I ought to be able to reach your route in under an hour.’

  ‘If I tell you to go jump off the High King’s new dam, you’re just going to come and help anyway, aren’t you?’ asked Garath.

  Percivane smiled to himself. ‘We understand each other perfectly. I will see you in an hour.’

  Garath gave a sour grunt and cut the vox connection. Sire Percivane issued quick orders to his subordinates, then fed power to his motive actuators and set off downhill. For all his faith and confidence, even Percivane could not help stealing the occasional glance at the clouds above. Soon, he thought, the xenos would be upon them. As he piloted his steed across the sighing grasslands, Percivane prayed to the Emperor that the evacuation would be completed in time.

  Danial strode down a long corridor, his footfalls ringing on the flagstones. Markos and Suset walked with him, Bannoch and his men marching at their backs.

  They were deep within the Draconspire, making their way from the forge-temple of the Sacristan Order to the grand strategium. The walls were lined with statues of famed Knights, while tapestries, portraits and ritual weapons hung around them. Illumination flooded from electrosconces, pouring through stained armourglass windows.

  ‘Polluxis seems confident that our defences will be ready,’ said Danial.

  ‘I still think that he’s being conservative,’ said Suset. ‘I’m sure that they could wring more power out of the generatorums if they just shut down the non-essential electroshrines. The Omnissiah would understand.’

  ‘Be careful how loudly you say that,’ said Danial. ‘The Sacristans would consider it tantamount to heresy.’

  ‘I’m the Gatekeeper of the Draconspire,’ she said. ‘My faith is as strong as the next Knight’s, but I’ve oathed my blade to keeping this castle secure and the enemy outside our gates. If I see an advantage, isn’t it my duty to press for it?’

  ‘It is,’ said Danial, grazing her hand with his. ‘Your diligence does you credit. But your approach could be more diplomatic. I need you and Polluxis working together, not at odds.’

  ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I recognise that he’s versed in the deeper mysteries of the Omnissiah, while I know only some fragments picked up during adolescence. But as he’s so wise in the ways of the Machine-God, it would help if he hoarded that wisdom a little less.’

  ‘He’s a Sacristan,’ said Markos. ‘Secrets and mysteries come with his Dar Mechanicus title.’

  ‘They do,’ said Danial. ‘Suset, if you think there’s an advantage to be had, then I trust you. Continue to press him with my authority. Just try not to vex him too greatly.’

  ‘I will try,’ said Suset. ‘If vexation means victory over the orks, a little may be worthwhile.’

  ‘Anything we can muster is going to be worthwhile,’ said Markos. ‘If the Ork Wars are anything to go by, this is going to be a difficult fight.’

  They rounded a corner and saw several squads of House militia approaching. Clad in flak armour and Draconis tabards, the soldiers stopped and moved aside, bowing respectfully to their High King as Danial and his fellows walked through their midst. Danial made eye contact with as many as he could, acknowledging them with a confident smile.

  They moved on, passing through a guarded doorway into the colonnaded courtyard beyond. The yard was open to the sky, spires and towers looming massively overhead. Higher still, the faint blue shimmer of the castle’s void shield could be seen.

  The courtyard rang with the clangour of swordplay. Squires were fighting here, twenty of them duelling beneath the stern gaze of several seasoned Knights. All had their hair shaved short to their scalps, and many fought wearing torturous-looking hobbleframes that restricted their movements to mimic a steed’s.

  ‘Jennika will be pleased,’ said Danial. ‘I see more young ladies amongst the intake.’

  ‘Her message is getting through,’ said Markos. ‘For better or worse.’

  ‘Better,’ said Suset firmly. ‘There’s nothing a lady of House Draconis can’t do in a Knight that a man can. If it means we can put more blades in the field, then it’s a good thing. It works for House Pegasson.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, my lady,’ said Markos, his mechanical voice box rendering his tone neutral.

  ‘They’ll all have to face the Becoming,’ said Danial. ‘Those that survive will have the right to call themselves Knights. Male or female, it doesn’t matter. It won’t be a day too soon either. We’ll need every blade we can muster.’

  ‘Orks on Adrastapol,’ muttered Markos. ‘Twice in one lifetime. I must have really annoyed the Emperor…’

  ‘You defeated them then, and we’ll defeat them now,’ said Danial. ‘Come along, the grand strategium awaits.’

  The Draconspire was a towering fortress – a man-made mountain of obsidian, plasteel and granite. Its outer walls stretched for many miles. Its highest towers had to be enviro-sealed against the killing cold of the lower stratosphere. The walls and ramparts lay in three concentric rings with thousands of gun emplacements studded into them. Districts of tangled streets and structures were pressed in between them. If an enem
y broke through the outermost line, the defenders could fall back to the second, and then, in the direst of circumstances, to the third.

  Such desperate measures had not been required for several thousand years.

  The entire edifice was replicated as a finely detailed hololith at the heart of the grand strategium. Revolving slowly, flickering with static, the projection rose thirty feet high to dominate the heart of the chamber. Around it sprawled the cathedral-like strategium, divided into numerous levels of platforms, balconies and galleries all interlaced by walkways and arched foot-bridges. Images of the dracon were everywhere, on flame-wreathed banners hanging on the walls and worked into the gilded architecture of the chamber. The only icon more prevalent in that massive space was the Imperial aquila.

  Danial made his way through the serviles, adepts and militia who thronged the strategium. He stopped before the hololith and used the control wand to zoom in on key sections of the fortress. Manpower estimates and ammunition counts scrolled over the image at his behest.

  ‘The ’spire looks ready,’ he said approvingly. ‘You’ve done good work, Lady Suset.’

  ‘Thank you, my king,’ she said. ‘The fifth through twentieth militia regiments are now fully deployed to their stations. First through fourth have taken reserve stations in the upper levels to provide defence for the spaceport or inner walls as required. Ammunition and medicae stocks are estimated sufficient for at least two years’ protracted siege at this time, and Polluxis has his adepts working a rotation of prayer and appeasement rituals on all of the ’spire’s systems. Communication, defence and power distribution should all be functioning at optimal levels.’

  ‘How many Knights have we held back?’

  ‘Twenty-three, including us,’ said Suset. ‘Five are on outer patrol. The others are currently dismounted to assist with militia deployment or strategic coordination.’

  ‘The rest?’

  ‘Spread across the Valatane, as per your orders my liege,’ said Markos. ‘They are aiding the evacuations, or moving into position around our key assets.’

  The herald beckoned a robed adept, who hurried over with a data-slate. Markos accepted it with a nod, scrolling quickly through its readout.

  ‘Latest reports have the agriplexes in the Longmarch, South Valley and Aquilos regions fully evacuated. The refugee columns are streaming into Mount Imperius and Fort Redfang under Knightly guard as we speak.’

  ‘What of the southern Valatane?’ asked Suset.

  ‘The rougher terrain looks to be slowing things down a little,’ said Markos. ‘The loggers’ roads through the olidarne forests weren’t made to cope with this volume of foot-traffic. Still, as of three hours ago when we received the vox report from Sire Kristun, High Kelt was almost entirely evacuated, and the Drakesclaw mines weren’t far behind. A couple of the logging villages have resisted evacuation as expected. Fools.’

  ‘They’re independent and insular people,’ said Danial. ‘It was to be expected that some would want to look to their own defence. I hope excessive force was not used?’

  ‘It doesn’t say,’ said Markos, scanning the slate. ‘But Kristun’s a good man. He’ll have tried to be tolerant.’

  ‘If any of those communities refuse to be evacuated, they’ll be in terrible peril from the orks,’ said Suset.

  ‘They would be decimated by the xenos in a matter of minutes, lady,’ said Markos. ‘But it won’t come to that. They’re chattel of House Draconis and the Imperium whether they like it or not. Our Knights will relocate them by whatever means they must.’

  Danial nodded and manipulated his control wand, opening a vox-link to one of the galleries high above.

  ‘Master Astrogator Baelus,’ said Danial. ‘What can you tell us of the greenskins?’

  ‘High King Danial, it is an honour to be addressed by you, sire,’ came Baelus’ voice, a deep baritone. ‘Orbital augury has been extended to its furthest ranges, aided by the swiftest scout ships from amongst the Bastion Fleet. We have had some word from the astropaths of the mountain, also. The conclusions are… alarming, sire.’

  ‘How severe is it, Master Baelus?’ asked Danial.

  ‘There are estimated to be upwards of nine thousand ork space craft, sire,’ said Baelus. ‘Though their formation is so entangled and their nature so variegated that it is hard to produce an accurate estimate. They are ploughing in from the outvoid like a vast green fist, aimed straight for our world.’

  ‘So many,’ breathed Suset in horror.

  ‘The Bastion Fleet currently numbers one hundred and fifty-seven ships in total, correct?’ asked Danial.

  ‘Just so, my liege,’ said Baelus. ‘Of those, seventy-two are of cruiser class weight or above, when set against what appears to be several thousand greenskin equivalents.’

  ‘We can’t offer a straight fight in orbit,’ said Markos. ‘Our ships would be overwhelmed within minutes. They would never cause enough damage to the orks to render their sacrifice worthwhile.’

  ‘We knew this would likely be the case,’ said Danial. ‘Master Baelus, are the fleet captains briefed?’

  ‘They are, sire,’ said Baelus. ‘The captains will observe the oncoming foe for as long as they deem the risks acceptable. They will then fall back, laying what orbital mines they can, to the far side of the moon of Triaetos.’

  ‘If the last war is anything to go by, I’d estimate that at least half of those ork ships will attempt to make planetfall,’ said Markos. ‘Probably more. The greenskins came with no restraint or subtlety in that last campaign. I doubt they’ll have changed their ways since. A number of their ships will likely be asteroids or heaps of space-junk that the orks have lashed engines to and packed with warriors.’ Markos shook his head. ‘Crude animals.’

  ‘Once they land, and the remainder scatter through the orbital envelope, that’s when the Bastion Fleet can start making harassing attacks,’ said Danial. ‘Baelus, have we received word from Houses Pegasson and Minotos that their captains have leave to follow this plan?’

  ‘We have, your highness,’ said Baelus. ‘House Pegasson were emphatically in support of it. House Minotos sent a brief communique indicating that they would support the scheme “so long as it continued to protect their interests directly”.’

  Markos muttered something uncomplimentary about Grandmarshal Kurt’s honour.

  ‘Do we know when the orks will make planetfall, Baelus?’ asked Danial.

  ‘We have an estimate, sire. In the worst case, providing they do not become distracted by infighting or diverge to attack our orbital docks above Secutol, the bulk of the horde will reach us in a little under seven hours.’

  ‘Thank you, Baelus,’ said Danial.

  ‘Your highness,’ said Baelus, voice wavering. ‘The astropaths, sire. They’re reporting visions of a vast beast closing its jaws upon our world, crushing and tearing it apart. They see fields of bloodied corpses, burning steeds piled high… They see death, sire. Adrastapol’s death, and ours.’

  ‘Master Baelus,’ said Danial calmly. ‘While I do not pretend to understand the esoteric intricacies of astropathy, you and I both know that what they see are just visions. They are warnings, sent by the Emperor and open to both interpretation and change. If the Emperor is still sending our astropaths visions, then he is still watching over us, and if that is so, no xenos horde will ever overthrow this world.’

  ‘Yes, sire,’ said Baelus.

  ‘You and your adepts are doing a magnificent job of keeping us informed,’ said Danial. ‘Your efforts in the coming fight will be invaluable, for the Bastion Fleet must be our blades in the heavens, to strike at the flanks of this great beast. Can I count upon you, Baelus?’

  ‘Of course, my liege!’ replied the Master Astrogator. ‘We shall not fail you in this!’

  ‘I thought as much,’ said Danial. ‘Carry on, Master Baelus. Emperor be with y
ou.’

  ‘And with you, sire,’ said Baelus. ‘In Excelsium Furore.’

  Danial cut the link and glanced at Markos and Suset.

  ‘He isn’t the only one close to panic,’ said Suset quietly. ‘I’ve had the priests of the Ministorum moving through the ’spire since deployment began, doing what they can to steady nerves. As for the serf classes, they must be terrified. The tales of the Ork Wars are glorious, but they are bloody. The Fall of Ironspire? The Battle of the Bloodied Sea? The Slaughter in the Pass? In none of those conflicts was victory bought without a steep cost.’

  ‘Those stories are embellished and glorified,’ muttered Markos. ‘As are all such accounts. I was there, and whatever the bards sing of the Ork Wars now, the reality was far worse.’

  ‘Then we must set a clear example,’ said Danial. ‘We must show that we have a plan to defend our world. That, at least, is true, and thanks in no small part to you, Markos.’

  ‘Well, fighting that throne-cursed war had to have some benefits, my liege,’ the herald replied. ‘Those of us still around remember how the greenskins fought, and I’ll say again it’s imperative not to let them overwhelm us. Anything we can do to stall their momentum, butcher their leaders and prevent them from massing their forces will be crucial.’

  ‘Our lances are already in the field,’ said Danial. ‘We’ll protect our orbital batteries, and our fortifications. We’ll strike at ork landing sites across the Valatane as they develop. The Marchioness assures me that she will follow our lead in this.’

  ‘The Pegassus’ Eyrie is the most remote and defensible of all the noble seats of power,’ said Markos. ‘One would hope that Lauret can spare plenty of warriors from guarding the passes to go on the offensive, especially with her House’s magnificent air force to call upon.’

  ‘We may be more prepared for invasion than the last time the orks attacked, but we’ve also lost Houses Chimaeros and Wyvorn,’ said Danial. ‘We have fewer steeds to put in the field, fewer thrones…’

  ‘And then there’s House Minotos,’ said Markos, his augmetic voice failing to hide his anger. ‘Cowering behind their defences, refusing to leave their own borders. It’s shameful.’