The death oath placed upon them by Marneus Calgar remained to be honoured and even should they fail in their quest, their deaths would respect the chance their Chapter Master had given them, so long ago it seemed, on Macragge.
As he watched Vaanes and the renegades depart, Uriel knew that though he was probably going to his death, his was the better choice.
' We fight iron men now?' asked the Lord of the Unfleshed. 'Show us way in!'
The primal ferocity in the Lord of the Unfleshed's face reminded Uriel just how precarious their situation was. There was no guarantee that his plan would succeed and he did not want to think of the consequences should the Unfleshed decide that he no longer spoke with the Emperor's voice.
'Soon.' said Uriel, resuming his climb of the rocks that led to the fighting above.
Honsou took the steps from the high spire that led to the main wall quickly, thinking that the swelling roars of hate he could hear were a fine hymn upon which to wage war. He and Onyx and a coterie of his finest warriors emerged onto a cracked series of barbican ramparts, arranged in a saw-toothed pattern, freshly constructed behind the main walls.
Smoke wreathed the breaches and the Khalan-Ghol's main gate hung in splinters, a pack of frenzied dreadnoughts smashing through it. At their head, Honsou saw Lord Berossus, his mechanised arms hurling warriors before him in sprays of blood. A wild, orgiastic howling screeched from his vox-amp and Honsou grinned ferally as he knew that he would not allow Berossus to survive this battle.
Billowing clouds of scalding steam and the crack of splintering stone from beyond the ruined walls told him that the top of the great ramp was no more, the stone and earth running molten and collapsing under the strain of supporting Berossus's armoured column.
Virtually everything metal within the fortress had been smelted down and the forges had burned constantly to ensure that when Berossus's engineers breached the fortress from below - as Honsou had known they would - they would be tunnelling into a great reservoir of molten metal and not the catacombs they expected.
Honsou knew that a warsmith as gullible as Berossus did not deserve to live: his very existence weakened the Iron Warriors. To have believed that Honsou would not have known of Obax Zakayo's treachery and use him against his paymasters was ludicrous, but had proven to be his salvation.
Gunfire and explosions filled the interior space of the barbican as the vanguard of Berossus's army swarmed through the gate, though Honsou realised that it was no longer the vanguard, but its entirety. Now the odds were evened and Berossus would learn what it was to fight Honsou of the Iron Warriors.
Dreadnoughts charged towards the sandbagged gun pits, shrugging off weapon impacts and ripping men apart with wild bursts of weapons' fire. But behind the gun pits, disciplined teams of Iron Warriors picked off the armoured fighting machines with calm efficiency, their smoking hulks soon outnumbering those that still fought.
A dark shadow loomed above the fortress walls as the surviving Titan gripped the ruined battlements and began ripping them down with great sweeps of its piston-driven hammer arms. Blocks of stone the size of buildings crashed down amongst the warriors of both armies, killing a dozen men or more each time.
Huge assault ramps smashed down on the massive piles of rubble and debris, and Iron Warriors bearing the black and gold banner of Berossus charged from the shoulder bastions of the Titan.
'Iron Warriors!' shouted Honsou. 'Now is your time to show these bastards who is the master of Khalan-Ghol!'
His warriors roared in adulation, following their master down into the heat of the battle. The Iron Warriors of Berossus fought their way down the rubble of the breach, firing as they went and Honsou saw that they were warriors of courage and iron as volley after volley of lethally effective weapons' fire took a horrific toll on their numbers, but they did not falter.
The space between the smashed wall and the bunkers and saw-tooth walls Honsou had constructed was a killing ground: nothing could cross it and live. But with no way back, the Iron Warriors of Berossus had no choice but to advance into the teeth of Hon-sou's guns, and the carnage was awe-inspiring in its savagery.
More rubble fell from the main wall as the Titan smashed its way inside now that its cargo of warriors had disembarked. A shoulder-mounted cannon blasted a great crater in the centre of Honsou's defences and the warriors of Berossus cheered as they fought their way forwards once more.
Before it could fire again, a huge explosion ripped the cannon from the Titan's shoulder and a line of white fire stitched itself across its bloody carapace. From the smoke either side of the attacking Titan came a pair of similarly massive forms, Titans bearing the dread banners of the Legio Mortis. No longer required to guard the inner sanctum of Khalan-Ghol, the two terrifying daemon engines stalked from the rubble and smoke of the fortress's interior to do battle.
Berossus's last Titan roared at such worthy adversaries and turned its guns upon its new foes, leaving the Iron Warriors it had carried to look to their own battles. The ground shuddered at the tread of these mighty daemon machines, and whole sections of the walls were pulverised as they grappled with white-hot blades and screaming chainfists.
All subtleties and stratagems were meaningless now: the outcome of this storming would be decided at the end of a smoking bolter or upon the roaring blade of a chainsword. Iron Warriors charged one another, the battle degenerating into a close-range firefight and swirling melee of savage killers.
A fierce exhilaration pounded through Honsou's veins at the visceral thrill of such slaughter. He hacked his axe through the arm of an Iron Warrior, spinning on his heel to behead him before leaping the smoking corpse of a dreadnought to find more foes. Onyx followed him, killing any who dared come near the master of the fortress with casual swipes of his bladed fists.
Honsou saw the awesomely powerful form of Berossus through the swirling smoke and shouted, 'Onyx! To me!'
Uriel knew they did not have much time. The battle above was seething with the ferocity of a tempest, the screams of men in battle echoing from the high peaks. He climbed with all the speed he could muster, but their destination seemed always tantalisingly out of reach.
He did not want to get caught up in the fighting, but knew they had to reach the site of the battle before too much time had passed.
'Come on!' he shouted. 'We have to hurry!'
The Lord of the Unfleshed roared, 'You slow! Not fast like me!'
'I know!' shouted Uriel. 'But we cannot climb any faster!'
'We go faster!' said the Lord of the Unfleshed and reached out to grab Uriel's wrist, swinging him around and onto his shoulders so that he was being carried in much the same fashion as Colonel Leonid.
The ground swung dizzyingly below Uriel and he gripped onto the clammy, glistening flesh of the creature as it scaled the rocky flanks of Khalan-Ghol with terrifying speed.
He turned his head to see Pasanius scooped up in the same manner, and the speed of their ascent doubled.
'Go faster now!' promised the Lord of the Unfleshed. 'Tribe! On!'
Hundreds of the red, skinless creatures followed the Lord of the Unfleshed and Uriel was suddenly seized by a wild sense of abandonment.
They might be heading to their deaths, but what an end they would make for themselves!
He returned his gaze to the smoke-wreathed peak of the fortress, amazed at how different it now looked. When he had first laid eyes upon it, it had seemed utterly impregnable, fashioned from dark madness and impossibly hewn stone, and placed upon the highest peak. Now little of its lower reaches remained, save as blasted, dusty boneyards and its upper spire looked in danger of falling at any moment.
But having seen what happened to the huge ramp, Uriel knew that Honsou was not going to let his fortress fall without a damn hard fight.
He did not know exactly what had happened to the ramp, but watched in wonder as entire sections of its upper reaches cracked, and the tanks and men who climbed towards the fortress were swallowed who
le.
Streaming lines of smoking, orange liquid boiled from cracks in the side of the ramp, pouring down its sides like lava spilling from the crater of an erupting volcano. A vast, oozing lake of molten metal poured from the mouth of the tunnel at the base of the ramp, growing larger with every passing moment.
Hundreds of vehicles had mustered here and were caught in the flash flood of killing liquid. Uriel watched tanks burn and explode as their fuel and ammunition cooked in the awful heat.
Madly revving tanks barged into one another, crashing together in their desperation to escape, but succeeding only in forming an impenetrable logjam. Soon an army of fighting vehicles was reduced to molten slag without so much as a shot being fired.
'No.' whispered Uriel, as Honsou's fortress drew ever closer. 'If you are certainly not going without a fight.'
Chunks of stone and flesh were thrown skyward as wreckage and debris from the Titans' battle smashed into the ground. Another bunker was flattened and Honsou knew that, one way or another, this battle would soon be over. An Iron Warrior slashed a huge, crackling fist towards his head and he rolled beneath it, swinging his axe in a backhand sweep that cut the legs from beneath his opponent.
The warrior screamed and collapsed, clutching the stumps of his thighs as Onyx removed his head in the wake of his master, but Honsou carried on towards Berossus as the warsmith finally saw him coming.
'Half-breed!' roared the dreadnought, raising his arms in challenge. Though he was no longer a warrior of flesh and blood, Berossus had lost none of the ferocity he had displayed in life, his bronze-skulled sarcophagus blazing with diabolical energy.
The giant dreadnought braced its legs and lowered its monstrous drill ringed with heavy calibre cannons. Onyx leapt forwards as the cannons spooled up to firing speed, slashing his claws through the barrels in a shower of bright sparks.
For such a massive machine, Berossus was still inhumanly quick and his mighty, piston-driven siege hammer smashed into the daemonic symbiote and sent him spinning through the air.
'Now you die, half-breed!' screamed the dreadnought, bringing the monstrous hammer back for another blow and taking a crashing step towards him. Honsou struck out at Berossus's sarcophagus, but the thick, mechanical arms that sprouted from his armoured shell snatched out and deflected the blow, a screaming breacher drill stabbing for his chest.
Honsou spun around, the tip of the drill scoring across his breastplate and drawing blood before hammering his axe into the dreadnought's thick leg. The axe clanged from the limb, ricocheting from its thick armour and sending ringing Shockwaves up Honsou's arms.
Another explosion rocked the ground and Honsou was pitched from his feet by the blast. The giant dreadnought barely shook and a great, clawed foot slammed down, centimetres from his head. Honsou rolled between the armoured legs as the battle raged around them, Iron Warriors cutting each other down with furious savagery.
Berossus spun on the axis of his waist and a pair of his augmetic limbs slashed the ground. Honsou rolled backwards, the tip of Berossus's clawed arm catching the edge of his armour and spinning him off balance.
He felt a stinging blow to his leg and roared in pain as Berossus's breacher arm stabbed through his thigh. The drill ripped a great wad of bloody flesh from his leg and Honsou dropped to one knee. The dreadnought stepped close and its clawed arm closed on
Honsou's shoulder guard, lifting the struggling warrior high into the air.
'You have cost me dear, mongrel, but it ends now.' snarled Berossus. 'Your fortress is mine, no matter what happens.'
'Never!' shouted Honsou, fighting to free himself from his captor's grip, but Berossus had him firm and wasn't about to let go.
The dreadnought stabbed his breacher drill towards Honsou's face.
The master of Khalan-Ghol hurled his arm in front of the blow, the screeching of tearing metal and white-hot shavings spraying the air as the drill pierced the silver metal of Honsou's arm.
But instead of shearing straight through the arm and skewering Honsou's skull, the metal ran like liquid, reknitting itself as quickly as Berossus's arm attempted to destroy it. The dreadnought watched amazed as the drill stuttered and jammed within Honsou's arm. Even as Berossus paused, a black-armoured blur streaked through the air, twisting to land upon the upper mantlet of the dreadnought's carapace.
Onyx landed gracefully on one knee and powered both bronze claws down into the armoured shell of the dreadnought. The terrible machine roared in pain, its arms spasming and dropping Honsou to the cratered ground.
Honsou rolled away from the thrashing dreadnought as he heard a thunderous crashing behind him and the headless form of Berossus's Titan crashed through the last remaining portion of the main wall, hurling stone and blazing streamers of plasma through the air. One of his own Titans fell with it, shorn practically in half, and the impact to the two armoured leviathans sent Shockwaves through the earth that were almost the equal of the blast beneath the ramp.
A great cry of dismay went up and Honsou knew that he could end this now. Berossus fought to dislodge Onyx, his clawed arms slashing and stabbing the daemonic symbiote repeatedly. Honsou gripped his axe and sprang to his feet, not about to waste the chance his champion had gained him.
With a roar of hate, he charged forwards while the dreadnought's attention was fixated on Onyx and hammered his axe with all his strength into the now-unguarded portion of the dreadnought's leg where the armour was weakest.
Screaming, warp-forged steel met ancient metal crafted by forgotten technologies in a blazing corona of flaring energy. Berossus roared and smashed to the ground, slamming down on his back as Onyx leapt gracefully clear of the toppled machine.
'Call me half-breed now, you bastard!' screamed Honsou, stepping in and hammering his axe against the dreadnought's sarcophagus. The ancient metal split and Berossus wailed in agony as the daemon weapon tore into his iron body.
'Still think you're better than me?' yelled Honsou as he hacked at the dying dreadnought's body. Metal and sparks flew as the master of Khalan-Ghol butchered his iron foe. Berossus fought to right himself, but Honsou and Onyx gave him no chance, darting away from his clumsy blows and hacking his uselessly flailing limbs from his body.
'You're nothing, Berossus, nothing! Do you hear me?'
A grainy wash of static-laced, incoherence blared from Berossus's vox-amp, and Honsou vaulted onto the dreadnought's sarcophagus yelling, 'Perhaps you can't hear me through all that iron.'
He raised himself triumphant on the warsmith of the attacking army and brought his axe down again and again on the grinning skull-faced sarcophagus, finally splitting it apart with his fifth blow.
The sounds of battle faded and, for the first time in months, the fighting stopped as the battling Iron Warriors paused to watch the unfolding drama being played out before them.
Honsou knelt atop Berossus's sarcophagus and punched his pristine silver arm into the dreadnought. With a grunt and wrench, he ripped something clear in a welter of black blood and amniotic fluids.
He held up his arm and shouted, 'Your warsmith is dead!'
In his hand he held a monstrously swollen skull and dripping spinal column, fused wires like veins dangling from the last mortal remains of Warsmith Berossus.
The tension was palpable and Honsou knew he had to cow the scores of enemy warriors or risk this slaughter becoming a battle of mutually assured destruction. With a roar of hate, he swung the spinal column like a club and smashed Berossus's skull to splinters of bone against the ruptured iron shell that had once housed it.
'Your warsmith is dead!' he repeated, hurling away the remains. 'But you do not need to die! Berossus is gone and by right of conquest I offer any warrior who wants it a place in my army. You have proved yourselves warriors of courage, and I have need of such men.'
No one moved, and for the briefest second Honsou thought he had made a grave error.
But then a warrior in heavily tooled armour of burnished iron and spor
ting a burnt and tattered back banner of gold and black stepped forwards.
The warrior's armour was bloody and scored from the hard fighting. He removed his cracked helmet, revealing scarred and pitted features topped with a close-cropped mohawk.
'Why should we join you, half-breed?' he shouted. 'You may have defeated Berossus, but Toramino will wipe you and your fortress from the face of Medrengard.'
'What is your name, warrior?' said Honsou, jumping from the broken carcass of the dreadnought and marching purposefully towards the Iron Warrior.
'I am Cadaras Grendel, Captain of Arms of Lord Berossus.'
Honsou stood before the bloody warrior, seeing the defiance in his eyes.
'Aye.' agreed Honsou, raising his voice so that all the warriors gathered in the ruins of his fortress could hear him. 'You may be right, Cadaras Grendel. Toramino has the strength of arms to destroy me, I cannot argue with that. But ask yourself this... why has he not blooded his warriors yet?'
Honsou turned to address the rest of the assembled warriors, raising his arms and punctuating his words by punching the air with his axe. 'Where was Toramino while you all fought and bled to get here? You know who built this place and you know that only the bravest of warriors could take it. Where was Toramino while you were dying in your hundreds to storm this fortress?'
He could see his words were having the desired effect. Honsou felt a hot rash of adrenaline race around his body as he saw that he had correctly anticipated the rancour these brave Iron Warriors must have felt at the bloody work they did while Toramino's warriors watched them die.
'Toramino hung you out to dry and laughed while he did it. Even if you had succeeded here, do you think the spoils of Khalan-Ghol would be yours to plunder? Toramino has betrayed you, just as the Emperor betrayed the Iron Warriors in the ancient days. Will you be used like that or are you men of iron?'
'We are men of iron!' shouted Cadaras Grendel, the shout taken up by his surviving warriors.
Warhammer - Ultramarines 03 - Dead Sky, Black Sun (McNeill, Graham) Page 26
