by Andy Clark
‘Another assumption,’ replied Jennika, but Gustev Tan Minotos cut her off.
‘Lady Tan Draconis, we fled the turncoats’ ambush wounded and demoralised. Gerraint Tan Chimaeros is a direct and decisive commander – if he’d known where we were, he would have struck the killing blow. Even if he had a reason to hold off, he would never have been able to restrain that thug Tan Wyvorn. And Emperor alone knows about those Word Bearers abominations.’
‘Considering the atmospheric conditions, and the continued security of our rally point,’ put in Major Kovash, ‘it does seem unlikely that the enemy knows our whereabouts at this time, Lady Tan Draconis.’
Jennika bridled at the grandmarshal’s boorish interruption, but she seemed mollified by the Cadian officer’s words.
‘Even assuming that this is a genuine error on their part,’ she said, reining in the rumblings of the Knights, ‘the fact remains that we don’t know where they’re going, or what strength of the foe would await us there.’
‘It can’t be the valle electrum,’ said Sire Olric confidently. ‘That much seems clear. The round trip for our enemies after the bridge fell would be wildly circuitous. It wouldn’t be practical to maintain such a regular patrol from so distant a locale – the Knights’ machine-spirits would become fatigued.’
Danial was beginning to feel a spark of excitement in his gut now. What if it were true? If there was a chance to execute one or both of the traitor leaders then they had to take it, irrespective of the risks. He wasn’t sure he understood the full import of what his ancestors had shown him yet, but he was certain that the Viscount Tan Chimaeros was dabbling with dark forces that made him even more dangerous. Typical, he thought, that he had spent days in waiting, and now there was no time to think everything through. Still, to eliminate that threat before it could bring further harm to his subjects would be a relief beyond Danial’s ability to express.
Then, of course, there was the not-inconsiderable matter of exacting revenge for his father’s death. That alone made him want to seize the opportunity with both hands. He remembered Jennika’s words, though, tempering his growing excitement with caution.
‘High Sacristan,’ he said, ‘tell me that you can ward off the scrapcode at last?’
The robed priest bowed his head, eye-lenses glinting.
‘I regret, High King Danial Tan Draconis, that we cannot do so yet. I cogitate a minimum of sixteen hours and twenty-one minutes approximate before our wards are satisfactory. Additional, in eighteen hours precisely the micromanufactora aboard our Crawlers will have completed construction of a new wave of cherubim to replace the losses suffered by the Heavenly Host. At that time, it will be viable to deploy with full strategic cognisance.’
‘Too long!’ barked Markos angrily. ‘Dangerously so! Tan Chimaeros is a lethal foe, and even if he doesn’t know where we are, you can be sure that the longer we leave him untroubled, the worse a situation we’ll face when we finally sally forth. Gerraint and his traitors are out there now. We’ve got an opportunity, but who knows if it’ll still be there the best part of a day later. Danial, lad, wars weren’t won with an excess of caution. We should seize this moment while it’s there. For your father’s sake.’
Danial could hear the sense in Markos’ words, but also the frustration of a Knight trapped by inactivity for too long. He felt it too, like the drudgery of courtly ritual magnified a hundredfold. He wanted revenge, and he felt in his gut that his fragile new rule needed his warriors’ approval lest the throne crumble beneath him.
‘High King,’ put in Lady Eleanat of House Pegasson. ‘I would urge you, consider carefully. Surely at this juncture our priority should be to consolidate with other Imperial forces. We are stronger together, after all, and we have no idea of our enemies’ numbers. Our duty is still victory on this world in the Emperor’s name.’
‘A victory that we’re not going to win while my father draws breath,’ said Luk grimly. ‘He’s dangerous, you know this, Lady Eleanat. I mean no disrespect, for the wisdom of House Pegasson is beyond question. But Markos is right. The longer we leave Gerraint Tan Chimaeros to plot, the worse our chances of victory become.’
Lady Eleanat glanced scornfully at Luk.
‘When I wish the counsel of a Freeblade, I will demand it of you,’ she said, sniffing haughtily.
Danial drew a deep breath, and looked to Jennika. She inclined her head to him, her expression neutral.
‘It is your decision, my liege,’ she said. ‘We will obey whatever command you give.’
Danial saw again, in that moment, the terrible dark doorway, and the hooded figures stood around it. He saw the corrupted Chimaeros banners, and Gerraint Tan Chimaeros’ fist ripping through his father’s steed. He thought of the same thing happening to his sister because he had shown weakness, or hesitation.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘I have heard your thoughts, and made my decision. High Sacristan, I want you to redouble your efforts. Whatever it takes, I want our vox and auspex fully operational again.’
‘As the Omnissiah wills it, so it shall be,’ replied Polluxis.
‘Jennika,’ Danial continued. ‘I want you to handpick two lances from amongst our remaining strength to lead. You will remain here to protect the Sacristans and secure this position.’
Danial knew his sister well enough to see her frustration at his choice, but she nodded all the same.
‘Major Kovash,’ he continued. ‘Keep your forces ready to move out at a moment’s notice, and if we have not returned or gotten word to you within one day, you and my sister are to make for Pentakhost. If we’re lost, I need people I trust to rally the defences there and be ready to continue the war.’
‘It shall be done, High King,’ replied Kovash, saluting crisply.
‘The rest of you,’ said Danial, raising his voice and casting his gaze around the circle. ‘Make immediate preparations and don panoply. We are marching out on the enemy’s trail. Nominate your best trackers – they will lead this hunt. We will stalk our betrayers back to their lair, and there destroy them!’
Cheers erupted at Danial’s words. Fists punched the air, and blades were brandished.
‘For High King Danial,’ shouted Sire Percivane. ‘And for the Emperor!’
‘For my father,’ replied Danial grimly.
The Adrastapolian Knights emerged from their sanctuary at full stride, pounding up the ferrocrete ramps from the shadowed warehouses that had hidden them. Their lumens were lit and their auto-pennants snapped and fluttered in the whistling winds. As the lightning-split clouds spread above them, scrapcode began to claw at the Knights’ systems. Forty Imperial Knights spread out into the crumbling ruin of the industria, towering gods of iron and adamantium shaking the rubble with their footfalls as they formed up behind their scouts.
As he manoeuvred Oath of Flame into position directly behind the vanguard of his force, Danial remembered his sister’s last words to him before he mounted up.
‘Take care, Danial,’ she had said, gripping his wrist. ‘I should be going with you, and fighting at your side, but I understand your choice. Just know, little brother, you’re the future of our House. More than that, you’re the last family I have left. Don’t you dare die out there, or I’ll find you when I get to the Emperor’s table and kick your arse.’
Danial had not wanted to leave Jennika behind, but there was no one he trusted more. If he did not return from this hunt, he knew that he could count on her to get back to the Imperial lines and keep the fight going from there.
Touching his grandfather’s amulet, Danial wished his sister good fortune and safety beneath the dracon’s eye. Then he opened a vox channel.
‘Knights of Adrastapol. We march.’
A chorus of static-warped cheers came back to him, along with a comforting swell of pride and determination from within his throne. They would right a great wrong this day, he vowed as Oath swayed and rumbled around him. He owed his father that.
The Knights followed a westerly course. No
Crawlers accompanied them – Danial was not willing to risk the small compliment of Sacristans who remained. At the fore, the trackers followed electrochemical machine-spoor and heavy, Knightly footprints. Lady Eleanat of House Pegasson led the scouts in her Paladin Sagasitus, for her skill as a machine-scout was well known. With her marched Sire Boriss of House Minotos, and Lady Suset Dar Draconis, whose abilities with auspex and sensor-tracking during her years of squiring had been second to none.
Those three led the way through empty, rain-lashed streets. Rusting vehicles were strewn across the Knights’ path, bullet-riddled remnants of the initial uprising. They passed through tumbledown mercantile quarters, where once barter-markets had crammed the transitways between towering commercia and aquila-fronted warehouses. They skirted collapsed hab-blocks, and made their way through the scrap-metal and rotting remains of old battles. The Knights pushed on as the hours ticked slowly past, beneath the dead-eyed glare of ancient gargoyles and the stained-glass judgement of immortalised saints. Once or twice the advance slowed as the trackers sought out the fading trail, but always it was found again. The Knights’ auspexes swept their surroundings, but found no hint of danger.
The march was nearly four hours in when the terrain began to change. Crags broke the urban sprawl. Transitways and mag-rail lines wound between the rocky outcroppings, which towered over the advancing Knights. Their flanks were thick with industrial pipework, petrochemical vats, and jutting agglomerations of refinery structures that snorted flame and smoke into the skies. The Adrastapolians slowed as they pushed along the ravines between the crags, where in places only two or three Knights could walk abreast. Warning that the terrain was perfect for an ambush, Sire Markos dropped back, telling Danial that he would keep his eye on the rear-guard.
After another wearing hour of cautious advance, Lady Eleanat and her scouts voxed that there was, indeed, an enemy stronghold, and that it lay dead ahead. The loyal Knights of Adrastapol joined Eleanat amidst the shadows at the edge of the crag-fields, and beheld a grandiose sight.
‘What,’ breathed Danial, slowing the Oath to a standstill, ‘is that?’
Rising from a landscape of petrochemical swamps and abandoned manufactory plots, a singularly vast tower rose into the sky. Gun turrets and huge stablights dotted the fortress’ flanks between spy-gargoyles and tangles of auspex arrays. The slab-sided building was crowned with an enormous bronze aquila, while its feet were surrounded by walls, razor wire and squat, ugly guard towers. An armoured gate barred access to the compound beyond, standing twice the height of the tallest Knight. Several Knights in the panoply of House Chimaeros could clearly be seen, striding a slow patrol route around the fortress’ outer wall.
‘Doesn’t look as though they’ve detected us,’ said Danial.
‘We’re still outside effective auspex range, sire,’ replied Lady Suset. ‘The rain and shadows should prevent physical detection, Emperor willing.’
‘This must be the Adeptus Arbites precinct-fortress for this sector,’ said Danial, looking at the statues of scales and cruel-faced judges that topped the building’s secondary spires. ‘A good choice of stronghold, fortified and well-armed, too, if they’ve roused the machine-spirits of those turrets.’
‘Long range auspex shows multiple engine signatures within the compound around the building’s base,’ reported Lady Eleanat, ‘and the Chimaeros machine-spoor leads right up to the gates.’
‘No way to tell for sure whether Tan Chimaeros or Tan Wyvorn are actually in there,’ said Markos.
‘Agreed,’ said Danial, his mind working over possible plans of attack. ‘But we can’t ignore the chance that they are. Scouts, can we get any more data information?’
‘I’m working on my auspex,’ replied Suset Dar Draconis. ‘There’s a few advantages to having grown up in the Drake’s Forge. Just… um… don’t tell the Sacristans, my liege…’
‘Can you see anything more of the foe, Lady Suset?’ he asked with the ghost of a smile.
‘Well, my king, I think I may have offended Embersword’s machine-spirit, but I can tell you that there’s… perhaps… eight Knights in there? Twelve at the most? As well as the sentries, of course. But I’m reading some strange energy interference, also.’
‘Good enough, my lady,’ said Danial, feeling strangely buoyed by Suset’s aid. ‘Thank you. Say fifteen Knights in total – that’s within the strictures of the Code for garrisoning a hunt stronghold. Or providing Gerraint Tan Chimaeros with a bodyguard.’
‘It is,’ agreed Sire Olric. ‘I counsel that we strike at once, while the numbers are in our favour.’
‘If Gerraint’s there then we put him down like the dog he is,’ agreed Markos. ‘If not then I say we take the place and lay a trap of our own for their returning hunt parties.’
‘There’s still the chance that this is a trap,’ cautioned Danial. ‘The terrain here is too open to conceal steeds. But we don’t know what other heretical trickery they might have prepared.’ Again he saw the dark door, and the ominous thing that lurked within.
‘Whatever they’re up to,’ said Markos, ‘we need to make a choice. You need to make a choice, lad. Do we get down there and attack, or turn around and march all the way back for nought?’
Honour, lad, whispered a voice from his throne. Courage, came another, and a strong leader doesn’t turn from a fight. Yet another sighed through his mind like a cold breeze, a voice he thought he dimly recognised. Keep your wits about you, when hunting a beast to its lair it said, for there’s nought more dangerous than cornered prey.
The herald made no attempt to hide which course he felt was right, and Danial knew he was not alone. He could hardly march his warriors all the way out here and then refuse a chance to strike down the traitor leaders. He was still concerned. But forty Knights against fifteen? Those were the sort of fights the loyalists needed to be engaging in and winning swiftly, if they wanted to bring their foe’s numbers back down to a level with their own. In the end, it wasn’t really a choice at all.
‘Very well,’ said Danial. ‘We have a chance to strike a blow against our foes, and we shall not shrink from it. With our numbers and the element of surprise, a swift, decisive strike will secure victory before the traitors can react. Priority targets are the Knights outside the walls – those we eliminate with mid-range firepower. Meanwhile, Wardens and Crusaders will destroy the main gate to the compound. Give us a way in, but expect the enemy to mass around it. Gallants and Errants, you will form the lance point. Aim for the gate, but be prepared for swift manoeuvres once our enemies commit their strength. Let the draconsfire burn within you! In Excelsium Furore!’
Danial felt a thrill of adrenaline course through him as his steed strode from the shadows. Around him his subjects did the same, servomotors howling and reactors roaring as they accelerated to a walk, and then a decisive stride. The handful of surviving Gallants moved to the fore, their pilots goading them into a loping charge at the forefront of the attack. As one, the loyalist Knights of Adrastapol emerged from the ravines of the crag-field and out across the wasteland before the Arbites fortress.
‘High King,’ came Gustev’s voice across the vox. ‘Permission to give ’em a taste of the third aria?’
‘Not this time, grandmarshal,’ replied Danial. ‘We keep surprise on our side for as long as we can.’
Pride swelled within Danial’s breast at the sight of his loyal Knights pressing forward into battle, their noble steeds glorious. It felt good to be striking back, at last. Good to finally act, and whatever consequences came from that decision he would own them, as a good king must.
Ahead, the Chimaeros steeds began to turn, their auspexes no doubt howling warnings.
‘Honoured sires,’ said Danial. ‘Unshroud your wrath, and fire at will.’
Several dozen weapons flared in response, shells and missiles whipping across the wastes. Two enemy Knights were smashed from their feet instantly, while the third staggered as explosions battered its shield. At t
he same time, explosions blossomed around the gate. Shrapnel flew. With a monstrous groan, the massive gates buckled inward and fell, crashing backwards into the compound beyond.
‘Auspex,’ said Markos over the vox, ‘enemy movements?’
‘Beyond the gate, sire,’ replied Suset in a voice of intense concentration. ‘The scrapcode’s making it difficult but… yes, they’ve moved to either edge of the gateway. Whoever goes through that gate is going to get hit hard.’
Danial smiled coldly, and felt a surge of confidence as the enemy reacted as he had predicted they would. When menaced by a narrow breach, the wise Knight makes another whispered his throne, and Danial nodded in agreement.
‘Gallants, Errants,’ he ordered. ‘Slow your stride. All long guns, split fire between mark point-one-three and mark point-one-nine.’
Danial’s fingers twitched in his haptic gauntlets, flagging targeting data for his comrades. A moment later the thunder of heavy guns sounded. Fifty yards to either side of the gate, devastating firepower chewed into ferrocrete and slab-armour. Shot after shot struck home, and amidst thunderous clouds of explosions the walls blew in as savagely as the gate had. Through the smoke and flying rubble, Chimaeros Knights could be seen reeling back as the debris hit them.
‘Now,’ shouted Danial, adrenaline surging, ‘Gallants, Errants, force those breaches. For Tolwyn!’
‘For Tolwyn!’ they roared, and the ground shook as the Knights pressed their attack. Desultory enemy fire whipped through the newly blasted breaches, but it splashed from the ion shields of the loyalist Gallants. Oath of Flame loped in behind Sire Jeremial Dar Minotos’ Thunderclap. Through fire and smoke, Danial saw the Minotos Gallant shrug off the churning fire of a Chimaeros Knight Warden, then swing a ruinous uppercut into its attacker. Sire Jeremial’s thunderstrike gauntlet ripped up through his enemy’s sternum-plating and into the cockpit behind. Caged lightning leapt wildly as the Chimaeros Knight came apart in a terrible way, and its sundered wreckage crashed over backwards.
Danial swept left and right for his own targets. Wading in through the rubble and smoke, a foe flanked Thunderclap. An enemy Errant, about to fire.
