Kingsblade

by Andy Clark

  ‘Well said, sire,’ said Jennika. ‘Duty and honour, my friends. We won’t show weakness in the eyes of the Emperor. This war is not done.’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ said Sire Markos, ‘but if you’ve been hearing the same vox chatter I have, then you know the reason we’re being called from so many different directions is that we’re losing a lot of fights. Throne knows we’re not about to turn tail and run back to Adrastapol, but this feels like a desperate battle. Where do we commit our strength?’

  ‘We commit where we can kill the most,’ said Suset Dar Draconis hatefully. ‘We make them pay for my brother, for Grandmarshal Gustev, for King Tolwyn. For all of them.’

  ‘We chased revenge before,’ cautioned Lady Eleanat, her voice momentarily distorted as repair servitors worked their way across Sagasitus’ dented carapace. ‘It led us only into destruction and defeat. That cannot happen again.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said Sire Olric, ‘but where then do we go? Which of the dozen battle-fronts scattered across this benighted continent is most deserving of our strength?’

  ‘Do we even know what’s going on?’ asked Luk Kar Chimaeros scornfully. ‘Has any of us genuinely had time to weigh the options and get a clear idea of the wider tapestry? Who is alive and who dead? Where the enemy are and what they’re trying to achieve?’

  ‘The lad’s right,’ agreed Markos dourly, over the rattle of his gatling cannon being reloaded. ‘We’ve been back on the vox for a matter of minutes, and it’s already patchy in places. We can pick a foe to fight, but Emperor only knows if it’ll be the right one.’

  Jennika glanced hopefully in the direction of Oath of Flame, whose hull was now half-engulfed in repair armatures and lit by the sharp glare of las-cutters. She prayed that her brother would say something. That he would lead. He said nothing, and the Lady Tan Draconis felt her frustration grow. Still, she would not question him directly. Doing so would court a violation of the Code, not to mention drawing attention to his apparent failings.

  ‘What we need,’ said Sire Olric firmly, ‘is proper strategium facilities so we can take a decent look at how the tapestry is woven.’

  ‘No!’ said Lady Suset angrily. ‘The nearest is Pentakhost, many days’ march from here. Days in which we should be taking the fight to the traitors.’

  ‘Lady Suset, remember the Code,’ said Jennika, though privately she agreed with every word the young Knight had said. ‘If duty compels us to Pentakhost, then hence we must go. No matter our personal feelings.’

  ‘At least then we’d be able to fully resupply,’ said Markos. ‘I confess, I erred when I called for action before intelligence. These aren’t barbarous orks we face. I’ve let the draconsfire burn out of hand since Tolwyn fell, and for that I’ll do penance, but I won’t make the same mistake twice. We should know where to strike before we act again, and gauge what our enemy plans. It sounded as though the beachhead would benefit from our aid, anyway.’

  ‘Well,’ said Sire Olric. ‘Then I suppose, in the absence of any other suggestions, it is decided? We should set out as soon as Polluxis has everyone mobile, would be my feeling. That way, we can…’

  ‘No.’ Danial’s voice cut across the vox exchange like a knife.

  ‘My liege?’ asked Sire Olric, uncertain. ‘I wasn’t sure that your vox was operable. Do you object?’

  ‘I do, Sire Olric,’ replied Danial, and Jennika raised her eyebrows at the surety she heard there.

  ‘Listen, lad,’ began Sire Garath. ‘Your elders have more experience than you in this sort of thing. Now’s hardly the time for you to…’

  ‘You address me as “my liege”,’ said Danial, interrupting once more.

  ‘What?’ asked Sire Garath, sounding wrong-footed, and not a little annoyed.

  ‘You call me “my liege”, Sire Garath. That is an incorrect form of address. “Your Highness” is acceptable. You will remember that you speak to your High King.’

  ‘Now listen…’ tried Sire Garath again, sounding truly angry now.

  ‘No, Sire Garath,’ said Danial firmly. ‘You have forgotten yourself, sire, and do yourself nothing but dishonour. Do not call me “lad”, or “boy”. Even “Da”. Any of you. Refer to me by my proper title. This crown I wear makes me more than just a figurehead. I am the son of Tolwyn Tan Draconis, and your rightfully appointed king in the eyes of the Emperor Himself. And as your king, I tell you that we will not be returning to Pentakhost.’

  In the silence that followed, cutters and drills whined, and auto-hammers thumped. Servitor limbs skittered. Jennika could only imagine Sire Garath’s face burning with embarrassment and anger, but the rebuke had been fair, and richly deserved.

  ‘All right,’ said Markos at last, a wary frown in his voice. ‘Your Highness. If we’re not returning to Pentakhost, then what do you suggest we do?’

  ‘Sendraghorst writes, Sire Markos, that when one loses one’s focus in a war, one soon loses the war as well,’ observed Danial. ‘We stand upon the brink of that precipice now, and one wrong step will see us fall. We have wandered far from the path the Emperor has laid for us. I have allowed it, with my unwillingness to rule, and my eagerness to curry your favour by indulging your desires for revenge. That ends now. We will not turn and flee with our duty still undone. We will take the fight to the foe in the valle electrum, and we will bring down the Adamant Citadels as was always our objective.’

  Several Knights cried out in disbelief, others in bloodthirsty approval.

  ‘My liege,’ said Sire Olric. ‘This is unwise in the extreme. Our strength is not what it was, while theirs has grown with the addition of our traitorous kin.’

  ‘I understand, Sire Olric,’ said Danial. ‘But that is true of the wider theatre, not just that one battlefield. Wherever we strike, the enemy’s strength will be prodigious. Better, then, to hit them where they least expect.’

  ‘What of gathering reinforcements, your highness?’ asked Lady Eleanat. ‘Surely if we were to link up with the Donatosians to the north…’

  ‘I don’t disagree,’ replied Danial. ‘But while the Adamant Citadels remain operative, there is no way to reach those regiments, or for them to reach us, without massive casualties. There is also the matter of the enemy’s scrapcode – our allies do not have the benefit of Polluxis’ data wards, and will continue to suffer unless we eliminate its source. We have to take the valle electrum first, my lady.’

  ‘If we do this,’ said Olric, ‘and if we fail, then the last hopes for Adrastapol and this world alike will be lost.’

  ‘You’re right, Olric,’ said Danial. ‘But it is the only way. I have thought long and hard about our options. I have examined the strategic overlay, listened to the vox network and considered the teachings of both the Sage Strategic and my father. The key to victory on this world is to eliminate the valle electrum. Not only will doing so rob our enemies of their greatest weapons, but it will crush their morale while ours will soar. The enemy are winning this war, my Knights, and we are the only force left on Donatos that can stop them. But we must strike this blow, and we must do so now. You know this as well as I.’

  ‘My liege,’ said Sire Markos, his tone heated. ‘Surely you must at least consider the retreat to Pentakhost. Attacking the valle electrum is madness. We’ll be wiped out. Dracon knows I’m all for fighting, but what you suggest is suicide. Your father would never have countenanced such a reckless waste of lives. I’m glad to see you taking on the mantle of kingship, I truly am, but not if you lead us into another massacre.’

  Jennika winced at the old Knight’s blunt words, but Danial’s response was firm and unwavering.

  ‘Sire Markos, I appreciate your counsel. And you are right, the odds are stacked against us. But Garath said it himself. Most of you are veterans with decades more experience of war than me. If you are honest with yourselves, you must surely see the same thing as I. We stand at the crux point of this war. If we retreat now, and cede the initiative to our enemies altogether, then it will not be a tacti
cal withdrawal, but the beginning of the retreat that sees us hand this world to the heretics and leave our kin unpunished for their crimes.’

  ‘It would take us many days’ march to reach Pentakhost,’ said Jennika. ‘And even should we find the beachhead still in Imperial hands, there is no telling what strategic gains our enemies would make in that time.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Danial. ‘Right now the enemy’s forces are scattered. They’re fighting on a number of fronts. Throne, many of them are no doubt still out on the hunt for us. But if we retreat now, if we afford the traitors time to conclude their battles in the north and reinforce their defences around the valle electrum? It will be rendered forever beyond our reach. We must strike now, my Knights. The Emperor will not give us another chance at redemption.’

  ‘I could argue further,’ said Sire Markos after a pause. ‘But Emperor damn me, you’re right, my liege. We have to strike now. Though I still don’t see how we’re going to go about it.’

  ‘Well,’ began Sire Olric. ‘We can’t risk a direct assault against the pass primus.’

  ‘Are you sure about that?’ asked Suset. ‘We did a lot of damage to their defence lines before…’

  ‘Before my father stabbed us in the back,’ finished Luk for her. ‘We did, Lady Suset, but there’s still the macrocannon batteries.’

  ‘We Pegasson can attest to their lethality,’ added Lady Eleanat grimly.

  ‘We can’t go that way,’ agreed Danial. ‘We need another way in. Something less defended.’

  ‘Tunnels?’ said Sire Percivane. ‘Anything like the warehouses we sheltered in? We could emerge right in the enemy’s midst.’

  ‘Unfortunately, Sire Percivane, no map or auspex data exists to support such a hypothesis,’ said Polluxis across the vox. ‘The valle electrum has only three entrances. All are mountain passes – the pass primus, the maw omnissan, and the nortus maximal. All are heavily fortified, and beyond any rational strategic cogitation of our current martial strength.’

  ‘Still, there are two other passes,’ said Danial. ‘Either might prove a chink in the enemy’s armour. Polluxis, have your acolytes provide a full strategic assessment of the maw omnissan and the nortus maximal. Defence schematics, vox-intercept of troop movements, hypothesis on weaponry and garrison strengths, anything else you believe would be useful.’

  ‘Yes, Danial Tan Draconis,’ said Polluxis.

  ‘Meanwhile, my Knights, I would have you send out coded requests for reinforcement. We may be cut off from our allies to the north, but we weren’t the only Imperial forces to escape the ambush. Any additional strength we can gather may aid us in breaking through.’

  At this, Jennika sat forward in her throne. She knew where she had heard the names of those passes, not long ago. A lone fragment of transmission from a Marauder Bomber squadron that suddenly seemed a blessed message from the Emperor himself.

  ‘My lords,’ she said excitedly. ‘I don’t believe we are alone in this endeavour. I know where we must strike.’

  Act Three

  Inferno

  Upon the advice of the Lady Jennika Tan Draconis, the Knights of Adrastapol marched north along ravaged highways, across rocky, polluted highlands and through industrio-conurbations. They walked beneath shell-­cratered bridges and passed transparisteel arco-shrines where damaged servitors still auto-flagellated in the Omnissiah’s name, and through the scattered wreckage of ferocious looking battles. They waded through a miles-wide cloud of choking black smoke that would have killed their Cadian allies, had they not been sealed away within their transports. The source of that smoke turned out to be a sprawling refinerum complex in a nearby valley, its structures wreathed in flame and blazing like a preacher’s image of damnation. On occasion, aircraft and winged daemon engines raced high overhead, locked in frenzied dogfights. Higher still the firmament was streaked by the contrails of orbital wreckage burning up on re-entry.

  Donatos had been mauled by war, savaged by it, and seemed as likely to die of its wounds as it did to ever recover. Many Adrastapolian lives had been lost already, and more would fall before the end. It is said that High King Danial was deeply troubled by the destruction he saw all around him, but that it seemed only to strengthen his resolve. The young king had set his followers on this path, convinced them to the best of his abilities that it was the correct one. Now he had but to follow it.

  Danial led just twenty-six Knights by this point. Several steeds had been beyond the Sacristans’ abilities to repair with the limited resources they had left. Those they could not restore had been hobbled to prevent the enemy salvaging them, and then left behind. Their thrones had been removed and stowed upon the Sacristan Crawlers, their unseated pilots forced to ride in ignominy within those same vehicles for the remainder of the campaign. Polluxis had assured King Danial that, Omnissiah willing, the lost steeds could be recovered once victory on Donatos had been achieved. For now, though, the noble machines lay abandoned in their wake. It was another weight for Tolwyn’s son to hang upon his conscience, part of the burden of being High King.

  As they marched, King Danial’s Knights vox-communed with Imperial forces already engaged around the nortus maximal. It was these brave warriors that Lady Jennika had overheard while seeking Danial’s hunt-party, and it was from them that the Knights of Adrastapol discovered a potential route into the valle electrum.

  As it transpired, a substantial Imperial force had been battering the defences of the nortus maximal for several days. The betrayal upon the plains had cost the Imperial invasion dear, but King Danial and his followers had not been the only ones to fight their way clear. Leading remnants of the Tanhollis 601st and several tank squadrons from the Cadian 454th, the Mubraxian Sheik Halna’sir had sought to rally his forces, and to strike again at the valle electrum. The sheik had been aided in this by the disgraced Donatosian Commander Korgh, reports of whose death had proved false. The commander’s local knowledge had proved invaluable, allowing his new comrades to locate and capture a hardened vox-relay bunker seven miles west of the nortus maximal. With this crucial asset, Sheik Halna’sir had coordinated air support from the Imperial Navy, beginning a steady bombardment of the pass. Substantial damage had been caused and as further Imperial dregs gathered to Halna’sir’s banner they had even succeeded in hurling back a traitor counter-attack, felling several House Wyvorn Knights in the process. However, the Imperial forces were still hampered by the scrapcode emanating from the valle electrum – vox and auspex were all but useless within a mile of the pass, while those forces pressing closer had found their systems malfunctioning, and even seen maddened machine-spirits turning weapons upon their users.

  Worst were the casualties suffered by the brave pilots of the Imperial Navy. Those craft that strayed too far into the airspace of the valle electrum dropped from the sky like stones. Combined with the hammering fire from the traitor-held Icarus batteries within the pass, the Navy pilots had lost dozens of craft.

  Through such brave sacrifice does the Imperium of Mankind endure, and with their lives these warriors had bought King Danial’s forces a chance at victory. They had weakened the defences of the nortus maximal enough that a determined charge by the Knights of Adrastapol might carry the pass and permit them entry to the valle electrum beyond. Now was the moment for High King Danial to prove that he was worthy of his crown, and for his noble Knights to reclaim their tarnished honour.

  Reports tell of how King Danial was both shocked and impressed at the dedication the flight helots had shown to the Emperor with their continued attack runs. As his forces crested a ridge and flowed down the transitway towards the smoke-wreathed mouth of the nortus maximal, the High King must have hoped that they could make each and every martyrdom worthwhile.

  – Extracted from the writings of Sendraghorst,

  Sage Strategic of Adrastapol,

  vol XVII ‘The Donatos Uprising’

  As Oath of Flame crested the ridge, Danial saw the battlefield spread out below. He led hi
s followers down a dusty transitway, the mountains looming to their right and a sprawl of urban wasteland to their left. Ahead waited the massed ranks of the Astra Militarum, thousands upon thousands of infantry, battle tanks and artillery pieces needing only the Knights to lead them to war. Their guns were turned towards the dark maw of the nortus maximal, the mountain pass belching smoke from fortifications that were battered, but unbowed.

  ‘Danial,’ voxed Markos over a private channel. ‘Orbital auspex confirms the Donatosian intelligence.’

  ‘The traitor Knights have turned upon the Word Bearers, then?’ asked Danial.

  ‘It seems so,’ confirmed Markos, ‘though our ships are hard-pressed in the void, so they’ve not been able to confirm specifics.’

  ‘Still, that’s good news,’ said Danial. ‘Such are the wages of heresy. It looks as though the Emperor is smiling upon us, eh Markos?’

  ‘It does, my liege,’ replied the herald.

  ‘But…?’ prompted Danial.

  ‘But there’s still the Adamant Citadel to consider, my liege,’ said Markos. ‘Once we advance on the pass, we’ll walk straight into range of missiles. Even with Halna’sir’s support, casualties will be grim.’

  ‘They will,’ agreed Danial. ‘But there’s little we can do about that now, save pray to the Emperor. Our faith will have to be shield enough until we can get inside its minimum range.’

  ‘By which point we’ll have Throne-knows what else to deal with,’ said Markos. ‘Thousands of bloody Word Bearers, probably.’

  ‘Let us hope not,’ said Danial. ‘But as you have told me on many occasions, Sire Markos, wars are not won with an excess of caution. Besides, this attack, it’s what my father would have done. I know it.’