obeyed with alacrity, the smoke that drifted from those impacts was not followed by fresh detonations. He swung the ponderous
head of his Warlord to the left, looking to see what damage the citadel's guns had inflicted on the main trench line, but the slowdrifting
smoke frustrated his efforts.
He linked his consciousness to the Titan's sensorium, noting that his battle group was moving a little too fast, outpacing the slower
tanks of the Guard in their haste for battle. Briefly he considered ordering Engineer Ulandro to reduce speed, but immediately
discarded the idea. It did well to reinforce their superiority over the Guard now and again, and a little rivalry between the different
arms of the citadel's defenders never hurt either.
The smoke ahead parted momentarily and his breath caught in his throat as he caught a glimpse of something vast and obscene
moving through the haze. Surely it could not be… it was too large.
But if it was…
He opened a channel to Princeps Cullain and Princeps Daekian, commanders of the Warlords on either side of him.
'Cullain, Daekian, did either of you see that?'
'See what, princeps?' asked Cullain.
'I saw nothing through the smoke,' affirmed Daekian. 'What did you see?'
'I'm not sure, but for a second it looked like—'
The words died in his throat as the wind lifted the concealing smoke and Fierach saw a towering nightmare lurch from the traitor
lines like a daemon from the warp. Its red and brass structure towered over him, its guns and towers horrifying in their size. The
monstrous Titan stepped towards him and its blazing green eyes seemed to lock with his own, promising nothing but death.
Fierach's heart pounded and the Imperator Bellum faltered in its stride, the mind impulse link attempting to match its princeps'
reaction.
'Blood of the Machine!' swore Cullain, the vox-link between the princeps still open.
'Legio Mortis!' snarled Daekian, recognising the skull icon on the massive enemy Titan's upper bastions.
Fierach saw the kill banner hanging between the gargantuan towers of the Titan's legs and the host of blasphemous symbols that
writhed there. Hot anger flooded him as he knew that some of those markings must represent Titans and princeps from the Legio
Ignatum. The beast's head was plucked from his worst nightmares, a hellish fusion of machine and daemon, the very image of
death.
Legio Mortis, the ancient foe! And not only that…
If he was not mistaken, this diabolical machine was none other than the dreaded Dies Irae, that infernal blasphemy that had
breached the walls of the Emperor's Palace at the dawn of the Imperium. Here on Hydra Cordatus. Could a warrior of the Legio
Ignatum ask for anything more? Fierach's lip curled in hatred, and burning excitement coursed through his veins at the thought of
combating this monster from the dawn of time. A primal battle fought between two ancient foes. The honour that would be his at
having finally brought down the Legio's most ancient nemesis was immeasurable. Fierach roared in battle fury.
'Clavis Regni, Honoris Causa and Battle Group Sword with me! Ignatum!'
'Princeps?' queried Cullain, 'Are you sure? Such a manoeuvre will leave the Jourans dangerously exposed.'
'Damn the Jourans!' bellowed Fierach, 'I want that Titan! Now be silent and follow me!'
Fierach bellowed to Engineer Ulandro for more speed and activated the Imperator Bellum's massive chain fist as he charged into
battle.
Graham McNeill ?Storm of Iron?
TWO
As THE ARTILLERY ceased its deafening barrage, the battle tanks of Leonid's charge spread into a line formation, firing everything
they had. The traitor lines vanished in explosions as the Imperial weaponry struck. The smoke was quick to disperse though,
blown clear by the day's breeze.
As the distance between the two forces closed, the wedges of troop carriers unfolded into line formation. Several of the heavier
tanks halted and assumed firing positions, their mighty battle cannons pounding the trench line. The noise was deafening as laser
fire, shell fire and artillery mingled with the bass rumble of straining tank engines. Leonid was dismayed to see how little an effect
their guns were having.
The gap between the two enemies closed still further.
Leonid watched the manoeuvres of his battalion with a fierce admiration. He had seen his share of combat, but there was nothing
quite so inspiring as watching an armoured cavalry charge across open ground. They were almost there and hundreds of tanks
belched smoke from their dispensers to confound the targeting spirits in their enemy's weapons.
He wondered why their Titan support hadn't opened fire yet as planned. He reached for the vox handset to request a fire mission
when a shot streaked from a bunker in the centre of the traitor line, covering the distance to its target in less than a second. A
Leman Russ was slammed sideways as the missile punched through its frontal armour. The superheated core of the missile ignited
the vehicle's fuel and cooked off its ammunition, blowing it apart in a greasy black fireball.
The shot was the signal for the rest of the Iron Warriors to engage and the line erupted in a flurry of lascannon shots and missile
contrails as the massed firepower of the traitor legion was unleashed.
The closest vehicles had no chance.
The gunners of the Iron Warriors picked off tanks with ease and huge explosions blossomed along the Imperial lines as lascannon
shots and missiles found their targets.
The screaming of soldiers was audible even over the continuous thump of explosions and the hiss of flashing lasers. Then the
heavier blasts of enemy Titan weapons joined the fray, blasting tanks to atoms with the unimaginable power of their weapons.
Trapped by the burning wreckage, tank drivers attempted to ram their vehicles to safety, the crash of buckling metal adding to the
din. A Leman Russ smashed into the remains of a blackened Chimera, attempting to clear a path, but a keen-eyed gunner spotted
the breakout and despatched the battle tank with a well-placed missile to the vehicle's rear.
The doors of the Leman Russ opened, spewing black smoke and burning Guardsmen from the crew compartment. They rolled
desperately in the dust while screaming in agony as the flames consumed them.
Leonid held on for dear life as bright spears of lascannon fire ripped through the armoured hulls of his Chimeras with ease.
Vehicles exploded in quick succession, slewing from the line and belching thick plumes of smoke.
He was flung sideways as his driver threw the Chimera into a series of screeching turns in an effort to throw off the enemy
gunners' aim. The Chimera crashed into the rear quarter of the burning tank and the roaring of its engine intensified as the frantic
driver gunned the engine and attempted to barge the heavier tank out of his way. But the Leman Russ was wedged tight and
immovable.
Leonid dropped into the Chimera's crew compartment and slammed the rear ramp release lever, yelling, 'Everybody out! Go! Go!
Go!'
His command squad needed no prompting. To stay in the Chimera was to die. Leonid hustled his men down the ramp before
following them into the confusion of the battle. He had barely cleared the ramp when a missile ripped through the side of the
Chimera. With the rear ramp open, much of the force of the explosion was vented outwards, but still the tank was lifted into the
air by the blast. Leonid staggered, feeling as though a giant fist had swatted him to the ground. He spat dirt, a terrific ringing in his
ears. He turned to see Ellard, his sergeant, yelling at him, but he couldn't make out the words. The sergeant pointed towards the
enemy trench line and Leonid nodded, hauling himself to his feet.
He saw Trooper Corde dragging a body, its sky blue jacket splattered red. He shouted, but realised he stood little chance of being
heard over the roar of explosions and gunfire.
Confusion reigned supreme as he saw scores of tanks and Chimeras belching noxious black smoke. A hand grabbed his shoulder
and he turned as Sergeant Ellard handed him his rifle. The sergeant had already fixed the bayonet for him and Leonid nodded his
thanks.
Bodies lay everywhere. On tanks. On the ground. Blood, fire, noise and screams.
All he could smell was smoke, burning oil and flesh.
Another vehicle exploded and he dropped to the ground, losing his grip on his rifle as red hot fragments scythed overhead, pinging
on the side of another tank.
Dim snatches of desperate shouts came to him. Shouted questions that made no sense. Calls for support, medics and extraction.
Soldiers lay all around in the oil-slick dust firing their rifles at the trench line. Without conscious thought, he grabbed his rifle
from the ground, shouldered it and began firing until the charge counter read empty.
He removed the empty power cell and slammed in a fresh one. It took him two attempts; his hands were shaking so much.
All around him, surviving tanks fired their main guns whilst their drivers desperately zigzagged in an attempt to evade the enemy
fire. Some succeeded and began returning fire against the traitors. Those that did not were quickly isolated and blown apart.
Leonid slithered across to Sergeant Ellard, who handed him a vox-unit as he ripped off his helmet and put the handset to his
mouth.
'Princeps Fierach? We need a fire mission now! Come in please! Where are you?'
The vox hissed and spat static at Leonid as he continued to call for help. 'Princeps Fierach, anybody, come in, damn it!
Graham McNeill ?Storm of Iron?
Acknowledge please!'
Garbled voices and more static were his only reply, and he threw down the handset in disgust.
'Colonel!' screamed Ellard, 'What's happening? Where the hell's our Titan support?'
Leonid scooped up his helmet, pushed it on and said, 'Damned if I know, sergeant.'
Another explosion rocked the earth close by. 'Sound off!' Leonid shouted, 'Who's missing?'
Corde yelled, 'Commissar Pasken and Lieutenant Ballis are dead and Lonov is wounded. I doubt he'll make it.'
Leonid nodded stoically and flinched as another vehicle exploded nearby. The squad was in bad shape, their faces blackened and
terrified. For many of them, it was their first real taste of hard combat and he knew that one of two emotions would win out here:
fear or courage.
In the first heat of battle an infantryman would be plunged into a flash flood of emotions. Terror, anger, guilt and hate. All the
feelings that boiled to the surface when confronted with the prospect of dying or killing another human being. In the right
combination they would carry a man forwards to the enemy, as a fearsome, merciless killer. But equally they could send him
fleeing in terror back to his own lines. Some men were born with the right combination, others needed it hammered into them.
It was his job to make sure he got the best out of his men and he knew that they were close to going either way. He'd have to push
them to get the fires of anger burning in their hearts. To stay here would drain their courage to the point that not even the threat of
a commissar would get them moving.
He scrambled to the edge of their shelter and ducked his head around the gutted Chimera, trying to get a feel for the situation.
By the Emperor, it was bad! The sky blazed red and black as scores of tanks burned fiercely and countless bodies littered the
bloody ground. Heavy weapons fire was sporadic now as the drivers whose vehicles had escaped the initial slaughter took refuge
behind their wrecked comrades. They were trapped, realised Leonid.
What the hell had happened to the Titans?
'CYCLE THE AUTO LOADERS!' yelled Princeps Fierach, 'and get those void shields back up!'
The Imperator Bellum was closing the gap between it and the Dies Irae, but it had taken a punishing barrage from the leviathan's
hellstorm cannon. From a distance the massive barrels appeared to be turning at a leisurely tempo, but the rate of fire was
deceptive and explosive shells had almost stripped them of their protective void shields in a single volley.
'Moderati Setanto, charge the plasma generators! Prepare to fire plasma cannon!'
'Yes, princeps!' replied the weapons officer.
Fierach knew that if they were to defeat this monster they had to quickly knock down the Dies Irae's shields or close with it and
take it down in close quarter battle. Neither prospect promised to be easy.
Fierach saw the Honoris Causa rock under a volley of gunfire from the enemy Titan, the enormous machine reeling under the
ferocious impacts. The Warlord staggered, one massive foot slamming down on the salient of the enemy trench system, crushing
two bunkers and a score of men. One of the Titan's arms slammed into the ground, sending up a tall plume of dust, the other
flailing wildly as Princeps Daekian fought for balance.
Fierach stepped forward to shield the Honoris Causa and raised his weapon arms as Moderati Setanto shouted, 'Plasma cannon
fully charged, princeps!'
'I have you now!' snarled Fierach as he unleashed a torrent of white-hot plasma at the devil machine before him. The viewscreen
darkened as the bolts struck the Dies Irae, its void shields flaring as they overloaded under the onslaught of the Imperator
Helium's guns. It was still shielded, but the range was closing.
The Reavers of Battle Group Sword circled to Fierach's right, using their superior speed to flank the enemy Titan. A flurry of
powerful laser blasts overloaded the void shields of the lead Reaver and even as its crew realised their danger, an incandescent
pulse of energy slashed from the Dies Irae's plasma annihilator and hammered into the command bridge in the head section.
Fierach shouted a denial as he saw a huge explosion rip the head from the Reaver and topple the machine. Gracefully, the Reaver
collapsed, its artificially generated muscle movements dying with its princeps. The machine's knees buckled and it smashed into
the ground in a vast cloud of red ash. The remaining four Reavers scattered as Fierach shouted for more speed.
As though sensing that the Imperator Bellum was the leader of this force, the Dies Irae turned its ponderous upper body to face
