Fierach.
This was how it was meant to be. Man against daemon, flesh, bone and steel against whatever horror animated the daemonic
machine.
The Clavis Regni charged before him, its void shields flaring as enemy heavy tanks and weapon teams added their fire to that of
the Dies Irae. Impacts hit his own Titan, knocking down another shield, and, as he saw another battle group of enemy Titans
emerge from the smoke with hundreds of tanks following them, Princeps Fierach knew doubt for the first time in many years.
It was not for nothing that this foe had stalked the galaxy with impunity these last ten thousand years. It was a deadly enemy and
many a vaunted princeps had met his end by its guns.
A volley of cannon fire from the enemy reinforcements slammed into the Clavis Regni and Fierach watched, horrified, as his
brother princeps struggled to hold his Titan upright. Flames roared from the inferno gun mounted on its arm and suddenly the
weapon exploded, showering the Clavis Regni with superheated fuel.
Moderati Yousen shouted, 'Princeps! Colonel Leonid requests immediate support. He reports they are taking heavy casualties!'
Fierach nodded, too busy to respond as he sidestepped a powerful blast from the Dies Irae's defence laser. He felt, rather than saw,
another of the Reavers go down, the war machine toppled by the horrendous firepower arrayed against them.
One of the enemy Titans lurched towards the Imperator Bellum, shielding it from the fire of the Dies Irae, its monstrous head
swinging ponderously from side to side as it charged.
Fierach stepped forward to meet this new foe, swinging his chainfist at the Titan's head. The vast motorised saw-blade grazed the
armoured carapace of the enemy machine, sliding clear in a shower of fat orange sparks. In reply, the monster thrust its own
Graham McNeill ?Storm of Iron?
roaring chainblade at the Imperator Bellum's midsection. Fierach felt the thunderous impact, the shriek of tearing metal as the
energised blade ripped through the thick armour of his Titan like paper.
Screams filled the internal vox as men below died and Fierach heard Engineer Ulandro yell, 'Princeps! We have a reactor breach
on level secundus!'
Fierach didn't reply, desperately fending off another blow from the enemy Titan and stepping inside its guard to deliver a mighty
stroke across its neck. Orange fire blasted from the enemy war machine as the Imperator Bellum's blade sheared through its
armour and tore its head from its body. Fierach roared in triumph as massive secondary explosions ripped through the falling
Titan.
Smoke boiled throughout the command bridge and furious red warning symbols flashed urgently before Fierach. The reactor was
going critical, but he knew that Ulandro was the best there was, and if he couldn't prevent an overload, then no one could.
He swung the Imperator Bellum around in time to see the death of the Clavis Regni, its void shields finally collapsing in a
spectacular pyrotechnic display as its generators overloaded and massive explosions whiplashed inside the machine. The Titan
convulsed as the internal detonations ripped it apart from within and Fierach bellowed in anger to see such a heroic Titan die in
such a manner.
A thunderous impact shocked him from his fury and he turned to see the Dies Irae in all its hellish glory, its leg bastions wreathed
in flames. He snarled, pushing the Imperator Bellum forwards as he saw yet more warning runes wink into life on the reactor
panel.
Engineer Ulandro was fighting a losing battle to contain the reactor breach, and as Fierach heard the desperate, pleading screams
of the Imperial Guard soldiers over the vox, he knew he had made an unforgivable tactical decision.
By indulging his lust for vengeance on the Legio Mortis, he had deserted his brother soldiers, and Fierach was filled with shame.
The Reavers of Battle Group Sword had defeated the supporting enemy Titans, but only two remained standing, flames billowing
from their weapon mounts and twisted carapaces.
He had doomed them all.
The Clams Regni was gone, but the Honoris Causa still stood, trading shots with the Dies Irae in an unequal battle that could have
but one outcome.
Fierach opened a channel to Princeps Daekian as he marched resolutely towards the firefight.
'Daekian! Pull back eastwards, reinforce the Jouran units.'
'Princeps?' queried a breathless Daekian.
'Do it, damn your eyes! Take what's left of Sword and try and salvage something from this disaster!'
'Yes, princeps,' acknowledged Daekian.
Fierach saw the reactor breach was getting steadily worse and felt a fatal sluggishness to the lmperator Bellum's movements. The
god-machine was dying, but he would not allow such a mighty warrior to walk the road to hell alone and turned his Titan to face
the towering form of the Dies Irae.
Death awaited him and he welcomed it.
Suddenly calm, Fierach said, 'Daekian, I ask only one thing of you. Avenge us.'
LEONID'S SQUAD HUDDLED in the dust, glittering with the sheen of spilt engine fuel, and kept their heads down as the constant
thump of heavy weapon fire blasted from the enemy trenches.
Despite shouted promises over the vox-net, their Titan support had yet to materialise. The Chimera rocked with the Shockwaves
of nearby explosions and Leonid had to shout to be heard over the noise of battle.
'Corde! Any news on those Titans?'
Guardsman Corde shook his head furiously as another blast shook their refuge and Leonid knew that it was only a matter of time
before the Chimera was blown to bits.
The entire squad, or at least what was left of it, was filled with the same indignant fury as Leonid, and even the normally placid
Guardsman Corde was hell-bent on getting to grips with the enemy.
But, courageous as they were, it would be almost impossible for them to charge across such open ground. They would be heroes,
but not even heroes could take a missile and survive, no matter how brave they were. Leonid knew that they had to do something
and realised that this was a time when he had to earn the rank badge on his shoulder boards. This was the time when, as a leader,
he had to do just that. Lead.
His mind made up Leonid turned to face Ellard and shouted, 'Sergeant, gather the men. We're going forward!'
The sergeant looked for a moment as though he hadn't heard Leonid, then nodded sharply and started shouting at the men,
gathering them into position. Leonid snatched the handset of the vox unit carried on Corde's back and opened a channel to the
units under his command.
'All units, this is Lieutenant Colonel Leonid. We are attacking the traitor trench line. Be ready and remember, the Emperor expects
every man to do his best! Leonid out.'
He dropped the vox and locked eyes with Ellard.
'Ready, sergeant?'
Ellard nodded. 'As I'll ever be, sir. You?'
Leonid grinned. 'I guess we're about to find out.'
He reached out to shake Ellard's hand, saying, 'Good luck, sergeant.'
'You too, sir.'
Leonid hefted his rifle and, after taking a deep breath to slow his pounding heart, burst from cover with a roar of hatred. His
command squad rose and followed their leader's example, charging forwards with a howling battle cry.
Gunfire reached out to them, instantly cutting a swathe of Guardsmen down and scattering the rest.
Graham McNeill ?Storm of Iron?
'Spread out! Spread out!' yelled Leonid.
They fired their lasguns and grenade launchers, but the range was too great.
Despite the tiny impact Leonid's command squad had on the traitor line, the effect on the Imperial troops was electric.
The embers of a fierce, wounded pride and a towering sense of outrage were stoked amongst his soldiers. The men of the Jouran
Dragoons rose and followed their courageous commanding officer.
Leonid and Ellard charged forwards together, their boots throwing up great clouds of ash behind them. The squad followed at their
heels, incoherent yells of anger and fear carrying them through the fire.
Hot adrenaline dumped into Leonid's system. As he fired his rifle, he was engulfed by a wash of emotions. Mad exuberance
gripped him, a wild sense of danger and excitement. His fear was swept away and he laughed with the sheer vitality he possessed.
The sky above had never seemed quite so red, nor his eyes so preternaturally sharp. He could make out the faces of the enemy
before him in graphic detail.
He felt like he was charging in slow motion, bullets and lasfire flashing past him like bright streamers, and he turned to yell
encouragement at the men behind him. Explosions burst around him, but he ran on, invincible.
New strength filled his limbs and he surged ahead of the others.
Firing from the hip, the noise was incredible. He heard wild howling. His own?
Something jerked his sleeve. Sharp red pain blossomed up his arm, but he didn't care.
He was riding a wave of courage and insanity.
A terrible roaring, ripping sound dopplered in and out and he saw the din kicked up in spurts before him. The line of fire kinked
right and tore amongst the squad beside him. Four men were pitched backwards, bright blood spraying from their shattered chests.
That couldn't be right. This was a charge to glory! Their faith in the Emperor and the justice of their cause was their shield against
harm. They were supposed to be invincible.
His step faltered and his vision suddenly expanded to encompass the carnage around him. Bodies littered the ground. Hundreds?
Thousands? There were so many, who could tell?
Brave and glorious though their charge had been, the rational part of Leonid's brain suddenly realised its folly. Frantic charges
against fortified positions without fire support were the stuff of legend until you actually had to do it yourself. Though he didn't
appreciate it on a conscious level, Leonid had reached the point that all infantrymen must at some point face.
The point where the initial surge of adrenaline had worn off and the body's innate sense of self preservation kicked in. This was
when true courage was required to carry a soldier the last few metres towards the enemy.
Leonid screamed and continued forwards, side by side with his soldiers, his blood pounding and his heart racing.
They were going to make it!
The traitor line was barely ten metres away.
Then it vanished in a series of bright flashes, smoke and thunderous noise.
A giant fist smashed him in the chest.
He fell, fighting for breath, his vision cartwheeling.
The ground rushed up to meet him and slammed into his face, hot and solid.
Someone screamed his name.
Pain, bright red, razor stabs of pain in his chest.
He rolled onto his back as noise swelled around him; screams and gunfire. He lifted his head and moaned as he saw scarlet blood
on his breastplate. Was it his?
He dropped his head and closed his eyes as an immense weariness settled over him.
Then screamed as he was hauled violently up and thrown over someone's shoulder, his chest spasming in pain. He saw broken,
blood stained earth bouncing below him and a bloodstained Jouran uniform jacket.
He was being carried away from the trenches, he realised, bouncing around on his rescuer's shoulder, the world spinning around
him. Nothing made sense. He tried to find his voice, but all that he managed was a hoarse croak.
The man carrying him suddenly stopped and shucked Leonid from his shoulder, propping him up against the side of a wrecked
tank.
Leonid's eyes swam into focus.
Sergeant Ellard knelt beside him, checking the wound in his chest.
'What happened?' Leonid asked thickly.
'You got yourself shot, sir,' answered Ellard.
Leonid looked at his chest. 'Did I?'
'Aye, sir. You were ahead of everyone else and took a round to the chest. Good thing you had your flak jacket on underneath your
breastplate, eh? Still, you're going to have a hell of a braise, sir.'
'Yes, I suppose,' said Leonid, relief flowing through him. 'The last thing I remember, we were just about to jump those bastards.'
'Well, I guess our charge wasn't meant to hit home. Anyway we've got to keep our heads down, because Corde tells me that our
vaunted Titans are inbound any minute and we sure as hell don't want to be anywhere near those trenches when they open fire.'
Leonid tried to stand, but pain flooded through him and he slumped back. 'Imperator, this hurts!'
'Yes, I think you caught it in the solar plexus, so just lay still for a while, sir. You're going to be alright.'
'Sure,' said Leonid. 'By the way, thank you, sergeant. For carrying me out.'
'Not to worry, sir, but if you don't mind me asking, what the hell were you doing? With all due respect, sir, you took off like a
bloody madman.'
'I don't know, sergeant. I couldn't think straight,' said Leonid, shaking his head. 'All I could see was the line of trenches and how I
had to get there. It was insane, I know, but, by the Emperor, it felt amazing! It was as though I could hear and see everything so
clearly and there was nothing I couldn't do… And then I got shot,' he finished lamely.
Graham McNeill ?Storm of Iron?
More bodies began to join them as the distant thunder of Titan footsteps carried through the afternoon air. Leonid had never heard
a more welcome sound in his entire life.
He pushed himself painfully to his feet and shouted to everyone in earshot, his parade-ground voice cutting through the bark of
sporadic gunfire and the thump of explosions.
'Right, listen up, everybody! We have Titans coming in, so everyone on your feet! As soon as they hit I want everyone back to the
citadel in double time or better. Make sure we don't leave anybody behind and we'll get out of this in one piece, okay?'
A few muted affirmations greeted Leonid's words, but the survivors of the attack were too weary and shell-shocked to respond
with much enthusiasm.
Leonid turned his gaze to the north-west, seeing the lumbering shapes of Titans approaching through the smoke. Despite the pain
in his chest, he grinned to himself.
The god-machines would surely turn the traitor line into a maelstrom of death and shredded bodies.
