He dismissed the thought as he halted at the entrance to the pavilion； awaiting his lord's permission to enter his presence。 Forrix
looked up from his lists and his eyes narrowed as he saw that Honsou was alone。 The Warsmith glanced up； his face shrouded in
flitting shadows； and said； 'Honsou。 Enter and tell us of your mission。'
'My lord；' whispered Honsou as he stepped into the pavilion。 He felt the queasy sensation build in his stomach at the Warsmith's
presence； fighting down his nausea as he gave his report。
'We were able to approach to within two hundred metres of the promontory and I have to report that there are concealed artillery
positions at its base。 They will be almost impossible to target with gunnery and it is my belief that—'
'Where is Brakar Polonas？' interrupted Forrix。
'He is dead；' stated Honsou with no small measure of satisfaction。
'Dead？ How？' asked Forrix； his tone emotionless。
'He took a hit from a mortar shell at close range and was killed instantly。'
Forrix glanced over to Jharek Kelmaur； who nodded imperceptibly。
'The half…breed speaks the truth； Brother Forrix； and the information he brings will aid us greatly。'
Surprised at the unexpected support of the sorcerer； Honsou continued； wondering what price the magicker would later expect。
'We can infiltrate warriors into a position whereby the guns can be seized as they prepare to fire。 If we combine this attack with an
escalade on the main walls； we should be able to take Tor Christo within hours。 The tunnels are sure to lead within its walls； and
perhaps even run to the main citadel。'
'You presume too much； Honsou；' stated the Warsmith； his voice like the scraping of iron nails on slate。
'My lord？'
'You seek to plan this campaign for me？ Is it your belief that I do not understand the proper workings of siegecraft？'
'No； my lord；' said Honsou quickly； 'I merely thought to offer a suggestion as to—'
'You are young and have much to learn； Honsou。 Your inferior mixed blood holds much sway over your thinking and it saddens
me to see that you have not learned from your betters。 You think like an Imperial。'
Honsou flinched as though slapped。 His anger arose； but he clamped bands of iron will around it； holding it and letting it smoulder
dangerously within him。
'When I desire your 〃suggestions〃 I will ask for them； Honsou。 You are not yet worthy to make such offerings to my table。
Understand that it is not your place to suggest anything to me。 You must spend another thousand years as my servant before even
daring to think you are qualified to do so。 I shall permit you this one indiscretion； but I will not again。 You are dismissed。'
Honsou bit back an angry retort； seeing the satisfaction Forrix took in yet another of his public humiliations。 He should be used to
the insults and slaps in the face his polluted blood brought him； but it was almost too much to bear when he knew in his gut that he
was right。
Stiffly； he bowed and withdrew from the Warsmith's pavilion； his heart burning with controlled fury。
He would prove them wrong。 All of them。
SIX
DAWN BROKE ITS first light over the mountain peaks in sickly red streams； bathing the mountains in the colour of blood。 As the
echoing boom of distant artillery fire roused him from a fitful sleep； Guardsman Hawke rolled over and grunted as his shoulder
grazed an outcrop of black rock。 Groggily； he opened his eyes and stared into the lacerated sky。
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
His limbs ached； his throat was raw and his eyes felt like someone had been rubbing them with sandpaper all night。
He sat up and rummaged through the pouches on the side of his pack； pulling out his hydration pills。 He swallowed a pair of blue
capsules with a mouthful of water from his canteen。 He had water and tablets enough to last for maybe three weeks and meal
packs for two … depending on how he was able to ration himself。
But food and water weren't his main worries。
No； his main concern was his lack of detox pills。 He pulled the plastic pill container from his pocket and counted out the capsules
inside。 Without this medicine； the Adeptus Mechanicus claimed； anyone stationed on this planet would become unbearably sick。 It
had never happened to him yet； but he was in no rush to put the theory to the test。
Glumly he realised that he had enough for another six days； but； Emperor willing； he hoped to be back in the citadel by then。 He
had a vox…unit and though he had been unable to raise anyone last night； he fervently hoped he'd be able to make contact today。
He yawned and stretched； pushing himself to his feet with a groan of stiffness。 He had climbed a thousand metres over steep；
rocky terrain and； though he hated to admit it； he realised he was badly out of shape。 It had been early evening by the time he'd
reached this perch overlooking the valley of the citadel and Jericho Falls； his legs burning and his lungs afire。 He'd needed ten
minutes on the respirator just to get his breath back。
Just in time for a grandstand view of the horror of watching thousands of his comrades in arms herded forward like cattle to be
butchered in the storm of shelling from Tor Christo。 He'd screamed himself hoarse with frustration。 Couldn't they see they were
shelling their own men？ He'd burned out a whole battery pack trying to raise the gunners on the Christo and tell them of their
error。
The smoke had obscured the worst of the horror； but when it cleared； he'd been shocked rigid at the carnage he saw below him
through the unflinching lenses of the magnoculars。 What manner of foe had come to Hydra Cordatus？ Death in battle he could
understand； but this senseless slaughter was beyond his comprehension。
Though he'd tried to get some rest； sleep constantly eluded him。 The rumble of artillery； heavy vehicles and ultra…rapid
construction had echoed constantly from below。 When the sky had lit up with sunflares； he'd used the magnoculars to try and see
what was happening； but all he could see were tiny explosions bursting on the plain before the Christo as the gunners lobbed
shells over their walls。
Hawke pulled his jacket tighter about himself and shouldered his pack； tossing aside the burnt out vox…battery and ration pack he'd
consumed last night and limped towards the edge of the ridge。 He pulled out the magnoculars； training them on the base of the
mountains to see what this morning's light brought。
The pace of operations at Jericho Falls had slowed； but not by much。 The huge cargo ships that had been descending in a more or
less constant stream were still arriving； but there were noticeably fewer than yesterday。
'Great balls of the saints！' swore Hawke as he shifted his gaze from the spaceport to the gap in the mountains that led from Jericho
Falls to the citadel。
Enormous numbers of vehicles； artillery and siege engines rumbled along the road in ordered ranks； though there was a strange；
shimmering haze obscuring some of the larger machines； and what seemed like an unnecessarily large number of guards stationed
around them。 Hawke noticed that these guards were all facing inwards as though the machines themselves were the threat。
Shocked by the sheer amount of hardware on its way to the citadel； he turned and clambered across the jagged rocks to the other
side of the knifeback ridge and trained the magnoculars on the valley below。
He gasped as he saw the vast scale of the engineering works carried out during the night。 A vast trench； at least a kilometre long；
stretched due west； its outer edges piled high with earth； before bending in a sloping； concave arc to the south…west。 The curving
arm of the trench exactly followed the sweep of the walls of Tor Christo and its outer face was likewise strengthened with earthen
walls。
Further trenches； like snaking roots； wound their way back to enormous supply depots； huge stockpiles of artillery shells and
construction materials where long trains of men dragged supplies throughout the sprawling campsite。
Already Hawke could see working parties digging forward from the main trench parallel to the walls。 A constant thunder of
distant artillery boomed from the high walls of the Christo； powerful explosions slamming into the earth around the working
parties； but the high； earthen berms thrown up on the exterior faces of the trench protected the workers from the worst of the
blasts。
And the saps continued inexorably towards Tor Christo。
Behind the trenches sprawling bunkers and massive artillery positions had been built。 Though nothing occupied the latter at
present； Hawke wondered what manner of gun might fill such a site。 The stone of their structures appeared to have been quarried
from the mountainside during the night by vast； tracked drilling machines。 Hawke could see these were even now boring into the
rock for more building materials。 Everything suggested a monstrous controlling influence that knew every last detail of every
operation。 The sheer mechanical； unfeeling nature of what he saw chilled Hawke to the bone。
A swelling roar of affirmation rose from the valley floor and Hawke saw that almost the entire population of the camp had ceased
its labours； parting before something as yet hidden from Hawke's sight。
The echoes of ponderous footsteps reached him and Hawke's blood slowed as he watched a legion of enormous dark gods tread
the earth。
He shucked the pack from his shoulders and desperately fumbled for the vox…unit。
HONSOU WATCHED IN rapt adoration as the Battle Titans of the Legio Mortis strode the earth； the thunder of their footsteps
threatening to break apart this planet's fragile crust。 The majority of the hellish war machines stood over twenty metres in height；
their fearsome physiques cast in the form of mighty daemons from the depths of the warp。 Each growled with a primal ferocity；
their hunger for destruction only barely kept in check by that which controlled them。
The largest of these monstrous leviathans； the Dies Irae； led the Battle Titans； its barbed tail sweeping back and forth in
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
anticipation of the slaughter。 Vast spires； like perverted and defiled cathedrals； rested upon its gargantuan shoulders； gun
platforms and massed batteries of artillery clustered on each twisted steeple。
To witness the gathering of creations which were so close to Chaotic divinity was a privilege Honsou had experienced only a
handful of times； and he felt humbled by such a potent display of the power of the gods of Chaos。 The shadows of the Titans
swallowed the camp； swathing the acres of men and materials in darkness as they passed。
Honsou watched as hundreds of chained prisoners were herded forward to be crushed underfoot as an offering to the daemonic
powers that dwelt within the Titans' unholy bodies。 Their lumbering stride continued； giving no sign that they even noticed the
carnage they caused with every step。 The Dies lrae paused in its thunderous march and its upper body ground towards the fortress
of Tor Christo； as though taking the measure of its foe。 Honsou watched as it raised the enormous bulk of its hellstorm cannon and
plasma annihilator towards the fortress in mocking salute。
Honsou knew the commanding officers in Tor Christo would be watching the arrival of these magnificent war