“Enough, both of you” Sabre said, ending the feud as quickly as it had begun. He’d been standing nearby, talking to the medics of the 617th to gauge how many they had lost when he overheard the disagreement.
The commander looked at Scipio. “Not that we have to explain ourselves to either of you, but we were with the Lion. He’s been planning the final assault, you’ll both be satisfied to hear. You and your men are to join us alongside detachments from the 57th and 303rd to take the city at the Apostle’s side while other legions take the flanks. This is a great honour; do not waste your chance to share in this victory with your disrespect” Sabre explained. “Either of you” he added, making it clear he meant Arcadius as well.
Arcadius swelled with pride at being chosen to be a part of the attack, but also with embarrassment at Scipio’s disregard for senior rank and his lack of patience. Yes, it was true that neither the 617th Command echelon nor even the Apostle had been at their side for long recently, but he was forgetting too easily all the times that they had been. The Lion had fought just as much as they had, but someone had to forge the battle plans to win the war and it was his position to do so.
“Yes, Sire” Arcadius replied, crossing his right arm across his chest so his forearm and fist formed a round-headed arrow over his heart.
Scipio saluted just the same, but gave no spoken reply, unwilling to verbally acknowledge that he was out of line.
“You have an hour, no more” Olympus said. “We’ll use the Stormfalcons to take us beyond the plateau, using the rock forest to the east as cover to fly into the perimeter of the city walls. Valerian reports the enemy has fled their positions there. It seems we have crushed their last horde” he smiled.
“From there, we’ll make our push towards the capital and finish this crusade. Gather your men and get some sustenance; you will need all your strength for the assault on the capital” Sabre told them.
THE AIR AROUND the Stormfalcon filled with the sound of flak exploding. Lupus was used to the sensation of a deployment like this; he had ten years’ experience of war now, and a head-long dive into enemy fire was far from unusual to him. The transport rocked from side to side, twisting and rolling out of the reach of the enemy guns.
They were approaching Paroxia, the capital of Dystopian, swiftly and without relent. Artillery fire from the Black Guardians’ final trench lines had pounded the city for days prior to this final assault, yet still scores of anti-aircraft weaponry remained in the enemy’s hands. Lupus could hear the pilot cry out as a projectile nearly sheared the right wing off.
Every now and then, he would wince as he sensed other Stormfalcons take ruinous hits that killed every legionnaire inside. Since his time with the Guardians, he had grown used to the presence of their energy, his mind attuned to the wavelength of their lives, and whenever a large number of legionnaires were killed, he could feel that energy lessen and wane. When he first felt it, it pained him incredibly to discover its cause and in the early days of the Purge Crusades it would leave him distraught, almost so much to spur him to inaction. Now, the sensation served to drive him to avenge the fallen and make the foe repay the cost.
The Stormfalcon dove for its final approach to the city, evading all the heavy fire coming from the defensive walls. Now, only the Phantom infantry and armour units would be able to target them, the anti-aircraft cannons no longer able reach the transports without risking the safety of their own defences.
The Phantoms’ caution took Lupus by surprise; they were not here to hold ground, but rather for a war of attrition and destruction, to do as much damage to the legions as possible. They should have no care for the integrity of the city’s buildings, towers and strongpoints. It was a foresight and level of planning that was utterly alien to the enemy.
Lupus had suspected for a long time that there was something bigger, something more intelligent, commanding the Phantoms than the creatures they had already encountered. If the legions only paid heed to the paradigm hordes and golems, deadly as they may be, then it would make no sense how the enemy held them at bay for so long. The hordes were chaotic at best; they had to be controlled by something greater than them.
The transport rocked as small weapons fire banged against its hull from the capital’s outer defences. Paroxia was a city that looked as harsh as it sounded, with walls hewn out of muddy stone and buildings formed from dull grey brick. It was a large settlement, with just under a million inhabitants. At least, it was habited before the Phantoms arrived. Now, huge mounds of the human dead were piled up outside the city’s thick circle wall as a taunt to the legions.
Lupus met with his legion’s command echelon two days ago, sharing with them his theory about the organisation of the Phantom army. They seemed to attack with desperation, he thought, as if they knew their time was limited. Or, they could have been distracting the legions long enough for something to be made ready, but he couldn’t be sure what hidden weapon they could muster. He decided that an all-out assault on the capital was vital, and that despite potential losses, it could outweigh the potential catastrophe if they waited any longer. Fortunately, the enemy’s wasteful spend of the paradigm force was to his advantage. It was almost coincidental, though none of the legionary officers could stomach to call the foe cunning enough for a long-term strategy.
He remembered feeling guilty at the time, during those long hours of his war council sessions, for not being on the front lines with the legions serving under him. Olympus had reassured him, insisting that a commander could not lead from the front all the time; after all, someone had to orchestrate the victory moves. A calm mind, not frenzied by the chaos of battle, was needed to forge the perfect strategy. Instinct was enough to change the course of a battle when you were in the heat of it, but you could not rely on a moment’s instinct to provide you with enough to win a war.
Despite the wisdom in Olympus’ words, Lupus felt proud and relieved to be alongside the legions once more. As the Stormfalcon touched down on the ground of an arterial street leading into the heart of the city, he felt a surge of energy course through him. The ramp of the transport crashed down and the legionnaires inside spilled forth, weapons fire from concealed enemies eating into them already. Several Guardians died as they raced for cover, but by now Lupus had thundered into the open on all fours as the Lion, and the enemy concentrated hopelessly on him.
The street was shouldered by tall residential buildings, as ugly in nature as the rest of the world had been. Paradigms poured down fire on him and his command platoon like rain from the windows. The armour of the legionnaires glowed a dark purple as the wearers activated the power systems of the suits, making them as durable as Lupus himself. The 617th had taken after him in many ways, but when he had learned of their technology and the ways in which the legionary armour could serve different functions, they had become more like him than he could have hoped for. Still, the power supply would need to rest and regenerate before long. It was clear that they were going to be pinned for a while unless they found a way out of the hot zone.
When it seemed they couldn’t be more threatened, a group of devii began to approach from the ruins of a collapsed building to the right of the street, spitting fire at them from their long polearms.
Deactivate your suits so you can move. Spread out to the sides and keep your heads low, Lupus ordered. Use whatever cover you can find.
The legionnaires obeyed without question and sought out debris large enough to take shelter from the enemy, returning fire as they moved. The devii marched ever onwards, smart enough to target the Guardians rather than him. Somehow, they already knew that he was impervious to their attacks as if forewarned by an intelligent master, but they didn’t seem to share this understanding with their paradigm brethren. Lupus wasn’t even sure that they could if they decided to. As he took his stride into a run towards them, he roared in defiance of their existence before crashing into the heart of the group, a demi-god amongst monsters.
Lupus used his massi
ve bulk to flatten the first of them. They were each larger in every respect than most legionnaires, and the collision with his target brought him down as well. His jaws quickly locked around the neck of the creature and he tore its head off. Before its allies could respond, he lashed out with a razor-clawed paw to the right, gutting another devii. He snapped off the legs of a third, leaving it to bleed to death before whipping his razor-sharp tail out to stun another.
With this distraction, the legionnaires co-ordinated their fire against the paradigms and picked them off in fast succession. Once that threat was eliminated they spread out from cover to assist their Apostle, but there was little need. The bloody bodies of ten devii lay strewn around his feet. The street suddenly fell silent, but the sounds of battle elsewhere in the city resounded all around them.
Sabre, status report Lupus demanded. The commander shifted over to him.
“My Lord, all legions report full deployment. Elements of the 21st and 463rd are pushing the left flank towards the city centre, while the 68th and 906th are cutting into the right. We, along with the 303rd and 57th, are ready to force up the middle at your command”.
Lupus growled in acknowledgement. It wasn’t a gesture of annoyance or reprimand; it was simply his way of response.
Legionnaires, with me! He yelled through his mind to theirs.
He didn’t need to see or hear their confirmation; he knew they would follow him into the very depths of the Underrealm if it meant the destruction of the enemy. As he ran over the rubble littering the street, strangely unfettered by any more Phantoms, he caught sight of the city centre in the distance. He witnessed a squadron of Earthbreakers, the standard bomber for the legions that were otherwise engaged during the last Phantom assault on the trenches, swoop in and lay waste to the anti-aircraft guns so the Stormfalcons could deploy unhindered. The attack did not come without cost, however, and less than half of the twenty craft returned from it.
Suddenly and without warning, enemy artillery began to pound into the streets to repel the legions. Lupus directed his platoon to take cover again. The ordnance was so fierce that even in the ruins that should have protected them they had to activate their armour as another safety measure. A second group from the 617th joined them from an adjacent district, a decimated squad from the 303rd with them.
Arcadius, Lupus began, recognising one of the newcomers. What happened to your men? Where is your Squad Leader?
“Dead, my Lord. We were ambushed by a cohort of devii just as paradigms pinned us down. It was basic attrition, but we won out” Arcadius panted, taking refuge under some fallen masonry even as the black of his armour was tinted purple by the activation of its reinforcement energy.
It’s the same across the city. I’m glad to see you prevailed without further cost Lupus replied.
“What are your orders, my Lord?” Sabre asked. Even though Lupus wasn’t focussed on him at that moment, his unconscious was permanently fixed to the commander’s mind in battle. If it was important enough, he could even hear the legionnaire whispering without concentration. The same couldn’t be said of their relationship for him and all the Guardians, though.
With his forces pinned or struggling to know how to get through the bombardment unscathed, he began to pay attention to the pattern of the enemy artillery. In seconds he ascertained the intervals of each barrage.
We hold until they cease fire for the next barrage, he answered.
Olympus overheard this and thought he made a mistake in his interpretation.
“We might not have time for that…” he said, wincing as the nearby ruins of a residential block were ground to dust.
Lupus heard the fire momentarily cease and instantly knew that he, if not the legionnaires with him, could make it to those guns in the short time it took for the enemy to reload.
Now! He cried.
As he sprung forward from his position like a coiled spring, he heard the running boots of the legionnaires behind him. He knew they couldn’t keep up, but he didn’t need them to. He just needed them to know what to do to support him.
With the artillery suspended, it became clear why as enemy troops moved up from reserve positions and occupied more of the street side buildings.
“Guardians, cover the Lion!” Sabre yelled, bringing his rifle up to return fire at the paradigms and devii holed up on either side of them.
The legionnaires darted from cover to cover, eliminating the enemy with pinpoint accuracy as they went. Their lethal efficiency and discipline allowed for such fast movements, but Lupus was far further than them. One of them, the sharpshooter Lysander, killed the most prominent threats in grim silence. Eventually, the legionnaires had to slow down, take cover and wither the firestorm they now found themselves in. They could use their armour systems, become invulnerable for a while, but it would sacrifice their speed and agility. Instead, they held back and kept the enemy busy, allowing their Apostle to advance at a ferocious pace.
Within minutes he had crossed the five kilometre gap between where they started and the artillery lines began. The field batteries were entrenched in the industrial district before the city centre and each were slaved to target a different area for bombardment. Lupus could see now how the barrels had been flash-fused to their mounts; if he could praise the humans for anything, it would be their forward-thinking defence. They hadn’t sacrificed the guns for their own use, but when their time was up they sought to deny the enemy the flexibility of the heavy firepower. Still, with his legionnaires dying in the city wastes, he wished the city’s original defenders had done more than temporary damage to the artillery pieces.
He bounded into the nearest trench, a thunderclap announcing his arrival as he landed on all fours and roared a challenge to the Phantoms within. The near-canyon in the ground was half a kilometre wide to prevent any armour units getting through into the city centre; whether this was a human or Phantom design, Lupus could not tell. It was pregnant with banks of the boisterous cannons that lobbed shells into the city areas occupied by the Guardians. For those legionnaires that had to move too quickly and avoid activating their armour, some were unfortunate enough to be wiped out in single ironic strikes.
Hulking, snorting devii operated the machinery, even their corded muscles just powerful enough to heave the munitions into the chambers of the guns. So busy were they with their punishment of the Guardian forces that they failed to notice the looming figure of the Lion nearing them.
Lupus tore into them without mercy, relentlessly, clawing off limbs and snapping off heads with his sharp fang-like teeth before any had a chance to react. It took less than eight minutes for him to clear enough of the guns for his command platoon to advance to his position safely, the sheltered area they occupied now no longer under siege.
Sabre passed the all-clear on to nearby platoons and soon they formed a whole company of legionnaires, surging into the breach alongside their Apostle. Once they reached the expansive artillery trench, they separated into two prongs, each one focussed on sweeping out the enemy from the defensive canyon circling the city centre. Gun by gun, they destroyed this last vestige of enemy resistance, combining more and more unsuppressed companies together to form an unstoppable assault. Within an hour, the city centre was theirs for the taking.
“GET THOSE BRIDGES down! Faster, or we’ll never get any of the glory!” Scipio heard the commander of his legion bellow.
The 21st had finally caught up with the other Guardian forces forming the main assault into the city centre and found the obstacle of the canyon. It was a challenged perfectly suited for a legion such as theirs. The 21st was primarily an armour legion, a tank regiment that included numerous siege vehicles and transports. They had survived the artillery bombardments better than those in the other flanks, but the debris in the streets had slowed their progress. Now they had to use their assault vehicles which carried an abundance of construction materials to bridge the gap in the trench so they could join the final attack.
It felt goo
d to be back in the role that the 21st were meant for. The trenches had sure enough given Scipio a taste for the battle that his brother legions always fought, but he enjoyed the comfort of the armoured units far better. He winced at the brightness of his work as he helped flash-weld together the structures that would allow his legion to advance. It was the third already that he’d worked on, but they needed as many bridges as they could field to cross with some degree of unison. The massive gulf lay before a final wall whose intermittent gates had all been breached by the legions before them. Scipio, like his commander and all his brethren, was eager to be a part of the end of the Purge Crusades. He hungered for the action.
Scipio finished his work on joining the last steel plates together and tore off his welding mask. Throwing it and his torch to the nearest assault vehicle crew, he ran to the closest, largest tank he could find, which happened to be his own; a Warhound variant. Its turret boasted a double-barrelled cannon and on each side of the hull sat twin-linked AGG-IIs. The tank was a dark fiend, threatening even to the Phantoms. It could handle enemy tanks and infantry with equal ease and throughout the Crusade had proven beyond argument its worth, despite its restrictions and size.
Though the Warhound was an invaluable asset, it was also very large, barely able to fit down most streets made by Gothican hands. It was different back on Colossi, Scipio thought. Everything was. In the crowded human cities, it was always vulnerable to ambushes and traps. If not for its thick armour plating, the vehicle would be too cost ineffective for use. Scipio smiled, however, as he climbed aboard and sunk into the crew compartment, grabbing himself the controls to the starboard AGG-II.
He couldn’t help but feel excited at holding one of the most lethal guns the Guardians possessed. Perhaps it was evil to relish in its destructive power, but when he considered that he would use it to terminate the enemy, he felt no remorse. He was an instrument of justice and it was right for him to enjoy doing what was right.
The Deian War: Vermillion's Apostles Page 18