by Andy Clark
‘Agreed,’ voxed Danial. ‘Let us keep the draconsfire on the inside. We’re almost out, sister. Start the retreat and we’ll catch you up. Polluxis, can you show us how long we have?’
In reply, the High Sacristan transmitted a synchronised chrono-count of the Navy’s drop time to everyone’s retinal displays. The margin for error was vanishingly small.
Jennika fed power to her motive actuators and wheeled her steed back the way they had come. As she did, she saw movement in the generatorum’s ruined doorway. Oath of Flame strode from within, Sword of Heroes close behind. Both Knights looked badly battered but as they broke into a loping run across the plaza both steeds appeared to be fully operational.
‘Fast as you can, Da,’ Jennika voxed to her brother on a private channel, riding out the thump and sway as her own steed accelerated into a run. ‘This is going to be close.’
‘I see that,’ came his reply, his voice jolting along with the heavy jouncing of his steed’s footfalls. ‘Jen, is that Honourblaze dead in the middle of the plaza? Markos, is he…?’
‘Your herald lives,’ she replied, glancing behind her loping Knight to where the Sacristan Crawlers were gunning their engines and gathering speed. ‘At least for now.’
‘Thank the Emperor and the dracon,’ came Danial’s relieved reply. ‘Now let’s keep it that way. And in Throne’s name, let’s hope the bridge over the manufactorum omnissi hasn’t collapsed yet.’
Jennika blipped an acknowledgement through her vox, then turned her full attention to piloting her running steed. There was nothing to say to that; if the bridge had fallen, they would all be dead. All they could do was pray to the Emperor that their route to safety remained intact, and move as quickly as they could.
Danial’s heart thumped in his ears, even over the piston-like pounding of his running Knight. He concentrated on his steed’s footing with fierce intensity, avoiding fallen wreckage and weaving around blazing mounds of rubble. The last servitor-cherubs of the Heavenly host skimmed overhead, doing their best to expand the Knights’ auto-senses and aid them in picking out their paths. Danial and Luk had almost caught up to their comrades, alarm lending them speed as the chrono counted steadily down. The last of the Crawlers were just clearing the Square of Martyrs. Adrastapolian Knights loped around them, the few brave warriors who had survived this desperate battle. Gloom veiled his steed’s sensorium as Oath pounded up behind them between towering, ruined buildings. His vox was awash with the chatter of the incoming pilots, but thankfully his auspex remained empty of foes.
‘If the bridge is gone,’ he voxed to Luk, ‘I just want you to know that I’m damn proud of you. You’re more than a friend, Luk Kar Chimaeros. You’re a brother.’
‘That’s appreciated,’ replied Luk, voice shaking with his steed’s thunderous motion. ‘And reciprocated. But, Da, shut up and keep running eh? We’re not dying after a tale like this. The Emperor wouldn’t weave a tapestry that grim.’
‘You know he would,’ said Danial, negotiating a scattering of burned-out Chimera. ‘How many die every day? This isn’t a merciful galaxy, Luk, and it’s not a fair one. But whatever happens, we did our duty.’
‘That we did, my liege,’ said Luk.
Ahead, a vast pall of smoke boiled up the street towards them. Amidst its fumes lay the scattered wreckage of loyalist and renegade Knights.
‘Keep going,’ Danial ordered. ‘Full stride.’
‘Are you mad?’ voxed Suset. ‘King Danial, look at that smoke! Even if we don’t trip over the wrecks, we can’t see if the bridge is there! We’ll run right off the edge if it’s fallen!’
‘A fiery death now, or in twenty-three minutes’ time,’ said Jennika, her voice resolved. ‘Either way it’s a death amidst the flames. It’s fitting.’
‘As you say, milady,’ said Suset. Then they were gone into the looming cliff of thick smoke to Danial’s fore. One by one the Knights vanished into the pall, still running as fast as they could despite the wreckage that covered the road surface. Sparks flashed amidst the murk and Sire Garath cursed over the vox.
‘I’m all right,’ grunted the Knight. ‘Near miss.’
‘Jennika?’ voxed Danial, urgently. He was almost on top of the bridge already. His sister must surely have crossed over the edge. His heart beat in his ears once, twice, three times. Finally his vox crackled.
‘Confirmed,’ came Jennika’s voice. ‘Wanted to sight the full span first. Thank the Emperor. The bridge is still up.’
‘All right, then move,’ urged Danial. ‘Everything you’ve got into your motive systems. For the Emperor and Adrastapol, my friends – we’re getting out of here.’
They ran, the Crawlers speeding and bouncing along in their midst, the Knights shaking the ruins. Across the bridge, through the burned-out swathe of buildings, up and over the ridge. Danial’s chrono spun relentlessly downwards, diving into single digits as he and his comrades passed the point where they had first made contact with the enemy’s sentry guns. Lady Tamsane nearly stumbled her Knight as its trailing leg caught a spar of rubble, but she stayed upright. Luk cried out as wild weapons fire whipped from a side-street and sparked off his steed’s hull. No one saw who fired the shots, whether friend or foe. They were gone in moments, and Luk reported only superficial damage.
The Knights gained a broad processional, passing between outer worker habs when the imposing thunder of engines filled the air. Danial cast a glance at the chrono count. Three minutes to go. Overhead, sweeping in above the mountains below the high-altitude void shields, came a great swarm of dark specks. The shapes flowed closer by the moment. The cruciform shapes of wing after wing of Imperial Navy aircraft were framed against the sky, lightning crackling around the bulky silhouettes of bombers and fast-moving attack fighters.
‘There must be hundreds of them,’ he breathed, feeling the throb of the planes’ engines in his chest. Desultory flak spat up at the onrushing aerial armada, fired by servitor-turrets beyond the Knights’ corridor of advance. It was like hurling stones at a bull grox. A few planes bucked with impacts, or burst into flames and fell from the sky. In return, the ground attack craft dived down and obliterated the offending turrets. Blossoms of fire rose from distant streets.
‘Almost there,’ voxed Jennika. ‘We’re approaching the mouth of the valley. If your steeds have any more speed to give, now is the time!’
‘You heard her,’ muttered Danial to his Knight. Oath’s heat readings were spiking, its actuator damage runes darkening towards red. Knights were heavy combat engines, not intended to run so far at such speed, but by the grace of the Emperor not one of their steeds had blown a motive impeller or suffered a topple. The dark mouth of the nortus maximal loomed ahead, the immensity of the mountains rearing to either side. The valley’s dark confines promised safety, so tantalisingly close now. Overhead the armada thundered on, wing after wing of planes sweeping over the valle electrum towards the plasma generatorums at its heart.
‘The first aircraft waves are dropping their payload… now,’ voxed Polluxis, and Danial marvelled that, despite everything, the High Sacristan still sounded calm. ‘Likely chain detonation within two minutes.’
‘Come on, come on,’ Garath urged, as behind them the horizon lit with flashing explosions. Mega-tonnes of explosive ordnance fell upon generatorums one, two and three. Rockets hissed down from wing mounts to rip through the buildings’ superstructures and detonate deep within. Lascannon volleys stabbed through armour plating and ripped into tangles of pipes. Huge, bunker-busting bombs smashed through floor after floor to detonate deep within the plasma generators’ volatile hearts.
Danial’s warriors and the Crawlers passed into the shadow of the valley, and a moment later he and Luk plunged in behind them.
‘Keep going!’ shouted Danial. ‘Get as far through as you can!’
As his steed charged through the remains of the pass’ inner defences, a titanic flash lit the horizon. The thunderous roar of the explosion came a second late
r, its shockwave a phenomenal hammer blow that struck Oath in the back and almost hurled the Knight onto its face.
‘Go! Go!’ he urged, muting his aural pickups as the bellow of the detonation filled the valley. The mountainsides shook, scree and rocks tumbling. The floor shook beneath his feet, bedrock cracking with the ferocity of the blast. Everything behind his steed was white fire, rushing up to enfold Danial in its lethal embrace. He had a fleeting impression of black specks climbing frantically away from the explosion, and wished the air crews the Emperor’s own luck evading the blast.
Then he was rounding the sharp bend in the pass, putting thousands of tons of solid rock between himself and fiery annihilation.
‘Shields rear!’ shouted Jennika. ‘Shields rear! Protect the Crawlers!’
Danial wrenched his ion shield around as fiery light filled the valley. Funnelled between the mountainsides, the plasmic fires rushed up like dracon’s breath, striking with monumental force. Oath of Flame shook madly around him, stumbling as it was pummelled by shockwaves. Danial’s sensorium filled with blinding light, and the last thing he saw was the closest Crawler being lifted slowly off the ground and tipping ponderously onto its side. Then his hull receptors burned out in the fires of destruction, and Danial saw nothing more.
Sheik Halna’sir peered through his magnoculars, trying to pierce the clouds of smoke boiling from the nortus maximal. Imperial banners flapped and snapped in the furnace wind, and many of his men had hunkered down behind the blasted ramparts for cover.
Beside him, Commander Korgh shielded his eyes, leaning on a metal crutch as he stared in awe at the mushroom cloud rising above the mountains.
‘Any sign of them, sir?’ asked the commander.
Halna’sir shook his head in response.
‘I see nothing moving, save the smoke,’ he said, frowning.
‘A tragic loss, then,’ sighed Korgh.
‘Wait,’ breathed Halna’sir, adjusting the magnification and squinting hard.
‘What?’ asked Korgh. ‘What do you see?’
A fierce grin spread across the sheik’s features as huge figures strode from the murk, their lumens lit.
‘I see gods…’ he replied.
Epilogue
With the destruction of the valle electrum, and the deaths of all the primary traitor leaders, the war for Donatos was effectively won. Although a number of petty rebel warlords arose to fill the power vacuum, and although a small number of Word Bearers and renegade Knights remained at large upon Donatos Primus, the loss of the Adamant Citadels crippled the traitor war effort. Able once more to coordinate and link their forces, our armies renewed their assault upon their heretic foes and drove them back on every front.
Special commendation must be given to Mubraxian Sheik Halna’sir, who, at the head of a coalition of Astra Militarum and Donatosian militia forces, successfully defeated the last rebel Knights at the battle of Sevenspires. An additional note is made of former Militia Commander Korgh who, in the eyes of the Commissariat and Segmentum Command, earned redemption through exceptional heroism in combat on no less than five separate occasions. Though heavily wounded during the battle of Sevenspires, Korgh was awarded his full pardon. As soon as the commander’s augmetics had taken, he was afforded the honour of leading a retaliatory expedition into the Crimson Stars at the head of a substantial Imperial force, in pursuit of the remaining Word Bearers that escaped the Donatos warzone.
The Emperor offers his thanks to the loyal Knights of Adrastapol for their commendable heroism in defeating the heretic scourge upon Donatos. It is with regret, therefore, that I must conclude this report by providing an advisory that a representative of the Emperor’s holy Inquisition is now on route to Adrastapol. Though your astropaths have informed us that all holdings and chattel of Houses Chimaeros – reductum hereticum extremis – and House Wyvorn – reductum hereticum extremis – have been liquidated, still an investigation is unavoidable at this time. All possibility of further corruption must be eliminated, to the satisfaction of the Holy Ordos. I would ask that you provide Inquisitor Massata with your full cooperation, and that of your Noble Houses, and I assure you that your exemplary conduct and selfless sacrifices during the conclusion of the Donatosian war will be taken into consideration at this time.
The Emperor protects,
– Lord Governor Hullis, formerly First Administrator,
Medallion Mendaxis 3rd Class,
Defender of the Populi Factotum
‘The list of titles goes on, my liege,’ said Sire Markos, coughing to clear his augmetic vocal emitter as he read from the report. ‘And there’s… let’s see… yes, a thought for the day. Would you like to hear that?’
Danial Tan Draconis sighed wearily.
‘I think not, my herald. I believe we have heard all from Governor Hullis that we could possibly wish to.’
A ripple of laughter ran through the courtiers that clustered around the colonnaded edges of the throne room. Some of the chuckles were genuine, some sycophantic or forced. Such was the way of court, thought Danial ruefully. Give him Oath of Flame and a battlefield any day over such stultified nonsense.
‘An inquisitor is on his way,’ said Sire Percivane from his place to the right of Danial’s towering, draconine throne. ‘That does not bode well, my liege. The Holy Ordos are not known for their forbearance, or their understanding.’
‘We have nothing to hide,’ replied Lady Jennika from her place at Danial’s left. The Lady Tan Draconis wore the gilt-edged cloak of First Knight, a promotion that Danial had been only too glad to award his sister. Some had whispered of favouritism, but again, such was the nature of courtly politics. Danial knew no fiercer or truer warrior than Jennika. He was glad to have her as the nominal commander of his Exalted Court.
‘That’s true,’ said Lady Suset, who stood one step down from the throne, in the most junior position of the Exalted Court. She had been made Gatekeeper at Danial’s insistence, and despite High Sacristan Polluxis’ obvious displeasure. In the six months that had passed since they had returned from Donatos, the High King had found that he very much enjoyed Suset’s forthright company. Far more so than any of the elaborately outfitted consorts and courtly ladies who flocked in his wake, and whispered knowingly together whenever he passed. If he could survive their predatory attentions, thought Danial, he could hopefully handle an inquisitor. But there were those who might not fare so well, which brought him to his final order of business. Seven hours at court, plus two more of ritual observances before his hearings even began for the day. The grasslands were calling, a ghurgol hunt across the open plains in his mighty steed.
But first, this sad matter must be seen to.
‘Markos, call forth the Knight of Ashes,’ he commanded.
The herald turned and adjusted a dial in his vox-emitter to amplify his grating voice.
‘Danial Tan Draconis, High King of Adrastapol and Victor of Donatos, calls Luk Kar Chimaeros, the Knight of Ashes, to attend upon him at this hour.’
Markos’ voice echoed up to the vaulted ceiling, with its magnificent murals of fire-breathing dracons and Imperial angels battling the forces of darkness. Across the vast throne room, over the heads of assembled Knights of Houses Draconis, Minotos and Pegasson, past throngs of courtiers, functionaries, courtesans, petitioners, priests and servitors, the huge bronze doors swung open. Danial tapped discreet controls set into a bracelet on his wrist, summoning his three servo skulls to hover above him. The dracon, the minot and the pegassus, each inscribed with the image of the same crown that he wore upon his brow. Between them, the servo-skulls projected a flickering hololith that magnified his view, and showed Danial his oldest friend striding through the opening doors.
Luk Kar Chimaeros walked with his head held high, ignoring the mutters that rolled through the crowd. His long, black hair was tied back in a simple ponytail, and his tabard bore his newly chosen Freeblade heraldry. A chimaer, fallen upon its back with a blade driven through its heart, set
upon a field of ashen grey.
The crowd might have shouted abuse, thought Danial, had he not been there in person. But his friendship with Luk was well known, a fact that had done neither of them any favours in the wake of House Chimaeros’ rebellion. He would no sooner distance himself from his friend than from his own sister, so let them mutter.
Luk completed the long walk to the throne, dropping to one knee before Danial and bowing his head.
‘My liege,’ he said, voice solemn.
‘Rise, Knight of Ashes,’ replied Danial, equally sombre. ‘I believe it was you who reminded me that, as a Freeblade, you have no need to call me king.’
‘I will always call you my king,’ replied Luk sincerely, standing and placing one hand on the hilt of the draconblade he wore there. A symbolic gift from his friend.
‘I am glad,’ replied Danial. ‘You still mean to go through with your vow then, sire?’
‘I do, my liege,’ said Luk. ‘You have heard the whispers just as I have. Reports that cannot be ignored. We both know that she might have survived. I cannot take that chance, and I will never recover my honour while the witch still lives.’
‘If she still lives at all,’ said Danial. ‘If you make this vow then it may take you from this world forever, on a quest without an end.’
‘If that is the Emperor’s will, so be it,’ said Luk Kar Chimaeros. ‘I vow to you on my honour as a Knight, I shall not rest until I have slain Alicia Kar Manticos with my own blade, or else proved beyond all shadow of doubt that she is dead, and her heresy punished justly.’
‘And I accept your oath,’ replied Danial, standing and drawing his draconblade. Stepping down to stand level with Luk, he rapped the flat of the weapon firmly upon his friend’s left shoulder. ‘By this blade, I bind you to your oath. Return in victory, and upon your other shoulder shall I knight you anew. So do I vow, as High King of Adrastapol, and in the sight of the Emperor.’