Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第8章

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greave；　vambrace　and　cuissart　hand…tooled　by　artificers　whose　skill　was　now　all　but　a　whispered　myth。
Beside　Forrix：　Kroeger；　the　young…blood；　though　such　a　term　seemed　laughable　now；　given　that　Kroeger　had　fought　the　long　war
almost　as　long　as　Forrix。　But　he　had　always　been　the　young　firebrand；　with　a　physical　need　to　plunge　into　the　crucible　of　combat。
His　armour　was　dented　and　burned　in　a　dozen　places　…　testimony　to　his　ferocity　in　battle　…　yet　the　Warsmith　knew　that　Kroeger
possessed　a　cunning　beyond　that　of　a　simple　butcher。　No　Kharn　of　the　World　Eaters　this　one；　but　a　killer　possessed　of　single
minded　drive。　Had　he　simply　been　another　one　of　those　who　succumbed　to　the　hunger　of　the　Blood　God　he　would　never　have
lived　this　long。
Even　though　they　dared　not　look　at　each　other　in　his　presence；　the　Warsmith　could　feel　the　hatred　between　Kroeger　and　the　halfbreed
Honsou。　The　blood　of　Olympia　flowed　in　his　veins；　but　he　had　also　been　implanted　with　gene…seed　ripped　from　the　bodies
of　their　ancient　foes；　the　Imperial　Fists。　His　blood　was　tainted　with　the　seed　of　the　corpse…emperor's　lapdog；　Rogal　Dorn；　and　for
that　Kroeger　would　never　forgive　him。　No　matter　that　he　had　proven　himself　time　and　time　again；　some　hatreds　were　carved　on
the　heart。　No　matter　that　his　dark　deeds　were　at　least　the　equal　of　Kroeger's。　Honsou　had　led　the　Forlorn　Hope　through　the　breach
in　the　Cadian　bastion　of　Magnot　Four…Zero　after　a　volley　of　Basilisk　fire　had　obliterated　his　captain。　He　had　personally　broken　the
siege　of　Sevastavork　and　led　the　Lorgamar　Rebellion　to　ultimate　victory。　Yet　nothing　could　atone　for　the　hated　blood　that　flowed
in　his　veins　and　for　this；　and　other　reasons；　the　Warsmith　had　not　named　Honsou　as　captain　of　the　grand　company；　despite　his　utter
suitability。
The　Warsmith　could　smell　the　stench　of　belief　and　ambition　on　Honsou；　and　its　sickly　aroma　pleased　him　greatly。　This　one　would
risk　much　for　the　honour　of　his　captaincy。　The　rivalry　he　had　carefully　cultivated　between　his　commanders　was　a　pungent
sweetmeat　that　nourished　his　senses。
The　Warsmith　no　longer　saw　as　other　men　did：　his　gaze　was　increasingly　drawn　into　the　realm　of　the　immaterium；　perceiving
things　beyond　the　ken　of　mortal　men；　things　that　would　drive　them　to　insanity。　In　every　twisting　weave　of　air　he　saw　hints；
suggestions　and　lies　of　the　future。　Every　dancing　particle　of　matter　whispered　tales　of　things　to　come　and　things　that　might　never
be。　He　saw　a　myriad　of　futures　emanating　from　his　champions；　the　roar　of　toxin…ridden　filth　flashing　through　nightmare　darkness；
a　terrible　explosion　like　a　new　born　sun；　and　a　mighty　battle　with　a　one…armed　giant　whose　eyes　burned　with　icy　fire。　What　they
were　he　did　not　know；　but　the　promise　of　death　they　imparted　made　him　smile。
'You　have　done　well；　my　sons；'　began　the　Warsmith；　lowering　his　eyes　to　his　champions。　None　answered；　none　dared　to　utter　a
word　unless　so　bidden　by　their　master。
Pleased　at　their　awe；　the　Warsmith　continued。　'We　come　to　this　world　at　the　behest　of　the　Despoiler；　but　it　is　for　my　purposes　that
we　do　what　we　must。　There　is　a　fortress　here　that　contains　something　precious　to　me；　and　I　would　see　it　in　my　possession　soon。
You；　my　sons；　shall　be　my　instruments　in　its　obtaining。　Great　reward　and　patronage　awaits　the　man　who　brings　me　what　I　desire。
Defeat　and　death　await　us　all　should　we　fail。'
The　Warsmith　raised　his　head　to　the　rocky　slopes　that　stretched　upwards　to　the　west　of　the　smouldering　spaceport。　A　wellmaintained
road　wove　its　way　towards　their　goal；　the　reason　for　the　coming　battle。　At　the　road's　end；　the　Warsmith　knew　that　the
culmination　of　everything　he　had　striven　for　lay　secreted　below　the　world　…　a　prize　so　valuable　and　so　secret　that　not　even　the
highest　and　mightiest　within　the　corrupt　Imperium　knew　of　its　existence。
Without　waiting　for　his　champions；　the　Warsmith　set　off　towards　a　chevroned　Land　Raider　with　thick　armour　plating　bolted　to　its
side　and　bronzed　tracks。　The　adamantium　door　slid　open　with　a　grating　hiss；　and　the　Warsmith　turned　to　address　his　champions。
'Come；　we　shall　gaze　upon　the　enemy　we　must　destroy。'
HONSOU　STEADIED　HIMSELF　on　the　cupola　of　his　command　Rhino；　scanning　the　skies　for　any　airborne　threats　to　their　column　of
vehicles。　He　did　not　really　expect　anything；　the　spaceport　was　in　their　hands　and　the　skies　above　it　were　filled　with　craft　launched
from　the　orbital　landers。　But　Honsou's　natural　caution　made　him　wary。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
Dust　gathered　in　his　throat　and　he　hawked　a　morsel　of　phlegm　over　the　side　of　his　vehicle；　the　neuroglottis　implanted　in　his　throat
assessing　the　chemical　content　of　the　air。
The　organ　no　longer　functioned　as　effectively　as　it　once　had；　and　many　of　the　faint　echoes　of　toxins　he　could　taste　were　unknown
to　him。　But　he　tasted　enough　foulness　in　the　air　to　know　that　this　planet　had　once　been　poison　to　any　living　thing　that　set　foot　on
its　blighted　surface。
He　craned　his　neck　around　to　look　back　over　the　route　they　had　taken；　over　the　dusty；　arid　rocks　of　the　mountains　he　had　called
home　these　last　three　months。　A　haze　hung　over　the　rocks　where　centuries　of　accumulated　sands　had　been　blasted　free　by　the
orbital　bombardment。　Under　normal　circumstances；　an　orbital　barrage　was　a　risky　venture；　and　surgical　strikes　almost　unheard　of。
But　Honsou's　covert　mission　in　the　mountains　had　given　the　gun　creatures　on　the　Stonebreaker　something　to　aim　for；　and　allowed
them　to　bring　the　fearsome　power　of　a　battle　barge　to　bear　upon　this　planet's　defences。
It　felt　good　to　have　the　armoured　might　of　a　Rhino　beneath　him　as　he　rode　into　battle　at　the　head　of　his　warriors。　The　foe　awaited
and　Honsou　craved　the　excitement　of　battle　as　it　pounded；　hot　and　thrilling；　through　his　veins。　The　battle　at　the　spaceport　had　been
a　huge　release；　but　now　he　looked　forward　to　the　destruction　of　an　Imperial　fortress；　the　logical　methodology；　the　precise　cause
and　effect　initiated　by　careful　planning　and　organisation。
Dust　filled　the　air　and　he　spat　again；　wondering　what　had　happened　to　this　world　to　make　it　so　barren。　He　dismissed　the　question
as　irrelevant；　turning　his　gaze　towards　the　top　of　the　ridge　ahead　where　the　transports　of　Kroeger；　Forrix　and　the　Warsmith　had
halted；　their　engines　idling；　plumes　of　black　smoke　belching　from　their　gargoyle…topped　exhausts。　It　was　galling　to　be　forced　to
travel　behind　the　company　captains；　like　some　kind　of　lap…dog。　He　had　fought　and　killed　for　almost　as　long　as　Kroeger　and　Forrix；
he　too　had　committed　heinous　acts　in　pursuit　of　their　goals；　had　led　men　through　the　fire　and　proved　his　worth　time　and　time
again。　Why　then　was　he　denied　his　captaincy；　why　must　he　constantly　fight　to　prove　his　worth？
The　answer　came　easily　enough　as　he　glanced　at　the　pattern　of　dried　blood　on　his　gauntlet。　His　polluted　blood　was　his　curse。　To　be
created　from　the　seed　of　the　enemy　was　an　insult　to　both　himself　and　that　enemy；　and　a　constant　reminder　that　he　was　not　pure；
not　of　true　Iron　Warrior　stock；　despite　those　fragments　of　gene…seed　that　had　come　from　the　chosen　of　Olympia。
Bitterness　rose　in　him　and　he　let　it　come；　revelling　in　the　ashen　taste　in　his　mouth。　Bitterness　was　easier　than　the　stench　of
desperation　and　frustration　he　smelled　on　himself；　the　knowledge　that　no　matter　how　hard　he　strove；　he　would　never　be　accepted。
The　driver　of　his　Rhino；　once　an　Iron　Warrior；　now　so　mutated　that　he　and　the　vehicle　were　virtual　symbiotes；　pulled　onto　the　top
of　the　ridge；　halting　the　vehicle　beside　that　of　Forrix。　The　gnarled　veteran　acknowledged　his　arrival　with　the　briefest　nod　of　his
head；　while　beyond　Kroeger　ignored　him。
Honsou　allowed　himself　a　tight　grin。　No　matter　how　bitter　he　felt　towards　his　master；　he　could　always　take　solace　in　the　fact　that
he　was　warrior　enough　to　threaten　Kroeger。　He　knew　that　the　Warsmith　valued　Kroeger；　and　if　the　headstrong　captain　of　the
second　company　felt　that　Honsou　was　a　threat；　so　much　the　better。
The　Warsmith　stood　at　the　edge　of　the　ridge；　lost　in　thought；　and　Honsou　shuddered　in　unreasoning　fear　as　his　eyes　followed　the
writhing　of　the　damned　souls　that　undulated　within　the　substance　of　his　lord's　armour。　His　eyes　stung　if　he　stared　too　long；　but　his
attention　was　claimed　by　something　far；　far　greater　than　the　Warsmith's　armour。
Ahead；　cupped　within　the　red…brown　rocks　of　the　valley；　sat　the　fortress　complex　of　Hydra　Cordatus。
Honsou　could　scarcely　believe　his　eyes。　The　perfection　of　the　citadel　before　him　was　breathtaking。　Never　before　had　he　laid　eyes
upon　such　a　wondrous　example　of　the　military　architect's　art。
Ahead；　hunched　on　a　rocky　promontory　high　above　the　plateau　sat　a　small；　three…bastioned　fort；　with　sloped　walls　of　featureless
rockcrete。　Before　the　centre　bastion　stood　a　tall；　crenellated　tower；　with　sweeping　walls　protecting　the　narrow　gorge　between　the
left　and　centre　bastions。　The　tower　commanded　the　plateau；　though　in　a　protracted　siege；　Honsou　saw　that　it　would　be　the　first
location　to　be　destroyed。　The　height　and　steepness　of　the　slopes　leading　up　to　the　fortress　presented　a　formidable　barrier　in　itself；
and　Honsou　knew　well　enough　that　any　assault　on　its　walls　would　be　bloody　work　indeed。　Every　centimetre　of　the　plateau　before
the　fort　was　sure　to　be　covered　by　guns　and　diere　could　be　no　approach　to　the　main　citadel　while　this　outwork　remained　in
Imperial　hands。
But　as　his　gaze　travelled　further　north　from　the　high　fortress；　Honsou　forgot　the　impressiveness　of　the　fastness　atop　the
promontory。　It　was　but　the　smaller　cousin　to　the　main　citadel　itself；　and　Honsou　felt　the　blood　thunder　in　his　veins　at　the　prospect
of　attacking　this　mighty　edifice。　Its　proportions　were　so　perfect　that　he　wondered　whether　even　he　or　any　of　the　Iron　Warriors
alive　could　have　designed　such　a　majestic　creation。
Two　vast　bastions；　each　large　enough　to　contain　thousands　of　warriors；　squatted　threateningly　on　each　side　of　the　valley；　the
majority　of　their　armoured　structure　concealed　below　the　slope　of　the　ground　as　it　angled　downwards　towards　Honsou。　The
geometry　of　their　construction　was　flawless；　the　precision　of　their　construction　a　marvel。　A　long　curtain　wall　connected　them　and；
between　the　two　massive　bastions；　Honsou　could