God machines, p.113
God-Machines, page 113
‘Fire!’ said Luk, and the Exiles opened up as one. His thermal cannon obliterated a squadron of greenskin tanks, even as his stubbers strafed the upper windows of a hab-block across the way. Maia joined him, directing a thermal blast that brought a tower crashing down on the greenskins. Ekhaterina’s battle cannon spat shells that blew out ruins and hurled orks through the air.
Their ion shields flared as firepower washed against them, and Luk saw damage runes light across his instruments as the inevitable shots broke through.
Shouldering between a pair of blazing shop-fronts came an ork walker, Gorkanaut class, its rotary cannon spitting shells. Maia cursed as it raked her shield and struck sparks from her steed’s shins.
‘Crimson Death,’ said Luk. ‘Destroy it.’
‘Gladly,’ said Hw’ss. His energy cannons pulsed. Beams of power converged on the walker, boring through its chest and blasting it apart from within.
Even as its blazing wreck crashed sideways into a building, more orks poured over it with their guns hammering.
‘Numbers increasing,’ warned J’madus.
‘Flanking forces,’ said Lady Eleanat over the vox. ‘Air cover coming in, brace brace brace.’
A bellow filled the air, and Luk shrouded his auspicators in the instant before fighters and bombers hurtled overhead. Explosives fell like hail. The buildings before them disintegrated in a racing firestorm that hurled shrapnel against their shields and rained burning xenos remains down upon their steeds.
‘Magnificent!’ laughed Lady Hespar. ‘Bloody magnificent! Burn, you alien scum!’
‘Stay focused,’ ordered Luk.
He punched his clenched fist forward, his haptic gauntlet translating the gesture into a roaring blast of heat that leapt from his thermal cannon to annihilate an ork Battlewagon. The ruin next to Sword of Heroes collapsed as another Gorkanaut crashed through it. The machine swung its claw at the Knight’s torso, and Luk parried with his chainsword. The reaper hacked through hydraulics and metal blades, severing the claw and carrying on to saw the machine’s head off.
The Gorkanaut’s wreckage slammed into Luk’s steed, and he fought his controls to brace against its weight. Topple alarms shrilled. Hydraulics whined. With his ghosts clamouring in his mind, Luk managed to take a step back, then another. His steed’s footfalls crushed blazing orks, and the wreck of the Gorkanaut fell away, slamming into the roadsurface.
Luk saw another Gorkanaut coming at him, too fast for him to redress. Wrath Inescapable surged past him, meeting the ork walker’s charge with one shoulder lowered. Sparks flew and metal crumpled, the impact so ferocious that the Gorkanaut’s feet went out from under it. The ork war machine smashed down on its back, and Wrath Inescapable killed it with a point-blank shot to the head.
With mental impulses and deft twitches of his haptic controls, Luk brought Sword back into a fighting stance.
‘My thanks, Wrath Inescapable,’ he said. She flashed a rune in response, already storming on into the foe.
Luk cycled his autoloaders and checked his strategic overlay. Lauret’s spearhead had made it almost to the walls of the Iron Maze, their path cleared and flanks defended by a beautifully orchestrated ballet of airstrikes and strafing runs. Meanwhile, the ork counter-attack on both flanks had been met by walls of Knights, also bolstered by close-range bombing runs. It was shock tactics, fast and risky.
‘But it’s working,’ he grinned.
Then a thunderous note rang out. It took Luk a moment to realise it was the blare of a vox-horn, and that it came from the walls of the Iron Maze. Another blast rang out, then another.
‘Lady Eleanat,’ voxed Luk, still striding up the street and blasting one target after another. ‘Does that signal what I think it does?’
‘The Marchioness has made vox contact with Grandmarshal Kurt,’ said Eleanat. ‘He has–’ She broke off for a moment, and Luk heard a string of fierce explosions over the vox. ‘He has Knightly forces still fighting within both wings of the Iron Maze,’ she continued. ‘They’re about to sally forth and link up with us.’
‘Now we’ve got them,’ said Luk.
‘Hold to the Code Chivalric, Knight of Ashes,’ said Eleanat. ‘They could unseat us yet.’
‘Understood, my lady,’ said Luk. ‘Wise as ever.’
He broke vox, stomping Sword of Heroes to the end of the street and around the corner of a burning cathedrum into the square beyond. Ekhaterina’s steed emerged from a street to his left, while Maia and Hw’ss followed behind him.
Luk saw a huge statue of a Minot at the centre of the square, cast in bronze and leaning, headless, from its podium. Then his cockpit alarms howled and he swung his ion shield to bear with the speed of reflex.
Something struck the shield with titanic force, staggering Sword and causing sparks to shower from Luk’s systems. He gasped at a flare of sympathetic pain as his shield generator burned out, and his chainsword arm went dead and dark.
‘Baneblade!’ shouted Ekhaterina.
‘Once,’ said Sire Hw’ss. ‘Now, it is an abomination!’
The tank sat on the far edge of the square, monstrous main gun smoking. Its formerly noble lines had been corrupted by spikes and panels of scrap-metal, crudely painted blue and covered in ork glyphs. Xenos surged around it, some riding in jouncing trukks, others on foot.
‘Prioritise the super-heavy,’ ordered Luk. ‘Keep moving, don’t let the infantry close.’
‘Knight of Ashes, get clear,’ said Ekhaterina. ‘Your shield’s down. You can’t risk a direct hit.’
‘Then we’d best kill it before it scores one, lady,’ said Luk. ‘Crimson Death, you have the best ranged weapons for dealing with that abomination. Blast it.’
A rune flashed back from Hw’ss, and the ancient Knight stalked out into the square with its positron drivers howling. Shot after shot raked the Baneblade, punching through its armour and causing explosions to billow within.
Luk pushed his steed into a swift series of sidesteps, putting the crippled statue between him and the Baneblade’s main gun. As he went he blasted an ork transport tank, reducing it to ashes, and raked stubber rounds through the ork hordes. Maia and Ekhaterina followed his lead, circling out around the square with their guns blazing. Dozens of orks were dead in seconds, yet still the greenskins came on.
The Baneblade advanced with a bellow of engines, trailing flames and debris as it surged towards Crimson Death. The demolisher cannon in its hull fired, and a shell slammed into Hw’ss’ shields. Energy flared as the shell detonated several feet from his hull, and Crimson Death strode through the flames.
‘Crimson Death, evade. He’s zeroing on you,’ shouted Maia.
The Baneblade’s lascannons spat searing light, one shot flying wide. The other slammed into Hw’ss shields and overloaded them in a blast of light.
‘Omnissiah’s blood,’ cursed J’madus, a second before the Baneblade’s main gun fired again.
The shot caught Crimson Death in the shoulder. The explosion tore a gaping rent in the war engine’s armour, and Luk heard Hw’ss cry out in pain. Flames billowed, and the rangy Knight ground to a halt as its emergency protocols dumped power.
Crimson Death stood defenceless before the Baneblade.
‘No, you don’t,’ snarled Luk. He stormed across the square towards the Baneblade, charging his thermal cannon as he went.
‘Luk!’ shouted Ekhaterina, pushing Duty Unending into a loping run. The Baneblade’s lascannons fired again, but Lady Hespar’s shield caught the shots in a blaze of blue light.
Runes scrolled down Luk’s peripheral vision as he reached optimal range. Any second the ork gunners would have another shell loaded. Any second they would fire the shot that killed Sire Hw’ss. Or him.
‘Xenos scum,’ spat Luk, triggering his cannon. The shot bored through the Baneblade’s flank, melting armour, cabling, power conduits and fuel pipes. It triggered shells in their breeches, vapourised crew, and ignited the tank’s fuel reserves. Then the tank’s primary generator detonated. The Baneblade lifted a dozen feet into the air on a roiling fireball, then slammed back down with earth-shaking force.
For the second time in as many minutes, Luk fought frantically to keep his gyrostabilisers balanced, seeing more warning lights flash up as his steed’s servomotors burned out. Flames billowed around him and he gasped as the metal of his cockpit grew hot enough to burn his skin.
Then the fires of the explosion dimmed, and the clatter of multiple impacts filled the cockpit as shrapnel pattered off his steed’s scorched armour.
Ekhaterina strode her Knight up level with his, firing shots into the panicked orks who were fleeing in terror at the destruction of their mighty tank.
‘You owe me your life, Knight of Ashes,’ she said. ‘Again.’
‘I’ll find some way to repay you, I’m sure,’ said Luk, hurriedly powering down non-essential systems and wrestling his red-lining reactor to quiescence. ‘Crimson Death owes me his, now. Perhaps I could just transfer the debt?’
Lady Hespar laughed. ‘No chance,’ she replied, continuing to fire. ‘This is much more fun. On the positive side, your paintwork is blasted to atoms.’
‘How is that a positive?’ asked Luk, wincing at the thought of the work it would take to bring Sword of Heroes back to optimal fighting strength.
‘Well, you really do look the part now,’ she said. ‘A true Knight of Ashes…’
The battle lasted another hour, but the Exiles took little part in it. With Sword of Heroes badly damaged, and Crimson Death inoperable, Maia and Ekhaterina stood guard over the square until Gesmund could escort the ironlegs to their position. Together with the Vesserines, Duty Unending and Wrath Inescapable saw off several smaller ork attacks while the Sacristans went to work repairing Sires Kar Chimaeros’ and Hw’ss’ steeds.
Once it had been established that J’madus was alive – if somewhat shaken and injured – inside his steed, Luk turned to watching the strategic manifold. He observed with admiration as the Marchioness’ battleplan unfolded, her constant air strikes herding the greenskins and blunting each of their counter-attacks. Luk doubted that the Draconis air crews, finely trained as they were, could have matched the elaborate manoeuvres performed by the Pegasson pilots that day.
He saw the moment that Grandmarshal Kurt led one Lancepoint of Minotos Knights from the western wing of the Iron Maze as his herald Sire Wilhorm led another from the east. With their vox-speakers blaring martial arias, the Minotane lances ploughed into the reeling orks, who had only just turned to face the Pegasson Knights attacking from behind.
In a series of crunching battles, the strength of the ork horde was broken between the hammer and the anvil of the Knightly forces. Some steeds were damaged. Others fell. But thanks to the Marchioness’ bold strategy, and the skill of her and Kurt’s Knights, the damage was less than it could have been.
Luk’s and J’madus’ steeds were pronounced sufficiently repaired in time to limp through the burning ruin of the city and observe the meeting of the victorious leaders.
Lauret Tan Pegasson dismounted from her steed and met Grandmarshal Kurt Tan Minotos before the walls of the Iron Maze. At her behest, Luk dismounted and joined them with Ekhaterina as his second.
Lauret and Kurt stood amidst the Knights of their respective Exalted Courts, ringed by watchful steeds and Minotane militia. Burning rubble and ork corpses were strewn all around them. Lauret looked ethereal and deadly in her sculpted bodyglove, silvered data-tresses spilling down her back, eyes glowing with power.
By comparison, Luk thought Kurt looked shaken, battered and young. His waxed moustache had grown out into a messy tangle, and he had a long, fresh scar down one cheek. His heavily armoured brass bodyglove was badly dented, and he leaned on his heavy Minotane hammer like a wounded man with a crutch.
‘Only three Exalted with him,’ noted Ekhaterina. ‘He’s lost a couple of his closest to this war.’
‘Marchioness Lauret Tan Pegasson,’ said Kurt after a long, increasingly awkward silence.
‘Grandmarshal Kurt Tan Minotos,’ said Lauret, inclining her head.
‘My lady,’ said Kurt, bowing stiffly. ‘Allow me to extend to you the fullest thanks of my house. You rode to our aid, unbidden and unlooked for, and you have my gratitude for the help you have rendered.’
There were subtle stirrings amongst the Pegasson Knights. It was scant thanks, going by the strictures of the Code.
‘Your gratitude should not be directed solely at me and mine, Grandmarshal,’ said Lauret. ‘You owe thanks also to the Knight of Ashes. Without his counsel and his selfless example, we would still have been ensconced within our mountain fastness. You did not, as you say, choose to call for aid.’
Kurt looked for a moment as though he had been slapped. Then Luk’s name seemed to register, and his brows drew down. He turned a hard stare on Luk and Ekhaterina.
‘Luk Kar Chimaeros,’ said the Grandmarshal. ‘Knight of Ashes.’
Luk bowed. Ekhaterina sketched a curtsy that stayed just the right side of mocking.
‘Grandmarshal,’ said Luk. ‘I come on behalf of High King Danial.’
‘Your father,’ said Kurt slowly. ‘He betrayed this world and everyone on it. His deeds weakened us when we needed strength. He’s partly to blame for all this.’
‘Grandmarshal, as you must know, I have taken the Freeblade oath,’ said Luk wearily. ‘Whatever ties I had–’
‘I know,’ snapped Kurt. ‘I know. I promised myself that in my father’s name, if I ever met you I would take this hammer to your skull, oath or not.’
There was a collective gasp from the Knights around them. Even Kurt’s own warriors looked at him aghast.
‘But here you stand,’ the Grandmarshal continued. ‘Returned from your hunt, to a war you had no part in. Returned, I presume, to offer your blade. You bring the Knights of House Pegasson, when I was too proud to ask them for aid. You bring word of the High King, still fighting when I left him to fight it alone. You shame me, Knight of Ashes, and even as one part of me wants more than ever to strike you for that, the other knows this would be the act of a child and a fool. I have played the part of both for too damned long. My people have paid the price.’
Silence reigned. Fire crackled. Distantly, gunfire rattled as the last of the orks were hunted through the streets.
Luk walked into the circle of high ranking nobles and fell to one knee before Kurt Tan Minotos.
‘I knew your father,’ said Luk. ‘Not well, my lord, but I knew him, and he would have been proud of such frank humility. Whatever I can do to repair the hurts my former house did to yours, I pledge on my blade that I shall do.’
‘You have already done a great deal,’ said Kurt. ‘Stand. Please.’
The Grandmarshal turned back to Lauret.
‘I assume, from the Knight of Ashes’ words, you have not come simply to aid House Minotos in its hour of need?’
‘You assume correctly, Kurt,’ said Lauret. ‘We both have stood back for too long. Donatos taught us mistrust, yet in embracing that lesson we have only weakened ourselves, and our world. It took the son of this world’s greatest traitor to show me that, but I see it now. Our High King calls for aid. Will you join me?’
Luk saw something kindle in Kurt’s eyes then.
The Grandmarshal turned to his Knights and raised his hammer.
‘House Minotos will bloody well fight with you, won’t we, boys?’
His Exalted Court gave a hoarse cheer, and from the vox-horns of the Minotane Knights came booming notes of assent that echoed over the ruined city.
Despite himself, despite knowing the odds still stacked against them, Luk found himself grinning.
‘There’s a chance now,’ he said to Ekhaterina, who returned his smile with one of her own. ‘If they can just hold them back until we can march to their aid, there’s a chance now…’
CHAPTER 15
Jennika led her lance across the wetlands at a loping run. The sun rose at their backs through curtains of mist and shadow, reaching glimmering fingers of light across the swamp. The Knights ploughed wakes through the stagnant water, sending waves rolling away to lap at half-submerged ruins. Traxin’s Crawler followed, engines running hot as it strove to keep pace with the war engines.
As Fire Defiant strove tirelessly to catch up to its quarry, Jennika brooded on all that had occurred. Her body ached with tiredness and pain, though Traxin had patched her wounds as best he could in the scant time she allowed. Stimms and nutrient feeds kept her biological needs at bay, but she knew that exhaustion and injury would catch up to her eventually.
‘For all my power, still just mortal,’ she told herself. ‘But weakness must wait.’
As the miles rolled past, Jennika’s eye was drawn again and again to the cloth-wrapped bundle she had thrust into her cockpit’s storage rack. In the dark, with so much occurring, it had been easy enough to conceal her strange prize from her comrades. She still wasn’t sure why she had. Something told Jennika that the blade should be kept secret, at least until she could learn more of its provenance.
‘Da will know more,’ she thought. ‘And if not, he’ll know which tomes to pore over until he does.’
The thought of her brother caused her a pang of concern. The long-range vox was a fouled mess, and all efforts to reach the Draconspire, Pegassus’ Eyrie and the Iron Maze had failed. There was no way for Jennika to discover how the war against the orks fared. Or, she thought bitterly, to alert her people to her suspicions about Inquisitor Massata.
What does this man truly want? whispered the ghosts of her throne. He is an inquisitor, he speaks with the Emperor’s voice!
