Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第16部分

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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