Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第31部分

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e；　vambrace
and　gorget　precisely　arranged　so　that　it　resembled　some　gigantic；　disassembled　mechanical　man。　Virtually　every　surface　was
stained　with　gore　and　the　stench　of　decaying　matter　made　her　want　to　gag　every　time　she　looked　at　the　armour。
She　bent　to　her　task　once　more；　scraping　yet　another　clean　furrow　in　Kroeger's　armour。　Tears　ran　down　her　cheeks　as　she　cleaned
the　armour　of　a　monster；　knowing　that　tomorrow　she　would　be　performing　the　same　task　again。
Why　Kroeger　had　not　killed　her　was　a　mystery　and　every　day　she　found　herself　almost　wishing　that　he　had。
And　every　day　she　found　herself　hating　herself　for　wanting　to　live。
To　toil　in　the　service　of　such　a　beast　was　to　play　handmaiden　to　a　daemon　itself。
And　this　was　a　capricious　daemon；　there　was　no　way　she　could　predict　its　moods　and　behavioural　mores；　no　way　to　know
Kroeger's　reaction　to　anything　she　did。　She　railed　against　him；　beating　her　fists　against　his　bloody　armour　and　he　laughed；
throwing　her　aside。　She　acquiesced　to　his　desires　and　found　him　surly　and　brooding；　picking　at　old　scars　and　licking　his　own　blood
from　his　hands　…　he　refused　to　allow　his　wounds　to　clot　…　as　he　glared　at　her　with　contempt。
She　hated　him　with　a　fiery　passion；　but　so　wanted　to　live。　There　was　no　way　to　know　how　to　behave　to　stop　Kroeger　killing　her。
She　scraped　the　last　of　the　blood　from　the　vambrace　and　put　aside　the　bone　knife；　taking　up　an　oily　rag　and　polishing　the　silver　of
its　surface　until　it　shone。　Satisfied　that　the　heavy　piece　of　armour　was　as　clean　as　she　could　manage；　she　rose　to　her　feet　and　hung
it　upon　the　armour　frame。
As　she　hung　the　vambrace　in　place；　she　found　her　eyes　drawn　again　to　the　sight　and　stench　of　the　interior　faces　of　Kroeger's
armour。　She　polished　and　cleaned　the　exterior　of　his　armour；　but　she　would　not　touch　its　interior　surfaces。　Coated　in　a　loathsome；
creeping　horror；　these　internal　surfaces　looked　like　flensed　hunks　of　rotten　meat；　their　putrid　surfaces　undulating　as　though　imbued
with　some　foul　internal　life。　Yet　for　all　its　vile　appearance；　the　armour　exuded　a　hateful　attraction；　as　though　it　called　to　her　on
some　unknowable　level。
She　shivered　as　she　removed　the　next　piece　of　armour　from　the　frame；　the　rounded　elbow　guard。　This　piece　was　not　so　heavily
stained　and　would　not　take　long　to　clean。
The　blood　I　have　worn　will　take　more　than　your　little　knife　to　clean…
She　picked　up　her　knife　again　she　glanced　furtively　to　where　Kroeger's　weapons　lay　upright　on　an　ebony　and　silver　rack。　A
massive；　toothed　sword；　its　hilt　carved　in　the　shape　of　an　eight…pointed　star　and　quillons　tipped　with　stabbing　spikes。　Beside　that；
an　ornate　pistol　with　a　skull…mouthed　barrel　and　bronze　plated　flanks。　The　magazine　alone　was　bigger　than　her　forearm。
Go　on；　touch　them…　feel　their　power…
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
She　shook　her　head：　Kroeger　never　allowed　her　to　clean　his　weapons；　and　the　one　time　she　had　offered　had　been　her　last。　He　had
backhanded　her　lightly　across　the　face；　cracking　her　cheekbone　and　loosening　teeth；　saying；　'You　will　never　touch　these　weapons；
human。'
Bitterness　rose　with　her　tears　and　she　cursed　herself　for　wanting　to　live；　for　serving　this　creature　of　evil；　but　she　could　see　no　other
way。　She　was　powerless　to　do　anything　except　play　house…pet　to　a　madman　who　bathed　in　gore　and　revelled　in　slaughter。
Is　that　so　bad？　To　take　pleasure　from　the　death　of　another…　is　that　not　the　highest　honour　you　can　pay　another　creature？
Her　hate　for　Kroeger　was　a　bright　flame　burning　in　her　heart　and　she　felt　that　if　she　did　not　let　it　out　it　would　eventually　consume
her。
Yes；　hate；　little　one；　hate…
Her　eyes　were　once　again　drawn　to　the　armour　and　she　swore　she　could　almost　hear　distant　laughter。
FIRST　LIGHT　WAS　breaking　across　the　mountains　as　Honsou　watched　the　slave　gangs　haul　the　last　components　of　an　artillery
piece's　gun　carriage　over　the　lip　of　the　promontory。　He　noted　with　satisfaction　that　there　were　a　few　slaves　with　the　blue　jackets　of
the　enemy　within　their　numbers。　It　seemed　as　though　there　were　a　few　yet　able　to　serve　the　Iron　Warriors。
Forrix　stood　beside　him；　a　head　higher　in　his　Terminator　armour；　surveying　the　slow　progress　below　on　the　plain。　Between　the
booming　explosions　of　artillery　fire　from　the　two　bastions　and　the　central　ravelin；　the　saps　were　advancing　from　the　extended
parallel；　but　they　were　doing　so　cautiously；　moving　forward　under　the　protection　of　heavily　armoured　sap…rollers；　low；　widebodied
behemoths　crawling　slowly　forwards　to　shield　the　workers　who　dug　the　saps。
'The　Warsmith　is　displeased；'　said　Forrix；　sweeping　his　arms　out　to　encompass　the　works　below。
Honsou　turned　to　face　the　pale　veteran；　his　brow　wrinkled　in　puzzlement。　'But　we　have　proceeded　with　great　speed；　Forrix。　In　less
than　two　weeks　we　have　captured　this　outwork　and　our　saps　are　almost　close　enough　to　the　citadel　that　we　can　link　them　into　a
second　parallel。　Scarcely　have　I　seen　a　siege　progress　with　such　haste。'
Forrix　shook　his　head。　'There　are　matters　afoot　that　require　we　make　even　better　speed；　Honsou。　The　Warsmith　wishes　us　to　be
done　with　this　place　within　ten　days。'
'Impossible！'　sputtered　Honsou。　'With　the　second　parallel　not　yet　complete？　The　batteries　here　will　take　another　four　days　at　least
to　prepare；　and　it　will　probably　take　several　days　for　them　to　effect　a　breach　in　the　walls。　And　I　do　not　believe　we　will　be　able　to
make　a　practicable　breach　without　the　establishment　of　a　third　parallel　and　bringing　up　our　siege　tanks。　All　this　will　take　time；　you
know　that　better　than　anyone。'
'Nevertheless；　it　must　be　done。'
'How？'
'By　any　means　necessary；　Honsou。　Time　is　a　luxury　we　do　not　have。'
'Then　what　do　you　suggest？'
'That　we　push　the　saps　forwards　with　greater　speed；　build　more　sap　rollers；　throw　slaves　and　men　at　the　digging；　so　that　the
mounds　of　corpses　will　shield　the　diggers　from　the　Imperial　artillery；'　snapped　Forrix　suddenly。
'That　will　be　difficult；　Forrix；'　said　Honsou　slowly。　'The　Imperial　gunners　are　proving　to　be　uncannily　accurate　with　their　fire。'
'Indeed　they　are；'　mused　Forrix；　staring　at　the　mountains　surrounding　the　plains。　'Almost　too　accurate；　wouldn't　you　say？'
'What　do　you　mean？'
'You　are　sure　you　killed　everyone　in　the　places　you　attacked　before　the　invasion？'
'Aye；'　snarled　Honsou；　'We　left　nothing　alive。'
Forrix　returned　his　gaze　to　the　mountains　and　sighed。
'I　think　you　are　mistaken；　Honsou。　I　believe　there　is　still　someone　out　there。'
Honsou　said　nothing　and　Forrix　continued。　'Send　Goran　Delau　back　to　the　places　you　attacked　and　if　there　are　any　signs　of
survivors；　have　them　hunted　down　and　killed。　We　cannot　afford　to　be　slowed　further　by　your　incompetence。'
Honsou　bit　back　an　angry　retort　and　simply　nodded　stiffly　before　marching　away。
THE　HEART　WAS　a　notoriously　hard　organ　to　burn；　but　the　blue　flames　curling　from　its　roasting　muscle　tissue　were　well　worth　the
effort　thought　Jharek　Kelmaur；　sorcerer　to　the　Warsmith　and　Wielder　of　the　Seven　Cryptical　Magicks。　The　darkness　of　his　tent
was　wreathed　in　ghostly　shadows　cast　by　the　burning　heart　and　moonlight　pooling　at　its　entrance。　He　rubbed　his　hands　across　his
tattooed　skull；　spreading　his　arms　before　the　blazing　organ。
Though　his　eyes　were　sewn　shut；　he　stared　into　the　flames；　seeing　spectral　images；　beyond　the　ken　of　mortal　sight。　They　flickered
in　and　out　of　focus　as　his　magicks　sought　to　shape　the　power　bestowed　by　this　latest　offering　into　a　useable　form。　He　opened　his
mind　to　the　glory　of　the　warp；　feeling　the　rush　of　power　and　fulfilment　that　came　each　time　he　communed　with　the　immaterium。
As　always　he　felt　the　scratching；　insistent　presence　of　innumerable　astral　beasts　that　clawed　at　any　intrusion　into　their　realm；　their
mindless　thrashings　drawn　by　his　presence。
Such　formless　phantoms　；　it　was　the　other；　mightier　creatures　that　lurked　in　the　haunted　depths　of
the　warp　that　were　of　more　concern。
He　felt　the　warp…spawned　energies　flow　through　him；　channelled　and　intensified　by　the　carven　sigils　on　his　gold　and　silver
armour。　Symbols　of　ancient　geomantic　significance　helped　contain　the　powerful　energies　he　drew　within　his　flesh；　and　though　his
physique　was　enhanced；　he　knew　that　the　power　he　was　tapping　could　destroy　him　in　an　instant　were　he　to　lose　control　of　it。
The　power　raced　along　his　fragile　nerve　endings；　dispersing　throughout　his　body　and　a　luminescent　green　fire　built　behind　his
eyes；　spilling　out　from　beneath　the　stitching；　and　gathering　like　emerald　tears　on　his　cheeks　before　billowing　out　in　a　noxious
cloud　of　glittering　fog。　The　fog　twisted　and　spiralled；　though　no　wind　disturbed　it；　coiling　from　his　mouth　and　eyes　before　slipping
around　his　shoulders　like　a　snake。
Questing　tendrils　of　green　light　slithered　from　the　sorcerer　and　waved　through　the　air　to　reach　into　the　flames　of　the　burning　heart；
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
the　flames　hissing　and　sputtering　with　greater　ferocity　as　they　consumed　it。
Fleeting　images　flashed　before　Kelmaur's　eyes：　the　rock　of　Tor　Christo；　a　hidden　chamber　in　its　depths；　a　disc　of　bronze　that　shone
like　the　sun　and；　enfolding　it　all；　a　slowly　spinning　cog　wheel；　its　surface　cracked　and　blemished。　As　Kelmaur　watched；　the　cog
suddenly　erupted　with　brown；　necrotic　threads　of　rust；　each　one　spreading　rapidly　through　its　structure　until　it　crumbled　to　dust。
As　quickly　as　the　vision　had　appeared；　it　vanished；　to　be　replaced　with　one　of　a　spear　of　white　light　arcing　through　the　darkness；
its　brilliance　fading　as　it　travelled　before　it　was　in　turn　replaced　by　a　warrior　in　yellow　power　armour；　his　weapons　trained　directly
at　Kelmaur。　As　he　watched；　the　warrior　turned　his　weapon　towards　the　sorcerer　and　pulled　the　trigger；　the　barrel　exploding　in
brilliant　light。
Jharek　Kelmaur　screamed　and　collapsed　to　the　floor　of　his　tent；　blood　leaking　from　every　orifice　in　his　head；　and　pounding　pain
thundering　against　the　innards　of　his　skull。
He　groggily　pushed　himself　to　his　feet；　steadying　himself　against　the　iron　tent　pole。
He　moved　unsteadily　to　a　long；　cot　bed　and　sat　on　its　edge；　rubbing　the　heels　of　his　palms　against　his　inked　temples　and　taking
deep　breaths。　It　was　the　same　as　before；　but　with　each　passing　vision；　the　intensity　grew　stronger　and　he　knew　a　crucial　time　of
confluence　was　approaching。
He　had　to　divine　the　meaning　of　the　visions；　though　he　feared　he　knew　the　answer　to　the　second　apparition。　As　the　Iron　Warriors
had　attacked　the　spaceport；　he　had　sensed　a　psychic　signal　reach　out　from　the　planet；　too　quick　for　him　to　block；　yet　surely　too
weak　to　be　received　by　its　intended　recipients。　But　Kelmaur　was　afraid　that　others　may　have　heard　it；　and　if　they　grasped　its
significance；　might　already　be　on　their　way　to　this　planet　now。　He　had　not　told　the　Warsmith；　and　trusted　that　his　master's　warcaptains
would　be　able　to　complete　the　destruction　of　the　citadel　before　whatever　aid　was　coming　to　Hydra　Cordatus　arrived。　He
had　despatched　the　battle　barge　Stonebreaker　to　the　system's　distant　jump　point　to　lie　in　wait　for　any　would…be…rescuers；　but；
consumed　by　the　nagging　suspicion　he　was　already　too　late；　he　had　since　recalled　it。
His　cabal　of　acolytes　had　spoken　of　mind　whispers　on　the　planet　that　were　not　theirs；　and　how　this　could