Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第37部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

into　a　sitting　position；　opening　his　eyes　in　time　to　see　the　torpedo　roaring　through　the　sky　on　a　pillar　of　fire。
Guardsman　Julius　Hawke　knew　he'd　never　seen　a　more　beautiful　sight。
THE　GLAIVE　CLASS　ground…launched　orbital　torpedo　climbed　rapidly　through　the　red　sky　of　Hydra　Cordatus　on　a　blazing　tail
plume；　lighting　the　battlefield　below　with　its　brilliant　glare。　It　soon　became　nothing　more　than　a　flickering　point　of　light　in　the　sky；
climbing　to　an　altitude　where　the　air　was　thinner　and　its　speed　could　increase。　As　it　reached　a　height　of　nearly　one　hundred
kilometres；　the　first　stage　of　the　torpedo　separated　and　stage　two　ignited；　increasing　its　velocity　still　further　as　the　war…spirit　caged
within　the　warhead　calculated　the　time；　distance　and　vector　to　its　target。
The　torpedo　nosed　over；　travelling　at　almost　fourteen　thousand　kilometres　per　hour；　and　began　hunting　for　its　prey。　The　Adeptus
Mechanicus　had　cursed　its　target　and　that　curse　now　passed　to　the　war…spirit。　As　the　torpedo　angled　itself　back　towards　the　planet；
the　warhead　identified　its　target。
With　its　target　locked　in　its　sights；　the　war…spirit　vectored　the　nozzles　on　the　second　stage　to　fire　a　corrective　burn　that　altered　its
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
flight　path　and　sent　the　torpedo　plummeting　back　to　Hydra　Cordatus。
FORRIX　STOOD　AT　the　edge　of　the　promontory　watching　the　battle　raging　below　with　impotent　frustration。　The　batteries　were　being
attacked　by　the　Imperials　and　he　could　do　nothing　about　it。　Who　would　have　believed　the　curs　of　the　corpse…god　could　be　so　bold？
His　hands　bunched　into　fists　and　he　vowed　that　someone　would　pay　for　this。
Flashes　and　rippling　explosions　lit　up　the　night　and　his　enhanced　sight　could　follow　individual　acts　of　bravery　and　heroism　in　the
battle。　Not　only　that；　but　he　could　clearly　see　the　yellow　armour　of　the　Imperial　Fists　in　the　flickering　light。　To　have　the　ancient
foe　here　was　as　close　to　perfect　synchronicity　as　he　could　have　wished。　He　remembered　fighting　Dorn's　warriors　on　the　walls　of
the　Eternity　Gate　on　Terra；　ten　thousand　years　ago。　Then　they　had　been　warriors　to　walk　the　road　to　hell　with；　but　now…　？
He　would　soon　find　out。　An　inferno　of　hate　burned　within　his　heart　with　a　passion　he　had　all　but　forgotten。
He'd　watched　the　spear　of　light　roar　from　the　mountains　to　the　east　of　the　citadel　and　had　experienced　a　moment's　unease　as　he
watched　the　orbital　torpedo　climb　higher　and　higher。
How　had　it　been　fired　and　where　was　it　bound？　But　these　questions　seemed　largely　irrelevant　now；　as　it　had　streaked　into　the
heavens　then　vanished　through　the　clouds。
Forrix　returned　his　attention　to　the　battle　below；　sneering　in　contempt　as　he　saw　the　Imperials　begin　to　pull　back　under　the　fury　of
the　Iron　Warriors'　counterattack。　He　saw　Honsou　leading　a　rabble　of　soldiers　through　the　battery；　killing　those　not　quick　enough　to
make　their　escape；　and　smiled　grimly。
Honsou　was　becoming　a　fearsome　war…leader　and　Forrix　knew　that；　given　the　chance；　he　could　be　amongst　the　greatest　Warsmiths
the　Legion　had　ever　seen。
The　battle　below　was　as　good　as　over。　Forrix　turned　away；　marching　past　the　huge　number　of　artillery　pieces　he　had　assembled　on
the　promontory　and　over　the　breach　Honsou　had　fought　his　way　across。　Tomorrow　they　would　begin　firing　again　and　the　walls　of
the　citadel　would　crumble。
He　crossed　the　entrenchment　on　long；　flat　sheets　of　metal；　stopping　as　a　sudden　premonition　sent　a　shiver　along　his　spine。　He
craned　his　neck　upwards。
The　sky　was；　as　usual；　the　colour　of　blood；　lit　by　reflected　flashes　of　explosions　from　below。
What　had　made　him　look　up？
Then　he　saw　it。
A　burning　dot　of　light　high　in　the　sky；　arcing　down　towards　the　planet　at　fantastic　speed。　Forrix's　jaw　hung　slack　as　he　realised　the
ultimate　destination　of　the　torpedo。　Hot　anger　flooded　his　body　as　he　watched　molten　streamers　of　light　flare　from　the　torpedo　as　it
entered　the　lower　atmosphere。
He　bolted　for　the　keep；　shouting　a　voxed　warning　to　the　warriors　inside。
'By　all　that　is　unholy；　raise　the　keep's　void　shield！'
He　lumbered　towards　the　sunken　blast　doors　that　led　within；　casting　a　hurried　glance　over　his　shoulder。　The　burning　corona　of　fire
that　surrounded　the　torpedo　appeared　to　him　like　a　baleful　eye　in　the　heavens；　aimed　straight　for　his　heart。
Forrix　entered　the　keep；　hammering　his　fist　across　the　door…closing　mechanism　and　set　off　towards　its　command　centre。　He　heard
the　pervasive　hum　of　the　void　shield　generator　buried　beneath　the　tower　powering　up　and　fervently　hoped　that　it　would　raise　in
time。
For　if　it　did　not；　he　and　everyone　in　the　keep　were　as　good　as　dead。
THE　TORPEDO　IMPACTED　almost　exactly　in　the　centre　of　the　Kane　bastion　of　Tor　Christo　where　its　triple　stage　warhead　detonated
with　devastating　results。　The　lead　element　of　the　warhead　was　designed　to　crater　an　opening　through　the　thick　hull　of　a　starship；
while　the　tail　element　would　explode　simultaneously；　acting　as　a　propellant　and　hurling　the　middle　charge　deep　within　its　target；
But　instead　of　the　metres…thick；　reinforced　adamantium　bulkhead　of　a　starship；　the　torpedo　slammed　into　the　ground　of　the　Kane
bastion；　travelling　at　over　a　thousand　kilometres　an　hour。　The　first　stage　of　the　torpedo　exploded　with　phenomenal　power；
flattening　everything　within　three　hundred　metres　and　blasting　a　crater　fifty　metres　deep。　The　tail　section　blew　and　thrust　the
torpedo　deeper　into　the　rock　of　the　promontory　where　the　more　powerful　centre　charge　detonated　with　the　power　of　a　sun；　ripping
the　rock　of　Tor　Christo　apart。
Night　became　day　as　blinding　light　fountained　from　the　impact。　Tank…sized　chunks　of　stone　were　hurled　through　the　air　like
pebbles　as　an　expanding　wave　of　blinding　smoke　and　dust　filled　the　valley。　The　thunderclap　of　detonation　was　like　the　hammer　of
the　gods；　come　to　smite　the　surface　of　the　planet；　and　a　surging　mushroom　cloud　billowed　a　thousand　metres　into　the　sky；　hurling
ash　and　burning　rock　in　all　directions。
The　ramparts　of　the　bastions　either　side　of　the　torpedo's　impact　sagged　and　cracked；　their　rockcrete　walls　splitting　under　forces
they　were　never　designed　to　endure。　The　crater　in　the　centre　of　the　promontory　expanded　with　terrifying　rapidity；　tonnes　of　rubble
and　artillery　pieces　collapsing　into　the　fiery　pit。
With　a　tortured　groan；　millions　of　tonnes　of　stone　cracked　and　rumbled；　sliding　free　of　the　slopes　of　the　promontory；　crashing
down　in　a　rocky　tidal　wave　of　destruction。　The　western　end　of　the　first　parallel　was　buried　beneath　the　avalanche　of　rock；　and　the
zigzag　approach　saps　leading　to　the　second　parallel　filled　and　collapsed。　Thousands　died　screaming　as　they　were　crushed　beneath
the　sweeping　tide　of　earth。
The　battery　constructed　before　the　walls　of　the　Vincare　bastion　vanished　in　a　torrential　downpour　of　earth　and　rock；　the　guns
buried　forever　beneath　thousands　of　tonnes　of　debris。
Hundreds　of　secondary　explosions　were　touched　off　as　burning　shards　of　wreckage　dropped　into　the　Iron　Warriors'　camp；
detonating　ammo　dumps　and　fuel　bladders；　and　setting　light　to　hundreds　of　tents。　Anarchy　filled　the　camp　as　men　attempted　to
fight　the　blazes；　but　they　were　as　ants　fighting　a　forest　fire；　nothing　could　halt　the　spread　of　the　voracious　flames。
The　blast　wave　buffeted　the　towering　form　of　the　Dies　Irae；　but　the　workers　had　done　their　job　well　and　the　towering　buttresses
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
and　scaffolding　held；　keeping　the　monstrous　leviathan　from　toppling。　The　massive　Titan　shook；　its　joints　groaning　and　squealing
as　its　external　gyros　fought　for　balance；　but　the　Shockwave　passed　over　it　and　left　it　intact。　Several　other　Titans　were　not　so
fortunate　and　three　Warlords　of　the　Legio　Mortis　were　brought　down　by　massive　hunks　of　rock　or　collapsed　by　the　force　of　the
blast。
The　death　toll　had　reached　nearly　ten　thousand　by　the　time　the　final　echoes　of　the　blast　had　died　away　and　the　blinding　light　of　the
torpedo's　detonation　had　faded。　All　that　remained　of　Tor　Christo　was　the　void…shielded　keep；　perched　precariously　on　a　splintered
corbel　of　rock。
In　a　single　stroke；　Guardsman　Hawke　had　suddenly　tilted　the　balance　of　power　on　Hydra　Cordatus。
CASTELLAN　VAUBAN　PUSHED　himself　up　out　of　the　dust　and　earth　and　shook　his　head　clear　of　the　ringing　din　that　filled　his　skull。
Bright　light　filled　the　valley　and　he　laughed　in　triumph　as　he　saw　the　enormous　mushroom　cloud　wreathing　Tor　Christo　in　smoke
and　flames。
He　and　Leonid　had　seen　the　torpedo　launch；　but　they　had　been　too　busy　rallying　the　men　to　fall　back　towards　the　Primus　Ravelin
to　follow　its　course。　The　chaos　of　the　attack　on　the　battery　had　consumed　him　and　the　first　he'd　known　of　the　torpedo's　impact　was
when　he'd　seen　his　shadow　suddenly　thrown　out　before　him　and　an　enormous　force　smashed　him　to　the　ground。　Fleeting
impressions　of　flashing　light；　thunderous　detonations　and　pain　as　rocks　and　earth　came　hammering　down　around　him。
Dizzily　he　pushed　himself　to　his　feet；　casting　his　gaze　through　the　grey　smoke；　attempting　to　see　the　extent　of　the　damage；　but　it
was　futile。　He　couldn't　see　more　than　a　dozen　metres：　the　dust　and　smoke　was　too　thick。　He　could　see　shapes　picking　themselves
slowly　from　the　ground；　but　whether　they　were　friend　or　foe　was　impossible　to　tell。
Muffled　rallying　cries　of　sergeants　pierced　the　gloomy；　dust…filled　air　and　he　thought　he　heard　Leonid's　voice　calling　his　name；　but
it　was　hard　to　tell。　He　tried　to　shout　a　reply；　but　his　mouth　was　dry　with　ash　and　all　he　could　manage　was　a　hoarse　croak。　He　spat；
wiping　his　face　clear　of　dirt　and　futilely　dusting　down　his　jacket　and　breastplate。
It　was　time　to　impose　some　order。　He　stumbled　towards　where　he　thought　he'd　heard　Leonid's　voice。　He　turned　blindly；　all　sense
of　direction　lost　in　the　haze。
Vauban　froze　as　he　heard　a　voice　in　the　smoke　and　an　enormous　figure　in　burnished；　dust　and　blood　stained　armour　wearily
emerged　from　the　swirling　clouds　before　him。
The　warrior　was　helmetless；　his　close…cropped　black　hair　tight　against　his　skull　and　his　eyes　burning　with　a　hate　that　chilled
Vauban　to　his　very　soul。
The　two　faced　one　another　in　silence　until　Vauban　drew　his　power　sword　and　assumed　a　relaxed　fighting　stance；　though　fear　of
this　warrior　pulsed　along　every　nerve　of　his　body。
In　a　calm　voice　he　said；　'I　am　Castellan　Prestre　de　Roche　Vauban　the　sixth；　heir　to　the　lands　of　Burgovah　on　the　planet　Joura；　scion
of　the　House　of　Vauban。　Cross　blades　with　me　if　you　wish　to　die；　foul　daemon。'
The　warrior　smiled。　'I　have　no　such　impressive　titles；　human。　I　am　called　Honsou。　Half…breed；　mongrel；　filth；　scum。　I　will　cross
blades　with　you。'
Vauban　activated　the　blade　of　his　sword　and　dropped　into　a　fighting　crouch　as　Honsou　approached。　The　battery　fell　silent　as　the
two　combatants　circled　one　another；　searching　for　a　weakness　in　the　other's　defence。
Vauban　raised　his　sword　in　salute　and；　without　warning；　leapt　towards　Honsou；　thrusting　with　his　energised　blade。
Honsou　swayed　aside　and　swept　his　sword　round；　slashing　the　blade　towards　Vauban。　He　ducked　and　spun　away；　slashing　high
with　his　sword。
Honsou　deflected　the　sweep　and　stepped　back；　his　sword　raised　before　him。　Vauban　recovered　his　balance　and　advanced　towards
Honsou。　He　lunged　again　and　Honsou　expertly　blo