‘Prepare the assault force, sergeant, I shall personally lead them into battle.’
‘As you will it, captain,’ Turan replied with a bow of his head. He fixed on his helm and banged a fist against his chestplate in salute. ‘We will murder these dogs wherever they try to hide.’
A LASCANNON BLAST burst through the edge of the balcony, obliterating the man to Valerius’s right. Showered with dust and blood, the sub-Caesari crawled back from the parapet to hunker down in the ruins of the window behind. Calorium was still by his side, one arm in a sling, the communications pack on the floor next to him. He looked at Valerius with bloodshot eyes and shook his head.
‘No reply from Praefector Tigurian, sir. I think our left flank has broken.’
‘Two thousand men, tribune, two thousand men!’ said Valerius, slumping against the frame of the window. ‘None of them are left?’
Calorium shrugged in reply.
For an hour the Therions had retreated, and for another they had held against the counter-attack of the Emperor’s Children. Marcus had done all he could, cajoling and encouraging his commanders to stay and fight, to hold the line at all costs, but there was little time left. He risked standing up, snatching his magnoculars from his belt. Training them to the south-west he could see several dozen armoured figures advancing along the road, no more than half a kilometre away.
‘Please leave!’
Valerius turned and glared at the old man whose chambers he had commandeered as a temporary command post.
‘And go where?’ the sub-Caesari snarled.
‘My wife, she wants you to leave…’
‘Really? Perhaps she thinks that Horus would be better suited as leader of the Imperium?’
‘I wouldn’t know anything about that, sir. I just know that when the legionaries get here, they’ll not leave any of us alive if we’re sheltering you.’
Valerius said nothing more. He could not blame the elderly couple for their fear. He had been fearful before, then desperate, and now had emerged into a state of strange calm about the situation. Nearly ten thousand Therions had lost their lives in the last eight hours, but he felt sanguine about the losses. A sense of numbness had filled him since losing contact with Second Phalanx, an acceptance of the inevitable.
He looked again at the Emperor’s Children. They were taking their time, checking every building along the road. Overhead, Thunderhawks prowled, seeking targets for their cannons and heavy bolters. The streets had become a bloodbath from their initial strafing runs, forcing every Therion to take shelter inside. To their credit, what little it counted for, the Emperor’s Children had not fired on the buildings; perhaps they still believed they were protecting these people.
He drew his pistol. It seemed important that he had a weapon in his hand.
‘Forget that,’ he told his tribune, looking at the vox-unit. ‘Get your lasrifle.’
Calorium pushed the heavy pack aside and dropped the receiver. He flinched as another las-blast tore into the sculpted architrave above them, melting through the relief of a war chariot charging against a horde of barbarians. On his knees, he crawled over the dead Therions and retrieved his weapon before returning to Valerius’s side.
‘You said to trust you,’ Valerius muttered to himself. ‘Weather the storm and trust you. Well, Corax, the storm is upon us.’
THERE WAS LITTLE honour in slaughtering the poorly-armed soldiers. Their lasguns were pitiful against Legiones Astartes armour, their gold-coloured flak vests no defence against boltguns. Luthris could not even enjoy the slaughter: it was too one-sided and little test for his tactical acumen or his physical prowess.
At the head of his squad, he strode up a sweeping staircase leading to the upper floors of a guesthouse. He fired his bolt pistol at the men hunkering down behind the balustrade above, his shots finding their marks between the wooden pillars.
‘Squad Andilor, proceed to the third floor,’ he said, shooting another soldier in the leg. The bolt tore the man’s hip apart, sending him sprawling. Luthris casually drove his sword into the man’s chest as he stalked past. ‘Squad Collonius, fourth floor.’
‘Heavy weapon on the roof opposite, captain,’ reported one of the sergeants. ‘Multi-laser.’
‘Call in a Thunderhawk strike, sergeant,’ Luthris replied. ‘Must I make every decision?’
‘Affirmative, captain. Calling in airstrike.’
With an armoured boot, the Emperor’s Children captain kicked open the door at the end of the landing. He quickly scanned the rooms beyond but they were empty. With a sigh of disappointment he turned back to the stairwell.
‘Captain!’
The shout came from below, not over the vox. Striding to the edge of the landing, Luthris saw Squad Argentius backing into the foyer, bolters aimed towards the outer doors. One of them yelled a warning and they opened fire, but Luthris could not see their target.
‘What’s happening?’ the captain demanded. ‘Speak to me!’
Before he heard the reply his comm-bead crackled into life.
‘Captain, we have detected sub-orbital craft, approaching at speed.’
‘From where? How did they launch?’
‘We do not know, captain. Orbital scan is clear.’
Even as he tried to absorb this information, Luthris watched the squad below. Two of the legionaries were heaved into the air, blood spilling from gaping rents in their armour. The others fired at nothing, though their bolts seemed to deflect from thin air, exploding against emptiness. Sergeant Argentius stepped forwards with his chainsword roaring. A moment later his arm and head flew away, cut clean through by some invisible force.
Luthris could not believe what he was seeing. Within a few seconds, the whole squad were dead: dismembered and decapitated.
‘Sorcery,’ he muttered. There was no Librarian close at hand to help him.
Bringing up his power sword, he took up a guard position at the top of the stairs. He thought he saw something for a moment and fired his pistol. The shot detonated a few steps up from the bottom of the stairs.
A moment later he was looking into two jet-black eyes, centimetres from his face. Stepping back, he realised what it was that confronted him. The warrior was half again as tall as Luthris, armoured in pure black splashed with gore, a winged pack upon his back. His face was bone white, his hair shorn at shoulder length. In one hand the warrior held a crackling whip; the other was sheathed in glowing claws. The apparition bared its teeth in a wordless snarl and raised its talons.
‘For the Emperor!’ it whispered as the claws slashed down.
CORAX MOVED FROM room to room, slaying any Emperor’s Children he came across. His claws cut them to ribbons and his glowing whip sliced through polished armour. Reaching the highest storey of the building, he walked out onto the balcony overlooking the main street. Looking up he saw the dark blur of drop-pods falling from the heavens. Beyond them came the contrails of Thunderhawks and Stormbirds.
It was time to head for the gate.
THE DROP-POD OPENED up like the petals of an iron flower, metal ramps crashing into the wall rampart. Navar was the first out of his harness, bounding down to the wall with easy strides. Unarmoured soldiers were manning a gun post ahead of him. Slipping a taloned finger into the guard of his bolter, he gunned them down with three shots.
Behind him, Carval growled and hissed. With a glance back at his fellow Raptor, Navar nodded. He had no idea what Carval had tried to say, but he understood his brother legionary’s intent.
‘For the Raven Guard!’ Navar cried as he dashed along the wall, opening fire when a squad of Emperor’s Children burst out of the tower ahead.
Bolt-rounds flickered back and forth between the two squads, ripping chunks of ceramite from armour. A shadow fell over Navar and he glanced up to see Lord Corax soaring over the edge of the wall. The primarch’s whip lashed out, shredding two of the Emperor’s Children from the waist up. Behind Corax came more Raven Guard, dropping down from the top of the tower ahead, their jump packs flaring to slow their descent. Plasma pistols and chainswords ready, the assault squad fell upon the rear of the Emperor’s Children.