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Wulfe growled as another wave of dust smothered him and his tank。 If he didn’t know better； he
would have said the New Champion was churning up the ground deliberately to impair his vision；
but all the tanks were suffering the same problem。 The trail was so narrow that the Imperial
machines had to move in single file。 As the convoy climbed higher and higher into the mountains；
the danger increased。
Metzger was guiding Last Rites II carefully along a crumbling ridge while trying to keep her at a
reasonable speed。 Everyone knew that the orks weren’t far behind； though they couldn’t be sighted；
hidden from view by the dust and the drop…off。
Wulfe took a look to his right and； not for the first time； felt something flip inside his stomach。 A
vast chasm yawned between the peak they were ascending and the next。 He turned his eyes to the
front again and felt his stomach muscles relax。
What the hell are we doing up here； he asked himself？ High altitude is no bloody place for heavy
armour。
Wulfe and the rest of the Gunheads were near the rear of the column； part of an armour
detachment charged with defending the Thirty…Sixers and Heracles halftracks that carried most of
the remaining supplies。 As such； the orks were snapping at their heels。 They were most at risk。
Behind Last Rites II came Old Smashbones and a feajor
General Rennkamp’s 12th Mechanised division。 Wulfe didn’t know the crews； but that didn’t
matter。 Whatever division they came from； the Cadians really had to stick together。 There weren’t
all that many left of them； just a few thousand men packed tightly into a few hundred machines。 By
contrast； scouts attached to the rearguard reported ork vehicles pursuing in the thousands。 Turning to
face them was not an option。 The Cadians could only keep going while the tech…priests insisted that
this was the way。
Orks or not； the mountain trail was proving enough of a challenge on its own。
Still looking ahead； trying to guide his driver as well as he possibly could despite the dust；
Wulfe decided to vox Lieutenant van Droi。 Van Droi had been too damned quiet since learning of
Colonel Vinnemann’s death。 It wasn’t like him。
“Sword Lead to Company Command；” he said。 “This is Wulfe； sir。 Please respond； over。”
“Company here； Wulfe；” replied van Droi。 He didn’t sound well。 “What can I do for you？”
Wulfe wondered how to say it without causing offence。 “Just reporting in； sir。 Still quiet back
here。 No sign of the orks so far。 I don’t suppose it’s too much to hope that they called off the
chase？”
“How long have you been a soldier； Wulfe？” said van Droi。 “You know better than that。”
“I know； sir；” said Wulfe。 “I know。 Just wishful thinking。 Listen… about the colonel； sir…”
“What about him； sergeant？”
The lieutenant’s tone told Wulfe he was treading dangerous ground。 “I’ll miss him； sir。 That’s
all。”
Van Droi was silent for a good ten seconds。 Wulfe thought the lieutenant had actually broken the
link for a moment； but then van Droi said； “You know； Oskar； when young men get their first
combat posting； it’s as if they’re suddenly children again。 Doesn’t matter if they’re officers or
grunts。 They feel inadequate； confused and scared。 They feel like they don’t belong。 And the fear
that builds up in them sometimes… Maybe you felt that way yourself。”
“I’m sure I did； sir；” said Wulfe。 “It was a long time ago； but I’m sure I did。”
142
“I never forgot that feeling；” voxed van Droi wistfully。 “I hated it more than anything； you
know。 I felt like a burden to those around me。 I had so much to learn and they had no time to teach。
It was Vinnemann that pulled me out of it。 He was just a captain back then。 It was before his injury。
He was one hell of a leader。”
“He was a good man； sir；” said Wulfe。
“He was a great man；” said van Droi。 Again there was a long pause。 “It’s not looking good for us
out here； Wulfe。 But if we have any chance at all to make him proud； I say there’s nothing we
shouldn’t do to honour him。 Understand？”
Wulfe thought he did。 It wasn’t about nice neat plans anymore。 Things had gone way beyond
that。 Van Droi was looking for something to hold on to； something solid； and； in the honour of the
regiment and his duty to Colonel Vinnemann； it was clear that he had found it； despite the mess they
were in。 Wulfe hoped he might draw a little strength from that himself。 If it worked for van Droi； it
could work for him； too。
He was a soldier。 He was a Cadian。
“For the colonel； sir；” he told van Droi； “and for the regiment。 If we go out； we’ll go out with a
hell of a bang； sir。”
Van Droi sounded a little brighter when he answered。 “That’s the stuff； Oskar。 Not many of the
Gunheads left now； but we’ll make our mark； by Throne。”
“You bet； sir；” said Wulfe。 “You can count on me and my crew。”
“I know I can； sergeant。 Van Droi out。”
“Major General Killian would like to speak with you again； sir；” said Bergen’s adjutant over the
intercom。
Bergen； up in his cupola again； immediately changed the channel on his vox…bead and said；
“News； Klotus？”
“I’ll say。 My scout leader just reported in。 This trail takes us up into the clouds just a few
hundred metres around the next curve and ends shortly afterwards。 Visibility is poor； and the going
is extremely treacherous。 But that’s not all。 The scouts… they’ve found something strange。 I thought
you ought to know。”
“Strange？ What are we talking about exactly？”
“They had difficulty describing it to me。 Look； Gerard； I’m not sure what we’re getting into
here； but I know I don’t like it and neither do my men。 According to my scouts； it’s something we’d
better see for ourselves。”
143
CHAPTER TWENTY…FIVE
“Human？” asked General deViers。
“I wouldn’t want to bet on that； sir；” replied Rennkamp。 “I suppose it could be。 Difficult to tell
with all the erosion。 All the same； it’s damned strange； if you ask me。 What in blazes is it doing up
here？”
The Cadian senior officers — deViers； his division commanders； and various attached staff —
stood at the very end of the mountain trail； surrounded by anxious scouts from the 88th Mobile
Infantry Regiment； the men that Marrenburg had sent forward to lead the column。 Massive spurs of
dark rock curved around them on either side； and the upper reaches of the mountain stretched high
above them； peaks lost in the roiling clouds。 The eyes of the Cadians barely lingered on any of these
things； however。 Instead； they were locked to the sight that lay straight in front of them。
It was ancient； that much was certain； and it was something that none of the Cadians had been
prepared for。
A great rectangular space had been excavated in the side of the mountain； forming an alcove so
wide and deep that one could have parked an entire Naval lifter inside it。 The edges looked like they
might once have been angular； squared off by the tools or machines of the masons that had carved it；
but they weren’t very square now。 Thousands of years of harsh weather had smoothed and rounded
them； as it had also done to the twin godlike figures； cut from the same stone； which knelt below the
alcove’s roof； taking the immense weight of it on their broad rocky shoulders。
The figures were vast and strange。 They looked immensely powerful； but were they supposed to
appear so distorted？ Or had they just been badly rendered？ Their huge block…like heads were
preposterously oversized by comparison to their sturdy torsos。 Each arm and leg seemed likewise
exaggerated in its thickness； presenting the beings as having impossibly heavy musculature； and
their hands and feet； much like their heads； seemed so big as to make the statues appear like some
kind of grotesque caricatures。 They were a strange sight indeed； and they looked like no statue of a
man that Bergen had ever seen。
He wondered what had they looked like in their heyday。 Had they been intricately carved？ Had
their faces been rendered in exquisite or terrifying detail？ Had they been covered in glyphs or
precious metals？ How long had they knelt here； locked in a battle with gravity to prevent the side of
the mountain from burying them？ A great many millennia； surely。
The surface of each was pitted； their features long gone； lost in time。 They were utterly faceless。
In the millennia to come； they would crumble altogether and the roof of the alcove would collapse；
burying all evidence that they had ever existed。
Thank the Throne； thought Bergen； that all that rock hasn’t come down already； or we’d be
facing a dead end。 The orks would have us properly trapped。
The expedition force wasn’t trapped。 There was a way ahead。
The cavernous black mouth of a tunnel gaped between the two huge figures。 It looked wide
enough to take four or five Leman Russ tanks driving abreast of each other。 This ancient structure
was a gate； a doorway into the belly of the mountain。 The mighty statues were its guardians。
“Abhumans； I’d say；” said Killian。 “Maybe some kind of mutated human colonists。 Who knows
how old this is。 It might date back to pre…Strife times。”
144
“Gruber； get the tech…priests up here；” snapped deViers。 “We don’t have time to stand around
discussi