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What do you think is the single most important element of a fortress； Poulsen？ Its walls？ Its guns？ Its position？ No。 It is the men
who stand behind its walls and say to the enemy； 〃No； you shall not take this place〃。 The fighting spirit of these men is all that
keeps the enemy beyond these walls and only by standing together； with faith in the Emperor and an utter belief in our ability to
hold； will we prevail。 Regardless of the facts； the men need to believe that we believe the Christo can hold。 Otherwise we are lost。'
Poulsen nodded thoughtfully before saying； 'Do you believe we can hold； sir？'
Tedeski returned his gaze to the plains below。 'Ultimately； no； we cannot hold。 Tor Christo will fall； but we will hold it for as long
as we can。 When I decide that the day is lost； I will order the withdrawal along the tunnels and overload our reactor to blow this
place apart before I allow these bastards to make use of the Christo。'
HONSOU PUSHED ASIDE an emaciated slave worker and followed Forrix along the twisting trench that led to the forward parallel。
As the two Iron Warriors passed； slaves hurriedly dropped their shovels and picks and abased themselves before their masters。
Neither Forrix nor Honsou paid the wretched creatures any heed； too intent on the looming shape of Tor Christo above them。
Honsou felt the familiar anticipation as they stepped into the main parallel and he saw the thoroughness with which it had been
constructed。
It had been dug to a depth of three metres； the wall nearest Tor Christo angled inwards to minimise the effect of airbursting shells。
Propped dugouts were cut into the trench sides where slaves slept； ate and died。 Too bone…weary to dispose of their dead in any
other way； corpses were pushed to the side of the trench； the rotted remains filling the air with the stench of decay。 Timber boards
on iron sleepers were laid across the base of the trench and Honsou was impressed with the speed with which Forrix had driven
the trench forward。
'The first battery will be here；' said Forrix； pointing to a portion of the trench Honsou estimated was some six hundred metres from
the base of the mountain。 He could see that work had already begun on widening the trench。 Thick sheets of steel were piled at the
entrance to the new battery； ready to be laid across the ground to enable the big guns to fire without their recoil burying them in
the ground。
Honsou nodded； looking up towards Tor Christo； picturing the angle of fire this guns placed in this battery would have。
The most vulnerable point of any fortification was its salient angles； the projecting points of its bastions where the ground in front
was not covered by direct fire from the parapet。 Forrix had dug the main sap directly towards the central bastion； with this forward
parallel constructed well within the range of the fort's guns； but protected by their depth and earthen ramparts。
Honsou could see that batteries were being dug to either side of the bastion's salient； angled inwards so that the guns placed there
would fire perpendicular to the face of the bastion and break it open efficiently。 Once the walls had been breached with direct
firing guns； howitzers would send screaming shells into the gap to sweep it clear of enemy infantry before the main attack went in。
Even so； it was sure to be a bloody enterprise。
There was a pleasing inevitability to the mechanics of a siege thought Honsou； as he watched dying slaves digging the gun
battery。 He had heard tales that in ages past there was a prescribed series of stages an attacker would be forced to go through
before it was deemed that he had done enough to earn the surrender of a garrison。 Once it had been decreed that both forces had
done all that honour demanded； the defenders would surrender and be allowed to quit the fortress carrying their weapons with
their colours raised high。 Such a notion was clearly ludicrous； and Honsou could not imagine a time when he would accept an
enemy's surrender。
Once the Iron Warriors began a siege； there was no way to stop it。
When the great Perturabo had still led his warriors in battle； he offered his foes one chance to surrender before he had even
planted a single shovel in the ground。 Should that offer be refused； there would be no others； and such a siege could end only one
way： in blood and death。
'You have sited your batteries well； Forrix；' noted Honsou。
Forrix nodded briefly； accepting the compliment。 'I do not believe we need to dig any further。 To do so is pointless … we would
expose ourselves needlessly to airbursting shells and the slope of the promontory will obscure the walls of the fortress should we
press forward。'
Honsou saw that Forrix was correct。 'What about the batteries at the foot of the mountain？ This will be well within their ideal
range and the guns here will undoubtedly be targeted。'
'I realise that； Honsou； but when our guns are in place I will lead warriors from my company to take the enemy gun positions by
storm。'
Honsou narrowed his eyes； aware that Forrix had called him by his name for the first time。 Then the notion that he would be
denied the chance to capture the guns he had discovered hit him and he snarled； You will capture the lower guns？ I discovered
them； the honour of their capture should be mine！'
'No； Honsou； I have another task for you。'
'Oh； and what would that be？ Keeping the guns fed with shells？ Guarding slaves？'
Forrix said nothing and pointed to a gap in the trench wall that was filled with sandbags and defended by a full squad of Iron
Warriors。
'When the time is right； you will lead the storming parties from this point and take the breach。 You will hold it until the human
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
soldiers are able to scale the rock face and escalade the walls with ladders and grapples。'
Honsou opened his mouth to retort； then snapped it shut as he realised the honour of the task he was being given。 His chest
swelled with pride before his natural cynicism and suspicion came to the fore。
'Why； Forrix？ Why do you do me this honour？ You have done nothing before now but deride me and keep me in my place as a
mongrel； a half…breed。'
Forrix was silent for long seconds； as though he himself did not know exactly why he had made such an offer。 He turned from the
mountain and faced Honsou。
'There was a time I thought like you do； Honsou。 A time when I believed we fought for something more important than simple
revenge； but as the millennia of battle ground on； I came to realise that there was no point to what we did。 Nothing ever changed
and nothing brought us closer to victory。 I have been too long from the field of battle； Honsou； and as I watched you fight the
Imperials； I knew that in your heart； you are an Iron Warrior。 You still believe in the dream of Horus； I lost my hold on it many
centuries ago。'
Forrix grinned suddenly。 'And the fact that it will send Kroeger into a towering rage。'
Honsou laughed； feeling uncharacteristically charitable towards the venerable Forrix。
'That it will； Forrix； but he will be shamed by your decision。 Are you sure you are wise to antagonise Kroeger in this way？ He
descends further into the grasp of the Blood God with each passing day。'
'The young…blood is nothing to me。 I see nothing for him beyond mindless slaughter； but you… for you I see great things。 The
Warsmith does too； I see it every time he speaks to you。'
Honsou said； 'In that I think you are mistaken。 He hates me。'
'True； and yet you lead one of his grand companies' pointed out Forrix。
'Only because Borak died at Magnot Four…Zero and the Warsmith has not yet named his successor。'
'Again true； but ask yourself this： how long ago was the Battle at Magnot Four…Zero？'
'Nearly two hundred years。'
'Aye； and do you think that in all that time the Warsmith could not have found someone to lead the company？'
'Obviously not； or he would have done so。'
Forrix sighed and snapped； 'Perhaps that tainted blood of yours has made you as slow…witted as Dorn's lap…dogs from whence it
comes！ Think； Honsou。 Had the Warsmith named you Borak's successor there and then； would any of his warriors have accepted
you？ No； of course not； and nor should they have； because to them you were just a despised half…breed。'
'Not a lot has changed； Forrix。'
'Then you are more foolish than I took you to be；' snarled Forrix； marching back along the trench to the supply depots and leaving
Honsou confused and alone in the half…finished battery。
FIVE
THE MACHINE TEMPLE at the heart of the citadel pulsed with barely contained power as though the very walls themselves breathed
with an inner life or sentience。 Its structure was strangely organic； though the chamber was built in honour of exactly the opposite。
The mass of the chamber achinery that infested the space like a gigantic coral reef； steadily growing and
increasing its mass with every passing year。 A sickly amber glow permeated the chamber； alongside a low； throbbing hum； just at
the threshold of hearing。
Shaven…headed technicians and servitors in faded； yellow robes wandered like ghosts through the bewilderingly complex labyrinth
of machines； their ministrations to the holy technologies ritualised over thousands of years to t