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despised Honsou with every fibre of his being。
He cast his gaze over the armoured warriors who sat around the steel…panelled walls of the drop…pod's interior。 Their dented power
armour was the colour of dark iron； heavy and baroque； none less than ten thousand years old。 Each man's weapon had been
anointed with the blood of a score of captives； and the stench of death filled the pod's interior。 The men strained at the harnesses
that held them in place； eyes fixed on the iris hatch on the pod's floor； every thought slaved to the slaughter of their foes。
Kroeger had picked these killers personally： they were the most blood…soaked berserkers of his grand company of the Iron
Warriors； those who had trodden the path of Khorne for longer than most。 The Blood God's hunger for death and skulls had
become the driving imperative for these warriors； and it was doubtful that they would ever break from the cycle of murder and
killing that had swallowed them。 Kroeger himself had revelled many times in the fierce joy of slaughter that so pleased Khorne；
but had not yet fully surrendered to the frenzy of the Blood God。
Once a warrior lost himself in that red mist； he was unlikely to survive and Kroeger had agendas yet to follow； paths yet to tread。
For Khorne was no sanguineous epicure。 He cared not from whence the blood came and as the worshippers of the Blood God
often discovered； their own vital fluid was as welcome as that of the enemy's。
The drop…pod's retros fired； filling the cramped vessel with a howling shriek like a banshee's wail。 Kroeger took the hateful
screaming as a good omen。
He raised his sword in the salute of the warrior and roared； 'Let blood be your watchword； death your companion and hate your
strength。'
Barely a handful of the warriors acknowledged him； most too immersed in thoughts of the blood they would shed to even register
that he had spoken。 It was immaterial； the hated Imperial followers of the corpse…god would die screaming as he ripped their souls
from their torn flesh。 His blood sang at the prospect of killing yet more of their ancient foes and he prayed to the Majesty of the
Warp that the honour of the first kill would be his。
He felt the bone…jarring impact of the Dreadclaw drop…pod through the thick ceramite plates of his power armour as it slammed
into the ground。 Scarcely had the bottom hatch irised open than he dropped through it； bending his knees and rolling aside as the
next warrior followed him down。 Thick； grey smoke from the retros obscured his vision； and the flames burning across the
spaceport rendered the heat augurs in his helmet useless。
He drew his pistol； offering his thanks to the power of Chaos for giving him such a chance to bring death to his enemies。
ADEPT CYCERIN WAS close to panic。 He had had no response to his pleas for aid from the citadel； though they must surely be
aware of their plight。 The thought that there were enemies with the power to circumvent their surveyors and approach their
fastness； unseen and unknown； had all but unmanned him。 He cursed the weak； organic part of him that felt such bowel…loosening
terror and wished again for the emotional detachment of his superiors。
The data…slate on the wall indicated a breach in the outer wall and garbled contact reports howling across the vox circuits told of
giants in armour of burnished iron slaughtering all those who stood before them。 He could not co…ordinate a defence without better
reports and the chaos of battle was…
Chaos。
The very word sent a hot jolt of fear down Cycerin's spine and suddenly he knew how their enemies had managed to elude their
auguries。 Accursed； warp…spawned sorcery must have confounded the spirits of the machines and rendered them blind to the
monstrous evil that approached Hydra Cordatus。 As soon as this first thought had struck； a second followed。
There could only be one reason the followers of the Ruinous Powers would come to this place and the thought made him shake
with fear。 Confused icons flashed on the holomap of the base； representing friendly forces deploying from barracks and attempting
to engage the invaders。 Cycerin could see that it would not be enough； there had simply been too much devastation in the opening
moments of the attack。
But he consoled himself that he and his staff were safe enough in the Hope。 Protected high within its armoured structure； there
was no way an enemy could penetrate its security。 No way at all。
HONSOU HACKED HIS sword through a weeping soldier's torso； separating his upper and lower halves with a single blow。 Their
attack through the breach in the wall had caught the mustering Imperial soldiers completely by surprise。 Most were already dead；
crushed by masonry blasted from the wall by his heavy weapon teams。
An enemy officer attempted to rally his men from the hatch of his command Chimera； screaming at them to stand firm。 Honsou
shot him in the face and vaulted a rebar…laced chunk of rockcrete； swinging his mighty sword amongst the horrified soldiers。
Gunfire raked the ground beside him； explosions of ash kicked up in red spurts by the Chimera's hull…mounted heavy bolter。
Honsou rolled aside as the turret began traversing in his direction。
'Take that vehicle out！' he yelled。
Positioned on the walls； two iron giants carrying long barrelled cannons on their shoulders swung their heavy weapons to bear。
Twin streaks of incandescent energy blasted into the vehicle。 Seconds later； it vanished in an orange fireball； raining yet more
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
debris down upon the battlefield。 Honsou picked himself up as another Chimera attempted to back away from the breach； firing its
weapons as it retreated。 His gunners on the wall methodically swept their weapons around and destroyed it with contemptuous
ease。
The base was in flames； but Honsou's practiced eye could see that the vital runways and landing platforms had escaped most of
the violence of the bombardment。 As his men gathered at the foot of the wall； he aligned himself with the map projected on the
inside face of his visor。 Through the smoke and billowing flames； he could see the faint outline of a tall tower with a flattened
circular top。 This must be the control tower and it was his next target。 Wreckage and bodies littered the battlefield： drop…pods；
aircraft and burning vehicles； their crews either dead or battling for their lives。
The sky was streaked with lines of fire as more Iron Warriors descended to the planet。 His fellow company commanders； Kroeger
and Forrix； would even now be bringing death to this world。 He could not be seen to be doing less in the eyes of the Warsmith。
'We have them now； brothers； and there is death yet to be done。 Follow me and I will give you victory！'
Honsou raised his sword and set off at a sprint towards the control tower； knowing that its capture would earn him great reward。
He wove a zigzag course towards the tower； pools of burning fuel and wrecked machines forcing him into frustrating detours。
After three months of creeping through the mountains； it was a cathartic release of his fury to be amidst such brutality。 The air was
thick with death； and though he was no sorcerer； even he could feel the actinic tang of slaughter that they had brought to Hydra
Cordatus。
Here and there； they met pockets of resistance； but the sight of his thirty blood…soaked warriors charging towards them broke the
courage of all but the most stalwart。 Honsou's blade was dripping with gore as he and his men finally reached the tower。
Grudgingly he was forced to admit that its construction and defences were formidable。 Soldiers in prepared positions surrounded
it in well…constructed； angled redoubts； laying down a hail of bright las…bolts。 Behind four linked and high…walled berms； Honsou
could see the aerials of tanks； but what pattern they were he could not yet tell。
Armoured bunkers at each of the compass points sprayed the area in front of the tower with deadly bullets； turning the open
ground into a killing zone。
Honsou and his men moved into concealed positions behind the twisted wreckage of a Marauder bomber； as the thunderous crack
of a tank's main gun activated the dampers on his armour's auto…senses。 Clouds of dust and rubble rained down and Honsou could
hear the cries of those wounded by the blast。 They had to move fast or the citadel's defenders would be able to counterattack
before the Iron Warriors were able to consolidate their position here。
He peered through a ragged hole torn in the side of the aircraft； wrenching the pilot's bloody corpse out of the way and pondered
the situation。 The corner bunkers were the key： take them and they could roll up the Imperial line with ease。 The gunfire sawing
from the bunkers was murderous； anyone who attempted to charge through it would pay the price for such stupidity。 He grinned
wryly as he saw several of Kroeger's men； berserkers by the look of them； lying torn open； their blood leeching into the dusty
ground。 He wondered if perhaps Kroeger himself might be numbered amongst the dead； but knew that； despite his recklessness；
Kroeger was no fool and would not risk his own neck if he did not have to。
Even as he formed the thought； he caught sight of his nemesis