feet.
Blood welled briefly from the cut and Horus dipped the oath paper in the clotting red fluid before affixing the oath paper to his breastplate and grinning broadly at them all.
‘Thank you, my sons,’ he said, coming forward to embrace them all one by one.
Loken felt his admiration for the Warmaster fill his heart, all the hurt at their exclusion from his deliberations on the way here forgotten as he held each of them close.
How could they ever have doubted him?
‘Now, we have a war to wage, my sons,’ shouted Horus. ‘What say you?’
‘Lupercal!’ yelled Loken, punching the air.
The others joined in and the chant spread until the embarkation deck reverberated with the deafening roars of the Sons of Horus.
‘Lupercal! Lupercal! Lupercal! Lupercal!’
T HE S TORMBIRDS LAUNCHED in sequence, the Warmaster’s bird streaking from its launch rails like a predator unleashed. At intervals of seven seconds, each Stormbird fired until all six were launched. The pilots kept them close to the Vengeful Spirit , waiting for the remaining assault craft to launch from the other embarkation decks. So far, there had been no sign of the Glory of Terra , Eugan Temba’s flagship, or any of the other vessels left behind, but no one was taking any chances that there might be wolf pack squadrons of cruisers or fighters lurking nearby. Presently, another twelve Stormbirds of the Sons of Horus took up position with the Warmaster’s squadron as well as two belonging to the Word Bearers. The formation complete, the Astartes craft banked sharply, altering course to take them to the surface of Davin’s moon. The mighty, cliff-like flanks of the Warmaster’s flagship receded and, like swarms of bright insects, hundreds of Army drop ships detached from their bulk transporters – each one carrying a hundred armed men.
But greatest of all were the lander vessels of the Mechanicum.
Vast, monolithic structures as big as city blocks, they resembled snub-nosed tubes fitted with a wealth of heat resistant technologies and recessed deceleration burners. Inertial dampening fields held their cargoes secure and explosive bolts on internal anti-motion scaffolding were primed to release on impact.
In the wake of the militant arm of the launch came the logistics of an invasion, ammunition carriers, food and water tankers, fuel haulers and a myriad other support vessels essential for the maintenance of offensive operations.
Such was the proliferation of craft heading for the surface that no one could keep track of them all, not even the bridge crew under Boas Comnenus, and thus the gold-skinned landing skiff that launched from the civilian bay of the Vengeful Spirit went unnoticed.
The invasion fleet mustered in low orbit, orbital winds clutching at streamers of atmospheric gases and spinning them in lazy coils beneath the vessels.
As always, it was the Astartes who led the invasion.
T HE WAY IN was rough. Atmospheric disturbances and storms wracked the skies and the Astartes Stormbirds were tossed like leaves in a hurricane. Loken felt the craft vibrate wildly around him, grateful for the restraint harness that held him fast to his cage seat. His bolter was stowed above him and there was nothing to do but wait until the Stormbird touched down and the attack began.
He slowed his breathing and cleared his mind of all distractions, feeling a hot energy suffuse his limbs as his armour prepared his metabolism for imminent battle.
The warriors of Nero Vipus’s Locasta squad and Brakespur squad surrounded him, immobile, yet representing the peak of humanity’s martial prowess. He loved them all dearly and knew that they wouldn’t let him down. Their conduct on Murder and Xenobia had been exemplary and many of the newly elevated novitiates had been blooded on those desperate battlefields.
His company was battle tested and sure.
‘Garviel,’ said Vipus over the inter-armour link. ‘There’s something you should hear.’
‘What is
Blood welled briefly from the cut and Horus dipped the oath paper in the clotting red fluid before affixing the oath paper to his breastplate and grinning broadly at them all.
‘Thank you, my sons,’ he said, coming forward to embrace them all one by one.
Loken felt his admiration for the Warmaster fill his heart, all the hurt at their exclusion from his deliberations on the way here forgotten as he held each of them close.
How could they ever have doubted him?
‘Now, we have a war to wage, my sons,’ shouted Horus. ‘What say you?’
‘Lupercal!’ yelled Loken, punching the air.
The others joined in and the chant spread until the embarkation deck reverberated with the deafening roars of the Sons of Horus.
‘Lupercal! Lupercal! Lupercal! Lupercal!’
T HE S TORMBIRDS LAUNCHED in sequence, the Warmaster’s bird streaking from its launch rails like a predator unleashed. At intervals of seven seconds, each Stormbird fired until all six were launched. The pilots kept them close to the Vengeful Spirit , waiting for the remaining assault craft to launch from the other embarkation decks. So far, there had been no sign of the Glory of Terra , Eugan Temba’s flagship, or any of the other vessels left behind, but no one was taking any chances that there might be wolf pack squadrons of cruisers or fighters lurking nearby. Presently, another twelve Stormbirds of the Sons of Horus took up position with the Warmaster’s squadron as well as two belonging to the Word Bearers. The formation complete, the Astartes craft banked sharply, altering course to take them to the surface of Davin’s moon. The mighty, cliff-like flanks of the Warmaster’s flagship receded and, like swarms of bright insects, hundreds of Army drop ships detached from their bulk transporters – each one carrying a hundred armed men.
But greatest of all were the lander vessels of the Mechanicum.
Vast, monolithic structures as big as city blocks, they resembled snub-nosed tubes fitted with a wealth of heat resistant technologies and recessed deceleration burners. Inertial dampening fields held their cargoes secure and explosive bolts on internal anti-motion scaffolding were primed to release on impact.
In the wake of the militant arm of the launch came the logistics of an invasion, ammunition carriers, food and water tankers, fuel haulers and a myriad other support vessels essential for the maintenance of offensive operations.
Such was the proliferation of craft heading for the surface that no one could keep track of them all, not even the bridge crew under Boas Comnenus, and thus the gold-skinned landing skiff that launched from the civilian bay of the Vengeful Spirit went unnoticed.
The invasion fleet mustered in low orbit, orbital winds clutching at streamers of atmospheric gases and spinning them in lazy coils beneath the vessels.
As always, it was the Astartes who led the invasion.
T HE WAY IN was rough. Atmospheric disturbances and storms wracked the skies and the Astartes Stormbirds were tossed like leaves in a hurricane. Loken felt the craft vibrate wildly around him, grateful for the restraint harness that held him fast to his cage seat. His bolter was stowed above him and there was nothing to do but wait until the Stormbird touched down and the attack began.
He slowed his breathing and cleared his mind of all distractions, feeling a hot energy suffuse his limbs as his armour prepared his metabolism for imminent battle.
The warriors of Nero Vipus’s Locasta squad and Brakespur squad surrounded him, immobile, yet representing the peak of humanity’s martial prowess. He loved them all dearly and knew that they wouldn’t let him down. Their conduct on Murder and Xenobia had been exemplary and many of the newly elevated novitiates had been blooded on those desperate battlefields.
His company was battle tested and sure.
‘Garviel,’ said Vipus over the inter-armour link. ‘There’s something you should hear.’
‘What is
Similar Books
