it failed they pulled back to an extreme extent to lure us in and then set the bombardment to flatten any Imperial forces they’d drawn out.’
‘That makes sense of the available facts,’ Gaunt said.
‘Even now? They must know they could only have caught a few thousand of us with that trick, and logic says most of us would be dead by now. So why are they still shelling? Who are they firing at? It’s exhausting their shell stocks, it must be. They’ve been at it for over a day. And they’ve abandoned such a huge area of their lines.’
Gaunt nodded. ‘That was on my mind too when dawn broke. I think it began as an effort to wipe out any forces they had trapped. But now? You’re right. They’ve sacrificed a lot of land and the continued bombardments make no sense.’
‘Unless they’re trying to keep us out,’ a voice said from behind them. Rawne had joined them.
‘Let’s have your thoughts, major,’ Gaunt said.
Rawne shrugged and spat heavily on to the floor. His black eyes narrowed to a frowning squint. ‘We know the spawn of Chaos don’t fight wars with any tactics we’d recognise. We’ve been held on this front for months. I think yesterday was a last attempt to break us with a conventional offensive. Now they’ve put up a wall of fire to keep us out while they switch to something else. Maybe something that’s taken them months to prepare.’
‘Something like what?’ Zoren asked uncomfortably.
‘Something. I don’t know. Something using their Chaos power. Something ceremonial. Those drum-mills… maybe they aren’t psychological warfare… maybe they’re part of some vast… ritual.’
The three men were silent for a moment. Then Zoren laughed, a mocking snarl. ‘Ritual magic?’
‘Don’t mock what you don’t understand!’ Gaunt warned. ‘Rawne could be right. Emperor knows, we’ve seen enough of their madness.’ Zoren didn’t reply. He’d seen things too, perhaps things his mind wanted to deny or scrub out as impossible.
Gaunt got up and pointed down the tunnel. ‘Then this is a way in. And we’d better take it – because if Rawne’s right, we’re the only units in a position to do a damn thing about it.’
Eight
I T WAS POSSIBLE to advance down the maglev tunnel four abreast, with two men on each side of the central rider spine. It was well lit by recessed blue-glow lighting in the tunnel walls, but Gaunt sent Domor and the other sweepers in the vanguard to check for booby traps.
An unopposed advance down the stuffy tunnels took them two kilometres east, passing another abandoned cargo bay and forks with two other maglev spurs. The air was dry and charged with static from the still-powered electromagnetic rail, and hot gusts of wind breathed on them periodically as if heralding a train that never came.
At the third spur, Gaunt turned the column into a new tunnel, following his map. They’d gone about twenty metres when Milo whispered to the commissar.
‘I think we need to go back to the spur fork,’ he said.
Gaunt didn’t query. He trusted Brin’s instincts like his own, and knew they stretched further. He retreated the whole company to the junction they had just passed. Within a minute, a hot breeze blew at them, the tunnel hummed and a maglev train whirred past along the spur they had been about to join. It was an automated train of sixty open carts, painted khaki with black and yellow flashing. Each cart was laden with shells and munitions, hundreds of tonnes of ordnance from distant bunkers destined for the main batteries. As the train rolled past on the magnetic-levitation rail, slick and inertia free, many of the men gawked openly at it. Some made signs of warding and protection.
Gaunt consulted his sketch map. It was difficult to determine how far it was to the next station or junction, and without knowing the frequency of the bomb trains, he couldn’t guarantee they’d be out of the tunnel before the next one rumbled through.
Gaunt cursed. He
‘That makes sense of the available facts,’ Gaunt said.
‘Even now? They must know they could only have caught a few thousand of us with that trick, and logic says most of us would be dead by now. So why are they still shelling? Who are they firing at? It’s exhausting their shell stocks, it must be. They’ve been at it for over a day. And they’ve abandoned such a huge area of their lines.’
Gaunt nodded. ‘That was on my mind too when dawn broke. I think it began as an effort to wipe out any forces they had trapped. But now? You’re right. They’ve sacrificed a lot of land and the continued bombardments make no sense.’
‘Unless they’re trying to keep us out,’ a voice said from behind them. Rawne had joined them.
‘Let’s have your thoughts, major,’ Gaunt said.
Rawne shrugged and spat heavily on to the floor. His black eyes narrowed to a frowning squint. ‘We know the spawn of Chaos don’t fight wars with any tactics we’d recognise. We’ve been held on this front for months. I think yesterday was a last attempt to break us with a conventional offensive. Now they’ve put up a wall of fire to keep us out while they switch to something else. Maybe something that’s taken them months to prepare.’
‘Something like what?’ Zoren asked uncomfortably.
‘Something. I don’t know. Something using their Chaos power. Something ceremonial. Those drum-mills… maybe they aren’t psychological warfare… maybe they’re part of some vast… ritual.’
The three men were silent for a moment. Then Zoren laughed, a mocking snarl. ‘Ritual magic?’
‘Don’t mock what you don’t understand!’ Gaunt warned. ‘Rawne could be right. Emperor knows, we’ve seen enough of their madness.’ Zoren didn’t reply. He’d seen things too, perhaps things his mind wanted to deny or scrub out as impossible.
Gaunt got up and pointed down the tunnel. ‘Then this is a way in. And we’d better take it – because if Rawne’s right, we’re the only units in a position to do a damn thing about it.’
Eight
I T WAS POSSIBLE to advance down the maglev tunnel four abreast, with two men on each side of the central rider spine. It was well lit by recessed blue-glow lighting in the tunnel walls, but Gaunt sent Domor and the other sweepers in the vanguard to check for booby traps.
An unopposed advance down the stuffy tunnels took them two kilometres east, passing another abandoned cargo bay and forks with two other maglev spurs. The air was dry and charged with static from the still-powered electromagnetic rail, and hot gusts of wind breathed on them periodically as if heralding a train that never came.
At the third spur, Gaunt turned the column into a new tunnel, following his map. They’d gone about twenty metres when Milo whispered to the commissar.
‘I think we need to go back to the spur fork,’ he said.
Gaunt didn’t query. He trusted Brin’s instincts like his own, and knew they stretched further. He retreated the whole company to the junction they had just passed. Within a minute, a hot breeze blew at them, the tunnel hummed and a maglev train whirred past along the spur they had been about to join. It was an automated train of sixty open carts, painted khaki with black and yellow flashing. Each cart was laden with shells and munitions, hundreds of tonnes of ordnance from distant bunkers destined for the main batteries. As the train rolled past on the magnetic-levitation rail, slick and inertia free, many of the men gawked openly at it. Some made signs of warding and protection.
Gaunt consulted his sketch map. It was difficult to determine how far it was to the next station or junction, and without knowing the frequency of the bomb trains, he couldn’t guarantee they’d be out of the tunnel before the next one rumbled through.
Gaunt cursed. He
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