Ephrael Stern: The Heretic Saint (Warhammer 40,000) by David Annandale

Author:David Annandale [Annandale, David]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2020-12-12T00:00:00+00:00

VII

THE SONG OF RETURN

The thunder of the explosions rippled across the sea of manufactories just as Klavia exited the grav-lift and joined Macrina behind the cathedral’s parapet. To the east, the morning gloom flashed brutal red. It looked as if fire and blood were erupting from the centre of the manufactories at the limit of Klavia’s vision. Stern was still visible for a moment before the fireballs engulfed her, a blazing star in the distance. Then the star dropped and vanished. At almost the same moment, she saw the streak of engines twisting down from the clouds.

The explosions kept growing, and they grew closer. Klavia squinted, trying to see through the waves of fire and smoke to the movement within.

‘It looks like the very city is walking,’ she said, hoping she was wrong.

‘It does,’ said Macrina. ‘Something large is coming. Our enemy attacks with true purpose now.’

‘Because our foe encountered a force that needed this response,’ said Klavia. She kept her tone respectful. She wanted Macrina to know what she believed. It was just as important to her that she not sound insubordinate. She did not want to challenge the Canoness or chide her. Klavia wanted her to understand, to see what Klavia and more and more of the other Battle Sisters did. She wanted Macrina to see the saint.

‘You may be right,’ Macrina said quietly.

Those few words were much closer to a conversion than Klavia could have expected. She said nothing in response, worried she would choose the wrong words and change Macrina’s mind again. There was hope, though. Even the most suspicious of the Battle Sisters could not have fought the besiegers again and again at Ephrael Stern’s side and not seen the power of her faith, and the ferocity of her commitment to the order.

There was hope, as long as Stern had not fallen. Klavia gazed into the distance, willing that star to appear again. Instead, the maelstrom of fire and dust and smoke kept advancing, and it was coming fast. She still could not distinguish the huge shapes that seemed to be causing the spreading explosions. They were vague, hulking, darker movements in the clouds, bursting with sorcerous flame.

Ahead of them, other foes came faster. She caught glimpses of daemon engines at the edge of the cloud. The monstrous silhouettes of forgefiends and maulerfiends, hated and familiar from other battles, marched towards the cathedral. At the forefront came the infantry. Another vast mob of heretics streamed through the streets. Many were caught in the destruction wreaked by the behemoths behind them, and they shrieked in ecstasy as they ran, burning and dying with unholy curses of victory on their lips. In the centre of the mob, there was a tighter formation, its details still shadowed by the smoke. Her eye kept going to that group, though. Something called her attention, and chilled her blood.

The forgefiends reared back and fired. Their forelimbs and necks ended in fanged cannon maws, and their warp-tainted projectiles streaked at the cathedral roof.

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