Feat of Iron by Nick Kyme

Author:Nick Kyme [Kyme, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: science fiction
ISBN: 9780857876317
Goodreads: 22439649
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2012-05-01T00:00:00+00:00

WRATH OF IRON

Jutting from the desert sand like a sliver of arching bone, it looked obvious enough. As he arrived at the battle site, Gabriel Santar wondered why it had taken them so long to find the eldar node.

Take out the nodes and disrupt the enemy’s cohesion. Like trying to communicate across an interrupted circuit, the eldar’s ability to coordinate their defence would be severely inhibited. Break the nodes and break the enemy. These were the edicts of Lord Manus, both to his Legion and his brothers warmongering elsewhere on One-Five-Four Four. It rankled that the primarch would not get to see his plan borne to fruition.

For that and many other reasons, he dearly wished his lord was present.

The Morlocks, together with Tarkan’s small band of snipers, had returned at the head of a massed column of Army battle tanks. What was left of the Army divisions, mainly Dogan Maulers and some Veridan Korracts, had also made the journey, most hanging off hull rails or perched atop the cupolas of the larger vehicles. Some mechanised elements had also survived the desert, and along with a few Sentinel outriders, they carried what was left of the Saavan Masonites.

A ragged force, but reinforcement none the less.

Judging by the impasse around the node and its defenders, they couldn’t have arrived soon enough.

The node itself was immense and wreathed with a crackling energy shield the Iron Hands were struggling to crack. Santar could see no power source, no objective they could attack and neutralise to bring the defences down. It was generated by some other means unknown to them.

Heavy impacts blossomed in bright azure bursts, and the shield rippled to diffuse their explosive energy across its curved surface.

Ruuman refused to concede defeat. His Rapiers and missile batteries kept up a constant fusillade, charging the air with their noise and actinic stench. Expulsion clouds thickened into a fog that rolled off the bank where the Ironwrought had positioned his divisions and spilled down into Meduson’s advancing companies below.

Santar was met by Bion Henricos, and the sergeant snapped a quick salute when he saw the first captain.

While Meduson was overseeing the battle, he’d placed his hulking sergeant in command of the Iron Tenth. These warriors looked impatient for combat while Meduson’s vanguard, spearheaded by the Morlocks, tried to force an opening several hundred metres deeper into the field.

‘You can use the Army divisions?’ asked the first captain before Henricos could voice a greeting. There was no time to observe pleasantries. Amongst the Iron Hands officer cadre, the sergeant had the greatest empathy with the humans. Santar merely wanted that utilised, and conveyed as much in his perfunctory demeanour.

No word was spoken of the mission or the primarch. It was not the sergeant’s place to ask, though he did cast a quick glance at Desaan who was a step behind the first captain.

There must have been a short shake of the head from Desaan, because Henricos stiffened in grief and anger, but fell back to his duty in short order.

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