Helbrecht Knight Of The Throne by Marc Collins

Author:Marc Collins
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Black Library
Published: 2022-08-22T08:19:48+00:00

CHAPTER TWELVE

ON WINGS OF FLAME

It had not been a gentle landing.

The Overlord’s desperate flight had gouged a new scar into the tapestry of woe upon Hevaran’s skin. Fire trailed along the great groove of tormented earth and rent stone. A partly uncovered arch, the symbols which had adorned it long since lost to time, had been cracked apart by the impact.

Theodwin ranged ahead, intent on being the first to the wounded vessel. He prised open a hatch with his gauntlets and dragged the pilots free. Their red armour, the mark of those sworn upon Mars to the Emperor-Omnissiah, was redder still with spilled blood. Helbrecht watched as the Apothecary checked their vital signs, narthecium clicking and whirring in time with his motions.

‘They will live,’ he intoned, though Helbrecht could hear the doubt in his voice. He fussed at the helmet seals of the first pilot and pulled it free with a hiss of escaping air. The unconscious warrior’s features were pale and burn-scarred, typical of a life dedicated to the forge. ‘Brother Wolfger,’ Theodwin acknowledged as he looked down upon the warrior on the darkened sands. ‘A fine pilot. Throne willing he will bear us up once more.’

‘If the ship matches his resilience,’ Helbrecht said with a scowl.

The Overlord had not landed well or easily. The outer hull still smouldered with impact craters where the enemy’s ordnance had clawed at it. It was dented and scraped where it had scored against the rocky ground. It was hardy and difficult to kill, but this might yet prove beyond even its ability to endure. The High Marshal’s hand closed tight about the hilt of his sword as he considered their options.

‘The enemy will not be idle. The longer we tarry, the sooner they will find us. We need the tactical advantage which the ship provides. Without it we are lamed and exposed – easy prey for these cultists and their masters.’

‘We will need to wait for them to recover.’ Raimbert had stepped up and laid his gauntleted hand against the black hull of the ship. ‘She has a strong heart but her machine-spirits are in upheaval. It will take time.’

We do not have time. Helbrecht’s mind whirred. He processed their options, taking in the lie of the land and their disposition. It made for a bleak assessment. They could hold the ground, certainly, but there was no true defensive position, no walls or ramparts for them to stand upon. There was only a world ground beneath the heel of time, now forcing its way back up into rebellion.

‘Whatever comes for us, we shall hold against it,’ Helbrecht said. ‘Rouse them as swiftly as you are able. Get us mobile. We will not be hemmed in here by–’

He paused.

The rumble of engines reared up, sudden and fierce. He strode along the impact crater and looked out across the plains. There were plumes of dust rising from the east, cutting across the ruinscape with great eagerness. He could see them through the fogging of debris – a trio of Taurox-pattern transports, their autocannons already primed.

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