Iron Warriors 3 - Enemy of My Enemy by Warhammer

Author:Warhammer [Warhammer]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

‘WHERE DO YOU think they’re taking us?’ said Ellard.

‘I don’t know, sergeant,’ replied Leonid, ‘but I heard that bastard Obax Zakayo mention a name. Honsou, I think.’

‘Honsou?’

‘Aye, that’s what it sounded like.’

‘I’ve heard that name before,’ said Ellard.

‘You have? Where?’

‘On the prison hulks that brought us here. By the sound of it, I think he was their war leader on Hydra Cordatus.’

Leonid shivered, remembering the sight of the Iron Warriors’ leader as he stood before the walls of the citadel.

Captain Eshara had called him a Warsmith and Leonid remembered the blasted rune standard and the nauseous terror that settled in his belly at the sight of such an ancient and terrible warrior.

If they were truly to be delivered into the hands of such a monstrous being, then perhaps death at the hands of the Sarcomata would have been preferable to this stinking hell. Nearly a hundred men were packed tightly into a boxcar made to carry half that number, and the stench was an assault on the senses. So crammed were they that each man was forced to stand upright, pressed tightly against his comrades, unable to make more than the smallest movement. Men wept and wailed, slatted shafts of bright light dopplering through the warped timbers of the boxcar as the daemon engine rattled and clattered its way up into the mountains.

Leonid could taste smoke in the air and an acrid tang of electrical build-up, like he’d felt deep in the Machine Temple of the citadel. He pressed his face to a blade of light, peering out into the bright day.

Ash-stained rocks flashed past, green sparks flaring from the soul wheels as they carried the Omphalos Daemonium higher.

The dark layer of clouds drew nearer, parting every now and then to reveal a tantalising glimpse of a jagged spire, a bladed bastion or a gun-studded redoubt. As the daemon engine began turning in a long, lazy curve, Leonid saw that their route carried them across an impossible bridge of dizzying proportions. Thousands of girders and beams were laced together in a gravitydefying structural lattice that spanned a gorge of gargantuan proportions. Its bottom was lost to sight, roiling mists and screeching beasts swooping through in its lightning-filled depths.

‘We have to get out of here, sergeant.’

‘I know. But how?’

‘I don’t know yet, but we’re all dead men if we stay.’

‘Most of the men I know who would have been handy in a fight died in the forge temple. We don’t have much in the way of forces.’

‘You think I don’t know that, Ellard?’ snapped Leonid. ‘Even if we die trying it’s got to be better than what we’re being taken to. The forge of Obax Zakayo was bad enough. I don’t want to find out what this Honsou’s going to be like.’

Ellard nodded and rested his head wearily against the wall of the boxcar, staring out into the desolate landscape.

Deep lines ringed his eyes and Leonid noticed for the first time how haggard his sergeant had become. Like most officers, Leonid had relied heavily on his sergeants to run his company, and none more so than Ellard.

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