The Last Chancers: Armageddon Saint (Warhammer 40,000) by Gav Thorpe

Author:Gav Thorpe [Thorpe, Gav]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2019-12-25T00:00:00+00:00

Eleven

BATTLE AT SAINT SILVA

I have quite a broad experience of alarms of various kinds. Shipboard sirens, air attack blasts, alert signals and every kind of loudmouth officer shouting his fragging head off, I’ve heard them all. There’s really nothing like a fake bell pealing constantly at deafening levels to get the heart racing and the body moving.

The crash of the Battle Sisters’ steps echoes around the bare corridors and chambers of the battle abbey, heralding the blaze of silver, red and black as they flood the walls. At a rough count I say there must be about a hundred and twenty of them, plus whoever is manning the fixed guns. In the vehicle compound, engines growl into life, the smoke of their exhausts lifting to join the censer-smog above the abbey. The bell-ringing ceases, replaced by a stream of High Gothic I don’t understand – it could be a prayer or orders, it’s impossible to say. After half a minute this gives way to a rousing verse of song, a hymnal glorifying the strength of the Emperor, singing the praises of Saint Catherine.

I find myself milling around in the main cloister, not sure what to do. The Colonel and about two dozen hivers and wasters emerge from a door opposite, some of them still covering their ears. As if summoned, Canoness Erasmisa appears beside me, three other Sisters in dark robes behind her.

‘Return to your quarters at once,’ the canoness barks. Her fellow Sisters Famulous head towards the building Schaeffer and company left.

‘Give us back our weapons, revered canoness,’ says the Colonel. ‘We can help.’

Deniumenialis arrives next, a Sister Superior at his shoulder.

‘Old Preacher, tell the canoness that we should help defend the walls!’ I say.

He looks surprised by the request.

‘I could not possibly do such a thing, young man,’ he replies.

‘Don’t you want a living saint to defend your abbey?’

‘A what?’ barks the Colonel, looking from me to the preacher and back again.

‘I do not have the authority, Lieutenant Kage,’ Old Preacher continues. ‘I am sure you know full well that the Decree Passive forbids the Ecclesiarchy from commanding men under arms. All military matters are the province of the Sisterhood. It would be most improper of me to interfere.’

I redirect my attention to the Sister Superior at his side. I’m sure she’s the one that brought me from the cell, and almost as certain that it is the squad leader that reported me to the canoness.

‘Sister Aladia?’

‘Yes?’ It’s obvious she wants to join her Sisters at the defences, glancing up at the silvered warriors assembling above us.

‘We can fight with you. Surely you want all the help you can get. The Emperor brought you to us when we needed you, wouldn’t it be wrong to ignore that gift?’

Even through the holy broadcast I hear a mournful dirge that has become far too familiar. A ceaseless, monotonous chanting that doesn’t arrive just through the ears but is felt in the mind and resonates through the gut. I don’t know

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