'By all that is unholy； raise the keep's void shield！'
He lumbered towards the sunken blast doors that led within； casting a hurried glance over his shoulder。 The burning corona of fire
that surrounded the torpedo appeared to him like a baleful eye in the heavens； aimed straight for his heart。
Forrix entered the keep； hammering his fist across the door…closing mechanism and set off towards its command centre。 He heard
the pervasive hum of the void shield generator buried beneath the tower powering up and fervently hoped that it would raise in
time。
For if it did not； he and everyone in the keep were as good as dead。
THE TORPEDO IMPACTED almost exactly in the centre of the Kane bastion of Tor Christo where its triple stage warhead detonated
with devastating results。 The lead element of the warhead was designed to crater an opening through the thick hull of a starship；
while the tail element would explode simultaneously； acting as a propellant and hurling the middle charge deep within its target；
But instead of the metres…thick； reinforced adamantium bulkhead of a starship； the torpedo slammed into the ground of the Kane
bastion； travelling at over a thousand kilometres an hour。 The first stage of the torpedo exploded with phenomenal power；
flattening everything within three hundred metres and blasting a crater fifty metres deep。 The tail section blew and thrust the
torpedo deeper into the rock of the promontory where the more powerful centre charge detonated with the power of a sun； ripping
the rock of Tor Christo apart。
Night became day as blinding light fountained from the impact。 Tank…sized chunks of stone were hurled through the air like
pebbles as an expanding wave of blinding smoke and dust filled the valley。 The thunderclap of detonation was like the hammer of
the gods； come to smite the surface of the planet； and a surging mushroom cloud billowed a thousand metres into the sky； hurling
ash and burning rock in all directions。
The ramparts of the bastions either side of the torpedo's impact sagged and cracked； their rockcrete walls splitting under forces
they were never designed to endure。 The crater in the centre of the promontory expanded with terrifying rapidity； tonnes of rubble
and artillery pieces collapsing into the fiery pit。
With a tortured groan； millions of tonnes of stone cracked and rumbled； sliding free of the slopes of the promontory； crashing
down in a rocky tidal wave of destruction。 The western end of the first parallel was buried beneath the avalanche of rock； and the
zigzag approach saps leading to the second parallel filled and collapsed。 Thousands died screaming as they were crushed beneath
the sweeping tide of earth。
The battery constructed before the walls of the Vincare bastion vanished in a torrential downpour of earth and rock； the guns
buried forever beneath thousands of tonnes of debris。
Hundreds of secondary explosions were touched off as burning shards of wreckage dropped into the Iron Warriors' camp；
detonating ammo dumps and fuel bladders； and setting light to hundreds of tents。 Anarchy filled the camp as men attempted to
fight the blazes； but they were as ants fighting a forest fire； nothing could halt the spread of the voracious flames。
The blast wave buffeted the towering form of the Dies Irae； but the workers had done their job well and the towering buttresses
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
and scaffolding held； keeping the monstrous leviathan from toppling。 The massive Titan shook； its joints groaning and squealing
as its external gyros fought for balance； but the Shockwave passed over it and left it intact。 Several other Titans were not so
fortunate and three Warlords of the Legio Mortis were brought down by massive hunks of rock or collapsed by the force of the
blast。
The death toll had reached nearly ten thousand by the time the final echoes of the blast had died away and the blinding light of the
torpedo's detonation had faded。 All that remained of Tor Christo was the void…shielded keep； perched precariously on a splintered
corbel of rock。
In a single stroke； Guardsman Hawke had suddenly tilted the balance of power on Hydra Cordatus。
CASTELLAN VAUBAN PUSHED himself up out of the dust and earth and shook his head clear of the ringing din that filled his skull。
Bright light filled the valley and he laughed in triumph as he saw the enormous mushroom cloud wreathing Tor Christo in smoke
and flames。
He and Leonid had seen the torpedo launch； but they had been too busy rallying the men to fall back towards the Primus Ravelin
to follow its course。 The chaos of the attack on the battery had consumed him and the first he'd known of the torpedo's impact was
when he'd seen his shadow suddenly thrown out before him and an enormous force smashed him to the ground。 Fleeting
impressions of flashing light； thunderous detonations and pain as rocks and earth came hammering down around him。
Dizzily he pushed himself to his feet； casting his gaze through the grey smoke； attempting to see the extent of the damage； but it
was futile。 He couldn't see more than a dozen metres： the dust and smoke was too thick。 He could see shapes picking themselves
slowly from the ground； but whether they were friend or foe was impossible to tell。
Muffled rallying cries of sergeants pierced the gloomy； dust…filled air and he thought he heard Leonid's voice calling his name； but
it was hard to tell。 He tried to shout a reply； but his mouth was dry with ash and all he could manage was a hoarse croak。 He spat；
wiping his face clear of dirt and futilely dusting down his jacket and breastplate。
It was time to impose some order。 He stumbled towards where he thought he'd heard Leonid's voice。 He turned blindly； all sense
of direction lost in the haze。
Vauban froze as he heard a voice in the smoke and an enormous figure in burnished； dust and blood stained armour wearily
emerged from the swirling clouds before him。
The warrior was helmetless； his close…cropped black hair tight against his skull and his eyes burning with a hate that chilled
Vauban to his very soul。
The two faced one another in silence until Vauban drew his power sword and assumed a relaxed fighting stance； though fear of
this warrior pulsed along every nerve of his body。
In a calm voice he said； 'I am Castellan Prestre de Roche Vauban the sixth； heir to the lands of Burgovah on the planet Joura； scion
of the House of Vauban。 Cross blades with me if you wish to die； foul daemon。'
The warrior smiled。 'I have no such impressive titles； human。 I am called Honsou。 Half…breed； mongrel； filth； scum。 I will cross
blades with you。'
Vauban activated the blade of his sword and dropped into a fighting crouch as Honsou approached。 The battery fell silent as the
two combatants circled one another； searching for a weakness in the other's defence。
Vauban raised his sword in salute and； without warning； leapt towards Honsou； thrusting with his energised blade。
Honsou swayed aside and swept his sword round； slashing the blade towards Vauban。 He ducked and spun away； slashing high
with his sword。
Honsou deflected the sweep and stepped back； his sword raised before him。 Vauban recovered his balance and advanced towards
Honsou。 He lunged again and Honsou expertly blocked the thrust； rolling his wrists and slashing at Vauban's head。 But he had
read the move in Honsou's eyes and the castellan dodged the blow。
Wary now； the pair again circled each other； their defences alert for any sudden moves。
Honsou attacked； a flashing whirlwind of steel； forcing Vauban backwards step by step。 Vauban parried a vicious slash aimed at
his chest； launching a lightning riposte at his foe。 The blade scraped a deep furrow in Honsou's armour； but slid clear before
drawing blood。
Honsou retreated and Vauban followed with a grin of anticipation； launching himself at Honsou with fresh vigour。 Honsou was a
powerful warrior； but Prestre Vauban had been a student of swordplay his entire life and each attack drew fresh blood from his
adversary。
He hammered his enemy's defences again and again； forcing him slowly backwards until Honsou stumbled and lost his footing。
Vauban spun left and struck out at Honsou's sword arm。 Honsou was quick； bringing his block up just in time to intercept the
blow； and their weapons met in a coruscating halo of sparks。 Vauban roared as Honsou's blade snapped and his own smashed
home。 The Iron Warrior grunted in pain as his arm was severed just above the elbow。
Honsou retreated； stumbling as blood sprayed from the stump of his arm。
Seizing the opportunity； Vauban leapt in to deliver the deathblow； but； at the last second； realised that Honsou had lured him into
the attack。
Honsou roared and stepped to meet Vauban； slamming inside his guard and hammering the snapped length of his sword blade
through his silver breastplate and into his heart。
White…hot pain flooded Vauban as Honsou twisted the blade； bright blood pouring down his chest and darkness veiling his sight。
Had he heard someone crying his name？
He felt his lifeblood pouring from him and looked into the eyes of his killer。
'Damn you…' he whispered。
'That happened a long time ago； human；' hissed Honsou； but Vauban was already dead。
Graham McNeill ？Storm of Iron？
SIX
DAWN BROKE ACROSS the valley； scarlet beams of light throwing its unforgiving glare over a scene of utter devastation。 A pall of
grey dust hung heavy in the air and smothered all sounds in an unnatural silence。
The Warsmith surveyed the destruction before him with an impassive eye。 The swirling metamorphic shadows that wreathed his
features were a clue to his fury； and none of his war…captains dared approach their master for fear of his rage。 The writhings in his
armour spun faster； their agonised mewling becoming more desperate。
Two batteries all but destroyed； the guns on Tor Christo gone and almost every daemon engine shattered。 Millions of rounds of
artillery had been blown to pieces； thousands were dead and weeks of work had been buried under the rubble of a destroyed
mountain。
The Warsmith turned to face his captains and not one was spared a moment of utter terror as he advanced towards them。 Each of
them could see that the forces of change at work within the Warsmith's b