Gunships rode over the rooftops, weaving through the scaffolds. The streets below were crowded with bodies. The drukhari weapons had done their work, and now frenzied crowds of people tore at themselves and their neighbours, driven beyond the limits of madness. The air throbbed with the song of insanity, with an unending scream. A solid flood of lunatic bodies heaved in the shadow of the gunships. Some danced mindlessly, whirling to the songs of the spirits. Others hurled themselves, clawing and biting, at the riot-shields of the embattled enforcers who sought to contain them. The gunships swooped low. Assault cannons chewed the densely packed street, clearing a bloody landing strip. Civilian and enforcer alike were reduced to a spattering of redness and a fine pink mist. Missile pods spat concealing chaff, obscuring the thoroughfare from any airborne observers. Moments later, boarding ramps slammed down, and the troop compartments disgorged almost a hundred warriors in the livery of the Emperor’s Children. Savona strode down Butcher-Bird’s boarding ramp, her maul resting on her shoulder. Her armour had been freshly oiled in scented unguents and her golden helm, torn from the dying body of an aeldari autarch and repurposed to interface with her battle plate, had been polished to a mirror sheen. The screams of the mad, the injured and the dying filled the air and she sighed in pleasure. ‘This is what it’s all about, eh, Ruatha? ’The hulking renegade behind her grunted. His augmetic voice box made the sound into a mechanical growl. She glanced at him. Ruatha’s armour had been painted the colour of raw meat, and was covered in golden studs, including the helmet. Oaths of indulgence and battle-pacts hung from his pauldrons and chest plate.
One of his arms had melted into a pinkish tendril, which coiled lovingly about his bolter. He bounced an inactive frag grenade in his other hand. ‘Could do with more screaming,’ he said. ‘Never satisfied, you lot. ’He looked at her. ‘No. We’re not,’ he said flatly. ‘It was a joke. ’Ruatha was silent for a moment. Then he gave a terse, artificial laugh. She studied him. Ruatha was one of Bellephus’ adherents, and her designated bodyguard. That meant he was loyal to her, in a round about way. The loyalty of convenience was still loyalty, after all. She gestured. ‘Give the order.’Ruatha growled into the vox, and warriors moved swiftly, taking up predetermined positions. Pavise bulwarks were anchored to the street, creating reinforced emplacements. The emplacements weren’t meant to provide long-term defence so much as they were there to draw the drukhari’s attentions. Butcher-Bird shrilled, rocking slightly on its landing gear. Nearby Emperor’s Children sidled out of its arc of fire. The gunship had a notorious disregard for the lives of its passengers. Savona knew what that cry meant. Butcher-Bird’s bloodlust was getting the better of it and it wanted to get airborne again, and go hunting. She patted its hull affectionately. ‘Easy,’ she murmured. It was a cobbled-together thing, built from the corpses of several other vessels and their machine-spirits. Whatever it had once been, the gunship was now all sharp angles and armoured plating, studded with missile-pods and gun-muzzles. Normally, when not in use, it was kept chained in one of the launch bays, its ammunition hoppers empty and guards stationed nearby. The hardwired servitors who’d once served as its crew were little more than mummified husks.
Something else piloted the gunship now. The gunship shrilled again, blaring its discontent to the world. Savona smiled indulgently. ‘I understand. Go, if you like. But make sure you come back when I call you.’ She stepped back as it retracted its ramp and fired its ascent thrusters. ‘Are you sure that was wise?’ Ruatha said. ‘No. But where’s the fun in wisdom?’ Savona peered down the-thoroughfare. She could hear the unmistakable hum of anti-gravity engines. She’d made sure that the drukhari had spotted them. No point in being a distraction if no one saw you. ‘They’ll be coming soon. Have the others reported in yet?’ He nodded. ‘Helion and Vostro have both reported in. The Manflayer’s curs have reached the ground safely.’ ‘Good. Then we can be about our business.’ She swept her maul down and activated it. ‘Have you ever hunted drukhari before, Ruatha?’‘Not in several centuries.’She smiled widely and drew her bolt pistol as the first raider appeared at the opposite end of the thoroughfare .‘Then this should be most entertaining. ’Arrian inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of war. He could hear the sounds of the embattled planetary defence forces attempting to pin down the invaders, or contain the crazed populace. The echoing thud of assault cannons and the whining bark of las weapons. And above it all, the omnipresent wasp-hum of anti-grav engines. The drukhari were adept at navigating canyons of steel and glass. Their war-barques were highly manoeuvrable – but fragile. He pointed down the line of the transit path below. ‘They’re heading north, riding the edge of the madness. Picking off the survivors.’ ‘A solid plan,’ the warrior beside him growled. Helion held his prized lascannon the way a man might cradle a woman. Extra charge-packs hung from his brightly painted armour like decorations, and kill marks blackened his shoulder-plates and greaves. His helm had been refashioned in the shape of a stylised sun with a smiling cherub’s face. ‘I’ve used it myself,’ he continued. ‘No sense risking your neck when you’ve got a weapon that’ll do most of the work for you.’ ‘You’re a credit to your Legion,’ Arrian said. Helion laughed. ‘I am more than that – I’m a damn legend.’ Arrian smiled at his bravado. Helion had once belonged to the infamous ‘Sun-Killers’, or so he claimed. Whether he had been or not, he and his cronies had some skill at long-range warfare. Helion looked around. ‘This overpass will make an adequate firing position. We’ll hit them as they advance, and reposition as they scatter.’ He turned. ‘Get those guns ready,’ he snarled. His slaves hurried to obey, dragging scavenged heavy bolters and stub-cannons into position along the overpass. Helion’s squad was only ten strong, but they had four times that number of slave gun-crews to bolster their firepower.
Enough to give the drukhari pause. Helion looked at Arrian. ‘We don’t have the numbers to do more than irritate them, if it comes to stand-down. If they regroup and advance in force – or worse, get air support – we’ll have to retreat.’ ‘If all goes well, they won’t have time for either.’ A coded burst of static interrupted him. He activated his vox. ‘Report.’ ‘We’re advancing south, along the primus conduit,’ Skalagrim said. ‘With the gunships providing air support Vostro assures me that we should be at the secondary junction in an hour, if not less. What about you?’ ‘In position,’ Arrian said. He glanced at Helion, who nodded. ‘Let me know when you’ve reached the junction. Helion thinks we can cover your advance from there, if necessary. Any word from Savona?’ ‘She’s made contact. They know we’re here now.’ ‘Good. That’s the point.’ Arrian cut the link. He blinked and a three-dimensional model of the city unfurled across his helmet’s display. Savona’s position was illuminated, as was Skalagrim’s, in relation to his own. Fabius’ strategy was simple enough – three forces of varying size, engaging the enemy up-close or at range. The gunships would provide swift transport or air support, as was required. The intent was not to defend the city so much as it was to confuse the drukhari, and draw off those forces that might otherwise assault the cache from outside. The xenos would recover quickly enough, and either regroup or retreat. ‘Those aircraft of theirs are going to be our main worry,’ Helion said. He was peering up at the sliver of sky just visible through the canopy of scaffolding above. ‘We don’t have anything capable of countering them.’‘Drukhari are scavengers,’ Arrian said. ‘The most gain for the least effort. They won’t risk valuable equipment unless they’re certain they have the advantage. Once they realise what they’re facing, I expect they’ll start a general retreat.’ ‘And if they don’t? ’Arrian didn’t reply immediately. In the distance, he could see lean forms riding the air currents. The wasp-hum was louder now. He looked at Helion. ‘Then you’ll have to work a bit harder to earn your keep, Sun-Killer. ’Helion raised his lascannon. ‘It will be my pleasure, war-hound.
