BLOODSPIRE

C Z D U N N

SCENE ONE - EXT. HIVE PRIMUS,

AXONAR.

ATMOS: The cacophony of battle. Multiple

bolters fire along with missile launchers

and other heavy weapons. In return,

autocannons fire back.

War came swiftly to Axonar, though in the

reckoning of things they drew it down

upon themselves.

One day, the noble families of the

looming hive cities, cloistered in their

spires, simply decided that their tithe

of psykers to the Imperium was too great.

It was the closely-knit bloodlines of

the upper echelons that paid the highest

toll, the warp touch being rife among

their children thanks to centuries of

inbreeding. And so, when next the black

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ships came to claim the children of Axonar

and press them into the service of the

Golden Throne, they were refused; refused

and then set upon by the hive militia who

had long been loyal to the noble houses

of the spire. Across the planet, in all

of the major hive cities, the yoke of

Imperial rule was overthrown, and in

its place the aristocracy of the planet

claimed the kilometres-high edifices as

their own personal fiefdoms.

Then came the Blood Angels.

With darkness their mask, the Third and

Fourth Companies, along with a contingent

of Scouts, made their way to the

planet’s surface on board Thunderhawks

and Stormravens, the lack of any anti-

aircraft defences making the insertion

a relatively straightforward affair.

Once on the ground, the next stage of

the mission was to storm the hive cities

one at a time, until, in the face of

such an overwhelming force, the planet’s

rulers would have no other option but to

surrender and fall in line.

At least that was the plan.

METRAEN: ‘Move the Vindicators up, I

want those defences down now!’

FX - loud autocannon fire close to Metraen,

followed by ricochet of bullets bouncing

off tank armour

As if in response, the autocannon turrets

mounted at the base of Axonar’s primary

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hive spat in Captain Metraen’s direction,

forcing the leader of the Blood Angels

to take cover behind his Rhino command

vehicle. His battle-brothers did likewise,

their red forms darting behind their own

transports, autocannon shells spanging

harmlessly off the thick armour of the

Rhinos’ hulls.

FX - multiple bolters firing simultaneously

A break in the torrent of fire was met by

the combined might of the entire Third

Company targeting the enemy defences and,

though the wall of bolter shells found

their mark, its impact on the metres-

thick adamantium shields erected by the

secessionist forces was negligible.

The enemy turrets opened up once more,

forcing the Space Marines back into

cover. The cacophony of battle drowned

out all audible communication and

sergeants issued hand signals to their

squads, silently ordering them into new

firing positions. When next the turrets

ceased firing, it was the turn of the

Third Company devastators to attempt to

knock out the automated defences. Plasma

cannons and missile launchers took aim

and a barrage of fire was loosed towards

the hive.

FX - plasma cannon and missile launcher

noise

Though the damage they wrought was

greater than their brothers’ small arms

fire, still the walls and turrets remained

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intact and when the autocannons had

finished reloading, another wall of solid

shot sent the devastators back behind the

ring of Imperial armour.

FX - bass rumble of tank engines getting

closer

From behind the barricade formed by

the Blood Angels armoured vehicles,

three Vindicators in bright red livery

- Zorael’s Remembrance, Baal’s Fury and Sanguinius Rex - rolled towards the base

of the hive, their immense dozer blades

clearing a path through the rock-strewn

planetary surface of Axonar. Sensing the

new threat, the autocannon turrets turned

their attention to the siege breakers, but

the stream of shells bounced harmlessly

off the vehicles’ armour plates. Pintle-

mounted storm bolters returned fire as the

tanks rolled inexorably towards their

objective, crushing all beneath their

tracks as if it were balsa wood.

METRAEN: ‘Brother Elyon, bring those

walls down. I want Third Company in

there before the sun breaches the

horizon.’

ELYON: <<‘Acknowledged, captain.’>> FX - grind of tank turret adjusting

position

Manoeuvring his vehicle into optimum

range, Elyon adjusted the firing angle of

the huge Demolisher siege cannon mounted

to the front of Sanguinius Rex. There

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was a brief pause while the Vindicator’s

targeting servitor checked and double-

checked every possible variable before

the Blood Angels tank unleashed its deadly

payload.

FX - huge tank gun firing followed by

massive explosion

The self-propelled shell found its mark

and, mere milliseconds after impact,

detonated in a corona of explosive force.

Debris and soil were thrown skywards

and the Blood Angels line was pelted by

meteoric stones, the remnants of much

larger boulders disintegrated by the

Vindicator’s cannon. A cloud of dust

billowed over the battlefield like rolling

mist, obscuring the view of the target.

METRAEN: ‘Elyon, report. Are the

defences down?’

The Blood Angels captain made a sign

with his left gauntlet and the hundred

Space Marines under his command readied

to assault the base of the hive, checking

weapons and equipment and whispering

battle prayers and litanies.

ELYON: <<‘Unsure. The dust cloud

isn’t shifting very quickly. No,

wait – negative. That’s a negative.

The adamantium shields are intact. I

repeat, shields still intact.’>>

Metraen grimaced.

METRAEN: ‘Understood. Zorael’s

Remembrance, Baal’s Fury - move into

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position. Linebreaker formation,

I want you to coordinate fire on my

command and-’

FX - missile whine

The unmistakable whine of a hunter-

killer anti-tank missile interrupted the

captain’s orders.

METRAEN: ‘Elyon, get your tanks out

of there now!’

FX - tank exploding under missile fire

But the warning came too late for Sanguinius

Rex. The missile hit the tank head-on, and though the heavily armoured dozer

blade took the brunt of the explosion, the

force of the impact flipped the Vindicator

over, its vulnerable underbelly facing

the enemy defences. Zorael’s Remembrance

and Baal’s Fury arrested their advance and began reversing back towards Third

Company’s position, out of range of any

further missiles.

The top hatch of the stricken Vindicator

burst open and smoke poured forth from

the aperture, quickly followed by the

helmetless figure of Elyon, his red armour

slick with his own blood. Emerging from

the hatch, he began pulling himself along

the ground. Metraen was momentarily

confused; a Space Marine’s implants and

enhanced physiology should allow him to

almost instantly recover from shock and

trauma so why was the tank commander

struggling?

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He soon realised why.

Just below the right knee, Elyon’s leg

had been completely shorn off and as he

dragged himself along the rocky ground he

left a scarlet trail in his wake.

FX - autocannon fire

The autocannon turrets opened up once

more but, with the lee of the wrecked

Vindicator providing cover, the wounded

Blood Angel was spared further maiming

by enemy fire. Realising that their

shells were useless against the tank’s

armour, the enemy changed tactics and the

automated hunter-killer missile launcher

retracted, ready to reload.

METRAEN: ‘Blood of the primarch! He’s

not going to make it. Apothecary

Refael, make ready to receive the

casualty.’

Leaping from the cover of his command

vehicle, Metraen began to sprint across

the half-kilometre between himself and

Elyon with a speed that belied the Space

Marine’s bulk. As captain of the Third

Company, Metraen bore the title ‘Master

of Sacrifice’ and while he was ready to

forfeit weapons and vehicles to achieve

victory - something that had almost

brought him to blows with the Master of

the Blade on more than one occasion - he

was not prepared to waste the lives of

his battle-brothers.

He wasn’t the only one who thought that

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way. To his left, an entire squad of Blood

Angels had emerged from cover and were

following their captain towards their

wounded comrade. The white skulls set

against the black kneepads they all wore

came as no surprise to Metraen. Third

Company’s First Squad had a fearsome

reputation among the Chapter and their

sergeant, Tycho, was always eager to be

at the front of any action.

Reaching Elyon, Metraen was soon joined

by Tycho and the rest of First Squad.

Risking a glance around the side of the

Vindicator, the captain saw that the

missile launcher had reloaded and was

attempting to gain a targeting solution.

Two battle-brothers dragged the prone

form of the tank commander further into

cover, while another loaded and primed

his missile launcher.

METRAEN: ‘Tycho, take that thing

out.’

TYCHO: ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

The veteran sergeant grinned in a manner

that made Metraen feel uneasy. No Blood

Angel was a stranger to battle, but Tycho

revelled in warfare more than any other

Space Marine the Third Company captain

had ever fought alongside.

TYCHO: ‘Orphael, you know what to

do.’

Striding boldly from cover, First Squad’s

heavy weapons trooper took aim with

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his missile launcher and, ignoring the

autocannon fire that raked the ground

around him, took a shallow breath and

depressed the firing stud.

FX - missile whine

A split second later the hunter-killer

launcher came to life, but before the

tank-buster was free of its moorings,

Orphael’s missile found its mark.

FX - explosion

METRAEN: ‘Excellent shot, Brother

Orphael. Now, Brother Elyon, let’s

get you to safety and into the care

of Refael, though I’m sure the good

Apothecary will be most disappointed

that the enemy have robbed him of the

opportunity to perform a battlefield

amputation.’

The tank commander grimaced, revealing

bloodstained teeth.

ELYON: ‘Thanks to you he won’t he

needing his reductor today.’

Metraen smiled in response to the gallows

humour. Though a Space Marine could

survive hardship and injury far in excess

of a normal human being, they were not

immortal and inevitably, the field of

battle claimed them. When that day came,

the Apothecaries were always on stand-

by, ready to extract a fallen battle-

brother’s gene-seed to pass on to the

next generation of recruits and ensure

the Chapter‘s continued existence.

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Two of Tycho’s squad lifted the injured

tank commander between them and, once

back behind the shelter of the line

of Rhinos, Apothecary Refael began his

ministrations. Tycho ordered his squad

back into position before conferring with

his captain.

TYCHO: ‘What’s our course of action?

Those adamantium shields are too

thick to breach and an infantry

assault will have us cut to ribbons.

We’ll lose the cover of darkness

soon, and the longer it takes us to

storm the hive, the more we risk

getting bogged down and a siege

situation developing.’

Metraen stroked his chin and, activating

his helmet vox, stared in the direction

of the hive city.

METRAEN: ‘Any joy, Castigon? Have

Fourth Company managed to penetrate

the defences of Hive Secundus?

CASTIGON: <<‘Negative.’>>

Though hearing the voice of his fellow

captain was reassuring, the message he

delivered was not.

CASTIGON: <<‘Those shields are

just too damn thick. If I had some

Dreadnoughts, even a couple of squads

of Death Company, then maybe there’d

be a way in, but as it stands, I’d

suggest an orbital bombardment.’>>

Unease washed over Metraen at the mention

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of the Death Company. For millennia,

the Blood Angels had been afflicted

by a genetic curse causing them to be

overcome with battle lust, a Black Rage

that could alter their perception of time

and make them impervious to all but the

most grievous of injuries. Though some

welcomed the embrace of the Black Rage,

others feared it in the knowledge that

once they succumbed and took their place

in the ranks of the Death Company, their

service to the Primarch and the Emperor

would soon be ended by death.

The First Sergeant broke the captain’s

reverie.

TYCHO: ‘What are your orders, captain?’

METRAEN: ‘Find me Sergeant Cardula

and have him and his Scouts report

here to me.’

TYCHO: ‘And then what?’

METRAEN: ‘Then...’

A smile flickered across Metraen’s lips.

METRAEN: ‘Then we assault those

defences again.’

SCENE TWO - EXT. HIVE PRIMUS,

AXONAR.

ATMOS: The distant sound of battle

coming from somewhere below. The faint

howl of the wind at altitude. Metal on

metal ‘handsteps’ of the mag-grabs.

METRAEN: <<‘Confirm your position,

Cardula.’>>

The veteran Scout sergeant halted his

ascent and looked up towards his objective,

then back down to his starting point

at the base of the hive. Relinquishing

his grasp of one of his mag-grabs,

electromagnetic crampons that enabled

a man, or in this case a Space Marine,

to scale sheer surfaces that would be

otherwise impossible to traverse, he

tapped his vox-bead.

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CARDULA: ‘Halfway there, by my

estimate.’

METRAEN: <<‘Fourth Company will be

in position in half a cycle. Maintain

your current pace and call in once

your mission is complete.’>>

The old Scout shut off his vox-bead and

continued his arduous climb. He and the

four Scouts under his command had already

been climbing for half a cycle - almost

eight Terran hours - and were now under

the cover of the cloud blanket that hung

five kilometres or so above Axonar’s

surface. The climb thus far would have

been too much for a normal man, let alone

the next five kilometres, but Cardula and

his charges were no longer ‘normal’ men.

Genetically enhanced with the gene-seed

of their forebears, and implants that

rendered them post-human, the Blood Angels

Scouts were every inch a Space Marine,

albeit at the dawn of their service. They

were no longer ‘human’, but not yet fully

fledged battle-brothers.

They moved in near-silence, only the

tapping of their mag-grabs punctuating

the gentle breeze of the Axonar night.

None of them showed any signs of fatigue,

and even Tarphon, the newest member of

their squad on only his second combat

mission, looked as fresh as when they’d

set out many hours earlier.

Halting suddenly, Rampel, second only in

seniority to Cardula and soon to take his

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place in one of the Blood Angels battle

companies, signalled to the rest of the

squad to do the same. He motioned to

his sergeant and then pointed upwards.

Directly above them, an open balcony jutted

out from the hive into the night sky. A

haphazard affair, it gave the impression

that it was an unauthorised modification

made by some aspirational mid-hiver in

imitation of the baroque marvels that

adorned the outer quarters of the spire.

Being careful not to make any more noise

than was absolutely necessary, Cardula

ventured a little higher to get a better

view.

The scent of obscura, or a related

narcotic, hit his nostrils before he

caught sight of the balcony’s occupant

and when the smoker did hove into view,

Cardula saw it was a militiaman, lasrifle

slung by his side. Releasing his grip

on one of his mag-grabs, Cardula issued

a complex hand signal with his right

hand, the position of each finger - fully

extended, bent at the knuckle or fully

bent - signifying what each member of

the squad was to do next. Tarphon let

go of both mag-grabs and, unsheathing

his combat knife and placing it between

his teeth, free-climbed so that he was

parallel with the balcony, though out of

view of the militiaman. Rampel, Cardula

and Kachiel took up position several

metres below the outcrop in the hive

wall, while the squad’s sniper, Sagon,

navigated his way in a corkscrew motion

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around the cylindrical hive outer wall to

take his place ten metres directly above

the balcony.

With an ease born from years of training

and conditioning, what happened next was

over in mere seconds. Using only one

hand to cling to the side of the hive,

Tarphon gripped the tip of his combat

knife between the thumb and forefinger of

his other hand and launched it spinning

end over end towards the militiaman.

Almost instantaneously, the blade lodged

itself in the man’s throat and, unable

to scream through ruined vocal chords,

he pitched forwards over the lip of the

balcony, where he was caught by Rampel

and Kachiel. Cardula removed the young

Scout’s knife from the man’s throat and

used one of his mag-grabs to lock him in

position against the metal wall of the

hive, lest a corpse falling to the base

of the spire alert the enemy to activity

up above. The militiaman hung there, legs

and arms spasming as the life drained

from him, eyes bulging as his situation

became apparent.

Several minutes passed, during which

the militiaman expired silently, though

the Blood Angels Scouts, if they were

even aware of his passing, gave no sign

as they hung motionless like macabre

red gargoyles. At a signal from Sagon,

satisfied that nobody had witnessed their

clandestine killing, the figures sprang

into motion again. Tarphon retrieved his

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mag-grabs and, as he made to continue his

ascent, Sergeant Cardula came alongside

him and gave him back his combat knife

with an appreciative nod.

Silent as the grave, the five Scouts

headed once more in the direction of

their objective.

SCENE THREE - EXT. HIVE PRIMUS,

AXONAR

ATMOS: As Scene One.

The wall of Blood Angels vehicles

unleashed an unrelenting torrent of fire

against the hive, halting only to reload

weapons and find new targeting solutions.

Sparks flew in all directions as metal

impacted against metal, but each shot

only thinned the adamantium walls by mere

millimetres. Missiles streaked towards

weapons emplacements but, hidden as they

were behind thick shields, more often

than not they detonated prematurely,

leaving the autocannons behind to send

volley after volley against the Space

Marines.

Though the Blood Angels second assault

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on the base of Hive Primus was just as

furious and unrelenting as the first, if

the Axonar separatists had been paying

close attention, then they might have

noticed something amiss. Rather than

Blood Angels using Rhinos as cover to

fire behind, it was the armoured personnel

carriers’ weapons that were now trained

on the base of the hive, servitors being

employed to do the task previously carried

out by battle-brothers.

Heavy weapons activity was less frequent

too, as Brother Orphael fired from one

position and then quickly scrambled to

another location to unleash another

missile, before repeating the process. To

the casual onlooker, it may have seemed

as if an entire company, two even, were

arrayed against the rebellious forces of

Axonar’s capital hive.

In reality, it was just eleven Space

Marines.

Ordering the rest of Third Company to

rendezvous with Captain Castigon and

return to orbit, Metraen had asked for

one squad to remain with him to mount the

second assault on Hive Primus. Without

hesitation, Tycho volunteered First Squad

and, after undergoing inspection by the

Chaplains in case their eagerness for

battle was the first sign of the Black

Rage claiming them, the handful of Blood

Angels set about making themselves appear

to be a force ten times larger.

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TYCHO: ‘How much longer do we have to

keep this up for?’

As usual, the First Sergeant was revelling

in battle, and although the enemy lay

behind several metres of adamantium, Tycho

applied himself with all the zeal and

dedication that he would wading through

a greenskin horde. Metraen checked the

chrono-readout on his helmet’s visor

display before replying.

METRAEN: ‘Not long – one-sixteenth of

a cycle.’

As Tycho unleashed another barrage of

bolter fire against the automated turret

system, Metraen was sure that the look

the sergeant wore upon his face was one

of disappointment.

SCENE FOUR - EXT. HIVE PRIMUS,

AXONAR

ATMOS: As Scene Two.

Three more times, Cardula’s squad had

come across militia sentries posted on

balconies and three more times they had

been silently dispatched, the wraith-

like Scouts continuing ever upwards

unmolested.

FX - metal on metal clangs but louder and

with a different quality to the mag-grabs

Now, with their objective reached, all

that was left to do was to carry out

the final stage of their mission. The five

Scouts worked quickly and tirelessly,

placing magnetised packs at regular

intervals around the spire. Within the

space of mere minutes, their payload was

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delivered and, as silently as they had

ascended, the Blood Angels began their

journey down.

After one last check that all of the

explosives were in place, Cardula

activated his vox-bead and began his own

descent.

CARDULA: ‘Mission accomplished. It’s

up to you now, Francesi.’

SCENE FIVE - INT. THUNDERHAWK,

LOW ORBIT ABOVE AXONAR.

ATMOS: The bass rumble of a Thunderhawk

engine.

METRAEN: <<‘Did you receive Cardula’s

last message?’>>

CASTIGON: ‘Received and understood.

Commencing assault now.’

FX - the ramp at the rear of the Thunderhawk

lowers. The more it lowers the louder the

noise of decompression becomes

High above the surface of Axonar, mere

kilometres below the Karman line, two full

companies of Blood Angels readied themselves

for the battle to take Hive Primus. Weapons

were loaded, litanies chanted and orders

passed from sergeants to their squads.

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CASTIGON: ‘We only have one chance at

this, brothers. Sergeant Cardula and

his Scouts have done their job and

now it is time to do ours. Remember,

we have surprise on our side, the

Emperor and Sanguinius at our backs

and courage in our hearts. Let us go

now to glory, or let us go now to

death!’

The Fourth Company captain had broadcast

his short speech over an open vox-channel

and his earpiece filled with the sound

of rousing cheers. On board each craft,

Chaplains observed the eager battle

brothers, looking for signs of the Red

Thirst or the Black Rage, standing ready

to tap the pauldron of any who succumbed

and remove them from the order of battle.

Sanguinius was smiling on them that day

as not a single Blood Angel fell victim

to either of their twin genetic flaws.

As the flight of Thunderhawks and

Stormravens passed over the designated

drop zone, red lights turned to green and

armour-clad giants launched themselves

into thin air, one after another, until

the pre-dawn sky filled with a deadly red

rain. At impossible speeds they hurtled

to the ground, their power armour and

implants compensating for the intense

gravitational forces that would otherwise

have killed them within seconds of leaving

the craft. Frost formed on their armour

as the thin night air deposited moisture

on ceramite and then instantly froze it.

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The first few kilometres quickly flashed

by but as they broke cloud cover, the

landscape below began to present itself.

Though the first tendrils of sunlight were

only just creeping through the darkness,

the red and orange glow being cast by

Metraen’s assault far below guided them

towards their objective like a beacon.

Castigon himself was the last man out

of the last Thunderhawk. As he neared

terminal velocity, he glanced upwards to

see the Blood Angels flyers heading back

to the Strike Cruiser awaiting them in

orbit.

Saying a silent prayer to the Emperor

and his primarch, Castigon hoped that

Metraen had got his timing right on this,

otherwise it was likely to be a short

mission.

Less than a kilometre from the top of the

hive, his prayers were answered.

FX - multiple explosions as the top of

the hive is blown apart

FX - The buzz of hundreds of jump packs

engaging

CASTIGON: ‘By the blood of

Sanguinius!’

SCENE SIX - INT. HIVE PRIMUS,

AXONAR

ATMOS: Battle noise, but inside rather

than out so more echo on the gunfire.

The end, when it came, was swift, brutal

and bloody.

With the upper hive blown open, almost

two full companies engaged their jump

packs and swept into Hive Primus. Their

frustration at not being able to assault

the hive directly at its base spilled

over, and within a minute of the first

Blood Angels setting foot within the

spire, not a single separatist was left

breathing on the upper level.

The Chapter’s Techmarines had hijacked

the planet’s broadcast network and a

live feed of the events unfolding in the

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planet’s capital played in every other

city on Axonar. By the time Third and

Fourth Companies had made it down another

two levels, other hives had started to

offer their unconditional surrender.

Before the Blood Angels had even made

it out of the spire, the upper levels of

the hive reserved for solely for nobility

and the ruling classes, the entirety of

Axonar was back under the sway of the

Imperium.

The broadcast feed was soon cut, but

in the years that followed, years that

saw Axonar’s tithe of psykers trebled

and a bloodless coup that removed the

ruling families in one fell swoop, it

was whispered that the Angels of Death

made it much deeper into the hive, though

there were no eyewitnesses to corroborate

this. Only a single Blood Angel was

wounded during the short, but brutally

effective, war for Axonar and by the time

they returned to Baal, Brother Elyon had

already adapted to his augmetic leg.

SCENE SEVEN - EXT. HIVE PRIMUS,

AXONAR

ATMOS: Battle noise has abated, but the

crackle of vehicles on fire and the sound

of a Stormraven’s engine can be heard.

CASTIGON:‘You know, Incarael may

actually kill you for this.’

The Fourth Company captain gestured

to the corral of Rhinos, two of which

were now engulfed in flame. Oily smoke

billowed from them, pushed across the

battlefield by the Stormraven’s idling

engines.

METRAEN:‘If I’m to be the Master of

Sacrifice then better it be equipment

offered up on the altar of war than

battle-brothers.’

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CASTIGON:‘Agreed, brother, but I

doubt the Master of the Blade will

see it that way.’

Metraen

looked

contemplatively

at

the smouldering wrecks littering the

battlefield.

METRAEN: ‘Truly spoken… but I am

right nonetheless.’

FX - clang of armour and multiple sets of

armoured feet on a metal ramp

First Squad boarded the Stormraven with

an eagerness that belied the fact that

they’d just spent most of the night

carrying out a relentless assault against

impregnable defences. The only sign that

they’d seen battle recently was the dirt

and grime that coated their dented and

pocked suits of power armour. The last of

First Squad to board was Sergeant Tycho,

and Castigon stopped him at the foot of

the boarding ramp.

CASTIGON: ‘A commendable effort,

Sergeant Tycho, but answer me this.

Why, when the glory was to be had

storming the hive from the air, did

you opt to take part in the dummy

assault at the base?

The Blood Angels sergeant looked towards

his captain as if seeking permission to

respond. Metraen nodded in reply.

TYCHO: ‘Because I did not see it as

glorious, Captain Castigon. A bunch

of effete, over-privileged nobles who

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barely know which direction to point

a weapon... where’s the challenge in

that? Look at your armour.’

Castigon looked down at his pristine suit

of red power armour then back at Tycho.

The sergeant’s left pauldron was split

open and several autocannon rounds were

lodged in the greave on his left leg. One

of his gauntlets was missing and he had

deep gouge on the side of his head.

TYCHO: ‘Not a scratch on you, is

there?’

Castigon was about to respond, but realised

that any argument would be futile. The

sergeant was right. Tycho turned away and

continued up the ramp to join his squad.

CASTIGON: ‘You need to keep an eye on

that one. He’ll either be the death

of you, or the next to wear your

cloak.’

METRAEN: ‘You mean if Incarael

doesn’t take a bolt pistol to the

back of my head first for blowing up

more of his tanks?’

The two Blood Angels smiled. Metraen

pointed towards the top of the hive.

METRAEN: ‘Come. We have some

passengers to collect.’

The two red-armoured figures ascended the

Stormraven’s ramp. The rear hatch closed

and the war machine lifted slowly into

the air.

36

C Z Dunn

Meanwhile, high above, Scout Sergeant

Cardula and his squad continued their

long climb back down without complaint,

content in the knowledge of a job well

done.

A BLACK LIBRARY PUBLICATION

First published as an audio drama in 2012.

This edition published in Great Britain in 2013 by

Black Library,

Games Workshop Ltd.,

Willow Road, Nottingham,

NG7 2WS, UK.

© Games Workshop Limited 2013. All rights reserved.

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