Storm Of Iron(科幻战争)-第54部分

快捷操作: 按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页 按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页 按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部! 如果本书没有阅读完，想下次继续接着阅读，可使用上方 "收藏到我的浏览器" 功能 和 "加入书签" 功能！

shields　and　light　armour　no　match　for　the　power　of　the　Warlord　Titan。
It　reeled　under　the　impacts　and；　for　an　incredible　moment；　Honsou　believed　it　had　survived；　but　a　massive　explosion　engulfed　its
head　and　the　Warhound　fell；　its　crew　compartment　a　blazing　rain。
Honsou　snarled　in　satisfaction　and　set　off　once　more。
Everywhere　the　enemy　was　defeated；　broken　and　fleeing　before　them。
He　emerged　into　a　wide　square；　at　the　far　end　of　which　he　saw　a　pitiful　ring　of　the　Imperial　Fists。　They　stood；　swords　bared　at　the
entrance　to　caverns　gouged　into　the　mountains；　their　faces　proud　and　defiant。
Honsou　laughed　as　he　marched　at　the　head　of　his　company；　the　Warsmith　descending　from　the　hot　darkness　above　him。　The
master　of　the　Iron　Warriors　landed　hard；　the　cobbles　hissing　molten　with　his　step；　as　though　the　ground　itself　rebelled　against　the
chaos　writhing　within　him。　His　body　rippled　with　change；　as　though　a　million　forms　sought　to　be　birthed　from　his　unquiet
anatomy。　The　black　our　was　becoming　glossier；　more　organic　looking；　like　the　carapace　of
an　insect。
The　Warsmith　nodded　to　Honsou；　a　gesture　of　respect　between　warriors。
'It　is　time　we　finished　this；'　rasped　the　Warsmith；　his　voice　thickened　and　coarse。
'Aye；'　agreed　Honsou；　marching　towards　the　Imperial　Fists　as　the　Iron　Warriors　spread　out　to　surround　them；　weapons　raised。
A　stillness　fell　as　the　ancient　foes　faced　one　another　in　the　glare　of　the　burning　citadel　and　a　massive　shadow　fell　across　the　square
as　the　Pater　Mortis　strode　from　the　ruins。
A　warrior　stepped　from　the　ring　of　Space　Marines　and　removed　his　helmet。　Honsou　could　feel　the　hatred　this　warrior　had　for　him
as　he　spat；　'I　am　Brother…Captain　Eshara　of　the　Imperial　Fists；　proud　son　of　Rogal　Dorn；　soldier　of　the　Emperor　and　scourge　of
deviants。　Face　me　and　die；　traitor。'
The　Warsmith　faced　Eshara　and　Honsou　grinned　as　he　saw　the　effect　his　presence　had　upon　the　Space　Marine。　As　the　captain's
face　twisted　in　sudden　pain；　the　Warsmith　leapt　forward；　his　mighty　axe　sweeping　down　to　cleave　Eshara　in　two。
Eshara　crossed　his　swords　above　his　head；　blocking　the　blow；　the　impact　driving　him　to　his　knees。　He　grunted　and　spun　low；
slashing　a　blade　across　the　Warsmith's　flank。　Black　blood　gouted　from　the　wound。　The　Warsmith　smashed　his　fist　against　Eshara's
chest；　cracking　his　breastplate　open。
As　Eshara　fell；　the　Imperial　Fists　charged；　the　name　of　Rogal　Dorn　on　their　lips。
Gunfire　erupted　from　the　Iron　Warriors；　cutting　them　down　as　battle　was　joined。
But　it　was　an　unequal　struggle　and　though　the　Imperial　Fists　fought　hard；　the　outcome　was　never　in　doubt。
Honsou　drove　his　sword　through　an　Imperial　Fist；　watching　in　amazement　as　Eshara　groggily　rose　to　his　feet；　coughing　thick　wads
of　blood。　The　Warsmith　roared　and　hammered　his　axe　down　upon　Eshara's　shoulder　guard；　cleaving　him　from　collarbone　to
pelvis；　the　blade　shearing　through　his　armour　like　paper。
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
Eshara　crumpled；　but　weakly　raised　his　head　as　the　Warsmith　sheathed　his　massive　axe　and　stooped　to　lift　him　from　the　ground。
'Know　this；　son　of　Dorn；'　hissed　the　Warsmith。　'I　will　gorge　myself　on　your　gene…seed　and　I　shall　make　you　and　all　your　kind
extinct。'
The　Warsmith　lifted　Eshara's　dying　body　to　his　head　where　there　was　a　monstrous　cracking；　sucking　noise。　Blood　splashed　the
steaming　ground　at　the　Warsmith's　feet　and　he　bellowed　in　orgiastic　pleasure；　dropping　Eshara's　mutilated　corpse。
Even　Honsou　was　shocked　as　he　saw　the　Space　Marine's　entire　chest　cavity　had　been　bitten　through；　the　organs　within　sucked
from　his　body　and　devoured　by　the　Warsmith。
Honsou　dismissed　the　incident　from　his　mind　and　set　off　after　the　Warsmith　as　he　charged　through　the　gateway　that　led　into　the
mountains　and　their　ultimate　goal。
LEONID　HAMMERED　HIS　rifle　butt　through　the　glass　of　an　incubation　tank　and　stood　back　as　the　amniotic　fluid　spilled　out　along
with　its　foetal　cargo。　He　used　brute　force　because　his　lasgun's　power　cell　had　long　since　drained。　He　moved　onto　the　next　capsule；
staring　in　awed　wonder　at　the　sheer　scale　of　the　cavern　stretching　before　him。　Its　end　was　lost　in　shadows；　the　vastness　broken　up
by　wide　avenues　of　incubation　capsules。　Thousands　of　tanks　ran　in　ordered　lines　into　the　darkness；　their　clear　surfaces　frosted　and
cold　to　the　touch。
Now　Leonid　understood　the　danger　inherent　in　this　place。　If　what　Naicin　had　told　them　was　even　partly　true；　there　was　enough
genetic　material　stored　here　to　create　untold　thousands　of　twisted　warriors　of　Chaos。　The　very　thought　of　such　creations　being
birthed　from　here　was　truly　horrifying。
Worker…servitors　with　shoulder…mounted　illuminators　were　spots　of　light　in　the　darkness；　moving　silently　through　the　echoing
cavern　as　they　tended　to　their　biological　charges。　Hundreds　of　his　soldiers　rampaged　through　the　cavern；　shooting；　burning　and
smashing　everything　they　could。　But　Leonid　knew　it　was　a　hopeless　task；　the　sheer　scale　of　the　facility　here　would　defeat　them。
There　was　no　way　they　could　destroy　it　all　before　the　Iron　Warriors　came　to　kill　them。
But　they　would　try。　It　was　all　they　had　left。
HONSOU　AND　THE　Iron　Warriors　followed　the　Warsmith　as　he　sped　down　through　the　corridors　beneath　the　mountains。　There　was
a　desperate　hunger　to　the　Warsmith　now；　like　a　fleshhound　with　the　scent　of　blood　in　its　jaws。　His　body　pulsed　like　a　heart　in　the
throes　of　a　massive　seizure；　as　though　containing　a　whirlwind　of　potentiality　that　strained　to　be　born。
Ahead；　Honsou　heard　sounds　of　destruction　and　knew　they　were　approaching　the　prize　the　citadel　had　jealously　guarded。　As　the
passageway　widened　and　levelled　out；　he　saw　a　massive　set　of　gold　doors；　green　lightning　dancing　across　their　surfaces；　and　a
cavern　beyond。
Shouts　and　the　sound　of　shattering　glass　quickly　turned　to　cries　of　alarm　as　the　humans　saw　the　charging　Iron　Warriors。　A　few
brave　souls　attempted　to　stand　before　the　pled　as　he　neared　them；　screaming　and　spasming　in　agony。
The　Iron　Warriors　plunged　into　the　cavern；　gunfire　echoing　from　the　walls　as　they　slaughtered　the　last　defenders　of　the　citadel。
The　Warsmith　halted　beside　a　shattered　incubation　capsule　and　dragged　out　a　limp　rag　of　pink　flesh；　sodden　and　only　vaguely
humanoid。　The　Warsmith　feasted　upon　the　genetic　host　matter；　feeding　on　the　soft；　boneless　tissue　and　Honsou　felt　his　skin　crawl
as　though　a　powerful　electric　charge　was　building。
The　Warsmith　moved　to　the　next　capsule　and　fed　once　more。　He　turned　to　Honsou　and　rasped；　'Finish　them　all。'
LEONID　WORKED　HIS　way　back　to　the　cavern's　entrance；　his　power　sword　gripped　tightly　and　his　face　set　with　grim　resolve。　There
was　no　more　they　could　do　here　to　make　a　difference　and　he　felt　their　failure　as　a　bitter　weight　in　the　pit　of　his　stomach。　If　this　was
to　be　their　end；　they　would　meet　it　head　on；　not　hiding。　His　men　had　no　ammunition　left　and　the　sounds　of　battle　around　him　were
brutal　and　short　lived。
He　and　perhaps　fifty　soldiers　followed　a　revolting　sucking；　guzzling　noise；　determined　to　sell　their　lives　as　dearly　as　possible　now
that　the　end　was　inevitable。
Leonid　rounded　a　corner　of　dripping　capsules　and　recoiled　at　the　sight　before　him。
THE　WARSMITH　CAST　his　arms　to　the　cavern　roof　as　he　felt　the　power　of　the　gene…seed　coursing　through　him；　though　he　realised
that　its　power　was　largely　symbolic。　He　had　succeeded　and　the　power　of　the　dark　gods　poured　into　their　chosen　vessel；　ripping
him　from　his　mortal　flesh　and　gifting　him　with　the　boon　of　immortality。
His　armour　sloughed　from　his　body；　its　material　form　no　longer　appropriate　for　such　a　magnificent　creature　of　Chaos。　A　spiralling
vortex　of　dark　energy　surrounded　him；　cracks　exploding　in　the　rockcrete　floor　as　power　flared　from　his　limbs。
As　the　psychic　energy　built　up；　the　Warsmith　swelled；　roaring　as　he　felt　his　power　magnifying。
His　chest　hiked　convulsively　as　the　might　of　Chaos　poured　through　him。　He　was　aware　of　his　warriors　and　the　Imperial　soldiers；
but　he　needed　all　his　concentration　to　direct　the　incomprehensible　energies　that　remoulded　his　new　daemonic　flesh。
The　Warsmith　roared　in　ecstasy　and　agony　as　unprecedented　power　engulfed　him。　His　body　swelled　hugely；　bloated　by　the
maelstrom　of　energy　that　cycloned　within。
A　ridged　horn　burst　from　his　forehead　in　a　welter　of　blood　and　tissue。　The　mottled　spike　writhed　like　a　living　thing；　swelling　and
wrapping　itself　around　his　head。　His　skin　darkened；　taking　on　a　loathsome　scaled　texture。　His　spine　cracked　and　he　screamed　as　it
elongated　and　thickened；　roaring　as　the　shadows　at　his　back　solidified　and　the　dark　wings　spread　wide　and　flapped　powerfully。
The　newly　elevated　Daemon　Prince　was　lifted　from　the　ground；　hanging　suspended　before　the　horrified　witnesses　to　its　birth　as
the　last　of　the　psychic　energy　drained　from　its　body　in　an　explosive　wash　of　power。
THOUGH　HE　KNEW　it　meant　death；　Leonid　raced　towards　the　floating　daemon；　his　sword　raised　to　strike　it　down。
The　winged　daemon　turned　its　gaze　upon　him　and　he　dropped　to　his　knees　as　the　sickening　aura　of　the　creature　overcame　him。　Its
Graham　McNeill　？Storm　of　Iron？
monstrous　form　was　utterly　black；　the　nightmare　depths　of　its　form　glittering　with　far…off　galaxies　and　stars。　He　felt　revolted　just
looking　at　the　beast　and　rolled　onto　his　side　as　debilitating　cramps　seized　him。
He　vomited；　feeling　his　guts　contract　again　and　dry…heaved；　having　nothing　more　to　expel。　He　vainly　tried　to　push　himself　to　his
feet；　but　the　pain　was　too　great；　like　a　red…hot　knife　twisting　in　his　belly。　His　men　were　also　on　the　floor；　their　bodily　functions
rebelling　in　the　presence　of　such　horrific　power。
Leonid　wept　in　pain；　hearing　the　terrible；　booming　laughter　of　the　daemon　prince　above　him；　the　discordant　noise　sending　jagged
bolts　of　pain　down　his　spine。
He　felt　unconsciousness　rising　to　claim　him　and　tried　to　fight　it。
But　he　could　not　resist　its　balm　and　slipped　into　darkness。
THE　FIRES　STILL　burned　throughout　the　citadel　as　the　first　rays　of　morning　crested　the　mountains　and　columns　of　tracked　tankers
rumbled　through　the　molten　remains　of　the　Destiny　Gate。　Each　tanker　had　been　specially　built　for　this　moment；　insulated　and
rigged　with　blast　freezing　mechanisms　to　preserve　the　precious　gene…seed　on　its　journey　through　the　immaterium　towards　the　Eye
of　Terror　and　Abaddon　the　Despoiler。
The　fallen　Iron　Warriors　were　already　aboard　the　ships　in　orbit；　the　Chirumeks　dissecting　them　even　now　to　harvest　their　organs
for　implantation　into　the　next　generation　of　Iron　Warriors。
There　had　not　been　enough　of　Forrix　to　bring　back　and　while　stripping　down　the　siege　works；　a　party　of　slaves　had　found　a　rotting
corpse　in　Kroeger's　dugout。　It　was　clearly　that　of　an　Iron　Warrior；　but　if　the　body　was　Kroeger's；　who　had　led　the　assault　on　the
eastern　bastion？
It　was　a　mystery　that　Honsou　guessed　he　would　never　know　the　answer　to；　though　in　that；　he　was　very　wrong。
Honsou　watched　the　tankers　as　they　made　the　slow　journey　through　the　blasted　landscape　of　the　plain　before　the　citadel。　The
satisfaction　of　victory　was　tempered　with　a　hollow　emptiness　from　knowing　that　the　foe　was　defeated　and　there　were　no　more
battles　to　be　fought　here。
When　the　Warsmith　had　ascended　to　daemonhood；　Honsou　had　prostrated　himself　before　the　daem