Is 'Eavy Metal Calling?
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Thanks guys! Your comments have actually inspired me to get back to this, so while uipdates won't necessarily be coming thick and fast as I don't have a huge amount of time to write at the moment, here's the next Chapter. Don't know how long I'll manage to stay focused on this, but I do want to at least bring act 1 toa close, which is another half a dozen chapters.
14: A Modicum of Comfort
The silence that had settled over the hill-ringed killing fields since the slaughter at the walls of the Black Spire was shatterd as the first darkness began to creep across the plains. Into that darkness passed a column of dust and smoke, three angular hulls tearing up the loose-packed mud and throwing it skywards. Dirt and blood and pallid corpses all passed under the treads that left their careless marks. In their wake, a wall of raw sound blasted through the twilight, as engines seemed to protest at the reckless, irreverent haste.
Inside the lead Chimera, Lucien Tarn paid their mechanical whinings no heed; indeed, he could only just hear them through the soundproofed hull and bulkhead, and the vibration surpressors surrounding the crew compartment fought back the rumblings. Only the slightest of shimmering ripples tremored on the surface of his crystal glass of brandy. Say what you like about Alderbelt, Tarn thought to himself, the Commander traveled in style. He set down the glass and turned to his rotund superior.
"What exactly is it they want, then?" he asked tentatively, resuming his attempt to subtly press the commander for every drop of information he could before they arrived. Tarn had no doubt that the burden of negotiation would fall to him; he needed to be ready. "Why aren't we just pressing on? We've got the buggers on the run, haven't we?"
"Yes, yes, good question, Lucien, very good." Alderbelt replied, three chins wobbling under a weak and wispy beard. It was all Tarn could do not to roll his eyes, but he had noted that the two guards sat opposite studied him incessantly since he had entered the Chimera. Alderbelt himself may have been oblivious, but they most certainly were not, and it would not do to have them doubt his loyalty. Not yet, at any rate. "Why not just send in some more of those peasants to smoke them out, and turn them to dust, I say."
Tarn sighed, struggling to remember the last time Alderbelt had given him anything close to an answer. An hour ago, at least. "Quite, sir. But somehow, I doubt the Penals would approve of something like that. Not that they'd have to, of course, but the last thing we want is them turning against us." Alderbelt's eyes seemed to bulge at this, and he spluttered, wasting a mouthful of the precious beverage.
"Oh Emperor, that's the last thing we bloody need, Lucien! You don't think they would, do you? Terrible mess that would be, terrible!" Lucien smiled. This was more like it; the commander would now hang on his every word, and he might actually learn something at last.
"Not yet, sir, not yet. They're a rabble, yes, but not traitors" He paused, scanning the three faces in the cab with him. Alderbelt, stuttering and pale. The two guards, attentive, alert and leaning forward ever so slightly, ready to listen, lured by the promise of something clandestine. Lucien sensed opportunity. In the half-light, he smiled. "But there's one among them, Bodewick, closest they've got to an officer after last week's... incident. He could be trouble…”
“Trouble?” Alderbelt too leant in closer now, as much as his robust gut would allow. “How so trouble?”
“Word is he’s something of a leader, after he made some damn fool charge for the guns with a flag, getting a lot of our chaps killed on the way, I might add. The Penals are all of a sudden hailing him like the second coming of the bloody Emperor. From what I’ve seen, the man’s an idiot, but now he’s an idiot with an army of psychopaths at his back, and he’s none too fond of our Dragoons. One word from him, and we’d have the cutthroats marching up the hill and knocking on our doors.”
Lucien paused for just long enough to savour the General turning a deeper shade of crimson, before meeting his bulging, veined eyes.
“Of course, it’s nothing we couldn’t handle. Sir, if it came down to it. If, you might say, the worst came to the worst… But we ought to keep an eye on him just in case.”
Alderbelt stammered something that might have been agreement. Oh yes, this was more like it, Lucien Tarn thought to himself as the Chimera rolled on.
***
For the first time, free now from the deadly attention of guns and the distraction of flailing bodies falling around him, Lucien could admire for the first time the sheer magnificence of the Black Chapel. A single obsidian spire shot skyward, perfectly bisecting the last of the sunlight and seeming impossibly tall, but it was the edifice that held the true marvels.
Every surface, from the enormous arches to the wings of angels and gargoyles that seemed frozen mid-leap from the wall was engraved with fine-cut, masterfully precise text, holy writs and fragments of prayer, broken only to list the names of martyrs in whose name the great temple had been built. Only the lowest slabs were blank, left bare to bear the names of those faithful dead yet to come. At the furthest corner, a team of servitors were working new lines into the stone; perhaps the fallen of the great battle before these walls.
The battle that now seemed so very distant. Though Lucien stood again where he had stood just a day before, there was no part of him that could conflate the two moments. The silence, the terrible noise. The rapid flare of gunfire, the persistent glow of torchlight on the black rock. The chaos of dreadful motion, the stillness that now seemed to permeate the air, the stone, the ground where men had fallen, where now he stood, a victor.
The stillness that was broken as Alderbelt lumbered from the back of the Chimera, blathering something about the lack of carpet laid out for him and complaining of the cold. It was only the resonant holiness of the chapel that stopped Lucien from cursing under his breath. Instead, he simply resolved to advise the general that perhaps, in future, he should remain comfortable at the headquarters and allow Lucien to handle the minutiae of negotiation.
Anything to avoid a repetition of this utter debacle. The Emperor may or may not have been watching, but the Sororitas most certainly were, and Lucien doubted they would be forgiving in their judgment, as the general at last freed himself from the transport, and waddled over to join him with all the grace of a beached whale. In the nick of time, a hooded Sister emerged from the iron gates to welcome them in. She carried no torch,and predictably, it was not until she stood only steps away that Alderbelt realised she had appeared.
“Hail, oh blessed Daughter of the Emperor! I extend to you my most humble greetings, and bid you take us at once within the walls of your great Temple; the air does bite us something fierce in this wasteland!” Lucien rolled his eyes as the general attempted a bow, his aides catching him only a moment before he plunged face-first into the mud.
For a moment, it seemed as if the Sister was preparing some retort or witticism, perhaps to note that the pious had nothing to fear from cold or something equally stoic, but it passed, and with what could just about be considered a bow, she turned and led them inside. Lucien could hardly blame her for her indigence, as Alderbelt continued to spout his drivel.
It only got worse as they entered, into an antechamber lined with braziers and open fires. “Ah, respite at last from the devilish winds! Now, my dear, any chance of a spot of dinner before we begin business?” He rubbed his podgy hands at the prospect, and Lucien had to hide a smirkas the general’s face fell.
“My mistress commands we begin immediately, the better to resolve our planning and bring swift death to the Xenos. If you would follow me.”
Alderbelt set off after her, still refusing to silence himself. As they passed into a larger chamber, his voice only got louder, expanding to fill the cavernous space. “Yes, yes, swift death to the Xenos filth and all that. Do lead on!” Halting only to wonder if Alderbelt had done anything swiftly in his life, Lucien followed behind, hoping that the general would not turn to see him cringe. Thankfully, he seemed far too distracted commenting on everything from the dour décor to the care with which the Sisters had arranged their temporary encampment in a voice that was neither respectful nor remotely bearable.
Lucien did his best to block the nonsense out, focusing on anything other than what Alderbelt had turned his one-sided conversation. He found himself wondering if the Sister that acted as their guide found herself equally bored and embarrassed at the presence of the blundering buffoon, and if she did, how she managed to maintain such a resolute and frozen countenance.
Faith can truly accomplish wonders, it seemed. As they climbed higher and higher, into the heart of the chapel, her face did not change its look of feigned interest and unfazed awareness. It was a look mirrored on the visage of ever Sister they passed, from those garbed only in simple robes to the few that remained in their exquisite and imposing armour, bolters slung at their sides and blades at their hips. Here, away from the battlefield, Lucien noted that they were every bit as serene and disciplined, and just as coldly terrifying, as they had been in the midst of a slaughter. The same resolve seemed to emanate from them, and the same purpose filled their every move.
And yet, he could not now admire them as he had. Yes, they were ordered, and yes, they were the pinnacle of faith and fury, but they were also, he reminded himself, the reason he was still here. Why he and his men were still barracked only yards from the lowest of the low, and fighting on long after they were due relief from the combat. The Xenos were the culprits for the slaughter of his fellows, but he could not shake the idea that it was these cold warriors that were more than happy to put them in the firing line.
And now, here he was, to hear their council- he corrected himself- to await their orders on how to proceed in this campaign. And Alderbelt, no doubt enthralled by their piety and conviction, would agree to every word. For the first time since disembarking, Lucien was glad he was here; maybe he could do some good after all.
The party paused at a set of black double doors, and the Sister immediately raised her hand to knock. Once, twice, thrice her knuckles rapped against the wood, before they swung open and she ushered them in.
“Lord Alderbelt and Lieutenant Tarn, of the 275th Dragoons,” she announced, and immediately turned to depart. Alderbelt again bowed low, and this time Lucien did too; the commander of the Sororitas was his commander too, whether he liked it or not. Rising from the stoop, he scanned the room as attendants shot the doors behind him. Already present were the Sister Superior and her aides, the Engineseer that accompanied the combined taskforce, and a stranger dressed in red and white livery, with a cape fastened by a chain that must have been solid gold. Reinforcements, at last, perhaps? His eyes reached the face of this apparent newcomer, and Lucien’s blood ran cold.
No, not a stranger. Not a stranger, but a man who had defied his orders, who had let his soldiers die, who had almost cost them victory with an ill-timed, reckless assault. His eyes met Luc Bodewick’s, and his hand tightened around his sword hilt.
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